#now obviously it would be a second doctor BUT with the memories of everything leading up till then so

[carefulzombie]

imagining the 60th anniversary special but with 13 regenerating back into literally any other previous doctor for my own amusement. she turns back into the second doctor for some fucking reason and now donna has to deal with that recorder playing lunatic along with the whole Plot

[quicktosimp]

Touch and Sketch

AN: I may or may not have been procrastinating my course finals in order to get this done... But I am so glad it's finished! Warnings: Reader has Bad Parents (This is not Important), Doctor/Patient, inaccuracies, Sassy!Rafayel, Sub!Rafayel, Top!Reader, Bondage, Inhuman Biology, Rafayel has Two Dicks, Breast Fucking, Blowjobs, Cum Eating, Overstimulation, Drugged Cum (Kinda).

After many years of working your ass off and earning your degree, you now get a very interesting patient, an Artist who lives on Whitesand Bay

I have always been a girl of science; as a child, I was told I was only to get As or not return home. I remember many missed meals the nights I dared to bring home anything but perfection. Sports are nothing but a reckless endeavor in order to injure yourself for fame and glory; sympathy seekers, without a thought between their eyes, if I dared to ask to play soccer, my parents would ask me in return if I'd like them to start my journey of brain damage while holding a frying pan. Politicians are greedy scumbags; every single one of them is corrupt. Stealing from the poor, while smiling widely that they would make everything better; yet behind them is the man who pays the rest of their million dollar salary. The only "good" ones are useless; they will never get anywhere because no one powerful will ever indulge in their ideas for peace and prosperity for everyone. Obviously, there is no money to be found in housing the homeless and finding them jobs. My teacher sent home a pamphlet for the school's debate class, stating that I had shown exceptional understanding and had great potential in it. My parents were all for it, until she made a joke about how it could help me become a wonderful politician someday. The ride home was silent besides the thrum of the engine. Upon arriving home, my mother and father stood on each side of me, my mother yelling about how useless I would be in the real world of politics, while on the other side, my father screamed about how he didn't raise me to be a conniving thief. Looking back on that particular memory, I don't know whether what my mother or father spewed at me was worse.

However, there is one career field that they despised even more. Artists. In their mind, artists are even more useless than politicians; they are people with no brains or talent, simply living in their parents' basements and draining their money on meager supplies that cost more than a house mortgage, only for their "work" to sit and collect dust. Complete waste to society, they would say. I can recall every mutter and complaint in my kindergarten years when we had an art project, all the way through my elementary years until finally I was able to drop any and all art classes, relieving me of the pain of watching all my hard work go directly into the trash.

All the hard work eventually paid off; I graduated with high honors and was able to get scholarships to Harvard Medical. Several grueling years and I was able to transfer to Linkon. Quite a jump from America to China, but the education is incomparable. The technology and understanding of the human body is unparalleled; my student visa was expanded twice. Once for collaborating over the effects of Protocore Syndrome and the affects on the prefrontal cortex, that was how I met Zayne, now the lead surgeon at Akso Hospital, the two of us are good friends now, and are unexcelled as colleagues. We paired together for social events we were expected at, however I must say I was pleased when he brought the cute hunter with him. They truly complement each other. The first time I saw Dr. Zayne actually smile was with her.

The second time I extended my visa was when Linkon University offered a full-ride scholarship if I wished to expand my PHD in neuroscience and surgery and expand into neuropsychology. An additional benefit was that I would be contracted into working at Akso Hospital for an additional 10 years. I jumped at the chance and signed the contract without hesitation.

I’ve long ago graduated and am living in China on my work visa; my residency is long done, and I am now one of the top neurosurgeons in China, but I oddly found that I refer the psychology part of my job. Being able to help those who suffer the mental effects of Protocore Syndrome has become my passion. I even took on the Hunter girl in as a patient after her grandmother and childhood friend passed. Despite all the pain I see being able to help people work through their mental and emotional trauma, it makes me elated... no, that’s not the right word... I believe I'm healing that little girl who was never enough.

But it's little Miss Hunter who found me my most unusual client. She was worried about him after he made some comments about himself, and she didn't trust anyone else. I must say I was both insulted and intrigued when I was handed several NDA forms, but nonetheless, I signed them. I could visibly see Miss Hunter relaxed as I signed the forms, thanking me profusely for taking on this new client.

I raised my eyebrow at her, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. Miss Hunter isn't one to beg or apologize for something she didn't do. I cannot help but wonder just who my new mystery client is. But with unease comes the passion of challenge, like a fire lit in me leading me to now.

My heels sinking into the sand of Whitesand Bay, the warmth was pleasant, but the gritty feeling of the sand particles trapped in my shoe, chafing my skin. Despite that, the breeze was perfect under the beaming sun, cooling me from the stifling weather. The calls of the gulls sing around me as they dive and feast on the unknowing morsels hidden in the shallow ends of the sea.

The address I was given I figured it would be on the beach. But I underestimated just how close it would be. I follow along a long bar of sandy land, easily half a mile long; I make a note on my phone to wear more accessible shoes next time and to pay attention to the tides; otherwise, I may miss the appointment or be unable to leave his house afterwards. Well, house is in loose terms. It's far too large and grand to be a house. Steep walls that say it should be a two-story building, yet the window panels show otherwise, letting me see in from near floor to ceiling, and what I believe to be a giant statue in his living room.

Thick, sturdy, double wooden doors meet my view, so I raise my hand and knock on the door. He's just another client, after all.

Several minutes go by before I ring the doorbell; his house is quite large, and he probably couldn't hear my knocking. Several more minutes go by before I start to get antsy. Pulling out my phone, I quickly dial the number I was provided, only to hear the dial of being hung up on. Scowling at my phone, I call once again; this time, I notice that it didn't even ring; it was probably powered off.

As I contemplated heading back on that grueling walk, I looked back and saw that the tide was already coming back in. I would make it maybe halfway before the sandbar would be flooded. And considering I have electronics and paper files on me, the only option I have left is to enter his home.

I knock one more time out of curtsy before I open one of the heavy doors. The door opens to a vast room; papers, pencils, paint brushes, and other art supplies litter the floor, as random unlit candles were sporadically placed around the room. There was ample of light in the room; not only were the walls giant windows, but the ceiling itself was made of clear glass. What little walls there are painted white, while the floor is a delicate ash gray wood done in an intricate pattern. I wished to toe off my shoes in respect of his home, but seeing all the supplies and what I think are also rose petals, I choose to keep them on for my safety.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” I called out professionally as I took another step, my heels clicking against the floor and echoing through the room.

I take several more steps into the open room, where I am able to spot a large orange couch and a white lounge chair, several tropical house plants, and a gorgeous-looking hardwood coffee table. I can't say it’s homey feeling, no it's too open... almost clinical despite the chaotic environment. I wouldn't say it's overcompensating; truthfully, I wouldn't even say this is a home. It's an office where he happens to sleep in.

The soft padding of feet on the floor drew my attention to the other side of the room. Next to a large statue of a woman stood a man, dressed in pristine black slacks and an expensive-looking white shirt with a deep V-neck and long puffy sleeves. He dresses as expensively as his house.

I turned to face him and nodded my head slightly, "Apologies for the intrusion. I'm Dr. (Y/L/N). We have an appointment today. I would have waited outside, but the tide is rapidly coming in," I explained regally.

I examined his face, waiting for his response. He seemed to be at war, calculating how he should react. Slowly, his face relaxed into a lazy grin, leaning onto one foot, exuding confidence. But I could see under his facade; he's a predator, and he's sizing up his prey.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised cutie, people like to stop by all the time," He pushes away from the statue moving closer to me, "Now I'd introduce myself, but I recon you already know who I am," He winked at me cockily.

Although I have no idea who he is, his confidence seems to be well-earned. There's no sign of any familial touches, and the few items he has are related to his work. This is a man who worked hard to get where he is.

Ignoring the pet name, I cleared my throat, "I do not profile my patients before I meet them. Our mutual friend Miss Hunter referred you to me, and she did not even share your name."

There was a brief moment in his eyes where he was genuinely confused, a slight narrowing before returning to the previous cocky attitude, "Well, I gotta say, that's a first. I know I do my best to say out of the limelight, but I'm pretty surprised that a cutie like you doesn't know my name," He walks past me before lowering himself into the white chair I noticed earlier, gesturing to the orange couch next to it, "Take a seat."

I sit on the stiff couch, the material didn't have any give, very obviously unused, "Thank you Mr.-" I trailed off in a question.

He leaned heavily into the chair, crossing his leg over his knee, "Rafayel, you can drip the mister part," He waved his hand, his dislike of being called mister genuine.

"Rafayel," I stated, testing his name on my tongue.

I reached into my bag, pulling out a clipboard and a pen, my preferred method when working with a patient. As I stated before, my name is Dr. (Y/L/N). I am your physiologist, as of four days ago when you signed the paperwork," I explained, pulling out the digital form showing his signature.

I handed it over to him. As he read the document, his brows furrowed as he scanned it. I let him read every word, never giving the impression of impatience; this is obviously critical to him, and I will not work with a patient who cannot or will not consent.

"Well, I guess I already agreed to this, so what can my lovely little shrink do for me?" He smirked, handing me back the file.

Despite his verbal willingness, Rafayel's body tells another story. The leg in the air is perfectly still, yet the one on the ground fights to keep from twitching; his fingers flex in the air, and no matter how perfect his calm, smug demeanor is, I could see the defensiveness in his eyes. He was studying me, just as I am here to study him.

I crossed my legs, while sitting primly, I clicked open my pen, "So what would you like to talk about?" I asked softly, giving him the room.

He leaned forward for a moment, his muted purple hair ruffling in the light breeze, "Shouldn't you tell me what to talk about? If Miss. Bodyguard is to be believed, then I need to work on my personal perspective and self worth," His words took a mocking tone at the end.

"Well, those are certainly things we can go over eventually if you're willing," I commented, noting down what he said, while holding eye contact, "However we've known each other for, "I glanced at my watch, "Approximately five minutes, and I find that those types of conversations, are typically inappropriate in these situations," I admitted with a slight turn of my lips, the best smile I can muster.

Several rings adorn his elegant fingers; I notice them as they glint in the sunlight. Definitely expensive tastes; one of those rings could pay my rent for the two months, "Well as you know now my name is Rafayel, this is my home, which doubles as my art studio," He states boastfully as he gestured to the room.

"Your house is quiet gorgeous," I replied respectfully, keeping my honest thoughts to myself for now, "The architecture is unique; I can't say I've ever seen it before," Several pieces displayed like they were commonly found at a local store, yet they all oozed the feeling of history and power.

Breifly, a flash of shock went by, quickly masked by suspicion, before going back to his cocky image: "I see you like the Lemurian pieces; they're just old knickknacks I managed to find," He waved them off like they were nothing, yet I could see they meant a lot to him even if they were just knickknacks.

I cocked my head to the side, "Lemurian? I've never heard of that before; what is the Lemurian time period? Where was it located?" I shifted forward, interested in this piece of history.

This seemed to take him by surprise: "You- What- Well..." My questions seemed to fry Rafayel's brain. He cleared his throat before continuing, "The Lemurians were a people; they're extinct now. A genocide caused by humans," He sneered at the word human, as if he was different from them...

"You seem to be the expert here; what else do you know of the Lemurians? I'm quite intrigued," I pushed my glasses up further on my nose, knowing this would be a good way to get to know Rafayel.

Rafayel mimicked my posture, leaning forward as if he was going to tell me a secret, "Well I guess I could put on my lecture hat," He winked at me, before he started his lecture.

Over the course of the next hour and a half, I learned much about Lemuria, and it's people, I also learned that Rafayel tends to be a guest lecturer at different universities, he also tend to complain about someone named Thomas, he seems to be related to Rafayel's work, and keeps him on task, which is not something that Rafayel appears to care for. Rafayel has a well-placed ask, going between aloofness and a carefree man pouting and clinging; he's careful not to reveal his hand. Guarded, sharp; I truly question who Miss Hunter recommended me as a patient because one this is for sure, Rafayel is a dangerou s man.

But that wouldn't stop me; it never did before. And that's what had me coming back another day.

~~~~~

Whitesand Bay is one of my favorite places to be. If Rafayel isn't working on a project he seems to prefer to be outside on the sand or in the ocean, it's a nice change of pace instead of sitting inside for an hour and half when its absolutely gorgeous out. So here we are several months later relaxing in the hot sand, I buried my feet deep under, and I leaned back, letting the sun bathe me in warmth, as I listened to Rafayel.

"I hate selling to those egotistical pricks. Yet Thomas says that it's good for business and that I can do whatever I want with the money I make. But that doesn't change the fact that the bastard bought one of my paintings about the tragedy of Lemuria, when he has a fucking skeleton displayed in his house!" He ranted, filled with justified anger,

I turned my head to the side to see that Rafayel had now sat up, glaring at the water, his teeth gnashed in rage. I slowly lean up, giving him the attention he deserves, "It is because he does not see them worthy of human respect, that because they are inherently different, they are inhuman... But as the artist, you should have the right to refuse a client; that is something you should speak to Thomas about," I tilted my head to the side, "And any other time, I would tell you not to be childish and to work diligently; however, if Thomas isn't going to respect your boundaries, then I wouldn't give him anything to work with. Your art is yours to display and sell, and if Thomas cannot respect your wishes, then he shouldn't have access to them," I explained firmly.

Rafayel look over at me, the righteous fury still burning in his gaze, but slightly softened, "You, Miss "Needs to be responsible and get your adult responsibilities done," is telling me that I need not to do my adult duties?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I mean you are self-employed; you could threaten to fire him" I shrugged, "Of course, talk to him first, ensuring he understands the situation and your wants and feelings, but if he won't respect them, then you can fire him."

I sat up more, brushing the sand off my sleeves, turning to face him more, "Now, if you don't mind me asking, something I've noticed is you get extremely angry when mentioning humans and the genocide," I hold my hand up as he goes to speak, "Let me finish please," Rafayel snapped his mouth shut with a pout before I continued, "Obviously this is is a horrifying thing of the past, that does deserve righteous anger, but this happened centuries ago, yet the level of anger you show the way you speak of yourself, makes it seem as if you were there... Where does this level of rage come from?" I asked softly, pointing out how odd his behavior was.

Rafayel scoffed, looking away, "You wouldn't get it..." His body language was almost closed off, but despite his scoff, his tone gave off vulnerability.

I slowly scooted over and rested my hand on his shoulder, "I can't understand if you don't tell me... But that's up to you; I won't push you if you're not ready," I stated softly; I truly wanted him to feel safe and comfortable.

Rafayel tensed under my touch, despite his hatred for working out I could feel his muscles on his shoulders and back were prominent under my touch. Languidly, he rolls his head to look at me; his dual colored eyes gazed into my own, showing anger, but deeper than that, there was mourning, "I doubt you'd believe me even if I told you," Longing, resentment, pain, and hope, all showed in his eyes, conflicting each other.

"You're wrong Rafayel, I will believe you. Whether you teleported back in time, managed to meet a Lemurian, or you're one yourself, I'll believe you," I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, after working so many years in a messy world of protocores and protofields, anything could be the truth.

I had seen the way he would talk about Lemuria, how Rafayel would gaze off into the distance, his mind far away from Whitesand Bay, how his eyes would darken when speaking of the genocide, the betrayals they faced. There has always been more about this man.

My proclamation took him by surprise, his eyes widened, showing me more of the pretty blue on the top, Rafayel looked down breaking eye contact. I don't push any further, letting Rafayel come to his own decision.

We sat there in silence for several minutes, waiting, letting the ocean breeze cool our sun-warmed bodies. I didn't mind; these types of decisions aren't to be made frivolously. I would rather Rafayel take his time and refuse to speak, then for him to answer me and regret it later.

Finally with a huff Rafayel flops himself into the sand, his hair now covered in sand, I stifled my huff, attempting to keep the grin off my face as his childish antics. I would rather see the childish antics than the cold playboy act; this way, I know that while I'm not seeing all of him, he's letting his guard down in his own way.

From underneath his fringe, Rafayel pouts up at me, it's quiet adorable, "Play with my hair."

My heart picked up speed; thankfully, I was already warm from the sun, so I didn't need to worry about that. "Pardon?" I believe I managed to keep my tone even and my face neutral.

Based on the smirk now covering Rafayel's face, I apparently failed. Gently, he grabbed my wrist, bringing my hand to his hair, "See, it's not that hard," He closed his eyes and leaned back in to the sand.

I huffed, amused as I started to play with the dusty purple strands, gently brushing the sand out of his hair. He's such an odd man; I can't help but smile softly.

It was in this moment that I realized that I may have found that my feelings were a little more than just that of a patient and psychiatrist.

~~~~~~

It was another many months since that day on the beach that I received a call late in the night. I was finishing up my files for the night when Rafayel called me, he was moody, the fluctuations in the short call were extreme, yet I could hear his breathlessness, when I pushed asking if he was alright he grumbled a bit, trying to give an excuse. When I pushed further, he snapped that I was that worried I could check on him myself. So here I am, knocking on Rafayel's door with my medical bag strapped to my back before I opened it. Knowing that after all these months, Rafayel will never open the front door.

As I walked inside and it was more of a mess than usual, what I learned was an artful mess, is now straight up chaos, it looks as if he has a tantrum.

"Rafayel! Where are you!?" I called out, my voice echoing through the high walls.

None of the lights were on, none of the candles lit; the only light comes from the wall length windows, pouring in the moonlight; what would have been plunging darkness, seemed calm and simple.

"Rafayel!" I shouted even louder as I spread up, trying to spot Rafayel, my concern blooming into rapid anxiety.

I heard a low grown come from the couch, "Keep it down, would you?"

I rushed over to the ugly orange couch, thankfully finding Rafayel there. His face was flushed, and his breathing was ragged; I also noticed that half the buttons on his shirt were undone; he's over heating.

Kneeling on the side of the couch, I gently reached up and felt his forehead. Rafayel was sweaty and concernedly warm to the touch.

"Rafayel, are you okay? What's going on?" I asked urgently, "Do you need me to bring you to the hospital? I remember the one you prefer to go to," I rushed out the rest.

If Rafayel has a form of protocore syndrome that could explain some of the symptoms he's exhibiting. I internally cursed myself out; I should have been firmer when I warned him off of using protocores as materials in his paint.

"I'm fine, just a little tired," Rafayel huffed, batting away my hand.

I glanced into his mixed irises; exhaustion oozed out of them. Sighing regretfully, I stood up and said, "Alright, then let's get you to bed."

I gently wrapped my arm behind his shoulders, "Ugggg, it's too hot in there," Rafayel whined, leaning heavily into my arm, showing no sighs of being helpful.

"You're already too cold; I don't dare put you near anything else that's cold," I bit my lip, getting even more concerned.

Using my other arm, I placed it under Rafayel's knees, "Come here, I got you," I commented, as I lifted him into my arms.

Instantly, Rafayel's arms wrapped around my neck, "Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?!" He sputtered out, looking at me, completely bewildered.

Thankfully, my work in the hospital and my regular workouts made Rafayel's weight easy to carry as I made my way to where he said his room was.

"Right now, I am bringing you to bed, where I will watch you until you're either better, or I decide to bring you to the hospital," I glance down at him firmly, "And no, you cannot whine, pout, or otherwise manipulate your way out of this."

"I'm fiinnneeee, I just need a cold bath, and I'll be good by morning," Rafayel whined attempting to squirm out of my arms, unsuccessfully.

I shift my hold on him, so I could grasp Rafayel more firmly, essentially pinning him to my chest, as I planted my feet, "Choose now, I bring you to bed and watch you, or I drive you to the hospital, your choice," I offered firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Rafayel's flushed skin spread to his ears as he gaped at me bewildered, and something else I can't quite pin. He then hid his face in the crock of my neck before mumbling, "Bed."

"Alright, one bedroom observation for the night," I stated, continuing my trek to his room.

Rafayel's hair tickled my chin as he mumbled into my neck, little things like, "This is so unnecessary," "I'm fine," and the occasional, "This is so embarrassing."

"There is nothing embarrassing about needing help, especially during a medical episode," I soothed, as I toed open the door to his room.

Yet again, there is more artwork and supplies scattered around the room, but the giant king-size bed in the middle of the back looked grand yet well loved and used, which eased some of the anxiety about Rafayel's sleeping habits. My eyes briefly drifted to the gorgeous panels of art, which may be a mural of the sky? I cannot remember all the of the different art things Rafayel taught me, no matter how many times he gasps and calls me a heathen.

Shifting Rafayel's weight, I pulled back the covers with one arm and gently set him down on the bed, "Where are your pajamas? I'll grab them for you," I asked gently, as I looked at Rafayel, his eyes refused to meet mine, his posture was curled inward, he was either nervous or ashamed.

Slowly, I cupped his face, gently bringing Rafyel to face me, "There is nothing to be ashamed of. If you don't want to go to the hospital, then I will be here to care for your every need," My thumb gently caressed his cheek.

Rafayel looked at me from under his eyelashes, a slight pout still hanging there... adorable...

“There in the bureau, in the top shelf,” Rafayel petulantly replied.

I smiled softly at him, “Thank you Rafayel, that was very good of you,” I all but cooed at him.

The flush covering his face and ears quickly spread down to his neck; I back away to grab his pajamas; the bureau drawers are heavy but polished smooth under my hands, letting the wood slide open with ease. Not wanting to rummage through his belongings, I grabbed the first pair at the top, a pair of white silk pajama pants. Peering inside the drawer, there weren't any shirts in there. I shrugged my shoulders as I closed the door, some people have a thing against sleeping in shirts, and if Rafayel is already complaining he's hot, then I wont push it.

I hand over the pajamas to Rafayel, "Do you need any help putting them on?" My concern rose as his hands shakily took the soft cloth from me.

Rafayel shook his head vehemently, "No, I got it."

I nodded my head and turned around, sitting on the floor as I slid my medical bag off my back to rummage through it.

"Hey... Aren't you gonna leave the room or something?" I could hear his blush darken without even looking back.

I start to pull out my stethoscope and placed it around my neck for later, so I can check Rafayel's vital signs, "You're far too unsteady right now. I don't dare leave your side until you're safely tucked in bed," I explained factually, waiting for him to change.

I could hear a disgruntled humph behind me before the soft rustling of clothing, I fought back chuckled as Rafayel muttered and whined behind me, a slightly irritated patient is nothing new to me.

"There, I'm done now," Rafayel called out from his bed.

I stand back up and face Rafayel, my eyes flickered to his bare chest, unable to ignore the soothe toned skin, leading into the lean muscles of his stomach. Clearing my throat, I met his gaze, somewhere between flustered, annoyance, and that same damn emotion I couldn't spot earlier, "Alright, let's get you settled into bed."

He waved me off, as he scooted further onto his bed, "I'm fine! I don't need you to tuck me in," Rafayel whined, as he pulled the covers over his lap, relaxing against the head board.

I shake my head amused, "That's fine," I pulled out an old school thermometer; I find them more accurate than the forehead scanners, "Here, take this," I ordered softly, as I handed him the thermometer.

Flopping his arms on the bed, Rafayel continued to whine, "I'm too sick to do this; my arms are broken. Do it for me."

"Fine then," I sat on the side of his bed and pressed the tip to his mouth, "Open up."

Rafayel flicked back pursing his lips, before opening his mouth, and placing the thermometer properly, "Thank you Rafayel," I smiled softly, as I grabbed my stethoscope from my neck, "Just breathe normally for me," I placed the ear-tips in place, and the drum on his chest, listening deeply.

Looking at my watch, I kept count: 98 beats per- minute, no 100 beats per-, 103... 105? Rafayel's chest was rising and falling faster than before. Risking a glance, I flicked my eyes up to Rafayel's face. His eyes wide and avoiding mine, the flush from his heated skin traveled down his face and to his rapidly rising and falling chest. Poor thing isn't used to being taken care of.

With the gentle beeping of the thermometer, I took off the stethoscope and removed the thermometer from his mouth.

"The hell?" I whispered, perplexed at the blinking numbers 34.5 Celsius, 94.1 Fahrenheit.

Rafayel spotted the number yet seemed unsurprised, "I'm like a frozen fish put in the microwave for 10 seconds."

I looked up at him completely befuddled, "Rafayel do you not know how serious this is? You are physically burning up but are reading at a hypothermic temperature!" I reach down into my bag, grabbing my phone, "I should have just taken you to the hospital; I don't know why I thought-"

My phone was plucked out of my hand, "Hey!" I shouted indignantly, "You are hypothermic; I'm taking you to the hospital!"

"I'm going to sleep now. Stay here if you want," he grouched, rolling over and taking my phone with him.

"Rafayel!" I seethed through my teeth as I watched him getting comfortable on his bed.

Without another word, he ignored me, and his breathing evened out. While he peacefully entered dreamland, Rafayel had successfully provoked me into a frenzied state. I paced back and forth next to the side of the bed. Logic tells me that I should simply carry Rafayel out of the bed and to the hospital, no matter his protests, the other logical part of me remembers that I cannot treat a patient without permission.

I rake my fingers through my hair, pulling at the strands as I contemplate what I should do, my heart pounding in chest thrumming in my ears, as I continue to pace the floor, only guided by the moonlight shining in the room. Groaning loudly, I grab the digital scanner thermometer and drag a chair in front of Rafayel's bed; I slump into it before gazing at Rafayel's face, and I pause, taking a closer look... Despite his even breathing and relaxed posture, his eyes are firm, there were no subtle movements, and his expression is ridged... He's faking it! I rolled my eyes while fighting back a groan of irritation. I double-checked the time and calculated to check his temperature and heart rate every 20 or so minutes. Grabbing my notebook, I started to write down Rafayel's symptoms, the time I took his vitals, and the results. Thus beginning what will be a tedious night, honestly, it brought me back to my residency days, when I would be forced to do the overnight patient sit-ins. Honestly, I didn't mind those. Sometimes, I was the only person who was willing to talk with them, and it taught me empathy and what's really going through their minds. It made me a better doctor.

Eventually, my watch beeped, reminding me to take Rafayel's vitals; glancing at his face, it seems he may have actually drifted off to sleep.

Standing from my chair, I leaned over Rafayel, "I'm just gonna take your vitals," I whispered, just incase he was still awake.

I used the digital scanner and found that his temperature is the same, his heart rate is much calmer this time, a steady 98 beats per minute. Satisfied with my findings, I moved to sit back down and note my findings, but something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. Something small glistening in the moonlight; slowly, I turned, following the tiny sparkles.

Nothing could have stopped the gasp that left my lips. Tiny little blue scales dotted along Rafayel's cheek bones and down his neck. I caught myself as I reached out to touch them, stopping before I could, not wanting to break Rafayel's trust.

Instead I sit myself down, and put away my note book, as I recalled the story that Rafayel once told me, about when the seep sea would wash ashore... Ebb Day... One day a year, when the tide is at its lowest and the flows in the opposite direction, is the day when mermaids are at their weakest. It seems that the mermaids in the story may just be the Lemurians. With a quick search on my phone, I found that today was, in fact, Ebb Day.

Despite being willed with concern and also curiosity, I simply sit there and watch Rafayel sleep. I had already theorized that Rafayel was a Lemurian, seeing the proof in front of me was still a shock. Hoping that Rafayel was telling the truth, I relax in my place, waiting to see if my little fishy is feeling better in the morning.

~~~~~

"So you do have a tail?" I asked excitedly, sitting next to Rafayel on the sand.

The night had passed, and finally Rafayel was back to himself, but after what transpired last night finally broke down the remaining walls he had up. Rafayel is much more relaxed, and finally telling me some more about his past, he's still keeping something from me, but I think he's waiting for our next therapy session before talking about them.

The sun beamed down on us, as Rafayel smirked at me, "Now that would be telling," He ran his fingers through his hair, before relaxing into the sand.

Giddily, I leaned closer to him. "So that's a yes! Tell me! Does it match the colors of the scales on your face? What does it look like?" I pestered him gleefully, wanting to learn as much as I could about him and Lemurian biology.

"Humph, I don't feel like telling you," Rafayel teased, rolling to his side.

I crawled over so I was facing his front, my hands sinking into the warm sand, "Come on Rafayel please! You're killing me here!" Honestly, I had never heard myself speak like this and act so... freely... but I couldn't find it in myself to care enough to stop.

I wanted to reach out and shake his shoulder, try and get his attention, but something stopped me, as my hand stayed in the air, feeling like maybe that was pushing too far.

Rafayel cracked open an eye, glancing at my hand, he reaches up and lances our fingers together, "You ask too many questions. I just wanna relax," He whined.

The warmth from his hand seeps into my own as I stare at our interlaced hands. There was an ember of warmth, and a bottomless pit of Longing gnawed at my stomach. I don't think I've ever been touched like before. I've never held someone's hand like this. Besides taking vitals or examining a patient, I never touch anyone. Handshakes aren't a thing in China; I don't really have any friends; truth be told, I can't even remember the last time my parents hugged me. Yet here Rafayel was touching me of his own free will, not as my patient receiving care, but as my friend... maybe I could wish for something more.

"What? Crab got your tongue?" Rafayel's words were teasing, but his voice was softer, "Come here, it's time for a nap,"

"Wha-" I was cut off by a gentle tugging on our clasped hands.

My other hand rested on top of the sand wasn't stable enough to keep me up, sending me sprawling forward. Blinking owlishly, I went to speak but was distracted by the warmth under my cheek, the steady thrum of his heart under my ear; any thoughts that I had before were wiped from my brain.

Gently tugging methodically pulled at my hair as Rafayel's fingers combed through my hair.

"Rafayel?" I gasped softly as the small ember of hope grew into a spark.

"Shhh, nap time," Rafayel muttered, softly playing with my hair.

"What if I don't nap? It ruins your REM sleep," I countered, yet I did nothing to move away from my spot on Rafayel's chest.

Then just stay here... Stay here with me," Rafayel whispered serenely.

My eyelashes fluttered against his chest as I gazed up at him; I figured that Rafayel's eyes would be closed, yet instead, all I could see was the pretty pink of his iris looking down at me full of lo- no... I can't use that word, not yet.

I cuddled closer to Rafayel, resting easy so my side was along his body, "Alright, I'll stay," I whispered tenderly, as I rested my other hand next to my face.

Rafayel squeezed my fingers in return, there wasn't a smile on his face, but his expression is tender, peaceful, I realized very quickly, that I could stay like this forever. Just Rafayel and me, here on this beach, the sand underneath us, the breeze flowing over us and through our hair, while the sun beats down on us. Our own paradise, just me and my little mermaid.

What could have been minutes or hours later, Rafayel softly whispered into my hair, "Tell me my muse, would you let me paint you?"

"Paint me?" I asked, conflicted.

"Yes, paint you. Or maybe you would prefer to be sculpted? I can do that as well. You are my muse, whenever I look around I see you, the sand and how it soaks up the warmth of the sun, the water how its remaining and stead fast no matter how low the tide is it will always return to me; I see you everywhere in my home, among my work, on my furniture... I just want to show you more. Keep a part of you there permanently... Maybe," Rafayel trails off his laminate.

"Maybe what?" I asked breathlessly, unable to believe the poetry being spoken to me.

Slowly, Rafayel sat us up and rested me in his lap, "Maybe you could paint something? You're own design that can stay here with me," His hand, that was still tangled in hair, angled my head towards his face.

I haltingly shake my head, "I- I've never done something like that before..." I trailed off as a blush blossomed across my cheeks, admitting weakness.

And just like that, that cocky smirk I love to hate came back, "Ohhh, so Miss Perfect isn't perfect at everything."

Scoffing, I looked away; "I was focused on my academics," I muttered bashfully.

"Is that right?" Rafayel teased, "Seems that the student finally needs to teach the master."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his dramatics, "Oh please, I'm sure that even then it would still be me teaching you something," I sassed, knowing I knew absolutely nothing about art.

That damned smirk grew even more, "Oh really? Then tell me, what will you teach me, my dutiful master?"

~~~~~

"I must say, I think I'm a fan of this brush," I praised professionally, as I dipped the brush back into the cobalt blue.

"Th-that one? It's so old and frayed... I think you should- oh-" Rafayel trailed off as I placed the brush against my canvas, gently dragging it across the width.

I hummed, pleased as the bristles caught and dragged across the surface. The best part was watching Rafayel squirm, "No, definitely this one, I like the way it leaves s t r e ak s," I mused as I continued on with spreading the paint.

Rafayel shifted his wrists the best he could, "I could teach you how to do that on purpose! Just free my wrists, and I'll show you how!" He had a pleasant smile on his face while delicately pleading with me.

I reached up and tested the ropes holding his wrists in place, "But if I do that, I lose my canvas... You wouldn't want me to lose all my hard work, would you?" I asked stoically while admiring the work I had done on Rafayel's chest.

"Come on, I can show you some really good ones, you just gotta let me down," He bargained.

I sat back and enjoyed my view: Rafayel kneeling on a pedestal, his arms bound high above his head, a delicate blush covering his cheeks and down to his chest before it hides beneath the bright yellows, oranges, and blues I've painted there.

Dutifully ignoring Rafayel's lower half, I grip his hips and pull him as close as I dare to, my breath mingling with his, "But if I did that, I'd be paying less attention to you. And that would be quite unacceptable, wouldn't you agree?"

Rafayel's lidded eyes only reviled the pink, while he gazed down at me, "You-" He licked his lips, "You always pay attention to me."

I smiled softly as I leaned closer, our lips brushing together, "Always, and that's why you're going to be my good fishy and be my canvas," I purred, before backing away.

Grabbing a wide and long brush and dipping it into the French blue, I gently lined up one edge of my brush along the cobalt blue and spread it across, mixing the two together as I covered his ribs in the new shade.

"Ohhh," A small little moan leaves his lips as the cool paint touches his ribs.

"Ohhh?" I teased lightly, "Does my fishy like that?"

Rafayel shook his head, trying to say no, yet the way his ears reddened even further, how his nipples are stiff peaks, and the way he leans close to me, craving more, all tells me a very different story.

Gently cupping his face, I rubbed my thumb along his cheek, accidentally smearing paint there, "You don't have to lie to me. I'll never judge you for what you like," Dipping my brush back into the paint, I held it right above his sternum, "Tell me right now and I'll stop," I offered gently, looking deep into his eyes.

Just barely there, a small whimper escaped his mouth, "Please..." Rafayel tried to look away in shame, but I held firm, ensuring that all he could see was my love and conviction for him, "Please... Don't stop..."

I smiled softly, "Good boy."

I bring the brush down, smoothing out the blob of paint, back and forth over his ribs, doing my best to work on my squirming canvas. After thoroughly covering his midsection in blue, I placed my brush down, my work piece finally coming together.

Looking at my palette, I didn't have the color I wanted, and I wasn't quite sure where to go from there.

"Rafayel... Which color should I use?" I questioned, wondering where his brain was at.

"Hmmm?" Looking down as the slew of colors on his chest and the dabs of paint on my palette, "Oh," he sucked in a breath, "Umm... Mix the... the um... turquoise with the... cornflo- no, the azure blue," He stumbled through.

Remembering the names from earlier, I scooped up two dollops of the paint, mixing them into something lighter and vibrant, "Perfect, good job Rafayel," I cooed, lavishing the paint across his just a tad lower then the last bit.

Rafayel leaned further into my touch, widening his knees even more, "Good?" The whine breathlessly left his lips.

"Yes, Rafayel, you're being very good for me," I cooed, gently rubbing his bare side.

Grabbing a thinner but longer brush, "Now tell me what does this one do?"

Huffing out a breath, he reluctantly responds, "It's for- for fine details," Rafayel eyed the brush wearily.

"Hmmm," I pondered as I looked over what I had done before putting the thin brush down. I could visibly see Rafayel relax, well... until I grabbed the sponge brush, "This will do nicely," Pleased with my selection I dipped the course-looking brush into an off-white yet tannish color; I believe the bottle of paint was labeled cashmere.

"Now that brush will make an uneven surface, why- why don't you use one of the large flat ones? Like you used earlier?" Rafayel rushed out, his abdomen already tensing.

A slight smirk escaped me, "Well, it seems like I chose the perfect one then," Thus, I began to drag and dab the sponge across his navel, coloring it a nice sandy tone.

Although it was quiet challenging to paint him, as he keeps wiggling about, unsure if he wants to get further or closer to the stimulation, Rafayel head leaned back, his mouth hung open, and eyes screwed shut. I couldn't help but chuckle at the pretty sight he made while I dipped my brush back into the paint, needing to cover more of his stomach.

Slowly, I moved lower, and lower, and lower, more entranced by the way Rafayel's body heaved in each breath, not daring to release his moans, as I moved closer and closer to where I've been ignoring.

The pretty silk pants did absolutely nothing to hide his enjoyment. A rather large and unusual bulge tented his pants, throbbing and twitching, eager to be free.

I placed the brush down and carefully wiped my hands clean of any residue paint before I grabbed the clean parts of Rafayel's hips, my thumbs slipping under, toying with the waistband. “Tell me what you want,” I ordered softly, not leaving room to be ignored.

Rafayel rolled his hips towards me, whining, “P-please.”

I let my thumbs slip lower, massaging his hips, “Good boy for using your manners, but you don't quite tell me what you want...” My grip becomes just a bit tighter, and I relish in the moan that leaves Rafayel’s lips: “One last try... What. Do. You. Want?” I enunciated each word by tugging him closer to me.

Rafayel's pretty dual-colored eyes met mine, now damp from unshed tears, “Please... please touch me...”

I squeezed his hips while remaining silent, letting him have a moment to figure out that he didn't tell me enough, and the way Rafayel’s eyes widened and shone even further is just as delectable as the whimper that left his lips.

Rafayel bit his lip, before releasing the swollen abused flesh, “Please...” he briefly looked away before meeting my gaze again, “Please take off my pants... and...” his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, “touch my cocks,” he whispered the end, while looking nervously at me, most likely expecting an adverse reaction.

“Yes Rafayel, I would love to play with your cocks,” I crooned softly.

I released his hips as I toyed with the string holding the silk pants in place. While I was terribly interested in Rafayel’s unique biology, I needed to make sure his comfort comes first, and that starts with me curbing my scientific instincts and simply begin worshiping Rafayel’s body.

Agonizingly slow, I pulled the drawstrings, undoing the neat tie that was holding the expensive fabric in place, "Is this what you've wanted, Rafayel? For me to play with your pretty cocks?" I cooed my questions as the knot unraveled.

Rafayel eagerly nodded his head, "Yes, I can't stop thinking about it!" While the nervousness was still present, anticipation dominated his emotions.

I loosened the tie, all the while holding up his pants, refusing to let them fall, "How do I play with your cocks? What do you fantasize me doing?"

And just like that, those pretty tears flooded his eyes once again, yet they were stubborn enough by refusing to spill over and flow down his cheeks, "No... I-" Rafayel attempted to protest, shaking his head.

Using my free hand, I threaded my fingers into his soft, dusty purple hair and gently pulled, unwilling to cause him pain, yet refusing to allow him to break our gaze, "Yes, you can, just open those pretty lips of your and tell me," My words where firm, but my voice was soft; gentle and unyielding.

The longer I stare into Rafayel's eyes, the more I notice that the dual colors of pink and blue constantly shift, back and forth like the tide, but right now, barely any color could be seen due to his lust-blown pupils.

Rafayel blinked back tears, wetting his eyelashes, "You... You um... You use both hands, one on each cock," I left go of his pants letting the fabric pool around his knees, but I ignored his cocks for now, prioritizing our eye contact.

"What do I do next?" I asked, watching how his mouth moved up and down, yet nothing but little whines and moans escaped his lips.

Despite his nervousness, Rafayel's voice becomes bolder, "You stroke them slowly... All the way down to the base, and then back up... but..." His voice trails off as he heaves in another breath, "You ignore the tips... no matter how much I beg..."

Confidant he wont look away, I languidly lower my hands to were his cocks are, following the trail of heat I graze the tips my fingers along the first shaft, feeling the warmth, and how they pulsed with want. Reaching the bottom, the base thickened as the two combined at his pelvis. I can't quite bring myself to wrap my hands around them. Instead, I continue to lazily brush my fingers against his shafts, needing to arouse him even more.

"So you like it when I'm mean to you? When I make you work for what you want?" I asked smoothly, avoiding the way Rafayel rolls his hips into my hands, refusing to give him more stimulation.

Rafayel fingers flex as he tried to grasp the ropes holing him up, "Yes- no, I don't know, please just touch my cocks, please," With a broken whimper, the first tear spilled, it was beautiful and pearlescent, as it slowly rolled down his cheek.

"Good boy," I cooed, finally wrapping my hands around his thick cocks; they were already slick from pre-cum, allowing my hands to slowly glide up and down his shafts.

Just like that, Rafayel's eyes rolled back while a deep, rumbling moan left his lips, his head falling back, pushing his hips into my hands. His whole body was tense; even under the layers of paint, I could see his abdomen flex and his thighs strain—anything he could do to get closer.

With Rafayel distracted by my hands, I finally get to take a look at what I'm working with. The bottom, where they join at the pelvis, expands into two deliciously thick cocks; angry pulsating veins throbbed a deep pink color, yet the more I stroke them, the closer that color turns to red. They were almost indistinguishable from human anatomy, but down the underside of both cocks lay a ladder of small ridges, leading to a dusky pink pointed tip, and not a single hair in sight.

Absolutely gorgeous.

I licked my lips as I fought the need to taste them... For now I ignore the urge, instead focusing back on Rafayel, his flush was dark enough that it resembled a sunburn, and I couldn't help but coo in sympathy, "Looks like I have a fried fishy in front of me. So pretty for me," I softly smiled at Rafayel.

Semingly difficult, Rafayel struggled to focus his eyes on me, the pink darkened to a deep red as he battled with his lust, "Pretty?" he moaned dazed through hooded eyes.

I squeezed his shafts just a tad tighter as I stroked him, "Yes, you're my pretty fishy," I confirmed teasingly, as I avoided the tips of his cocks, playing into his fantasy.

The small drips of pre-cum have turned into a steady flow, soaking my hands and puddling on the stand between Rafayel's legs. I could barely hear anything over Rafayel's moans, yet the moment I picked up speed, wet squelching noises competed for competition.

"You've been so quiet... tell me what you're thinking," I order softly, wondering what little amounts of Rafayel's brain are working.

"Itsss goood," Rafayel slurred, "Your hands, oh fuck, they feel so good," He groaned, as I sped up a little, "So pretty, please please make me cum," He cut himself off with a moan.

All of Rafayel's lustful noises sent waves of heat to my core; the primal part of myself wanted to reach down and finger cunt my fingers slickened by Rafayel's pre-cum, but that would mean letting go of one of Rafayel's cocks... I bit back a sigh as I wiggled my hips, unimpressed with the way my wetness clung to my panties. But watching Rafayel how he gazes at me longingly, worshiping, putting all his hope and trust in me... I know I can't disappoint him.

"As you wish," I whispered, holding his gaze as I lowered my head. Lazily, I lolled out my tongue, revering in hearing the gasp that escaped his lungs, fighting back a smirk I liked the tip of his bottom cock; the salty taste bloomed across my tongue, but there was something else something heady and smokey, just like his evol... just like Rafayel.

Humming, I couldn't help but go back for another taste using the flat of my tongue; I start at the base and lick upward, over the ridges, collecting all the spilt pre-cum letting it build in my mouth, before finally flicking my tongue over the tip of his dick.

"Oh fuck, please my pearl, so good," Rafayel's voice took on a higher tone, not a whine, almost as if he was singing, slowly his scales start to revile themselves, dotting over his face and neck, over his broad shoulders to Rafayel's hands; I bet that if I were to walk around him there would be a plethora of scales along his back, yet from here I can see the ones that cover his thighs and calves, and even under the paint I could see the shapes of the scales attempting to break free, surrounding his groin.

In this moment, I think I finally believe that gods exist... and one is kneeling before me right now.

Unable to hold back anymore, I lick the tip of Rafayel's cock one again before taking the head into my mouth, suckling gently, letting the hot flesh press against my tongue. I moaned as more of his taste coats my tongue; I hollowed my cheeks and sucked harder, urging more of the salty fluid into my mouth.

“My p-per-peral, please, n-no more teasing," Rafayel gasped around his words, attempting to thrust further into my mouth.

I stayed right where I was, gripping Rafayel's hips tightly, refusing to let him slide in deeper; instead, I continue to suck on the tip of his dick, flicking my tongue over the slit repeatedly. Under my hands Rafayel couldn't stop his hips from twitching, wanting to encase more if itself into my warmth.

Looking up into his eyes, Rafayel focuses on me, his pretty eyes still brimming with tears, I hold still, doing nothing but sucking the tip of his cock, and waited. Until his moans increased and became whiny.

I was completely entranced; if this is how sirens lured their victims, then I would be long dead... He's just so fucking beautiful.

Finally, I gave into Rafayel's desires and slowly made my way down his cock, my tongue rubbing over each of the ribs on the bottom of his cock, as I continue to take more of his cock, my nose brushes against his top cock; the ridges bumping each time, until the tip of his top cock rests on top of my head, a steady stream of pre-cum dripped onto my hair. I mentally cringed at the prospect of cleaning it out of my hair, but it wasn't enough to deter me. I doubled my efforts as I moved back up, making sure my tongue fitted into every little ridge. His top cock smearing more of his pre-cum onto my face.

Rafayel's eyes watered further under my efforts as he mewled, "Please, please, oh fuck, yes, please don't stop," His hips further attempting to thrust into my mouth, seemingly mindless on their own accord.

I moved off his bottom dick with a wet pop before lavishing the top one with my tongue, cleaning up the mess of pre-cum that had drooled everywhere, licking every drop that had spilled in between, Rafayel's other cock was warm and slick as it slid against my throat, drooling all over my shirt causing the white material to become sheer in some spots. Gazing down at my semi-exposed breasts, a new idea forms, one that I've read men quite like. Pulling off Rafayel's cock, I methodically start to unbutton my shirt.

"No! Why did you-?" Rafayel cut off his own whine as he stared at my  hands, "What are you doing?" He asked, licking his lips, unable to tear his gaze away.

After undoing the last button, I pushed my bra up slightly, "Something new," I commented lazily, as I grabbed Rafayel's bottom cock and lined it up between my tits, I spat in between my cleavage to slicken the way, as I slowly moved down to cover Rafayel's cock. In the meantime, I took his top cock into my mouth. Allowing me to thoroughly pleasure both simultaneously.

"You're so pretty," he whispered reverently, "making me feel so good; please, please, don't stop."

I hummed around his cock, as I grabbed my tits and slowly started to slide them up and down his cock, this thick heat throbbing and drooling everywhere, making a mess all over my tits and under my chin. His top cock throbbed in unison with its twin, letting me slurp every drop of his pre-cum. I set a steady place as I duel pleasured Rafayel, the very taste of him sent waves of heat pooling in my core, and my pussy throbbed with each of his moans. I wanted more.. no.. I needed more!

I squeezed my tits tighter, uncaring if I left odd marks for later; I hallowed my checks and speed up my pace, rigorously working Rafayel's cocks. I growled lowly in my throat as Rafayel's moans increased in pitch, no longer sounding human like; instead, it seemed as if he was singing, high and needy, wordlessly begging for more, as his cocks leaked everywhere. With each melodic note, the flame inside me grows, my brain becoming fuzzy as I crave even more. I didn't care how my jaw ached, or noticed how I gagged when I took his cock into my throat, just as long as I got more . More of his moans and whines, more of his cum, just more, more, more!

"AHh! Per- pleas! Fu-!" Rafayel brokenly screamed, as he flooded my mouth, and spilled over my chest, bathing me in his cum.

I swallowed everything he gave me, craving every drop. Popping off his cock to lap up every drop I missed, cleaning them both before taking it back into my mouth. Cum and drool everywhere, but I couldn't care less, just as long as I get more.

"No! Please! It- it's too much!" Rafayel squealed, his abdomen flexing attempting to get away from the overwhelming pleasure, his cocks over sensitized from recently cumming.

Letting go of my tits, I grab his hips, my fingers sinking into his plush ass cheeks, as I pulled him closer, devouring everything that spills from his cocks.

"Please, please, I can't, not so soon!" Rafayel whimpered, struggling against his restraints.

Popping of his cock, using the flat of my tongue, I lick a broad stripe over the tips of his cocks, "More," I demanded simply, my voice both dark and empty, before I continued my ministrations, Rafayel's squeals and moans echoing through his home.

It won't be until long after the sun sets that we'll finally learn that Lemurian cum is addictive to humans; not that I care; I just want to plan another painting lesson soon.

Tag list: @anemonelovesfiction, @loakstahni, @xylianasblog, @etherialblackrose, @eywaite, @tallulah477, @neteyamsoare, @nakedinthetrees

[canonisdead]

Rewrite of the Cure AU-Chapter 12: Memories and Sand

Tinky vaguely understood the material in the book. He had found it in the red bag.

He personally didn’t want to experience these scary things described, it sounded very dangerous and little Teletubbies had no business being in dangerous situations. This was his fifth time reading it but still almost protested when it was taken out of his small hands.

But held it back when he realized it was just Noo-Noo, if it was anyone else he would have been annoyed since that’s a bit rude.

He dropped it into the handbag after studying it for a few seconds.

Tinky looks up at his frowning expression.

“You are never to say a word about these books to anyone, understood?”

His smile almost dropped of his face, but the purple Tubby shoved it back into place. He nods.

Tinky Winky is brought out of his thoughts when a small finger pokes his nose.

“Tinky, Gary said we should go to the cafeteria to eat lunch.” She leaves out the part where she turned her head to a demonic degree for the sole purpose of creeping the doctor out.

She didn’t like how nosey Gary is about their conditions. Mind your own business you quack.

Tinky wasn’t fond of being in a place FULL of strangers but he had to eat at some point. So he follows Po and tries not to make any eye contact with anyone he happens to see.

Dipsy was already there but was just poking his food around. Po runs up to him, either oblivious of his down mood or simply didn’t really care.

“Do we need to go somewhere or do we just sit down?”

Dipsy sighs. “You can just sit down, Miles or the cook lady will set the food in front of you.”

Po had no idea who this Miles even was but she didn’t even consider dwelling on it.

Ping lifts up her face and within seconds began sputtering due to her throat feeling...sandy. Why was her face even against sand in the first place?!

She struggles to focus her vision but everything was bleary. There was no time to try to remember anything due to the annoying beeping sound, though it sounded like it was echoing inside her head. It hurt.

She forces herself onto her feet despite wanting to just curl up until the pain stopped.

The pink Teletubby froze, she was observing her environment which she recognized as the beach, four figures were slowly approaching her.

She swore the beeping got louder, or was that possibly her pulse?

When one of them put their hand into maybe a pocket, that’s when her muscles started working again once her brain fully saw this situation as a threat.

Ping ran as fast as she could to the water while screaming as loud as she could. Maybe it would hurt their ears and slow them down. And maybe hopefully cannot swim.

“Why the hell is she so loud?!”

She swam so desperately that she didn’t even notice the water getting muddy. Blood raced through her ears, survival the only thing on her mind.

By the time her pulse started to calm down and the beeping was slowing, she was somewhere that she didn’t think ocean water would lead her to.

It looked maybe swampy?

But Ping was more concerned about the beeping. How can she get it to stop? She lifts up her shirt to look at her TV screen.

To her alarm, she saw a tiny red light flashing. She had no idea why she did it, but she punched her screen. Obviously it hurt but the beeping faltered for a second.

She cringes upon realizing what she had to do to stop it.

She smashed her fist against it over and over. Clenching her teeth and silently crying.

Relief washed over when she felt something shatter and the noise stopped completely.

Thank god.

Now she can focus on what happened before she woke up on the beach.

Ping shuts her eyes maybe that would help her focus.

Vaguely remembers her sister doing something. But couldn’t really recall what exactly Nin did.

She sighs, sitting near the swamp water. She didn’t want to try to go back home, those strange Teletubbies might still be there.

...It still feels like there’s sand in her throat but heck no she wasn’t going to wash her mouth with greenish water.

[nev3rfound]

the other widow : b.b

natasha may have left what she once knew behind when she became an avenger, but there is still so much more to learn about her sister who escaped the red room with the help of a certain metal armed soldier. (3k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: yes! this has been a long awaited idea from @ateliefloresdaprimavera i hope you like it love :) warnings: mentions of violence, blood, nightmares. obviously, I haven't seen the black widow movie so this is just my interpretation!

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

In another life, things might've been different for you. Perhaps, you could have left your home country and followed many your age in their quest to find a better life in America or Europe. You might have met someone, a kind man who took care of you, who loved you deeply.

That would have been nice, in another lifetime. But it wasn't reality, at least, not yours.

Your reality was living in a world plagued by nightmares, of what was done to you for many years. It hurt to blink as you saw yourself, lying back on that table as Doctors crowded around you, muttering about the success of their work.

"No, she's still out there," Your ears perk up at the conversation behind you. The kitchen window remains open whilst you sit outside, tugging at the rose petals from the rose bush. It always was too pretty. Pretty things aren't designed to last for long.

Melina sighs heavily into her phone, glancing away from the window. "What do you expect me to do? She doesn't go anywhere." Disappointment laces her tone combined with the tiredness of her mind. She's been trying for months to encourage you to go out, further than the land you live on.

Faintly you can hear the other end of the conversation, Melina always had a habit of keeping her phone on speaker. "I might visit soon." That is all you managed to hear, but it was enough for you to drop the remainder of the rose and crush the petals beneath your feet.

"Oh good, you're awake." A pair of gloves snap against his wrists, causing you to flinch in your seat. "Now, Y/n, there's no point trying to struggle, you know what happened last time." Doctor Yeznik reminds you with a twisted smile, waiting for you to nod.

"They deserved it." You dare to mutter, only to hear Yeznik chuckle before he turns back to face you, gripping your face in his hand.

"And you deserve this." He seethes, stabbing a needle into your arm before you can fight back. "No one is coming to save you, Y/n, never forget that." Yeznik whispers, watching as your eyes begin to droop until you're unable to fight the urge to sleep.

Rising to your feet, you can feel a smile ghost your lips at the sight of a Blue Tit perching on the edge of the birdbath. One of his wings isn't quite right, and as you approach it, it remains perfectly still.

Holding your hands out, you ignore the scars from the restraints still marking your wrists and forearms. "I won't hurt you," You tell the bird as it dips its head into the water, shaking the excess off. "I can help you, little one." You add quietly, only to watch the bird retreat and fly away uneasily.

"There's always next time." Melina calls out from the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Yeah," You nod, lowering your arms and bury your hands into your pockets. "if it makes it through the night without being able to fly far."

Entering the kitchen, you pass Alexei in silence, despite him turning his head to speak up.

Once out of sight, Alexei averts his attention to Melina who simply shakes her head. "She's still working on recovering." Melina sighs, taking a seat opposite the broad man. "The, the red room got worse after Natasha escaped."

"You don't have to explain," Alexei waves her off, aware of you standing at the top of the stairs, listening in due to the creak of the floorboards. "it'll take time."

"I just don't know if that's something we have." Melina comments, passing a burner phone to Alexei with a text message on display.

Shifting in his seat, Alexei looks back at Melina before crushing the phone in his grasp. "We'll do what we can." He mutters before silence ensues and the pressure from the floorboard beneath your feet eases as you return to your needed solitude.

*

Opening your eyes, you knew something was off, something was different within the house.

Underneath your pillow, you grab ahold of your gun before traipsing out from your room which remains in permanent darkness.

As you exit your bedroom, light tries to seep through the gap in the door but you quietly close it, keeping the darkness concealed from the light.

Avoiding any creaking floorboards, you keep your gun aimed at all times before the faint sound of laughter catches your attention from downstairs. It was a rarity to hear anything joyous in the household, mostly arguments occurred or stories of fights Alexei shares that you can recite from memory if you were ever asked.

But this was different, something lighthearted shared for a brief moment before you turn the corner and hover by the kitchen doorway seeing all the seats taken at the table, Melina's now taken by a redhead.

"This is a surprise." You speak up, placing your gun on the counter, now catching everyone's attention.

Smiling to Yelena, Natasha quickly turns around in her chair, leaning her arm over the back. "Hey sis," She greets you, her accent replaced by an American version. "long time no see, huh?"

Everyone in the room remains still, waiting for you to make the first move like a scared animal. You'll either scarper or approach with caution, and even at that moment, you're unsure which route you'll take.

"What brings you back here?" You ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you remain standing, despite Alexei rising to his feet and offering you his chair.

"There's some unfinished business I have to deal with." Natasha states, and Yelena motions for you to come closer whilst Natasha has her back turned.

"And we're being dragged into it somehow?" You're quick to comment, remembering the last time it happened which resulted in your previous home being burnt to the ground and Natasha vanishing into thin air once more.

Rising to her feet, Natasha walks over to the doorway leading into the garden. She doesn't wait for you to follow, but she knows eventually you will.

"She means well, Y/n." Yelena tells you whilst playing with a knife, jabbing it against the table despite Melina swatting it away.

Humming to yourself, you force your feet forward until you're outside, listening to the peaceful presence of nature.

Whilst you're in your own world temporarily, Natasha can't help but take the opportunity to observe you, notice the changes since she last saw you. Melina explained the nightmares you've been having of late, how you wake up clawing at your own skin until it bleeds and you clutching onto a pillow, tearing into the cotton with ease as you sob.

You look visibly drained, that much Natasha can tell. She knew she should've brought you with her, away to America the last time she was here, but there wasn't enough time. She watched you from afar as the building fell into itself, devoured by the flames and you looking around for your sister, nowhere to be seen.

"There's a little blue tit who visits daily now," You begin to explain, opening your eyes as they remain trained on the empty birdbath. "he's got a damaged wing, can't fly very far but he always visits." Moving closer to the bath, you can see the reflection of other birds flying above in groups. One or two flies further back from the others, flapping their wings in desperation to not be left behind; something you know all too well.

As your hands rest on the birdbath, Natasha can see the scars across your skin clearly.

"Y/n, I never got a chance to apologise last time I was here," Natasha begins, stepping closer toward you, yet you seem oblivious to her words.

"And I hope at some point he'll let me help him, mend him back to his best so he can fly away." Your lips rise for a second at the thought before returning to a straight line, now allowing yourself to process Natasha's statement. "You don't need to apologise, Nat."

"But I do, Y/n." Natasha urges as she resists reaching out for your hand, knowing no one touches you anymore unless they dare risk a broken bone or two. "I should've found you in there and taken you with me. You were still a child, I,"

"I don't blame you, sister." Turning to face her, you force yourself to smile, an attempt to reassure her as she frowns deeply. "The only person I blame for everything is Yeznik." You can't help but shudder, hearing his voice in the back of your mind, one of the many who taunts you in your sleep.

"That's why I'm here." Natasha states.

You can't stop the scoff from leaving your lips. "You can't be serious, Natasha." Yet, you watch your sister nod immediately. "Do you want to get yourself killed?"

"I could ask you the same thing." She retorts, catching you off guard. "Don't think I don't know about the truth behind your escape, Y/n."

"What are you talking about?" You question, knowing better than to confess to your sister of all people. "I escaped that hell hole on my own. Killed several guards in the process and escaped with nine bullet wounds." You remind her, lifting your shirt to show the bullet wound scars that never properly healed.

"But you didn't escape from the Red Room. You escaped during a mission." She explains, watching your expression falter for half a second, but it was enough for her to know you're lying.

Shaking your head, you back away toward the small hutch hidden beneath an oak tree that currently houses three rabbits.

"That is preposterous, even for me, Natasha." You chuckle, opening the hutch and reach for the number one who happily hops out and stands beside you.

Looking away from you, Natasha can see the three others watching closely from the kitchen window. She can see Yelena mouthing something, but rolls her eyes when Natasha shakes her head.

"The Winter Soldier." Yelena marches over, causing you to tense up and the rabbit hops back into the hutch as you gently lock it once more. "Remember him, Y/n?"

"His name is Bucky." You mutter under your breath before slowly standing up. "And don't you dare talk about him." You spit at Yelena who spares Natasha a look.

"You helped each other escape, didn't you?" Natasha pushes her question, and this time to her surprise you don't object.

"Follow me," You sigh, walking around the garden to a set of stairs, leading you to the rooftop filled with trees and plants.

Admiring the greenery, Natasha hesitantly follows behind you.

"You going to stand there all day or sit down?" Raising a brow to Natasha, she breathes out a laugh and sits down on one of the seats dotted around that isn't taken by a plant.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Natasha leans forward, resting her forearms on her thighs and you mirror her action.

"Yes." You mutter. "But I can't remember everything it, part of it I blocked out." You admit, feeling your leg already beginning to shake beneath you.

"You will be accompanied this time, Y/n." Your tutor, Ms Ivanov tugs on your ponytail forcefully whilst you remain seated.

"I don't need company." Tugging your head forward, her fingers fall through the ends of your hair and she hums in response. "I'm capable of this myself."

Ms Ivanov chuckles under her breath before standing in front of your desk, resting her hands on the sides as her eyes fixate on yours. "That might be so, but not this time." Pushing her hands from your desk, Ivanov nods to the closed door.

Within seconds someone is forced through the metal frame with a bag covering their face. They're of a large build, but your eyes widen at the sight of metal making up their left arm.

"Is it?" Your question leaves your lips before you've fully thought about what this means, and Ivanov smirks.

Stepping toward the concealed figure, she tugs the sheet from their face, revealing a mass of brown hair.

He lifts his head up and stares at you immediately those pensive blue eyes you've heard whispers of. He fights against his restraints as two guards stand behind him with loaded guns.

"There will be plenty of time for that, soldat." Ivanov laughs, patting his metal arm. "Now, Y/n. It's time to go."

*

"I don't know what happened on that mission. But when I woke up, I, I was free." Unable to look at your sister, your focus lies on the breeze weaving through the branches of the trees.

Natasha leans forward, wishing she could tell you everything she knew. "You saved each other, Y/n." She speaks up, remembering the last time she saw him, a broken shell of the man he once was, his demeanour mirroring yours.

"I guess," You shrug. "but after everything, I, I have no idea what happened to him. I, I don't even know if he's still," Pursing your lips, the word never leaves as you curl your arms toward your stomach.

Looking toward the others, Natasha sighs at their disapproving glares. She knows they mean well, that they are practically family. But you're the only true blood family Natasha has left, and she can't lie to you anymore, not this time.

Standing in Wakanda, Bucky smiled truly for the first time in years. He was no longer plagued by the fear of becoming the Winter Soldier. He was finally free of it all.

But he still had a long way to go, to make amends for those he hurt, and amongst everyone, there was you. His Black Widow, Y/n.

"Hey, Barnes." Natasha stands beside him, looking out at the vast farmland that surrounds them. She can't help but think how much you would love to be somewhere like this, somewhere that is peaceful, tranquil.

"Hello, Natasha." Bucky turns to face the redhead, having not spoken to her since he was under Zemo's control. "I erm, I would like to apologise for everything I did, and for hurting you all those years ago." Bucky explains, and Natasha patiently listens, allowing him to get his full speech out. "And for what they made me do in," Furrowing his brows together, Natasha clears her throat.

"We don't have to talk about that." She tells him as she reaches into her pocket, taking out a folded piece of paper, well worn. "I wanted to ask you something before anyone knows where I am."

"Okay?" Bucky answers uneasily, tugging on the cloth that covers the remainder of his left shoulder.

Unfolding the piece of paper, Bucky can see a glimpse of a black and white photo.

"Here," Natasha holds the photograph out, face down to Bucky who hesitantly accepts. She watches intently as he turns the photograph over and can't help but smile as his breath hitches in his throat.

"Y/n." Bucky looks up to Natasha who simply nods.

"I was wondering if you'd remember her." Natasha crosses her arms over her chest, trying to hide the smirk forming on her face and amusement in her tone.

A playful scoff leaves Bucky's lips. "How could I forget her?" He thinks aloud. "I could never forget the person who helped me escape, who, who," 'Helped me realise I'm still human despite everything I've done.' Bucky thinks to himself, remembering the night before he left you as you lay in his arms whilst he listened to your soft reassurances. "Do you know where she is?" He tries to hide the hope in his voice, but it's useless.

"Yes." Natasha answers. "Y/n Romanoff." She states, and Bucky stares blankly at Natasha for a moment, before a light laugh leaves his lips.

"I shoulda known." He sighs dramatically. "Makes a lot of sense now." Bucky mutters, but Natasha doesn't pry. "Is, is she with you?" He glances past her, toward the jet she came on, but Natasha shakes her head.

"She's safe, in Russia." Natasha explains as she walks alongside Bucky toward the lake. "But she prefers the company of animals over people these days."

"Makes two of us then." Bucky comments. "I, I promised I'd find her." Allowing his mind to drift as the lake ripples, Bucky pictures your sleeping form in his arms minutes before he left you. He whispered you a promise, one he has yet to fulfil.

"Then let me help you keep that promise." Natasha places her hand on his arm gently, and Bucky snaps out from his thoughts. "I know you're still healing, and she is too. But I'll come back, Barnes."

Bucky nods. "Thank you, Natasha."

"James Barnes," Natasha slowly interrupts your prolonged silence. "is still alive, he, he's healing, but he remembers you, Y/n."

You reach out and take Natasha's hand in yours. For a moment, you simply stare, void of emotion before tightening your grip, beginning to crush her fingers whilst Natasha remains stoic.

"Don't lie to me, Nat." You tell her, keeping your eyes locked on hers.

"I'm not lying, Y/n." She responds, ignoring the pain you're inflicting before your grip begins to ease, but she doesn't pull away immediately. "He made you a promise, didn't he?"

"I, I don't know." You admit sadly, looking down at your lap, faintly hearing his voice in the back of your mind fighting through the horrid memories engrained there from the red room.

"He did, Y/n." Natasha asserts herself. "Would you like to see him?"

"I think so." You answer honestly as you uncurl your body and sit upright. "But only once this is over. Once Yeznik is gone. I don't want to be haunted anymore, Nat."

This time, Natasha extends her hand, taking yours in hers delicately.

"Okay, sis." She breathes out, helping you to your feet. "Let's get started."

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[mystery-star]

Shipping Experiment– Spock

Pairing: Spock x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: involuntary drunkenness

Words: 3686

A/N: I got this idea when I stumbled upon a BTS picture of the AOS movie productions. Then I discussed it with @cleversturmhond​ and decided it had to be written. I know the pic is for AOS but can be read for TOS as well.

Please do not repost my work on other sites or platforms!

-

Being an Ensign usually meant that you couldn’t go on many away missions. So it was always something very special for you to get chosen. You only hoped that your husband had no saying in it because you wanted to be chosen because of your skills and not the fact that you were married to the Chief Science Officer and First Officer of the ship. On the other hand, if it had been Spock’s idea to take you on the mission, it probably had a logical reason, after all he always claimed that he did not make emotional decisions while on duty. Maybe you could ask him later on who had had the idea to allow you to come to the mission.

For a reason you were surprised to learn that the aliens that lived on the planet were very friendly because so far you had usually only heard stories of how the landing party had been almost killed or abducted by the inhabitants of the planet. The natives even invited you for dinner and the Captain immediately agreed. You on the other hand didn’t know if it was such a good idea to just eat foreign food, what if it was poisonous for you? Sure, Kirk claimed that the alien’s physiology was not that different from your own but it still was no guarantee that the food would not hold and unpleasant surprises.

Unfortunately, the meal tasted a bit bland but otherwise it was very good and you ate a lot, probably more than usual. They even served some kind of ‘dessert’, just that it consisted of a bitter drink. After the meal, you were allowed to watch some kind of welcome dance the natives did for you and also encouraged all of you to dance as well. To your surprise, even Spock joined them a bit later, but probably only because four of your hosts were pulling on his arms and trying to get him up and on the dance floor. With determined steps he came over to you, offering you his hand

“Do you mind?”

“I’d love to” you said, taking his hand and placing the other hand on his shoulder. When you had first seen what a skillful dancer he was, you almost couldn’t believe it. Even less that he had never taken dance lessons in secret and just seemed to be a whiz kid, like at everything else. Not that you minded though, it was something you loved about him, how good he was at everything or how quickly he learned if something was indeed new for him. You amused yourself very much and also Spock seemed to do so. But then you saw him smile at you and in shock you let go of him “What’s wrong’” you asked.

“What are you referring to?”

“Your smile, you just smiled”

“I do not believe I did. You must have imagined it”

“Yeah sure, let’s just deny it all as if it was a shame” you said, gently taking hold of him again to continue your dance. Probably you would have just forgotten about it, if his smile had not etched itself into your memory and made it hard to be forgotten. And it wasn’t just his smile, suddenly, he also leaned his forehead against yours and pulled you closer, letting out a small sigh. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Your definition of ‘okay’ is unclear” he muttered

“I want to know if you’re feeling as usual. Or if you think that something’s off”

“Nothing is ‘off’. I simply enjoy having you close”

“Well I take that as a compliment” you pecked his cheek. While some of the other crewmembers seemed to have had enough, Spock was still twirling you around, even more energetic than before. And at times you could have sworn to see a big smile on his face. Finally, the Captain approached you

“I didn’t know dancing made you that happy”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That you’re grinning like a Cheshire cat” Spock raised an eyebrow

“You are referring to the animal from Alice in Wonderland”

“Yeah. You have something of him right now”

“Is it true?’” he asked looking at you

“Yeah you have been smiling at times But that’s okay. As long as it means you’re feeling happy that’s perfect”

“I would not call it ‘perfect’. I do not like not being in control of my emotions” you had stopped dancing by now

“So what are we gonna do? Do you want to go back to the ship?”

“Perhaps that would be a good solution. Then I can extend my meditation period”

“And leave poor (Y/N) all alone down here?” Kirk said, patting your back.

“Or I can just leave with him” you said “I kinda am getting tired from all the dancing”

“I apologize” Spock said “If you wish to accompany me back to the ship you are welcome to do so”

“Perfect” also Jim gave a nod and so your husband and you left the place after bidding your hosts goodbye and requested to be transported back to the ship. On the way to your shared quarters, Spock took your hand and squeezed it. You checked the time “It’s only 2014 hours. Would you like to do something?”

“If you do not mind I would like to engage in meditation for some time”

“Right, you said that you’d do that. I’ll just be reading something then”

-

Two hours later, Spock was still in the bathroom for meditation. But unless most times he was talking to himself. With a sigh you got up and stopped in front of the door. Of course you knew he didn’t like to be disturbed and that meditation was private to Vulcans. Yet you gently knocked at the locked door.

“Are you okay?” you asked with a quiet voice but got now answer “Spock?”

“Yes”

“Sorry for disturbing you but you were talking and I wanted to see if you’re alright”

“I am” he said “Test Object Leonard... Time: 1.28 seconds”

“What are you doing?” you asked, entering the code to open the door. You didn’t know what to say when you saw what he was doing. He had rid himself of his meditation robes and was standing at the sink in underwear, a dozen or more of origami swans or folded boats, made from toilet paper were sitting on top of the sink. In his hand, he held your lip balm, which he obviously had used to write something on the mirror “Oh Spock” you said, not sure if it was a good idea to laugh “What’s this?”

“I want to find out how long it takes until the figures are soaked with water and unfold”

“Oh well… uh” you only knew one thing. This was not normal behavior for your husband “What about your robes?” he looked at the pile of clothes, something else atypical because usually he carefully folded and put his clothes away unless he put it in the laundry box (and even for in there he did fold them a little).

“I took them off so they will not get wet”

“Well okay” you moved closer and watched, how he launched a swan called Sulu and noted that it was soaked within 1.31 seconds before noting name and the time on the mirror “Come on, you can drown more toilet paper tomorrow”

“I do not drown it. It is an experiment”

“You still can continue it tomorrow”

“Then the conditions might be different”

“Shouldn’t something be tested under different conditions?” he looked at you then turned back to his ‘experiment’, putting the next thing into the water, this time a boat called Sulu. You had the impression that he had each a swan and a boat that were named after someone of the crew. When you checked the list, you saw that also your name was at the top of the list, making you smile. “Come” you said “You can finish tomorrow. I think you have enough data for today” you pointed at the mirror

“I am not done yet”

“We continue tomorrow. I’ll help you” he looked at you

“Then I can get started with the report now”

“Or we go to bed. It’s late”

“I usually write my reports at around that time”

“Yeah but usually don’t soak toilet paper figures in the sink either. Let’s go” he looked at you

“No!” he said, rather fiercely, making you wince

“Spock!” you insisted “I don’t know what’s wrong with you but you are not alright right now. So let me get you to bed or I’ll call McCoy”

“He will be off duty by now” he grabbed the next swan but you took hold of his wrist.

“I can just call med bay. I bet you’d hate someone else looking at you even more”

“I do not need a doctor, I am fine”

“Don’t you usually not use the word fine because it has no logical definition just like ‘okay’?”

“It does, I only tried to make it clear to you by using your vernacular” still he started a lecture of the different meanings of the two words, depending on the context. You sighed and gently tried to lead him away from the sink and to your surprise and relief he complied. As long as he was talking, you could get him back to your bed room and hand him his sleeping shirt which he put on without further ado. But then he was done with his explanation and the started behaving like a kid again, refusing to but on his pajama trousers and insisted he had to continue his experiment.

“No you don’t. If you go back into the bathroom, I’ll throw all your boats and swans into the toilet and flush them” he stared at you and his mouth fell open slightly. You couldn’t hide a grin

“I will make new ones” he said and left for the bathroom

“No!” you shouted and wrapped your hands around his waist, trying to stop him. But since he was stronger than you, due to his Vulcan heritage, he managed to walk to the bathroom anyways. So you let go of him and went to the intercom instead, contacting Med bay that they came to have a look. After all it was possible that his state could be dangerous. You were quite certain it had to do with something that happened on the planet, probably something he ate or drank. When you ended the communication, you saw that Spock wasn’t in the bathroom anymore. He also wasn’t in the bedroom either “Spock?” you called but you got no answer. His figures were still standing on the sink but you noticed that his lute was gone. With a sigh you started the computer on the desk “Computer, where is Commander Spock?” you asked, not wanting to search him. Besides, he could be everywhere.

“Commander Spock currently is in recreation room 3 on deck 5”

“Oh” you said and left your quarters hurrying there as fast as you could. The scene you saw did shock you but you still had to pull back to not start laughing. It was even worse than what you had seen in the bathroom in your quarters. Spock was still only wearing his nightshirts, boxers and was sitting on one of the tables, seeming to be tuning his lute. And of course he was not alone in the rec room and almost everyone was staring at him or you “Spock!” you hissed as you slowly approached him “What are you doing, honey?” you placed a hand on his arm

“I am not making honey” you rolled your eyes

“I can see that. It wasn’t a question. I meant you by honey”

“Why?”

“You’re not in a state to discuss this. Come, let’s go back. You still have your experiment to finish”

“I am off duty” he said trying out his lute again.

“Well then we just go to bed. Or are you hungry again? Just let’s get you out of here. People are watching” you said quietly. At that, his head shot up and he glared at the people in question and they were quick to look away or pretend to focus on something else. You sighed “Come on. We can come back when you put pants on” he looked down his legs “Yes, you’re only wearing underwear”

“That is not underwear” he gestured at his shirt

“Yeah. But this” you pointed at his boxers. Come” you offered him your hand but he slapped it away, putting a foot on his table and started to play on the lute.

“I would like to play you a song”

“You can do this when I’m in bed. Because I’m very tired” you faked a yawn “Then you can help me fall asleep. How does that sound?”

“As if you think my song is boring” he pouted and you shook your head.

“That’s not what I meant. But it is very calming. And it’s been a long day. Are you not tired?”

“I am Vulcan”

“That doesn’t answer the question” he didn’t say anything and you sighed “Fine” you pulled your hand back and gave a nod, walking over to the intercom to contact Med Bay again because the doctor had to come here and not your quarters. You probably didn’t’ have the strength (or will) to bring your husband back to his quarters. When you were done, you also contacted the Captain to tell him what was going on and to let him know that maybe Spock wouldn’t come to work tomorrow

“What do you mean by ‘behaving odd’? Is it a Spocksih odd we’re used of him or odd odd?”

“Odd odd. Unless he’s sitting on the tables in rec room just wearing his boxers and playing his lute each day”

“No, you’re right that is odd. When did he start behaving like that?”

“I don’t know. He went mediating when we returned. But maybe his smiles on the planet already had to do with his situation”

“Did you let McCoy know?”

“He’s got off, so I contacted Med Bay”

“Very well. Do you need help?”

“Are you already back?”

“Yeah, we all are by now”

“Oh okay. But no, I called for a doctor he’ll help me to bring Spock back home”

“Perfect” you turned around to your husband

“Oh fuck”

“What? What is he doing now?”

“No idea”

“How do you mean that?”

“Because he’s gone. He’s not here anymore”

“Do you need help searching him?”

“Only if you don’t mind”

“My friend and First Officer is running around the ship drunk and half naked. Of course I can make time to search him”

“Good” you quickly discussed where you would go looking (respectively that you’d ask the computer for his location again) before contacting Med Bay yet another time to let them know that you had lost your husband again. Then you went to the next computer to hear his location. As it seemed he currently wasn’t in a room but was still underway to wherever he was heading. That was if he had a place he wanted to go. As you followed his path, you stopped to ask a computer again and when you heard where Spock was, you sped up even more. He had gone to the Pharmacology lab and in his state you had no idea what he’d do and he could get himself killed if he did something wrong. When you arrived at the lab, two people of sickbay were already there, talking to your husband. “What’s going on?” you asked, taking your husband’s hand.

“Your explanations made me realized that something is indeed wrong with me. I was trying to find something against it” he gestured at two small vials in front of

“Did he take anything?”

“No, luckily not” the nurse said while the doctor ran a scanner over Spock

“Is he okay?”

“No” Spock replied, making you squeeze his hand. To your surprise he pulled you closer until your head was resting against his chest. Suddenly he let out a yelp and when you looked up you saw how the doctor had injected a hypo into Spock’s neck. At the same time as your husband you asked what it was and were told that it something that would help him calm down a bit. The nurse then continued explaining that everything was alright so far and he just seemed drunk. So you should just take him back to your quarters and let them know in case something happened. With a grin you shook your head.

“What did you do huh?” you nudged his arm, making him glance down at you

“I did not take anything”

“On the planet. But you couldn’t know. We all didn’t. Now let’s get you to bed and tomorrow everything will be better” also Kirk now arrived in the lab and was asking what was going on, whereupon he received a briefing from the doctor.

“And he’s fine now?”

“He’s always been fine. But (Y/N) should keep an eye on him, just in case. But I don’t think something will happen. I’d take some blood but I have the impression that in his state he will not allow it”

“What if you wait until the sedative you gave him works?”

“Of course we could but as far as I can see he’s fine. Just not used to being drunk. I only thought we could find out what put him in that state. Maybe we’ll have to take some blood if he gets worse which he shouldn’t”

“Okay, that’s great to hear” you said with a nod and when you saw, how your husband slightly slackened you took hold of his arm

“It’s starting wo work” the nurse commented and you tried to lead him back to your shared quarters which you only could when also Kirk took hold of him and helped you. Together you more or less dragged Spock back to your quarters and after asking if you could manage, the Captain left you.  Spock pulled you to the bed, sat down on its edge and after you were in his lap, he embraced you tightly.

“Careful” you muttered “Don’t forget how strong you are and your thousand lectures about how you could snap all my bones just like that” he didn’t reply but nuzzled the side of your neck. “How about you let me get ready for bed and then we can lie down and cuddle until we fall asleep?” again he did nothing so you let out a sigh “Aren’t you tired?”

“Not very much. However, I wish to hold you longer”

“You can also do that when we’re trying to fall asleep?” now his arms disappeared and you got up, getting out of your clothes, when you heard the bathroom door close. “Please just don’t continue your experiment” you muttered as you put on a top for in the bed. You sat down on the bed, taking out a PADD to read an article before Spock returned but again he stayed in the bathroom. After fifteen minutes you put your device aside and knocked at the door but got no answer, so you opened it. You had to cover your mouth to not burst out laughing. He was cuddling his robes he had discarded earlier against his chest and was fast asleep on the bathroom floor. Of course you knew that you wouldn’t be able to bring him back to bed so you returned to your bedroom, got your blanket and spread it over him. For a while you stood there, looking down at him and considering if you should join him or spend the night in bed before you sighed and grabbed your pillow to lie down beside him as well.

-

It was one of the first times in your marriage that you woke up before Spock. But knowing he’d probably be awake any time, you waited for him with breakfast. When he appeared in the door frame you had to bite back a chuckle because you had never seen him so disheveled.

“Morning” you greeted, putting your PADD aside

“Morning, (Y/N)” he replied with a nod. “I cannot find a logical explanation why I have woken up in the bathroom”

“Because you fell asleep there. Bam, logic” you got up and walked to the replicator “Water or tea?”

“Then I cannot recall why I would have chosen the bathroom floor as suitable place to spend the night”

“Oh well I can’t answer that either. But I might have an idea”

“That is?” he asked, walking to the bed to put the blanket on it, of course folding it neatly before taking a new uniform from his wardrobe.

“You don’t remember?”

“I am not certain I understand what you are referring to”

“Well” you grinned, getting your own breakfast, “I guess I’d better tell you before Kirk surprises you with made up stories about your half-naked adventures in the rec room. Come to think of it, you might want to make sure he doesn’t find the video”

“Which video?” if he hadn’t been shocked before he definitely was now. The intercom beeped and Spock answered it

“How’re you doing, druggie?”

“I do not understand your reference”

“You don’t remember? Pity, I’d love to see your face. I could tell you everything but I guess that (Y/N) knows a few more details. In fact I’d love to hear the whole story. Anyways, I just called to let you know I pulled a few strings to let you take off this morning, Spock”

“I do not see…”

“And I don’t care. I won’t let you come to the bridge. Oh and Bone’s awaiting you in Med Bay he said” the call ended and Spock looked at you as if he was lost.

“It seems there something you should tell me”

“Yeah” you gestured at his chair “I know Vulcan got nerves of steel, not anatomically, but you might better sit before I start”

-

Taglist: @softsapphicideals

[doctenwho]

Gestures and Evasion

Hello! Welcome to a new DT fic! My deepest apologies that it’s been so long, and thank you so much for waiting so patiently! Life’s been a bit of a rollercoaster recently, and I’ve needed a bit to recuperate, but I’m back again!

This prompt didn’t have a specific character mentioned, but luckily, since it wasn’t anonymous, I was able to shoot pistachoz a DM and they’ve confirmed it’s a Tenth Doctor request! :D

Warning: None, I don’t think?

Word Count: 3,514

Summary: Check out the prompt above! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the creator! :D)

The Doctor doesn’t really remember the first small act he’d committed to try and get his companion to notice him. To notice him on a... well, on a more personal level?

It’s a general memory, nothing pinpointed, but he knows it happened long ago.

It was something small—mundane. (Y/N) had more or less brushed the gesture off with a light laugh and a smile that made his hearts hammer away in his chest, but (Y/N) had really seen if for what it had been.

It wasn’t very often that the Doctor had these sort of feeling about anything, but there was just something special about (Y/N). Something he couldn’t put his finger on.  

He’d been trying for just about as long as the companion had been travelling with him to send little messages, or gestures in hopes that maybe (Y/N) would see what he was doing for what it was instead of brushing it off like she tended to do.

If he’s honest, he’s never really had this kind of problem before. He’s had many companions, and more often than not, those companions tend to want more from him than he’s willing to allow himself to give. Rose, and Martha—Jack, even—they were all looking for more from him, and being what he is, and what he does, it’s not that simple to reciprocate feelings.  

They’ll all age and eventually die, whereas he’ll just move on to his next bout of regeneration with a broken heart he’ll have to try his hardest to keep under wraps.  

The Doctor knows that maybe (Y/N) showing such little interest in him is almost a good thing. Less heartbreak down the road when (Y/N) decides not to accompany him any longer, or, worse, when old age takes (Y/N) away like every other human before her. It’s inevitable, and he really should have a stronger hold on human life compared to TimeLord life, but the loss always knocks him down for a while.

It should be a good thing, but he just can’t seem to bring himself around to believing that it’s a good thing. Not when every time (Y/N) brushes off a gesture he’s thought over, and put time and effort into, it fills his hearts with an unfamiliar pain he hasn’t felt since losing his family and Gallifrey alike.  

It had taken him a while to notice he was even trying to win (Y/N) in a sort of courtship way. And it had taken even longer to realize he’d been doing it for about as long as he’d known (Y/N). It hadn’t seemed like it at the time, but looking back now, he can see how all the little comments and gestures were more than just friendly.  

But she’d been brushing his attempts off since early in their travels. Shooting him a smile, but turning away when anything too even the slightest romantic turn. Avoiding his eyes when he stared fondly, or laughing it off when a compliment slipped past his lips.

He really didn’t understand it.  

He could see the Gallifreyan romantic gestures confusing (Y/N), but the few earth gestures he’d picked up barely stirred anymore of a reaction than the Gallifreyan ones. He didn’t know where he was going wrong—how it was all being perceived the way it was. The wrong way. He wasn’t getting the reactions he wanted and... well, it hurt.  

Both his pride, and his hearts.  

It had started small with flowers—or, a flower. They were on a foreign planet, but he knew giving small gifts like a flower was one of the human gestures. So, he’d searched around while his companion was busy exploring, and located the loveliest flower he could find. It was mixtures of blues and purples; native to the planet but incredibly rare considering they only bloomed twice a year, for no longer that three days at a time.  

The flower had a sweet smell; one similar to those of sweets from earth. For a while, before he’d remembered Earth didn’t have this specific species of flower, nor were they advanced enough in space travel to find one, he’d assumed they’d used the attractive scent of the flower as a marketing technique to sell their sweets.  

The sugary smell Earth sweets had would always come second to the scent of this specific flower.  

The exchange had been short, and less than pleasurable if the Doctor’s honest. He’d found (Y/N) sitting on the ground, just taking the calming atmosphere of the planet. His heart stuttered in his chest before he finally took those last few steps towards her, where he settled at her side and cleared his throat to gain her attention.  

He’d held the flower out, rambling out facts as (Y/N) took the flower into her hands. She gave it a sniff, and fiddled with the stem and petals for a second before smiling down at it. She stared down at it, before looking back at him with an appreciative smile. He’d thought he’d won her over, but instead, she settled the flower on the ground beside her.  

His hearts had cracked as his companion’s hand fell away from the flower, leaving it on the ground as she returned her attention to the world around her. He’d swallowed thickly before sitting himself beside her, not bothering to mention the fact his gesture had gone unnoticed.

It was the same ordeal when he’d ordered (Y/N) a space delicacy from one of his favorite planets, where his companion had taken the treat into her hands and tasted it without a second thought. Smiling down at the treat, before shooting him light smile as she licked her lips.

He didn’t know why he’d been expecting—hoping for—anything more than the usual ‘Thank you’ he always received when he did something out of the ordinary for his companion, but the mumbled words had filled his with a sense of sadness.  

It was silly.  

But he kept trying.

The gestures just kept coming. It was barely a forethought anymore. An unconscious effort to try and win over his companion—seeking this relationship (Y/N) quite obviously didn’t want. It was a sad downward spiral, but he really couldn’t imagine not trying to woo her. He’d been at it for so long, not trying sounded foreign.

He tried just about anything he could to get any sort of reaction. Any hint that his companion knew what he was trying to do. Any acknowledgment that she understood that he was trying. He’d prefer blatant rejection to this... whatever this evasive attitude (Y/N) was expressing.  

Dinner in the stars.

Unique gifts from distant planets.

Various treats and snacks from wherever they happened to be.

He even tried to learn more about human things on earth. How humans went about stuff like this, and how it all differed from his Gallifreyan roots. Human courting was quite the oddity.  

He didn’t talk to many humans who weren’t his companions, or people he’d saved in some way or another, but the man who ran one of the shops had taken some time to educate him, but the Doctor had come out of that conversation more confused than he’d gone in.  

But on the bright side, (Y/N) had enjoyed the bag of sweets he’d awkwardly bought to stand at the register and chat with the friendly shopkeeper.  

He was still at a loss. Nothing seemed to be working. Nothing wooed his companion. He didn’t understand—couldn't see how not one single thing he’d tried had gotten (Y/N)’s attention.

But he still had one more thing up his sleeve.  

“Where are we going?” (Y/N) asked cautiously from the seat in the console room. The Doctor was doing his usual laps around the TARDIS console to what should be six TimeLord’s jobs simultaneously. He’d gotten good at it over the years, but there was still, occasionally, some rough kickbacks when he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

“It’s a surprise,” the man shot his companion a grin, pulling a lever. At this point, (Y/N) should be used to the surprises. He never got the kinds of reactions he was looking for, but he was still hoping that... maybe sometime he would. That something he planned would be the special one that could win his companion over.

(Y/N) didn’t reply, but continued to watch the Doctor how around the TARDIS like a madman.  

They weren’t far from the next greatest surprise the man had planned. They’d been travelling a little under an hour, and (Y/N) had only joined him in the console room ten-ish minutes prior, but he’d still refused to tell her where they were heading.  

(Y/N) was still quiet when the Doctor stabilized his space and time machine, checking everything twice before finally tugging his companion up by the hand and leading her towards the doors.  

He threw the doors open, grinning widely as he gazed around. Just as promised.  

It was a phenomenon really. A collection of heart shaped carbon monoxide ice chunks. No one was quite sure how they’d been formed, or whether someone had carved the hearts and left them to float in this tiny orbital pull in the middle of nowhere.  

It was a sight few saw—the Doctor had only heard of this place from chatter on a nearby planet, but he had to admit it was just as beautiful as he’d imagined. The ice glistened as the light casted from the TARDIS hit it, making them twinkle just as brightly as the stars in the background.

It was about as romantic as you could get.  

“Woah,” (Y/N) gaped at his side, and the Doctor turned to look, smile slowly lighting up his face as he watched his companion’s eyes travel from heart to heart. “What... what is this?”

“It’s carbon monoxide ice,” the Doctor informed softly, the smile on his face widening as his hearts thrummed in his chest. His companion had an astonished look on her face, eyes wide with childlike curiosity. “Like that of Mars in your solar system. No one’s really sure how they take shape but... well, they’re quite the sight.”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed out, almost like her breath was taken away by the sight.  

The Doctor had been told by many, had seen for himself as beauty takes away people’s breath. He’d been there too, once or twice with his current companion.  

He barely even caught his words as they left his mouth—his heart speaking before his brain had a chance to filter his words, “Like you.”

That was his moment of error, the Doctor noticed.

He frowned to himself as his companion slowly pulled themself away, shying away from his side and retreating back into the TARDIS with one last lingering glance at the ice. The Doctor’s hearts froze within his chest, as he watched uncertainly—unsure just how he’d managed to mess this one up as well.  

“It’s late,” (Y/N) muttered softly before leaving the Doctor alone in the TARDIS doorway, the man’s gaze locked on one lone heart with a barely noticeable crack down the center. It wouldn’t be long before the orbit around them pulled the frail pieces apart, severing the heart into two.  

The TimeLord forced a breath, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment as he resided completely with the cracked heart.

He didn’t understand.  

The clumps of frozen carbon monoxide made his hearts hurt the longer he stared, so he was quick to follow on his companion’s footsteps, spinning on his heels and shuffling back inside, making sure to shut the doors behind him.

He wanted to flee this place, this failed attempt, but he couldn’t bring himself around to flying the TARDIS at the moment. He didn’t have the energy too. Like expected, (Y/N) had disappeared into the TARDIS, so the Doctor plopped heavily down on the seat.  

Maybe it was time to accept the fact that his companion did not reciprocate his feelings. That he was barking up the wrong tree. He’d thought that they were... but maybe he was wrong.  

The Doctor stared up at the TARDIS ceiling, his space and time machine giving a little hum as if she could feel his worries and mood. His hand patted the back of his seat halfheartedly as a promise that he was okay.  

It had never been this hard with any other companion. There was just something so special about (Y/N). Something he wanted to get closer too, even though he knew he’d end up hurt in the end. Something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get now.  

Maybe it was time to settle this once and for all. His gestures were overlooked, or, maybe even ignored. As much as it hurt to admit, (Y/N) didn’t seem very enthused with anything he’d done. Maybe it was the human not understanding what he was trying to do—but humans tended to like words.

--

The Doctor from (Y/N) in her room, perched on the edge of her bed. (Y/N)’s attention raised when the Doctor announced his arrival with a sturdy knock on the slivered-open door. The knock pushed the door in enough for the Doctor to poke his head in.  

“Do you, uh, have a moment?” He asked cautiously, almost ready for the rejection he’d been living with for the better part of travelling with (Y/N). He’d grown used to it, but it still tugged at his heart strings. She’d never deny him conversation, but he could still see and feel her pulling away from him.  

“Of course,” (Y/N) sat up a little more, giving the Doctor her full attention. “What’s the matter?”

He hadn’t thought this far ahead, the Doctor realizes as he shifts from foot to foot in (Y/N)’s doorway, mind vacant of any thoughts. (Y/N) tilted her head at the Doctor’s odd silence, studying him from her spot, “Doctor...? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” the man cleared his throat. Then did so a second time before continuing, “I wanted to, uhm, know what you thought about the, uh,” he gestured broadly behind him, hoping his companion could piece his question together.

“The ice hearts?”

It was a good thing his companion was so clever.

“Yes, the hearts.” The Doctor nods, fingers tapping awkwardly against his side. “Did you... did you like them?”

“They were beautiful,” (Y/N) repeated once again, fidgeting with her own fingers, “it was a bit unexpected, but... yeah, I did. Thanks for showing me them.”

The man gave a nod, but didn’t voice anything. If he thought his voice would’ve come out naturally instead of the anxious waver he was sure would be there, he definitely would’ve replied with a soft ‘My pleasure,’ because it really was his pleasure to introduce (Y/N) to the beauty of the galaxy.  

There was an unsettling moment of silence where neither really knew what to say.  

It was the Doctor who broke it, staring at his shoes as he finally allowed the words he’d been stewing over out, “do you... not like me, (Y/N)?”

“What?” the surprise was prominent. The word rang out for a second before the Doctor lifted his gaze to settled on (Y/N)’s shocked, tense frame. Her muscles were stiff, body sitting up straighter and more alert than she had been when he’d first asked to talk. “I like you plenty,” (Y/N) assured quickly, “what gave you the idea I didn’t?”

There was a list, really. He could count things off on his fingers, but he wasn't here to be petty. The man bit his lip, leaning against the doorframe to support his weight. He honestly just wanted to know why (Y/N) was so evasive every time he so much as tried to woo her.  

“You... well, uh, you never seem to care,” he made sure to word it carefully, “I... I’m not sure if you even notice, or ignore it, or what. I just, I need you to be honest with me. Why haven’t you... reciprocated any feelings?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Doctor,” (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and one ankle crossed over the other as she leaned forwards in interest.

“Since I met you,” the Doctor swallowed, “I’ve been... I don’t know how to say it but, trying to court you, I suppose? That’s not really something humans do, but it is something TimeLords do. It’s just that... every attempt I’ve made... every try I’ve made to do something cute, or romantic, you brush it off. You’re evasive, and... I’d just like to know if that’s because you don’t reciprocate my feelings. If you don’t feel the same, we can just put this all behind us.”

“It’s not like that,” (Y/N)’s voice was quiet, a near whisper, “please don’t think it’s because I don’t like you. I do, Doctor. I just... I wasn’t sure.”

“Weren’t sure?” The man furrowed his eyebrows, “sure about what?”

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship. I noticed everything, the flower you gave me, the sweets. All the dinners, and the... the dates. Today with the ice hearts even. I didn’t know how to admit I liked you when there was a chance you didn’t like me back the same way. I don’t know what I’d do if I ruined this.”

“But the gestures and dates?” the Doctor frowned, finally stepping into (Y/N)’s room and sitting on the edge of her bed beside her. He’d thought he was being obvious.

“Very obvious,” his companion let out a little laugh, “and I should’ve known, but I was scared. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. This adventure is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I didn’t want to compromise that by admitting my feelings.”

He could understand that, a bit. “So... you do like me too?”

“Of course,” (Y/N)’s smile was soft, “a lot, Doctor. I just... didn’t know how to reciprocate it without there being a possibility that everything could fall through, and we’d ruin our relationship in the process. I know you were offering it, but I was nervous. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” the Doctor chastised quietly. He paused for a second before speaking again, “I’m having a hard time believing this is real,” he admitted with a tilt of his head, “you really acknowledged it all? I... never noticed.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) smiled softly, “and I have proof it wasn’t all in vain, Doctor.” (Y/N) stood up from her spot on the bed, and moved towards her book shelf. It housed a few books, and some trinkets she’d found on their travels and liked. She continued speaking as she searched through the books, “I really enjoyed everything you put together for me since I met you. I wasn’t sure you were really doing it all to be romantic at first but... the hearts today really summed that up for me.”

The man watched as she tugged on one of the book’s spines, pulling it from the shelve and holding it in her hands for a second before she waving to retake her seat. She started flipping through the pages, so the Doctor leaned over her shoulder to watch.  

“Here,” she stopped on a page towards the middle of the book. The Doctor refrained from gaping as his companion carefully pulled that singular flower he’d given her all that time ago from the book. The room was instantly filled with that sweet, alluring scent and his hand shook as he took the pressed flower into his fingers by the delicate stem.

“I thought you left this,” he admitted softly, studying the vibrant colours that had stayed even after being pressed into the book. He hadn’t noticed her bringing the flower back. Had really thought she’d left it on that planet and ignored the gesture entirely.  

“I couldn’t,” his companion sighed, “it was selfish, even if I didn’t want to ruin what we had, I wanted to keep it to remember the moment. To remember you, even if we did at some point part ways.”

“You’re brilliant,” the Doctor breathed out, finally passing the flower back like it was as precious as a crown jewel or something. “So incredibly brilliant, (Y/N).”

(Y/N)’s cheeks flushed and she ducked her head away from his gaze, but it was different than the usual brushing away of his gestures. Something was different now.  

They hadn’t cleared it all up, that was for sure. He still had questions, and she still had doubts. They didn’t quite understand each other yet, but it hadn’t all been in vain like he’d thought. She’d seen it all. Acknowledged it, even if not to him. His hearts swelled as he smiled lightly.

There was still a lot they needed to discuss, but for right now, the Doctor just wanted to spend a bit of time with his companion—without all the hassle of their rightful doubts and insecurities.

“Do you think we could... spend a little while longer looking out at the frozen carbon monoxide outside before we leave? It really is quite pretty, and... maybe we can talk about this more later?”

“I’d... love that, Doctor.”

“Good. Uh, great,” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His companion giggled at him, but he didn’t mind in the slightest, “allons-y, (Y/N).”

<><><><>

Once again, sorry this took so long! I’m hoping to keep this momentum going and keep getting out the requests in waiting! I hope you all liked this fic, it was a bunch of fun to write! I thoroughly enjoyed creating the frozen carbon monoxide hearts, so I hope you all liked that as well!

As always, feel free to prompt me again if this wasn’t what you were looking for (though it might take a while to get around to it if you do!) and thanks once more for requesting. Hoping everyone had a good morning/day/night!

[aspoonofsugar]

Red and Gray in a Black and White World

Carmen Sandiego likes playing with colors.

In particular, VILE is black, while ACME is white.

This is why Carmen’s codename is Black Sheep, which later becomes ironic when she grows to be VILE’s literal “black sheep” and their thorn in the side. At the same time, Shadowsan too has a codename suggesting something dark in color. Of course, his name also foreshadows that he is the one protecting Carmen from the shadows.

Similarly, the ACME’s agent closest to Carmen is Julia Argent aka “silver”. She is not completely “white” and she is able to see the complexity of the world, differently from Devinaux and Zari.

As a matter of fact the whole point is that Carmen refuses a black and white vision of things. She doesn’t want to join VILE, but she doesn’t want to be a part of ACME either:

She wants to use her “wicked skills” for good.

This is a fitting theme for a show whose aim is to help kids learn about geography and how rich Earth is. It conveys the idea of complexity.

In other words, Carmen explores the world and its wonders at her own pace and with her own rules. This is expressed by her color being “red”. Everything about her is red. Her codename, her clothes and even her adoptive family:

Similarly, Gray is another character, who is neither black nor white, but (obviously) gray (duh).

This is made clear in Chief’s speech above and his moral complexity is also what makes his dynamic with Carmen so interesting.

“GRAY” AND “BLACK SHEEP”: NOT MY NAME ANYMORE

Carmen and Gray’s relationship is one of mutual attraction (platonic or romantic does not matter), but also of conflict.

They want the other by their side:

But they can’t agree on which side they should both be:

This is because they both refuse a part of the other. This refusal is well expressed through the name symbolism of both characters.

On one hand Gray keeps calling Carmen Black Sheep:

He refuses her new identity because he does not understand it:

On the other hand Carmen refuses Gray’s VILE persona, but also his civilian one.

This is interesting because her refusal of “Crackle” is something Carmen does willingly:

She does not genuinely understand it, just like Gray does not understand her being Carmen Sandiego.

At the same time, though, Carmen somehow also refuses Gray’s civilian identity and keeps calling him Gray instead of Graham:

Even if the brainwashing makes their friendship easier, Carmen still feels something is amiss. The person in front of her is not really “Gray”, but somehow a “white” version of him. It is not by chance that she is able to partially rebuild their past relationship by involving him in a dangerous mission:

And in this mission Carmen needs Gray’s “wicked skills” that are still a part of him. She becomes Gray’s link to his previous world:

Just like he is the one who symbolically introduces her to what truly means to be a criminal:

And to its harsher aspects:

At the same time, it is interesting that when brainwashed Carmen still refuses the codename Crackle:

And she only uses it when she thinks he has betrayed her:

In that moment it is as if Gray truly became “black” for her and changed from her partner in crime to an enemy.

In short, both characters can’t truly pintpoint who the other really is.

Who is Carmen really? And is Gray good or bad?

The answers to these questions are difficult because Carmen and Gray themselves are not sure until the end of the series.

THE MISSING MATRIOSKA AND BROKEN LIGHTS

Carmen does not know who she is, while Gray is caught up between his wish to be a criminal and his empathic side.

These internal conflicts are well conveyed through specific motifs linked to the two characters.

Firstly, Carmen’s journey of self-discovery is commented by the burnt matrioskas motif:

The matrioskas are what links Carmen to her biological family. They’re the only things she has had since she was born and it is later revealed they’re a toy her father used to calm her down.

At the same time, the matrioskas symbolize Carmen herself. Like her “oldest traveling companions”, she too is made of multiple identities who live inside her and change as she grows. She starts as Lambkins, grows into Carmen Sandiego and finally discovers her identity in  the finale:

Both in terms of her origins and who she wants to be:

The missing matrioska represents both. On one hand it is the link to Carmen’s past and it is symbolically the smallest one (like a baby). On the other hand seeing it makes Carmen remember who she wants to be.

In short, the matrioska is Carmen’s missing piece both when it comes to who she was and to who she will be.

As far as Gray is concerned, him being caught between “light” and “darkness” is conveyed by his electrician’s motif:

Gray’s criminal career started when a light bulb went off. This is an ironic inversion of a light bulb switching on when one has an idea. Still, it also symbolizes a fall to darkness. Gray’s job was supposed to switch lights on, but he chooses to turn them off, so that he can steal.

This motif comes back in season 2 ep 7 where Carmen’s mission is to stop Doctor Bellum from causing dangerous black-outs. This is tied once again to Gray’s character. As a matter of fact not only the objective is to avoid physical blackouts, but also to stop Graham turning back into Crackle once again. The blackout which must be avoided is the one of Gray’s personality.

At the same time, this motif is not as straightforward as it may seem:

As a matter of fact the whole reason Gray has turned into Graham is a metaphorical “black-out”. This is an interesting idea. Gray has left criminality and can have a new beginning and Carmen sees it as a positive thing. However, this whole new identity is a lie built through brainwashing:

Carmen has good intentions and is ultimately proven right about Gray’s good nature. However, she is still ready to accept a persona constructed through an unethical method.

She meets an idealized version of Gray, she realizes something is missing, but still accepts it. This is why she needs to see this illusion shatter and to confront the real Gray once more.

This happens when Gray gets his memories back:

The one on the Himalaya is the second real confrontation between Carmen and Gray after the one on the train.

At this point, we are shown how they have changed and how they have not.

On one hand Carmen is finally forced to accept that Graham was nothing, but an illusion:

However, she does not completely give up on Gray:

Even if confronted with the truth she still hopes Gray will change. It is just that this change to be true should happen because of her friend’s free will and not through a coercion.

On the other hand Gray has grown enough to accept Carmen:

And to realize she will never come back to VILE. However, he still begs her to stop fighting the organization. In short, he has grown a little, but is still asking Carmen to give up on her life mission, just like she wants him to give up on criminality.

The two characters have clearly grown closer, but they are still unable to see eye to eye and this is why they end the episode as enemies, despite this:

There is clearly affection between them, but this affection is not enough to let them overcome their rift. At least not in that moment.

THE FLYING DUTCH AND THE RED PHANTOM

In season 4 ep 4, while Gray is about to make his choice, we hear a song from The Flying Dutch in the background. This is not a surprise because Graham and Carmen’s relationship has also an Opera motif.

Graham works in a operahouse and famous operas pieces comment his relationship with Carmen while brainwashed. They meet at The Carmen, are reunited through The Swan Lake and finally Graham turns into Crackle again while The Flying Dutch is playing.

This last opera is important not only for Graham’s story, but also for Gray’s overall arc. As a matter of fact the story of this opera is one whose main theme is about how love leads to redemption.

This is precisely what happens to Gray in the end.

In particular, he finds himself in the position Carmen was just a while before: he meets an idealized version of Carmen.

Brainwashed Carmen is who Gray has wanted Carmen to be all along. She is loyal to VILE, close to him and in love with stealing.

However, despite Gray having all he ever wanted he quickly realizes he does not like it at all:

Black Sheep realizes she does not want anything to do with VILE after she sees how the organization has transformed Gray.

Similarly, Gray decides to betray VILE after he sees what they did to Carmen. This is interesting because, while Carmen refuses to work both for VILE and for ACME, Gray ends up working for both.

Anyway, in the end Gray leaves VILE out of love.

Not only that, but he shows to have been influenced by Carmen on a deeper level:

It is because of this that Gray survives his final confrontation with his old classmate.

All in all, Gray manages to save himself and he and Shadowsan are the two people that helped Carmen to save herself the most.

At the same time, Gray and Carmen’s story ends on a bittersweet note. They have both hurted each other, but still clearly love each other:

Despite this, they are avoiding each other. This is not something new, if anything Gray’s final choice:

Perfectly mirrors Carmen’s one in the first season:

Both times the two characters decide that the best thing for the other is for them to walk out from their lives. However, I think that both times this is wrong.

Carmen’s decision is later on proven wrong by how the story develops. Gray would have never truly changed if Carmen had not walked in his life again and he would have stayed prisoner of a lie forever.

Gray’s decision happens at the end of the story and seems to be built on this idea:

The idea is that Carmen deserves a normal life. She deserves to stop being a symbol aka Carmen Sandiego and to become a person. She can now live a normal life and meet her mother.

However, even if it seems Carmen will do just that and she even disbands her gang aka her adoptive family, in the end we are shown this:

Carmen has not given up on being Carmen Sandiego and on fighting criminality. Whatever happened after she met her mother, she goes back to her previous identity. This is because Carmen Sandiego is not just a mask she has worn all this time, but it is genuinelly a part of who she is. The difference between the beginning and the end is that Carmen previously was Carmen Sandiego because she did not know who she was, while now she is because she knows.

Carmen will always be both a good person and a thief. She is both and ironically she has told us (and Gray) this since the very beginning:

Because of this, Gray’s worrying he will make Carmen’s life complicated if he even just contacts her is probably false.

Anyway, in the end their relationship has an open ending, but both characters have both realized who they are and who they want to be and they have done so with the other’s help.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story Pt 20 - Sci Fi

New part! I've felt more inspired lately, and am happy to share the next installment of the PFTS series.

Warning, a little bit of angst ahead.

Masterpost linked here.

Enjoy!

_____________________________

“That’s amazing!”

Pausing in my exercise with the Mech, I turned to look over at Liam who was standing off to the side of training room. He was watching me with bright eyes, a small container and a water bottle held tightly in his hands.

I stood in the training room holding a sword, practicing different strikes, while the Mech behind me held its own large sword, mimicking my movements through the Connection. The distance between us made it more difficult, but I felt the stuttering in its attacks slowly smooth out as I practiced.

I made an overhead swing, feeling the mild throbbing at my temples increase as the Mech made the same movement just a quarter second behind. Now, finished with the set of attacks I had set for myself, I sheathed the practice weapon and turned towards my enthusiastic audience.

“Hey, Liam!”

Severing the Connection with my Mech, I felt relief as the mental drain halted. Now free to move around, I walked towards him with a smile. “What brought you here?”

He grinned shyly. “I wanted to see you practice. Your control is amazing! I can’t believe you can Connect with your Mech from that distance. Also…” He hesitated, “You seem much more comfortable with a sword than you did with the pistols, no offense.”

“None taken. The sword IS much more comfortable.” I thought about the memory fragments of me refusing to give up using a sword. “I just think I might not be meant for ranged weapons.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy! Here you go.” He reached out, holding up a container of water for me to drink from.

“Thanks.”

“I also brought cake.”

I nearly choked in the midst of taking a drink. “Really? You didn’t have to. At this rate you’re going to spoil me.”

“Good.” Liam clutched the container to his chest, looking pleased. “You deserve it.”

“Whatever you say.” I shook my head, finished my drink and then paused. “…Can I ask you a question?”

His smile faded at my serious tone. “Go ahead.”

“Your mental barrier… if it’s up all the time, how are we standing so close together? Also, you’ve handed me things, and even touched me when you helped me up that one time, right?” I felt excited internally, but tried not to show it. “Does that mean I’m not affected by your barrier?”

“… I wish that were true.”

My heart sank with disappointment as Liam sighed, looking down at the ground. “With people I trust, the barrier shrinks. The more I trust them, the smaller the barrier is. My parents can stand close to me.” His eyes turned towards me again, and then back down. “You… you can get closer than anyone else.”

Liam reached out his hand, and following his lead I reached out as well until our palms touched. He studied our hands with a fascinated but sad expression.

“We are so close, it almost seems like we are touching. But there’s still a barrier.”

“So I’m not touching you?”

“No, not directly.” He looked like he wanted to cry. “I can’t feel it. It’s just the barrier.”

“… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m used to it.” Shrugging, he grabbed my hand and led me over to a nearby table and chairs. “Honestly, getting as close as this is already a miracle.”

I sat down on the chair, watching as he set up the cake on a plate with utensils. “So you really trust me, huh?”

The movement of his hands paused as he ducked his head, blushing. A mumbled “yes” made it to my ears. Chuckling, I didn’t push him any further. I sat and ate, enjoying the cake he had brought. We didn’t talk, but it was a comfortable silence.

I feel like I’ve known him forever, but I just met him recently.

Putting the odd thought aside, I finished the cake and stood up, brushing the crumbs from my uniform.

“Well, thank you for the delicious cake! But now, I'm afraid I have to get back to practice.”

Liam stood up as well, his expression concerned. “Really? Already? I thought the doctor in the infirmary told you to take it easy after the strain during the mock battles?”

“Just a few more practice swings, it will be fine.”

I don’t know how I’m going to save the world without a Connector. The best I can do is try to become as strong as possible, and hope my mind holds together long enough.

I took a stance near my Mech once more, drawing my practice sword. Glancing over at Liam, who still looked worried, I grinned. “Want to join me?”

“No, I’m terrible with a sword.” He slowly returned the smile, and sat down on the sidelines. “I’ll just watch you from here. Make sure not to overdo it.”

“I know. Just a little more practice.” I made the Connection, pleasantly surprised when my head didn’t ache right away. “Honestly, I think I’m tolerating the mental drain better.”

Liam didn’t seem reassured. “Be careful.”

_____________________________

“Be careful.”

I swung my sword in a quick practice swing, and laughed. “I’m always careful.”

“Says the woman who is going monster hunting.”

“You don’t have to come along.”

I was pulled into a warm embrace. “And let you face danger without me? Never.”

_____________________________

I blinked, mildly disoriented by the sudden memory. They had been coming more and more frequently, as if my mind was desperate to piece together who I had been before I arrived in this world.

“Alaira?”

“I’m fine…” I blinked again, but the forest in my memory didn’t fade away, but simply overlapped with the practice room around me.

Where am I?

“Alaira?”

I tried to look around, but everything was fading into darkness. “I’m…”

“ALAIRA!”

Liam’s panicked shout followed me into oblivion.

_____________________________

Well, at least I recognize this place.

I woke up in the infirmary, groaning as I held my pounding head.

“You’re an idiot.”

The stern voice of the doctor pulled my attention, and I looked up at the middle-aged woman who was glaring at me from a few feet away.

“Wow, your bedside manner is so warm and fuzzy.” I mumbled, rubbing my forehead.

“My bedside manner is saved for patients with a brain. You obviously lost yours somewhere, so you get tough love.” She waved a scanner over my head, frowning. “I told you to take it easy after you passed out during the mock battles!”

“I did! I haven’t done any fighting since that day.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What were you doing in the practice room, then?”

“Practicing with my sword?”

“WHILE Connected to your Mech from 20 feet away?? You didn’t think that might cause a bit of mental strain??!” She sighed, staring up at the ceiling hopelessly. “Lord, give me strength to deal with young, dumb students.”

The doctor sat down on a nearby chair, staring at me seriously. “You have to listen to me, Alaira. This is really important.”

“Okay.” I sat up in bed, folding my hands in my lap and trying to appear attentive. “I’m listening.”

“Your powers have grown. You were already S level when you underwent your health check at the beginning of your second year, but now… it’s at least multiplied by 10.” She shook her head. “We don’t even have a ranking for your power level. I don’t know what’s happened in the last month, it’s almost as if you’ve become a completely different person.”

I am a completely different person… at least I think I am. Is it because I’m in Alaira’s body now that her powers have changed?

I had no way to explain that to the doctor though. “So the power increase… that's a good thing, right?”

“It would be… if you had matched with a Connector.” She sighed. “With your current power level, your mental degradation rate has sped up exponentially.”

“…”

“The passing out is just one of the early signs, Alaira. Have you experienced anything else? Headaches…”

Yes.

“Irritability…”

I thought that was just my personality.

“Hallucinations… flashes of people or memories that aren’t real or never happened?”

“…”

I sat silently, stunned.

No… It can’t be. The memories in my head… the mission… Alaira’s memories of dying in a fight against the Hive… me waking up in a different world… could it all be just my mind breaking apart?

She watched my facial expression and silence with a frown. “So it’s even worse than I thought.” She brought up a holographic file and made a note.

“I…”

“No. No excuses, Alaira. You are temporarily suspended from duty until further notice. I can’t risk your safety any further.”

“But, I’m the strongest Guardian we have!” I was desperately grasping at straws. “You can’t sideline me! What if I found a Connector?”

The doctor shook her head. “I don’t even want you trying to match right now. It takes mental power, and could be the tipping point to full mental degradation.”

“But…”

“No. Alaira. You’re suspended. That’s final.”

WARNING! MISSION FAILURE IMMINENT!

TOTAL COMPLETION 5%

MISSION FAILURE WILL RESULT IN WORLD COLLAPSE AND DESTRUCTION OF THE SOUL. PLEASE COMPLETE THE MISSION.

The bright blue words appeared in front of my eyes. I glanced over at the doctor, who didn’t seem to notice them.

Is this real? Am I really here for a mission to save the world? Or is this just a product of my mental degradation?

“Do you understand, Alaira?”

WARNING!

“I do.”

She relaxed. “Good. Then return to your dorm and rest. I’ll notify your father to come pick you up.” She gathered her things and stood up, giving me a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s hard, but put being a Guardian, the Hive, all of it to the side right now. Just focus on your health.”

WARNING! MISSION FAILURE IMMINENT!

“I know.”

“And Alaira?”

WARNING!

“Yes?”

“Stay away from your Mech and the matching center, okay?”

“Of course.” I smiled. “I’ll just stay in my room.”

_____________________________

I snuck out of my room that same night.

I don’t know what’s real and what’s not… but I really don’t want to risk world collapse and soul destruction. Those both sound pretty bad.

As I crept through the hallways towards the Match center, I thought through possible plans to get me out of this situation.

First. Let's try matching again. If that doesn’t work… Maybe talk to Alaira’s father? See if there’s any research in slowing the progression of mental degradation?

I heard a security guard coming down the hallway. Panicking, I hid in the nearest classroom. The floor was ice cold even through the cloth of my uniform; my heartbeat was loud in my ears as I listened to the guard pass by on the other side of the door.

Either way, I can’t get caught just yet. I can’t risk missing what might be my last chance to match.

The guard had moved on. I waited a few moments just to be safe before opening the door and sneaking down the hallway once more. My mind was racing, circling around the disturbing idea that it was too afraid to touch:

The possibility that everything I thought was real was actually just my mind breaking down.

Am I really Alaira? Why does the man in my memories keep calling me Bel?

Who am I?

What is real?

It was agonizing, every moment of uncertainty. Questioning every memory, every conversation.

I pushed it from my mind, focusing on each step ahead of me. I needed to get to the Match Center.

If I can match a Connector, it will resolve my mental decay, and then I’ll know what's real.

I tried really hard not to think about what would happen if I still couldn’t find a Connector.

I quietly opened the door to the Match center.

“Match unable to be made.”

At the sound of the cold, robotic voice, I froze in place. For a wild moment I wondered if the match computer had sensed me walking in the building, and decided to reject me at the doorway just to save time. But reason set in and I recognized the figure hunched over the panel:

Liam.

“Unrecognized tester. Please let down your mental barrier to proceed with Match testing.” The voice echoed around the room, seeming to almost physically strike Liam as he slumped further in front of the glowing panel.

His hands tightened into fists as he pressed them harder against the machine. “I’m trying to let it down. Just run the test!”

“Please let down your mental barrier to proceed with Match testing.”

“Just let me test, dammit!”

“Please let down your mental barrier to proceed with Match testing.” Despite his franticness, the voice was cold and unchanged.

“PLEASE!” His fist struck the panel as he slumped to ground. “Let me try. Please…”

He was crying, and my chest hurt as I watched. “Please… let me match her.”

“… Match unable to me made.”

“Liam.” I whispered his name, feeling as if my heart was tearing in half.

“Please.” He sobbed into his hands. "I can't... I can't put it down... I just want to help her... please!"

_____________________________

“Please. Let her go. I’ll do anything.” His voice was shaking with fear, his wide eyes staring at me as I was trapped in place, unable to move.

“Just give up. This is her fate.”

“Let her go!” He reached forward desperately, unable to reach me. “BEL!”

_____________________________

“Liam.” I was crying, unable to control it.

These memories can’t just be hallucinations. They are too real. I looked over at Liam who was striking his fist over and over against the panel, ignoring the blood staining the surface as his skin tore under the repeated blows.

He’s just hurting himself. It was painful to watch. I have to stop him.

I started to walk forward, my hand reaching out…

“Liam…”

Before I could call out, I felt a sharp prick on my arm. I tried to turn to around and look, but soon a burning sensation was building deep in my muscle and my mind went blank.

“Liam…” I tried to call him once last time, as the drug injected into my arm forced me into unconsciousness.

_____________________________

Okay this whole passing out thing has gotten really old.

My mind grumbled as I slowly regained consciousness. I blinked, trying to clear the blurriness in my vision. Did a security guard find me? If so, their curfew enforcement is pretty insane if they are knocking out students.

The room around me slowly came into focus.

Wait… this isn’t the infirmary.

It was a pale grey dorm room.

This isn’t’ my room either. Feeling uneasy, I looked around, barely able to move. My limbs felt as if they were filled with lead, my head foggy.

The dorm room was clean, with barely any personal items on the desk and dresser. On the wall was several posters of famous Guardians, a calendar was pinned nearby with a vigorous Mech training schedule.

I have a bad feeling about this…

“Alaira, you’re awake!” A voice called out from the doorway, sounding pleasantly surprised.

I turned my head with great difficulty, my eyes widening at the sight. “…Chris?”

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” He smiled at me, grabbing the chair from the desk and dragging it to the bedside before sitting down. “When you asked me not to take you to the infirmary, I was worried I was doing the wrong thing.”

He seems… different.

“…” I wanted to shake my head, but felt to weak. “No… I was in the Matching Center…”

He frowned at my words, looking confused. “Matching Center? We ran into each other in the hallway. You were on the verge of passing out, and asked me to take you back to your room. “ Pausing, he shrugged embarrassedly. “Then you fainted. I don’t have access to the female dorms, so I brought you to my room instead. I hope you don’t mind.”

“…Liam.” It was difficult to talk. “Where’s Liam?”

“Liam? Do you mean Prince William?” Chris seemed even more confused. “He took leave and returned home after you passed out during your training.”

“But…”

“I think he felt a little guilty at not being able to help you match. Not that it’s his fault he can’t form the Connection.”

“I saw him.” I tried to focus my thoughts, but they kept scattering. “I saw him in the Match Room.”

Chris leaned forward, reaching for my hand. I pulled away, but was too weak to break his grip. “Alaira. You’re undergoing mental degradation. The doctor in the infirmary said you were already in the late stages. It’s common to have hallucinations, memories of interactions with people and conversations that never happened.”

I blinked. Could I have imagined the whole thing? Did I want to think that Liam was in the Match Room trying to save me, instead of running away without telling me?

How far gone was I? What was real, and what was just my mind degrading?

Something’s not right.I remembered the needle prick in my arm, and brought my free hand to the spot in confusion.

“What are you rubbing your arm for?”

“I… was stuck with a needle…”

He shook his head. “That didn’t happen. You hit your arm on the wall when you passed out, so it might be a little sore, but that’s it. There was no needle. Your brain just came up with a reason to explain the pain.”

“…”

“It’s okay, Alaira. It’s okay.” Chris squeezed my hand. “It’s normal to be confused, and a little paranoid. Your brain is breaking under the strain of the Connection to your Mech. We’ll help you. You’re going to be okay.”

WARNING! MISSION FAILURE IMMINENT!

TOTAL COMPLETION 3%

MISSION FAILURE WILL RESULT IN WORLD COLLAPSE AND DESTRUCTION OF THE SOUL. PLEASE COMPLETE THE MISSION.

“Alaira? Do you hear me?” Chris called out, concerned.

“I’m… not going to give up. I have to face the Hive. Save… the world.” My thoughts were still jumbled. I wasn’t sure if it was from the drug or mental degradation. What was real and what was fake was blurring.

“You’re not going to be suspended. You’re going to be the most powerful Guardian the world has ever seen, and you’re going to save humanity.”

I looked over at Chris, feeling confused. He wore a pleasant smile on his face, his posture relaxed, but his grip on my hand was just a little too tight, and his eyes…

… His eyes were different. The color, the shape, was the same… but the way he looked at me had changed.

“Who are you?” I asked quietly, forcing the words out through slightly numb lips.

He looked shocked. “What do you mean? It’s me, Chris. We’ve known each other since the first Mock battle in school.” He chuckled. “You kicked my butt, remember?”

“Now I know you aren’t Chris. You haven’t yelled at me that 'you’re going to follow your dream and I can’t stop it' this whole conversation. You’re not Chris. “

He laughed, a light, easy sound. “You’re right, I’ve changed. But I’m still Chris, I promise.” He reached out and patted the back of my hand, still grasped tightly in his own. “You see, I came to a realization: I was jealous of you.”

“…”

“I know, right? Self-insight from me seems like a foreign concept. But from the first day I was in awe of your skills, jealous of your level S abilities.” He sighed, leaning back, still holding my hand, ignoring my attempts to free it. “My only consolation was that you were a loner, that you couldn’t find a Match. It was the one thing that I beat you in.”

“You…”

“I kept trying to brag in front of you, hoping that you would recognize me. Hoping that you would tell me that I was the real deal, that I was a true Guardian. But that doesn’t excuse how poorly I treated you. How my friends treated you.” His regretful gaze held my own. I felt trapped in it. “I’m sorry. I will do better going forward.”

“…” My head was starting to clear, but it was a slow process.

“Seeing you pass out after our fight… seeing you in the infirmary today… in the hallway just now… I can’t ignore this.” He sighed. “You’re breaking down, right in front of me. And I can’t let this happen… not when I can stop it.”

He got off of the chair kneeling next to the bed. He reached out with his other hand, holding mine between both of his palms.

“Alaira… you’ve already have a high resonance match with me. I can save your mind, and help you save the world. It’s such an easy solution.” He smiled at me, without any sign of reluctance at all.

I felt a silent scream of terror and rage build up in my chest. I wanted to reach out and stop him, to silence his next sentence. Despite my wishes, however, his words came out all too clearly:

“I’ll be your Connector.”

[cerastes]

I just remembered his monologue over Doctor and now feel pain. Him lamenting how a crucible if war was born and wishing that person instead was never forced again into strife again and lived on as teacher and also on what they were fighting for. ... i suspect he was unloading his sorrows on doctor since doctor was not yet warcrimes but like, he continued doing this apparently when doc was like, almost bereft of emotion that was not hunger for victory and goal achieved and that's impressive.

“i suspect he was unloading his sorrows on doctor since doctor was not yet warcrimes”

This is what I personally think, and the whole monologue Scout gives, I think, serves as pretty solid evidence that Scout is one of the longest lived veterans and most decorated elites Babel had. In other words, Scout probably befriended Doctor back when they were still an academic and held many an interesting conversation with them. It’s very likely that it wasn’t just Scout that confided in Doctor, but that Doc reciprocated as well.

And this leads to the perfect opportunity to address something I think we’ve been doing wrong: We’ve been considering Warcrimes!Doctor as two dimensional, I believe. We focus too much on them being a war machine.

Allow me to elaborate.

It is fact that they would eventually become a Beast Of Logic, so to speak, a creature that focuses only on winning battles, no matter the cost, but that’s very likely not all they were, even after the change Scout so sorrowfully describes.

Take Amiya, for example: She has the utmost intimacy and trust with Doctor, and makes many offhand references to past events that Doctor doesn’t remember but that she treasures. Doctor, even as a Beast Of Logic, did have some connection with others, likely select few people and only with those they knew before the switch with few exceptions: For example, W and Doctor never bonded, and we know W met Doctor after they already had changed, but the likes of Ace and Scout, veteran Elites, are very clearly enamored with Doctor. This likely was the case with Kal’tsit, Theresa, Closure (who is friendly with Doctor) and Amiya as well. Scout mentioning that W could confide with Doctor if she so wanted wasn’t an empty gesture: Despite knowing as much as he does about Doctor and what they had become, Scout still chose to see them as a friend and as someone apt to help others. Perhaps he saw in Doctor and W a chemistry that would allow them to be friends, had either ever taken the first step (neither did). Despite how cruel they had become, Doctor still apparently had their funny moments, such as their habit of eating weird things or eating things in weird ways, banter with Kal’tsit, bonding with Amiya, and whatever it is they had with Theresa, implied to be close enough that Doctor could apparently be in Theresa’s quarters and this would be seen as normal. As much of a bloodthirsty Beast Of Logic as they had become, terrifying enough for W to refer to them as “The Evil Spirit of Babel”, they still had a semblance of humanity outside the chessboard, with those they were close with.

And I think that’s what makes this even more painful, what makes Scout’s monologue even more painful, and what makes Kal’tsit’s interactions with Doctor in Chapter 7 even more painful.

It is easy to reject a monster.

Pariahs are pariahs because we don’t want them near us. No matter how effective and skilled and, dare I say, necessary someone is, the reality is, they won’t last if they have but burnt bridges around them. The reality of it all is, Doctor was probably still likable, if unsettling. It is not even subtext that Kal’tsit was having fun for a second with Doctor during some points of banter during Chapter 7, it is text, Actual Empath Amiya very much says “oh, wow, Doctor Kal’tsit, you are smiling right now!”, unintentionally shanking Kal’tsit in the heart with the agonic stake of nostalgia because, yeah, Kal’tsit and Doctor were probably very close in the past, and their seamless banter showed it. No matter however it is you wish to read their dynamic, either as that of colleagues, friends, or ex-lovers, it is rather painfully apparent that they used to be close, and Kal’tsit even has to take a stand and say: “No, I have to say this, I will not let this person close to me ever again, this is simply work”, even if she painfully misses this rapport, even if she aches at the thought of never having what they had again, because she knows, she knows something so terrible that it has irredeemably burned this bridge.

“Kal’tsit is being unreasonable. She’s a medical professional, she should understand the duress that comes with amnesia, the burden, and that Doctor can’t be blamed for it, she should understand she shouldn’t act that way towards someone amnesiac and blame them for things they did before they lost their memories,” you may say, and I can’t blame you for it, but hear me out:

Even if Doctor’s memories reawakened, even if Doctor was presented with the chance to reassess their choices, even if they repented, or looking at it the other way, even if Doctor truly forgot everything forever, you cannot change how Kal’tsit sees Doctor. She made clear she won’t let the hate buried deep inside of her bloom, but she has the right to keep it. She has the right to remain angry forever.

The thing with amnesiac narratives is that they focus a lot on the amnesiac, and so, we sympathize with our amnesiac protagonist and obviously defend them from people blaming them for things you could argue they never did, but we never really think about the victims of their past acts, and how they are entitled to all the anger they have, because whatever it is that happened that sowed it, it still happened, even if the guilty party doesn’t remember it. It isn’t as simple as tabula raza, the person currently standing in front of Kal’tsit might not have done the terrible thing she remembers, but they absolutely have the potential for that cruelty. And she has every right to hold onto her emotions, be they anger or wariness. Nothing you say can change that.

Nothing.

And so it becomes all the more painful to think that Scout probably had a drink with Doctor every Thursday, they’d talk about whatever, and all the time, Scout would see glimpses of this charismatic, kind educator he once knew, now replaced in part but never in their entirety by this Beast Of Logic. Consider that, and Scout’s monologue feels like something he’s telling himself more than something he’s telling to Guard before he goes off to his death.

Scout held a little eulogy for a remarkable friend he once knew before heading to his own funeral.

Because it’d be easy to reject and pile bile and blame on Doctor if they had become complete monsters.

But the painful and probably reality is, they likely didn’t.

Which only made it all the more painful to bear for those that knew the old educator.

[shinsorokiri]

S/o Loses Memory and Quirk

Kaminari Denki HCs

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions broken bones, a panic attack, panic attack symptoms, sad Denki

A/N: Ngl writing angst for Denki did something to my little heart. He only deserves happiness and I’m mad at myself for giving him sadness lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! I’ll be writing one like this for All Might next so keep your eyes peeled for that one!

Shinsou, Aizawa, Hawks, and Dabi

Todoroki, Bakugou, and Kirishima

Kaminari Denki | Chargebolt

You are his partner in crime

You’re the one who is always there to take care of him when he goes dumb

You’re the one who is always there to comfort him when he feels like an idiot

You’re always the one who is there for him

And he’s always the one who is there for you

It’s been that way for years

Ever since you transferred to UA your second year of high school

The two of you became fast friends

Best friends even

And his flirty nature made it so it wasn’t too long before the two of you entered a real relationship

The two of you EXUDE the most chaotic good energy that even Bakugou finds it kind of endearing

But unbeknownst to his friends

Denki can get really fucking serious when it comes to you

It lowkey shocked you the first time you saw him act like that

And it was all because you were sparring with him and you tripped over your own damn foot and face planted 

You figured he’d just point and laugh at you but he ran over and checked you EVERYWHERE to make sure you weren’t hurt

mans even SCOLDED you

YOU WERE SCOLDED BY DENKI KAMINARI

But you lowkey LOVED it because like

Wow

He does like me !!!

Of course that was in your final year at UA

The two of you are now pro-heroes at separate agencies

And boy oh boy does Denki worry about you

He can’t help it

He has seen you run into a wall because you were trying to rely on scent instead of sight “in case you get stuck in a dark room with a villain”

He worries

But he also knows you are strong

And also a hot badass who can take on anyone

Well

Almost anyone

Midoriya could probably kick your ass but that’s just because it’s Midoriya

But in all seriousness

He isn’t even patrolling today

He has the day off actually

And Denki has never baked anything before in his life

But

He knows that there’s been this mysterious villain giving your agency some trouble recently

So he wants to make you some of your favorite cookies

Or at least try to

And then have a lil movie night

He’s a clingy little shit

And he wants to destress you so

He will refuse to let go of you for the rest of the night goddamnit!

So there he is

Taking the semi-burnt but still edible cookies out of the oven

His favorite program on in the background

When suddenly

His show gets interrupted

And the hero scanner the two of you have goes off in your living room

He immediately turns his attention to the television

Stopping in the middle of the kitchen 

Still holding the cookies

When he sees live footage of you falling from a 3 story building

Onto concrete

He drops the pan

And literally sprints out of the door

He doesn’t even have shoes on

But he doesn’t give a single Fuck™

He rushes down the stairs of the apartment building the two of you live in

And gets to his car in record time

Mans be speeding to the hospital he knows you’re gonna be at

You two had a plan in place with each other and your agencies that if anything would happen to either of you

You would both go to this specific hospital so you two could know where the other was at all times

Of course he was crying while speeding

And his heart rate was way too fast for him to be functioning

But he had to get to you

He had to

And he did

He pulled into a parking spot reserved for pro-heroes and ran inside the emergency room

When he asked about you the nurse told him you were currently in surgery for some severe bone breaks

He got a nasty taste in his mouth

But he just nodded

She told him he could wait in the waiting room

And he did

He sat down in a chair

And he was trying so hard to keep it together

So 

SO

Hard

But eventually Kirishima, Mina, Sero, and even Bakugou showed up

To be fair

Mina and you did work at the same agency

So she saw everything that happened

They immediately went over to him

And he looked up at Mina

And deadass this is the first time any of them see how genuinely serious Denki can get

He asks Mina what happened

And she hesitates

But his face is dead serious

There are obviously tears leaking out of his eyes

But his stare is wildly intense

And Mina knows that if she says no he’ll just keep asking or ask someone else at the agency

So she tells him

“Well… we were patrolling, like usual, when that villain that’s been keeping us on our toes showed up. They’ve never… done anything other than rob people and knock them out so we thought hey this should be easy. Especially since (Y/n) was there. When they saw us they ran into a building and we chased after them and when we had them cornered on the roof they did this weird… sneak attack? But not really? I don’t know it was… odd, they had this like patterned fight technique and they hit (Y/n) in a few different places, and she went to use her quirk to fight back but… nothing happened… and then they hit her like at the bottom of her skull and she just… fell down unconscious. And then they… threw her… off…”

She started trailing off at the end because a sob tore through Denki’s throat

And then he started hyperventilating

Luckily Bakugou and Kirishima were there to help him out

They get panic attacks frequently, so they managed to calm him down and get him to breathe again

And they stayed with him for as long as they had to

Eventually after hours 

A doctor came out and approached Denki

“Pro Hero Chargebolt?”

He stands up very fast

He’s informed that you are out of surgery

And that the surgery went well

However they noticed something odd in your MRI results

It seemed that a portion of your brain was damaged?

But not quite 

It was still functioning

But something about it was off

And they had never seen anything like it before

It was like certain parts of your brain were blocked but everything else was fine

Upon hearing this Denki’s heart broke

And then after hearing the part of your brain that was impacted was the part that contained long term memories

His heart shattered

“We’re afraid she may have severe amnesia. We’re going to keep running tests to see just what is going on, we think it’s the quirk of that villain. A lot of the victims of their crimes have blockages in their muscle groups, but we’ve never seen a blockage in the brain from them.”

Denki is quiet

He literally doesn’t say anything

Until he whispers

“Can i see her?”

The doctor nods

And he leads him to your room

You’re still asleep 

And you’re covered in bandages and casts

It breaks his heart

His friends texted him to tell him they went home but if he needs them at any minute that they will be on their way to the hospital in ten seconds flat

He appreciates it

But right now he really just wanted to be alone with you

He just sat next to you

Holding your hand

He was even moving your pointer finger to trace the Lichtenberg Figures trailing up and down his arms

You always do it when the two of you are cuddling at night 

It helps him sleep

And reminds him that you love him regardless of his faults

And right now he just

He really needs you

This goes on for an hour before he feels you start to move

And he freezes

“(Y/n?”

You open your eyes

And squint at him

“Uh… h-hi… aren’t you that guy in my new class…?”

He stares at you

Completely deadpan

Before laughing a bit

But it isn’t a happy laugh

It’s very much a sad laugh

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Cool, but um… how did you know my name already?… Are you crying?”

Yes

He was

He was laughing and crying at the same time

He probably looked like he was losing his mind

But he really did just lose his whole world so

It’s a prompted reaction

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

His voice was more strained this time

“Are you… are you okay?”

“Yeah, but you’re not. And I didn’t save you, and now you don’t know who I am, and I’m just… I’m so sorry, babe. I’m so sorry.”

The laughing stopped

Now he’s just sobbing

In your mind

You’d seen him a few times while touring the school

And he was always laughing and smiling

Always

So this was shocking

And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t tug on your heart strings

You instinctively reach out to grab his hand

And he grips onto it so tight

Almost like he’s afraid of letting go

“…You called me babe?”

He tries to even his breathing

But he nods

“I don’t… I don’t even know you, I-”

“You do. You do, but… you don’t. It’s… it’s complicated and I’m a literal dumbass so… I’ll call a doctor. They’ll explain.”

And that he does

And the doctor does in fact explain

And after the doctor leaves

You ask him to tell you about your relationship

And he does

He tells you even the smallest details

From the time that you painted the nail on his right hand middle finger pink because he lost a bet and he ended up liking it and buying nail polish for himself

To the time that you two told everyone you break danced all night to break in your new apartment when in reality he turned on Lover by Taylor Swift and the two of you slow danced in your living room

All of it

And he even managed to slip in the fact that you’d remember all of this after he caught the villain who did this to you

And he will catch them.

[barnes-toddpartnersinheartbreak]

Leave The Light On [Spencer Reid x Female!Reader]

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Pure fluff

A/N:  this is my first attempt at writing fanfic in years. I really missed it but I became really unsure about my ability and stopped sometime after high school graduation. It's also super short, but felt like it was wholesome enough to post. I hope this fic is what jumpstarts my writing addiction again. Enjoy :)

Warnings: mentions of sleep deprivation, mentions of serial murder/regular criminal minds content, pregnancy, mention of possible pregnancy complications

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

To say that Spencer was exhausted was a vast understatement. As he trudged up the old dark staircase to his apartment, his eyes fluttered close, and his arms sagged at his sides with dreariness. The team had been in Boulder, Colorado for a serial case, which had lasted almost two weeks. It had been difficult, and Spencer had to reconstruct the geographical profile multiple times to keep up with the killer. They had thankfully saved that latest victim before any physical harm could come to her, but the never ending stress had drained the energy out of him, even with his caffeine addiction. The jet had landed back in Quantico around 1 am, and it had taken him over an hour to drive home in his drowsy state. 

After fumbling with the doorknob for a few seconds, the man dragged himself into the living space, tossing his bag on the couch and hanging his long jacket on the armed coat rack. As he made his way towards the bedroom, he noticed a slight strip of light coming from under the closed door. He chuckled softly, shaking his head and loosening his tie as he quietly cracked the door open. There, spread across one of the arm chairs and covered in a knitted quilt, slept his wife, Y/N. He leaned against the doorframe for support, surveying her unconscious form. 

Her messy hair was spread out over the back of the chair, as her head tilted sideways in her slumber. Her lips were slightly parted, with just a bit of drool slipping down her chin onto her shirt, one of Spencer's old CalTech alumni tees. Laying by her slippered feet was a large opened book, that had obviously been dropped during her feeble attempt to stay up and wait for his return. 

Spencer kneeled down by Y/N, taking a quick peek at the page number, committing it to memory, before swiftly moving the book out of his way. As carefully as possible, he slid his arms around her, and lifted her, letting the blanket fall back onto the victorian style chair. With the heavy quilt out of the way her stomach was visible, with her three month bump finally present.  

“Spence?” she mumbled lifting one of her tired arms onto his shoulder as she squinted at him and squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Sweetheart, ” he responded as he laid her very carefully down on their dark green duvet, “What are you still doing up?” 

Y/N’s nose crinkled as she turned on her side to face her husband and he lumbered over to the closet to store away his belt and tie. 

“ I wanted to see you, it’s felt like forever since you've been home,” the woman replied, as she curled herself up in a fetal position under the covers, “ I missed you.” she said, staring up at her husband with sad eyes as he slid off his work pants. 

Spencer turned to Y/N, kneeling down onto the bed and slipping in next to her. She shifted over, shimming closer to him as he reached over to push away some strands of hair loose on her forehead. 

“I know love, and I miss you too, but you know sleep deprivation isn’t healthy for you, especially now. Did you know sleep deprivation in the first trimester-”

“May lead to gestational diabetes and high blood pressure. I know Spence, you’ve mentioned it before. I've been getting more than enough sleep, I promise. It's just- it's just it’s always dark when you come home, I wanted to leave the light on for you just this once.” Y/N stammered, before lifting herself up on her arm to look down on her husband. 

Spencer’s eyebrows knitted together for a breath, before his face relaxed and he reached out to touch the face of the beautiful woman leaning over him. He smiled, letting his fingers trace her side profile before dragging his hand down to her lower stomach. 

How could he, after everything that had happened in his life, been gifted something so perfect as this? It was something even he could not comprehend. After years of doubting that anybody could ever love him back, doubting that he could ever have a life outside the BAU, doubting he would ever have the family he’d always dreamed of, here he was, in bed with the love of his life, who was carrying their first child. He would live through all of it again, all of the pain and misery that had been his life, to insure that he would have this future, to insure that Y/N would walk into his life and give him all of this. 

“ I love you, so, so much sweetheart, you know that right?” he whispered, his eyes glistening over slightly, “ I love you both more than anything, more than any comprehensible system of measurement, and I am so grateful for everything you do.” 

Y/N laid back down next to him, tucking herself over his right arm and sliding her left arm over his chest. She laid her head on his shoulder, allowing her warm breath to tickle his collar bone.

“Of course I know, sweetie, and I love you too. And so does baby Dante.” she said with a smile. 

Spencer laughed, “ Oh no, I believe you mean baby Danielle. I am absolutely positive we are having a girl.” 

“Spence! We’ve gone over this, the mother is always right, and I feel like this little lump is a boy.” 

“Love, I’m a doctor, I think I know what I'm talking about.” 

“You’re not that type of doctor!” 

Let me know what you all think!

Love you all 

-Coz

[criminalmindzjunkie]

I Carry Your Heart With Me (Prologue)

Summary: When your college roommate asks you to be a bridesmaid at her wedding, you pack your bags and jump on a flight to Montana. What was supposed to be a relaxing week on the husband-to-be’s ranch is turned upside down when an old flame decides to make an appearance. Mix in lingering feelings, a meddling bride, and the mother of all misunderstandings, and your week out west turns out to be a whole lot more than you bargained for.

series masterlist

playlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex

Word Count: 2.5k

           Spencer gets the email on a Tuesday.

           He’s fresh off of a quick trip to a nearby café that sells the most delectable scones, and he’s eagerly unwrapping one and lifting it to his mouth when he gets the notification. The quiet ping is enough to make him pause with the scone midway to its destination.

Because the thing is, Spencer Reid doesn’t get a lot of emails. In fact, there are approximately ten people that even know his email address, and seven of them are currently in the same room as him. Spencer peers over the top of his monitor and scans the room. No one is doing anything indicative of having sent Spencer yet another prank email (thanks a lot, Luke), so he deems it safe and clicks on the email icon.

           As it boots up, Spencer takes a bite of his scone. The warm, sugary dough tastes like heaven in his mouth, once again proving to Spencer that the fifteen-minute walk there is more than worth his time. He’s mid-swallow when his inbox pops up on the screen, and when he sees the all too familiar name on the sender’s address, he inhales a sharp breath that leaves him choking on his pastry.

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Melville

Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Sewell

Joyfully request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their children

Cassidy and Mason

Saturday, the twenty-seventh of May

Two thousand nine-teen

           His choking fit garners the attention of every one of his colleagues, but Spencer can’t bring himself to care. All he can focus on is sucking in as much air as possible in between coughs. It doesn’t help that his oxygen deprived brain is currently reeling. Long suppressed memories are fighting their way to the surface, and now it’s not only his lungs that are engulfed in a searing heat, but his heart, too.

           Cassidy Sewell. A fiery, opinionated redhead that Spencer hasn’t thought of in nearly fifteen years. But Cassidy isn’t the reason that he feels like a knife has been thrust into his ribcage, nor is she the reason he is currently aspirating his scone. The basis of his distress is another woman entirely.

           Spencer eventually regains control of his windpipe and when he does, he rereads the email several times. It’s wonderful news - really, it is. And he’s happy for Cassidy. His memories of her are plentiful and he thinks back on them fondly. The only problem is that he knows wherever Cassidy is, you’ll be there, too.

           He really should just delete the email and go on about his business - that would be the smart thing to do. But Spencer’s never really been smart when it comes to you, so he does the worst thing possible and clicks on the ‘view recipients’ button.

           And sure enough, your name falls just above his on the list.

           Which brings up another issue entirely; why is he receiving this email? And, more importantly, do you know that he’s been invited? Spencer can only come up with two possible answers to that question, and both are equally heartbreaking. Either you know he’s been invited and you’re indifferent to the fact, or you haven’t a clue and his showing up would be entirely inappropriate.

           He briefly entertains the possibility of a third option; one in which you knew he’d received an invitation and were hopeful that he might show up. Spencer allows this possibility to live in his mind for approximately two seconds before he’s stomping it out and killing it. That’s just… unlikely.

           “Ooh! Who’s getting married?”

           Spencer quickly exits out of his email and spins around in his chair to find Penelope pouting her lip out at him.

           “No one. Just a spam email,” Spencer lies. His efforts are in vain, however, because Penelope fixes him with an unimpressed glare.

           “I’m going to save you and I both the trouble of me hacking into your computer and offer you the opportunity to try that again.”

           Spencer visibly deflates and mentally curses the creators of the interconnected computer networks. He weighs his options. He could be completely honest and be subjected Penelope’s endearing, yet suffocating enthusiasm, or he could skim a little bit off the top and hope she doesn’t pump him for information.

           Spencer decides on the latter.

           “An old friend.”

           Penelope narrows her eyes at him and he shrinks under her gaze. She might not be a profiler, but she damn sure could be.

           “Then why do you look like you’re about to hurl?”

           “No reason.”

           They’ve reached a stalemate, and Spencer isn’t quite sure what to do with that. Usually, if this were a chest match, Spencer would already have the upper hand. He’s not used to being backed into a corner. At first, Spencer’s sure that he can outlast Penelope’s inquisition, but the longer those seemingly omniscient eyes of hers bore into his own, he can feel his resolve crumbling into nothing. All it takes is her lifting one perfectly plucked eyebrow in challenge for him to break.

           “An ex-girlfriend of mine will be in attendance.”

           Spencer knows he’s fucked from the way Penelope’s entire face lights up upon hearing that little tidbit of information. In a flash Penelope’s dragging over an empty chair and seating herself directly in front of Spencer, eyes shining excitedly.

           “Tell me everything.”

           So, he does.

           And an hour later, Penelope is booking him a flight to Montana.

--

           “I cannot believe you did this to me,” you murmur into the receiver as you stare at your computer screen. Your eyes are zeroed in on the email, but all the words are blurring together into an intelligible mess. All except two.

           Spencer Reid

           “Correction; I did this for you,” Cassidy replies, sounding awfully pleased with herself. If you could see her, you were certain she’d be grinning ear to ear. “You can’t tell me that you’re not the least bit excited at the possibility of seeing him again.”

           “That is exactly what I’m telling you!” you groan as you throw your head against the back of your chair. “Fifteen years is a long time, Cass. I’ve moved on, and I’m sure he has, too. That door is closed.”

           Cassidy snorts, “Well open that sucker back up, because I just got an RSVP from one Doctor Spencer Reid who, and I quote, ‘cannot wait to see everyone.’ This RSVP came without a plus one, might I add.”

           You jolt up in your seat and instantly regret it when your stomach churns painfully as a result. Suddenly, your decision to place your waste basket on the opposite side of the room seems awfully ill advised. The only thing keeping you from lunging for it and expelling the contents of your stomach is the fact that he isn’t bringing anyone with him, which is… something.

           “He’s coming?” you squeak out. “Why would he do that?”

           Another laugh from Cassidy floats out through the speaker.

           “Well, I’d like to think he might be going to see one of his oldest and dearest friends get married, but I think we both know that this has nothing to do with me, and a whole lot to do with you.”

           You’re just about to open your mouth to protest when a head of long, blonde hair peeks through the crack of your door. You only know one man with a head of hair like that, and that man just so happens to be the only other person in your life that lives for taking the piss at your expense. You can’t help but think that you must’ve done something terrible in a past life to be subjected to all of this before noon on a Tuesday morning.

           You wave Damien in, because why the hell not? He’d be hearing about it over one or several bottles of wine this evening, anyways. What was one more spectator to the worst moment of your entire adult life?

           As he takes his seat in a chair in front of your desk, you flash him a tight smile and turn your attention back to Cassidy.

           “You’re reading way too much into this. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

           “You know that boy does not forget anything,” Cassidy points out.

           Yeah, you think, and that’s what makes not hearing from him for fifteen years even worse. That means the radio silence was a choice.

           “Doesn’t matter. You need to uninvite him. I’m being so serious right now.”

           “I absolutely will not. That’d be terribly rude of me,” Cassidy sniffs. “And you obviously have no choice but to attend, Miss Maid of Honor, so consider this your warning. I was going to keep this a secret, but Mason said that would be cruel. So.”

           You want to argue that the entire thing is cruel, but Cassidy’s indifference to your plight leads you to believe that your protest would fall on deaf ears. To make matters worse, Damien looks positively delighted at the prospect of something exciting happening. He’s literally sitting on the edge of his seat, leaning forward in an attempt to hear Cassidy’s end of the conversation.

           You really needed to pick more sympathetic friends.

           “I’m going to hang up now, because I physically cannot handle being a part of this conversation any longer.”

           “That’s the spirit!” Cassidy trills. “Trust me, you’re going to thank me for this later. Oh, and do yourself a favor and Google search him. You will not be disappointed!”

           At that, the line goes dead. You don’t even have the chance to say something embarrassing like too late, I already do that like twice a year, which is probably a good thing.

           You slam down the phone and let your head fall into your hands, adding in a dramatic groan for good measure. Usually, you like to think you’re a little more level headed, but the Spencer Reid sized hole in your heart that you’d been trying to mend for the last decade and a half was just ripped wide open, so you figure you deserve a moment to panic.

           Damien, however, doesn’t share that same belief.

           “I get that you’re trying to have a moment, and I respect that, but you know how impatient I get and I haven’t seen you this upset since One Direction split up. Color me intrigued. What did dear Cassidy do to get your knickers in such a twist?”

           You lift your head and fix him with a withering look.

           “She invited Spencer.”

           That wipes the smile right off of Damien’s face.

           “Oh, fuck,” Damien swears. Finally, someone understands how extremely not okay this situation is. You let out another despairing groan. “What are the chances he’s actually going to show up?”

           You chuckle bitterly, “Pretty fucking high, if you consider the fact that he already RSVP’d any indication.” You push away from your desk and begin to pace around the room, all while fanning your shirt out because holy hell did it get hot in here, or is it just you? “I mean, I could always back out. It’s Cassidy’s fault anyways. It’s not like she could hold that against me. She’s the one who did this, after all.”

           “Oh, she most certainly would. And you’re not going to going to skip out on the wedding - quit being so dramatic.”

            You snap your head to where he sits and narrow your eyes at him.

           “Oh, I’m not? Who’s gonna stop me?” you challenge.

           You can practically see the light bulb go on inside that blonde head of his. Damien gives you a saccharine smile and claps his hands together.

           “I am. Because I’m going to go with you,” he announces excitedly. You’d think he just came up with a way to end world hunger from the pride that’s practically radiating off of him in waves. 

           You raise an eyebrow at him, “You’re going to come with me? To Montana? Have you ever even been outside of New York?”

            Damien shrugs his shoulders.

           “No, but that’s about to change. Plus, weddings are fun,” Damien pauses, before tacking on, “-bridesmaids are fun.”

           If he weren’t such a damn good friend, you’d throw him out of your office.

           His proposition was tempting. Being in close proximity with Spencer for almost an entire week was going to be harrowing as it was, but add to that the inevitable sight of Spencer in a suit and harrowing graduates to fucking excruciating. Having Damien in your corner to keep you sane was more of a necessity than a want.

           But still, you hesitate, because the idea of both Cassidy and Damien conspiring against you for an entire week sounds like the undiscovered tenth circle of hell.

           Damien apparently senses your apprehension. He lets out an exasperated sigh and pushes up from his seat, walking over to where you stand and placing his hands on your shoulders.

           “I solemnly swear to be on my best behavior. You have my permission to fire me if I act up, Boss Lady.”

           Your shoulders slump under the weight of his hands.

           “You know I can’t fire you,” you grumble, pouting out your lip for dramatic effect. “If I fire you, then I’m stuck with fucking Brenda. And I doubt she’d be as agreeable a drinking partner as you.”

           Damien lets out a loud laugh and pulls you into his arms. You melt into his embrace, sighing in resignation. Might as well bring him along for the ride. It’s not like the situation could get any worse than it already is, right?

           “Brenda is the worst,” Damien agrees as he places a kiss to the top of your head. After basking in his warm embrace for several moments, you pull away and run a hand through your hair.

           “Okay. Okay,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Damien. “I can do this. Worst comes to worst; I can just avoid him. Five days isn’t that long. I can do five days.”

           Damien leans up against your desk and nods in agreeance.

           “Exactly. Five days, in and out – no big deal,” he breezes. Like the absolute bastard he is, he waits until you’re taking a sip from your travel mug before continuing. “And who knows? Maybe the two of you will pick up where you left off and have some slutty wedding sex.”

           Now, there’s coffee all over your white blouse and Damien’s laughing obnoxiously at your expense.

           “You did not just quote One Tree Hill at me,” you choke out between ragged breaths.

           Damien doesn’t waver under the weight of your death glare.

           “I so did. Best show of our time, truly. Chase hit the nail on the head with that one. Weddings are always an absolute bone fest - trust me. Something about all the proclamations of love and eternal commitment gets everyone all hot and bothered.”

           “There will be no slutty wedding sex,” you mutter as you dab at the coffee stain.

           “There will be if I’m going,” Damien trills as he pushes off of your desk and saunters to the door. “Don’t rule it out, babe. No need to miss out on all the fun!”

           You roll your eyes and toss the wadded-up paper towel at him. Damien is quick to shut the door, resulting in the paper towel hitting it with a wet plop.

           Damien’s absence leaves the room uncomfortably silent, save for the sound of your heart nearly beating out of your chest. You hesitantly lift your eyes back to your computer screen, and as irrational as it is, you pray that you’ll see that something has changed in the past ten minutes. Unsurprisingly, his name is still there, just below your own.

           You silently curse the tiny twinge of excitement you feel from seeing his name and exit out of the email.

           Five days, in and out. No big deal.

-

-

-

taglist: @is-this-even-important @evelyncade @usuck​ @m0rce1ddd​ @bauhousewife​ @whxt-to-write​ @spencerwaltergubler​ @lovesicksofi​ @idgafayiowf​ @shadyladyperfection​ @mercy-burning​ @sapphic-prentiss​

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (1)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

Inspired by Unforeseen Mayhem by Aerugonian 

Here is their tumblr (all their work is so good)

(NEXT)

...

Kakashi thinks he might have died. He remembers the flash of steel and Obito’s face or maybe it had been Madara. His memory of the events leading up to the attack are hazy after receiving one too many hits to the head. What he does remember is the slowly spinning, hypnotic red of a Sharingan, and the quick build-up then explosion of chakra.

Then there was excruciating pain in his left eye and…darkness…

…

Kakashi opens his remaining, usable eye to gaze up at tall angled structures that stretch into a grey overcast sky. He can’t feel the left side of his face, his limbs are numb and unresponsive, and there is the damp of blood soaking through his hair. The bone-deep ache of chakra exhaustion is so all-encompassing that he can barely lift his hand let alone stop the bleeding. Around him, there are several people yelling in shock and surprise. Civilians he vaguely notes as he clings to consciousness. There is no sign of Madera, Obito or any of Kakashi’s allies for that matter.

When his vision dims for a second time he thinks that this, this would be his last breath. Alone, severely injured, in a foreign location and with only civilians as help? It was a death sentence.

He is wrong in the end.

…

Kakashi wakes up in a strange hospital bed surrounded by the strangest people he has ever seen. He also wakes up covered in bandages, his more serious injures either treated or in various stages of recovery.

The air is dry with a distinct lack of chakra. It is something he would usually only see in a prison cell made to contain dangerous shinobi in which chakra draining fuinjutsu arrays were applied to the walls and floor. There are no fuinjutsu arrays here. This is not a prison cell. For one, there is a large window. Secondly, there is a constant stream of doctors, nurses and other patients moving in, out and around the building. Finally, the door to the room is not locked. It doesn’t even have a lock.

After memorising the comings and goings of the people working in the strange hospital, he takes some time to scout. Even while injured and drained of chakra, he has enough skill and experience to avoid the workers and other sickly people he shares his room with.

 The world outside his window is one of cement, concrete and brick, with tall imposing structures covered in reflective glass standing higher than any building he has seen before. The closest point of comparison he has are the buildings in the Hidden-Rain and Stone villages but even those are a loose approximation. The hospital is both similar to Konoha’s main hospital, abet a lot bigger and full of strange equipment and technology. The people, despite their lack of chakra, display odd and inconstant abilities, techniques and physical deformities. One of the doctors has a lizard tail and he catches a glimpse of a man with a wooden block for a head. He sees a woman heal a cut with a simple hand wave. Either he is in an unusually elaborate and detailed genjutsu or he is very far away from Kohoha.

Everything is so odd and strange that he is well and truly stumped, leaving him with nothing else to do but quickly return to his hospital room. At least the weird chakra-less people are non-hostiles and willing to provide much needed medical attention. Though he is, as of yet, uncertain about the purpose or motive behind said medical attention seeing as he was a complete unknown to them.

After some consideration, Kakashi decides to wait. He has no idea how he ended up in the place aside from a loose theory that involved his still healing Kamui Sharingan. Additionally, there was no use trying to get back home with stab wounds, his leg broken, his ribs cracked, his shoulder muscles torn and his chakra levels so pathetically low that he’d probably kill himself if he tried.

He takes solace in the fact that his presence, while probably missed to some extent- he likes to think so anyway- wouldn’t impact the outcome of any major conflict. With Naruto’s stubbornness and Sakura’s tenacity, home would be waiting for him, even if he took a bit of time getting there.

…

After a week of information gathering -ie pretending to be unconscious and listening to conversations- Kakashi concludes that the people operating the hospital are relatively harmless. They seem to be under the mistaken impression that Kakashi is a citizen of their village and thus automatically entitled to medical attention. This is despite his lack of identification or history with the place. Such a thing would never happen in Konoha as even civilians were carefully monitored and tracked. Without identification or relatives/friends to vouch for them, a civilian would more likely be thrown out of the village than given what was surely resource-consuming medical treatment. It is lucky for him that there are apparently so many civilians in this village that their shinobi-equivalent forces couldn’t properly keep track of them all. Another point in favour of it not being any sort of hidden-village or any place he was familiar with.

 “Oh, thank goodness!” Says the greying, middle-aged man in a white coat as he approaches Kakashi's bed, “You’re finally awake. How do you feel.”

“Ah…a bit tired,” Kakashi plasters on a confused smile, raising his undamaged hand to rub the back of his head, hunching his shoulders for good measure. The perfect image of a disoriented patient.

 “What happened? Where am I?”

There was only so much he could achieve be pretending to be unconscious and snooping around at night. It was time to get a real feel for residents of this strange place and figure out his next move. This meant integrating into the local culture.  

“No need to worry. You’re in Hosu General Hospital and you’re well on your way to recovery,” A nod and the doctor moves forward to stand beside his bed, “A little drowsiness is a normal side effect of the pain medication we have you on. Now, if I may have your name?”

“Kakashi.” If they hadn’t recognised the Sharingan when they had bandaged it up, then they most likely wouldn’t recognise his name either.

“Well, Kakashi,” The man says with no hint of acknowledgement, “My name is Wada Yasutoki and I’m here to make sure you are recovering properly. Can you tell me if you are feeling any discomfort or pain at the moment?”

“Hmmm…my arm and leg?”

“Would you be able to rate it on a scale of 1 to 10?”

Kakashi thinks for a second and shrugs, “3.” Honestly, he only notices the pain when he’s consciously paying attention.

Another nod and Doctor Wada fusses about, examining the bandages around his shoulder and then his leg, “Well, they seem to be healing as well as any broken limb, maybe even a bit faster. And the stab wound near your chest is almost completely gone.” A thoughtful hum follows the statement. “If not for your left eye I would say you had a healing or regeneration quirk…hmmm…maybe a passive healing factor linked to your quirk…?” Wada looks to him, waiting for confirmation and Kakashi shrugs. From his nightly snooping he knows that ‘quirk’ is the term for the bloodline ability things the people here had.

The Doctor doesn’t press the matter instead asking, “Is there any discomfort in the left side of your face?”

“No.” Kakashi doesn’t want the people here touching his eye any more than necessary. The fact that it is draining charka at its usual sluggish rate was a sign that it was, at least, somewhat functional and that’s good enough for him. He guesses he should be thankful for landing in a place with medicine advanced enough to save it.

“You had us concerned when you didn’t wake after we saw to all your injuries,” The Doctor continues, “Your left eye took quite a bit of damage and we were worried that there might have been some sort of brain injury. If you feel dizzy, lightheaded or confused please, do not hesitate to call a nurse.”

The man shakes his head and sighs, “Now, I understand if you want a bit of space after going through such a traumatic event but if you could provide any details concerning the predicament that ended with you so badly injured it would be a great help to the investigation.”

Kakashi gives a faked confused hum and smiles apologetically, “Sorry Doctor Wada. I'm having trouble remembering much of anything really.”

“Nothing? No details about the potential assailant at all. What they look like? Their quirk?”

“No. Where is Hosu General Hospital by the way?”

His bland expression obviously causes his doctor some concern as he is subjected to a penlight being shone in his uncovered eye.

 “It is located in Hosu City, a ward of Tokyo. Where is the last place you remember being?”

The names mean nothing to him.  Kakashi schools his features into one of complete confusion, “I don’t remember.” 

It’s not even a lie this time. 

After the admission,  Doctor Wada only grows more concerned and Kakashi is subjected to many reassurances that it is completely normal to forget a few things after a brain injury and that he shouldn’t worry himself too much. The level of comforting and reassuring is a bit much if he is being honest. Never before has he longed for the cold frowns of  Konoha’s medic-nin.

“I’ll have to schedule you in for an MRI. If you’re having trouble recalling basic facts alongside your long-term memories, then there might a serious problem.” The older man finally concludes, having run through an extensive list of questions regarding Kakashi’s history all of which he answers with vague half-truths.  Where did he grow up? Somewhere with a lot of trees. Did he have any close relatives? He thinks they might have died when he was little. What does he do for a living? Commission work. Did he have any colleagues? He doesn’t know where they are. So on and so forth.

“It’s a shame your ID and phone were missing when they found you. Stolen by the bastard who put you in this situation no doubt,” the Doctor sighs again, “We might have been able to track down your records. Oh well, we’ll do our best with what we have.”

Kakashi doesn’t speak, pretending to be deep in thought. Mentally, he pats himself on the back for an infiltration gone surprisingly well considering his lack of preparation and the flakiness of the ‘sorry I don’t remember my backstory’ excuse.

“I don’t suppose you remember anything about your quirk,” the doctor asks, “Ocular quirks can have odd effects on brain activity and ability to process information. It might give us a place to start.”

From what he had seen, ‘quirks’ tended to have a specific function but he is still trying to figure out their limits. All he knew for sure was that none of them used chakra.

“It’s called the Sharingan.” He offers to see what the doctor does with the information, “I don’t remember much else about it.”

“Hmmm, ‘copy wheel eye’…it’s a descriptive name at least. Maybe a quirk that deals with memorisation or information recall. I will see if I can find it on the Quirk Registry. Hopefully, that will be enough. ”

Kakashi nods loosely in agreement, filing away the fact that there was a Quirk Registry for later contemplation. 

(NEXT)

[spenciegoob]

What’s That Vegas Saying?

Request(?): Just saw this tiktok where a girl and her friends were drinking shots, and the alcohol was in these tiny test tubes. the one girl had the end of the tube in her mouth, grabbed her friend’s face so basically the alcohol was being fed to her and I immediately thought of doing that with Spencer.

The request (?) was gifted to me by the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GenderNeutral!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warning: alcohol consumption, intoxication, major pining (lol oops)

Masterlist

___

Team bonding with the BAU was not as simple as it sounds. They couldn’t just stay in the woods on a camping retreat; they’ve seen too many cases in the woods. Going to the beach was just... weird. And apparently hunting down the sickest minds or eating pasta at Rossi’s mansion wasn’t “team bonding” enough. 

“How about we go to Florida?” You asked the group seated around the conference table. The chorus of unenthusiastic groans of disagreement served as your answer.

“If we want to be surrounded by drunk teenagers, maybe,” Derek piped up, and you couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle at his sarcasm. As sarcastic as it was, though, he was right. It dawned on the group that there was possibly no where to go that didn’t either have bad memories, or would definitely create some.

That was until Spencer Reid broke the silence.

“What if we go to-” The suggestion didn’t need finishing; they all knew what he was going to say. As quickly as it left his mouth, regret etched his features with the realization that not only was the team going to hop on the idea, but if he had not spoken at all, they might not have even considered it.

“Boy Wonder does it again!” Penelope shouted in her usual enthusiasm, although unlike most times, this held a bit of mischief as well. 

“That’s it,” Emily jumped in. “We’re going to Vegas, baby.”

And that’s how the team found themselves on a plane heading straight for Las Vegas, Nevada. More importantly, how you found yourself next to a more than usual jittery Spencer Reid. You knew for him, going home wasn’t exactly a team bonding vacation, but more anxiety than normal.

Anxiety about what exactly?

The question remained in your head for the first hour of the trip. That was until you couldn’t ignore the way his leg basically shook the whole plane, and his constant moving eyes flickering between anything he could out of the tiny window.

“Hey,” you said putting your hand on his knee softly, the bouncing immediately halting. “Are you okay?”

The bouncing didn’t return when the question left your mouth, but tension in his muscles returned. His whole body went rigid at your words.

“Y-yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” The question came with no malicious intent, but the speed at which it left his mouth confirmed his growing worry.

“I’m not going to pry, but I will tell you this,” you say as you squeezed his knee before releasing it. 

Spencer would never say it, but he missed the warmth of your hand on his skin too soon after it was gone.

“This could be your chance to let yourself go and finally have fun in the one place that seems impossible for you to do so.” You hoped your words reached him as you watched his eyes flicker rapidly again, the movements so subtle that if the small lights above you were off, you may have never noticed.

He was trying to let your words sink, wrap his brain around logic that had no scientific reasoning or fact to back it up. You could only hope he heard you, really heard you, and when his eyes halted and a small smile stretched his features, you couldn’t help but return the gesture with a fluttering heart.

“You may just be right.” He finally made eye contact with you, causing both of your smiles to grow wider.

With a new found serge of confidence with the hot doctor who unknowingly held your heart, your smile turned to a smirk and you leaned in so your cheek was besides his.

“And you know what they say.” You turned slightly so your eyes could rest on his side profile and gauge his reaction. It didn’t last long, because sensing movement, Spencer turned slightly too. His face was stoic, but behind his eyes there was something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You let your eyes drift to his partially parted lips, and then back to his eyes, all within less than a second.

“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

The same day the plane landed the team found themselves in a club that night. It was 9:57, but from the way half of the team joined Penelope is taking back shots, you could tell it was only the beginning of the night.

That’s when you noticed that Spencer wasn’t like you or Aaron pacing yourselves for the night. Actually, the doctor wasn’t drinking at all.

“Spence, you’re not drinking tonight?” You asked over the loud music that pulsed through your body. When Spencer’s eyes met yours, however, your heart beat faster than the club’s rhythm. 

“No, I um- I don’t think really like alcohol.” Something about that answer didn’t sit well with you, but apparently you weren’t the only one.

“You don’t drink for the taste, Boy Wonder,” a very drunk Penelope yelled from across the booth. 

“I’ve just never drank anything I liked.” That was definitely the worst thing Spencer could say. The second the words left his mouth, Penelope and your head shot up to meet one another’s eyes. 

The “Let’s Get Spencer a Drink He’ll Like” plan blossomed in your one second of shared eye contact.

“I think it’s time we change that, Pretty Boy,” you said with a smirk Spencer melts for, even if that look meant trouble for him later on.

“On one condition,” he started, and turned his body to face yours directly. “You try everything I do.”

You contemplated for a moment. His request meant getting shit-faced in front of your coworkers, but the saying does go what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

“You’re on.”

Penelope all but dragged a slightly less drunk Derek to the bar to fetch Spencer and you some drinks. In the meantime, Hotch stared at the two of you looking at each other, smiles beaming.

“You know,” his voice broke through the trance you two unknowingly had on the other. “I’m not helping either of you out of here when you two get too drunk.”

“I’m with the boss man on that one,” a very, very drunk Emily slurred. 

“That goes for you too, Prentiss.”

Before either of you could defend yourselves, Penelope was back with a tray of assorted shots. There were at least 7 different types of shots, two for each.

“Alright here’s how this is going to work,” she said as she put the tray in front of you two. “I will tell you what’s in them after you’ve taken them.” 

The two of you stared at the tray, your face full of excitement, Spencer’s nervousness. When you two looked back at each other, he gave you a soft smile.

“Hey.” You put your hand on his on the table as you spoke. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

His hand flipped under yours to give you a reassuring squeeze, his smile growing into a smirk as he did so.

“Let’s do this.” Your hands pulled apart as you both decided to start with the clear liquids first. The smell alone was enough to make you want to gag. 

Spencer stared at it quizzically before turning to you.

“Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

You both knocked them back as quickly as you could. You couldn’t help the scrunched up face you made as the liquid burned it’s way down your throat.

Spencer had the same face you did, obviously not enjoying the first drink of the night. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't find his scrunched up nose and eyes adorable.

“That was vodka!” Penelope through giggles as the team laughed at you and Spencer’s disgust.

“Yeah, no shit.” The next shot you and Spencer picked up was also clear, but Einstein did say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. 

“Oh god, here we go again,” you mumbled before throwing the shot back, Spencer following your lead. 

Tequila.

He slammed the shot glass back on the table with a slight cough.

“That was so much worse than the first one,” he squeaked, and you couldn’t help the giggle from escaping. Spencer looked over at you and let out a breathy laugh.

“Regretting your decision now?” He asked.

You grabbed the next shot off the tray, this one having a small brown tint. He grabbed the matching one.

You clicked your glasses together and said “Never,” before finishing the third shot of the evening.

By the time the tray was finished, Spencer did not find a drink he enjoyed, but neither of you could remember what the actual goal was.

Spencer and you were both lightweights, so by the time the shots were cleared, you caught up to the rest of the team’s drunk level.

Sloppiness was a better word for it. At one point you stood behind Spencer with his head leaning back into your hand as you poured another tequila shot down his throat. At another, you had been dared to give JJ a lap dance that you didn't object to doing. 

Now, the team found themselves seated at the booth sharing drunk horror stories.

All of a sudden, Spencer shot up from his chair on legs that can only be compared to a baby deer’s, drawing the attention of the entire team.

“I think I have something to say,” he yelled, and while he seemed uncertain that he wanted to say what was on his mind, there was no uncertainty in his next statement.

“I have a crush on Y/N.” Smiles spread around the table as the team realized it only took a little alcohol for this to happen. The only two not smiling was Spencer, who was staring at his now empty chair with confusing on what the fuck he was doing etched all over his face, and you, who’s jaw was on the floor.

“Hell yeah drunk confession!” Emily yelled, breaking the silence amongst the group that the music had the courtesy to fill.

You realized it’s been way too long for you to not say anything, and whether it was the alcohol or the confirmation you needed, you yelled back at him.

“Oh my god no way.” His head turned to you, the look of confusion replaced with... regret? Anticipation? Hope?

“I have a crush on you, too!” You said it as if the two of you realized you like the same TV show, or are wearing the same socks.

Your casualty about the whole thing made Spencer feel significantly less awkward, and he made a mental note to thank you later.

“No way, for how long?,” he mimicked you from before in the same tone. The two of you stared at each other with wide eyes and bright smiles.

“Since my first day six years ago!”

“Me too!”

The rest of the team just sat there, laughing at the two who finally admitted their feelings for one another. 

“You know what we should do?” Spencer asked you, excitement spread through every inch of his face, and his hands moved between the both of you.

“Especially since we’re in Vegas,” you finished his question, catching on to what he was trying to get at.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He needed confirmation that he was not the only insane person at this table. 

Insane and drunk were interchangeable, right?

“Let’s get married in Vegas,” you both said at the same time, and the relief you both felt when you realized the other was as insane as the other came out as two laughs.

But, as the idea was shared between you two, the team sprung into action.

“Oh no. No, no, no no no,” Derek grabbed Spencer’s shoulders and kept him firmly by his side, JJ doing the same to you. 

“How about we get you two to the hotel instead?”

And then you woke up in your hotel bed with no recollection of how you got there. Your head was pounding as the sunlight seeped through the cheap hotel curtain right in your eyes.

You groaned and shot up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes the best you could. To your right on the nightstand were two advil, a glass of water, and a note. 

You took the advil as soon as you laid your eyes on them before picking up the note to read.

Lunch at noon Next time, we’re going to Florida -JJ

So JJ was the one that brought you to the room after...

Oh god, oh no. That was so stupid. Getting married in Vegas is so stupid why is that a thing? You internally screamed. But wait, Spencer likes you?

You needed to find Spencer. Grabbing your nearest jacket, you threw it on before basically running out the door.

You didn’t get very far, because the second you turned the corner, you ran into something hard.

No, not something, someone. Spencer stood before you in the same state you were in; disheveled, hungover and a little worried.

“Hey, I was just coming to find you,” you said, trying to alleviate some of the awkwardness between you two.

“Ye-yeah me too. I uh, I actually wanted to ask you s-something.” Well so much for alleviating awkwardness. 

“You can ask me anything, Spence.” He looked up at you and gave you his signature tight lipped white boy smile.

“I know they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but when we get back, would you want to maybe grab a coffee or something?” He said rocking back and forth on his feet.

“Like a date?” You didn’t even bother to hide the hopefulness in your voice and on your face. You wanted nothing more than to go on a date with Spencer Reid.

“Yeah, a date. Is that.. okay?” The longer it took to get a yes or no, even a maybe, was enough for the anxiety and regret to start to blossom. You wouldn’t let it grow anymore, though.

“Of course it’s okay, and yes, I would love to get coffee or something.” You giggled back at him, looking up to meet his eyes that matched the ones on the plane; filled with love. 

Love for you.

____

Join a taglist here Tell me your thoughts on this fic here Have a request? Send it in here

[white-hemlock]

For @drarrymicrofic

Prompt: First Time (am I late?)

Words: 3 238 (micro lol)

He woke up at the sound of people arguing. He couldn’t make out much though. Pain was coursing through his entire body. His head in particular.

He felt someone moving by his side and soon after the pain began to fade away.

"You have to leave. I'll come back later to inform you of his condition but right now I need to take care of my patient."

"I have been waiting for twenty hours. Twenty hours! You had plenty of time to inform me. So if you want me to leave this room you will have to give me answers, and satisfying ones. Otherwise you can be sure I'll be in your way until I lose it and finally strangle you!"

He opened his eyes. He saw two men in front of him. The one with the white coat and tired and disapproving look was obviously a doctor. The other one was tall with short blond hair and a very classy suit. The doctor noticed that he was awake and gave the other man an even more disapproving look.

"Mr Potter, I apologize for the noise. I'll lead Mr Malfoy to the exit and be back for you."

But the so-called Mr Malfoy was already by his side: "How do you feel?"

He looked at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out what was going on: "I'm fine but who are you?"

The man raised an eyebrow and gave him a look of pure confusion.

The doctor sighed: "That is precisely why I wanted to speak to you before allowing you to see him... Mr Potter, you had a serious accident. We believe that the trauma on your head may have resulted in a partial, if not total, memory loss."

He paused, allowing the two men in front of him to assimilate his words.

"Can you tell us what you remember?"

He opened his mouth to answer. But the words didn't come and he closed it. He couldn't think of anything. It was not really a blank. He felt as if the memories were right there but as soon as he wanted to grab one, it eluded.

Feeling his confusion, the doctor tried to help him: "Can you tell us your name?"

That should have been easy. But again, it slipped away. So, in embarrassment, he replied: "You called me Mr Potter."

The man at his side snorted and with a cold and most unpleasant voice he hurled: "If this is a joke, you'd better put an end to this because it really doesn't amuse me and you might not like the consequences."

He started to feel irritated by the way this man was behaving. He was arrogant and presumptuous, nothing very likable.

"I'm afraid this is no joke… Sir, your name is Harry Potter, you are 34 years old, you work as an Auror and were injured on duty. The man by your side is your husband. " He paused, aware of the awkwardness of the situation. "Now rest assured we will do everything to assist you in your recovery. There are many ways to help people suffering from amnesia. But for the moment, you need to rest. Mr Malfoy, please follow me."

Harry had felt a wave of horror when the doctor had told him that this tall blond man was his husband. He had never imagined he could be someone so close. If this man was sharing his life, how could he feel nothing looking at him? How could he not remember his name? Then he realised he couldn't even remember his own name. He looked into Mr Malfoy's eyes and saw a reflection of his own shock and fear. But the blond man said nothing as he slowly got up and followed the doctor, leaving him all alone with his thoughts and his fleeing memories.

***********************************************************************

The couple had just left. Hermione and Ron they called themselves. They seemed really nice. He was glad to know he had friends like that. They told him a lot about his life. The life of the Boy who lived, twice. Three times now, they said as a joke. But their laughter never reached their eyes.

Everything seemed so unreal, as if he were told the story of someone else. He, the hero who saved the world? Really?

He asked them about his husband as well. Draco Malfoy. There was a very awkward silence before Hermione started to share the story of the young boy, raised in a pure blood family, son of the closest ally to the one who killed his parents. They told him plenty about their rivalry at school and his difficult position during the war. Not so much about how they ended up together. He didn't insist. It was already a lot to process. He was exhausted.

He woke up an hour later when his husband entered the room. The man saw his sleepy face and offered to come back later but Harry declined. He was uncomfortable when Malfoy was around. That man was his husband but didn't behave that way. Not once had he made an affectionate gesture, nor told him he loved him, nor called him by a nickname. He didn’t even smile at him. He was distant but also embarrassed and Harry couldn't blame him for that.

This time he came with a bag from which he took what looked like a large and heavy book.

"The doctor suggested that pictures could help. We never really took time to create a proper album so I tried to gather a few pics…"

He looked exhausted, his eyes were red and his shirt was creased.

He sat on the chair by his side and dropped the album on his knees. Harry stared at the cover with apprehension. It was one thing to hear his story from the mouths of others, it was another to see images of himself living a life he couldn't remember.

He took a deep breath and opened it.

The first photo he saw was one of a couple dancing near a fountain.

"These are your parents. Don't bother trying to remember them, you were one when they died. I thought you might want to know what they looked like though."

He had shifty eyes and seemed even more uncomfortable than usual. Harry didn't comment and listened to his explanations as he browsed through pictures of his parents, their friends, his godfather. Eventually he started to see pictures of him, as a young boy with a young Ron and a young Hermione. Him with other friends. Malfoy even added some articles from the newspaper. And as he turned the pages he saw himself becoming older. He saw himself with a baby making his first steps. His godson apparently. He saw himself at Hermione and Ron's wedding. Then himself holding another baby. Rose he said, his friends' daughter.

As time passed he was less and less talkative. But Harry didn't mind. He didn't need more, that was already a huge amount of information to assimilate. It was hard to accept that the young man with messy dark hair in those pictures was himself.

Soon after he started to see pictures of him and Malfoy. And his husband fell completely silent. There was a picture of Malfoy rolling his eyes in some restaurant, a picture of him struggling with a tie, fancy-dressed for some occasion, a picture of the two of them at Christmas where he was watching Malfoy unwrapping a present, a loving smile on his face.

He paused a long time at the sight of him in a prestigious black and gold wizard dress, Malfoy by his side in full white and silver, flowers falling all over them. Malfoy was whispering something in his ear, making him laugh out loud. They seemed genuinely happy, both of them.

He glanced at Malfoy but the man was looking somewhere else, his jaw clenched. Harry felt sad and a bit angry. None of these pictures were bringing any memory, not any emotion, not even a vague feeling of déjà-vu. He could only imagine his husband's disappointment.

He kept browsing through the pictures of his wedding, hoping one of them would trigger something. There were pictures of them in an exotic country, on a white sand beach. More Christmas. A picture of him holding another baby. A picture of his husband holding that same baby. And more and more pictures of this baby, turning into a white blond hair child, always smiling from ear to ear. He felt a shudder of horror crawling down his spine as he turned the pages and kept seeing that kid playing with him, hugging him.

Unable to continue, he put the book down.

"Malfoy…” He took a deep breath, shivering “Draco?"

As he called him by his first name for the first time since he woke up, his husband turned his head slowly to face him, demons in the eyes.

"Do we… Do we have a child?"

Draco didn't answer right away. First he leaned down to turn a new page of the book, revealing the picture of them with the young boy holding a tiny baby the best he could, his smile wider than ever.

"Two actually…"

Silence fell as Harry froze. He felt nauseous. How could he? How could he forget something that important, forget that he was a father, that he had a family?

He stared at his husband, hoping for an impossible answer.

Draco tried to explain, his voice broken:

"I didn't know how to tell you… I'm sorry."

And he burst into tears.

And for the first time he saw that proud, lordly man in all his vulnerability. For the first time, what was a mask finally fell down.

He squeezed his arm, hoping to provide some sort of comfort as the tears kept falling down.

A weird thought crossed his mind. He surprised himself thinking of a bathroom and leaking water, of coldness and red blood running on white tiles. Definitely not an appropriate thought for the situation, so he pushed it away.

***********************************************************************

Harry was waiting in front of the main chimney. Draco came toward him, showing a file in his hand:

"All done! Are you ready?"

Harry breathed deeply; he was not ready, he was terrified.

"No, but I don't think I'll ever be."

Draco grabbed a pot filled with floo powder before handing it to his husband:

"I told you everything you need to know. Even if you miss a few things, they'll forgive you. They know about your accident and they are so eager to see you that details won't matter."

Harry nodded and grabbed a handful of the green powder before entering the chimney. He gave a last look at his husband and gathered all his courage to yell the address Draco gave him before dropping the powder.

The first thing he noticed when exiting the floo was the smell. A complex mix of wood, coffee, hot bread, lemon, herbs and so many things indescribable. But a somehow very familiar smell. He knew that scent. He knew it so much it moved him. It was linked with a feeling of safety, of love and happiness. It reminded him of relief when coming back from work, busy mornings, animated lunch… it smelled like home.

Draco joined him right before a tiny blond storm rushed toward him, yelling:

"DADDYYYYYYY"

Unconsciously, Harry kneeled down and opened his arms, catching his son and hugging him tight. The boy started to cry and Harry felt overwhelmed. A few tears rolled down his cheek as he realised that for the time he understood, deeply understood that the story people had told him was true. This was his home, this was his child. He may not remember everything but he knew all this was part of his life.

He raised his head and noticed a little boy hiding behind Draco's leg. He moved an arm to invite him to join the hug but the child didn't move. With a very small voice he asked:

"Are you still my daddy if you can't remember me?"

The question hit him like a punch in the stomach. Draco had warned him. Albus didn't talk much but when he did he always surprised them with a maturity way too advanced for his age. He tried to compose himself and answered:

"I may not remember everything, I may have forgotten the day you were born, your first words, your first steps... but nothing, you hear me, nothing will ever stop me from being your father. I am still here and we'll make new memories together, I swear." His voice broke. It wasn't fair. A child shouldn't question his father's love. Especially not his own child.

Slowly, one tiny step after another, Albus reached for his father, hugged him and grabbed his t-shirt so tight, Harry felt as if it was his heart that was squeezed by this tiny hand. He suddenly remembered staying up all night, trying to soothe a terrified baby Albus holding his finger as if his life depended on it while a thunderstorm was shaking the windows.

Finally, he thought. It wasn't much but it was a start.

***********************************************************************

Harry was enjoying a glass of firewhisky in front of the fireplace when Draco came in, poured himself a glass and sat by his side on the sofa, obviously exhausted.

"Two hours later, they are finally asleep!"

Harry giggled softly:

"I could have done it, you know. It really doesn't bother me."

Draco frowned.

"Of that I have no doubt. But it's been weeks since you came home and it's time they accept being tucked in by their other father."

Harry smiled but didn't answer. Draco was right of course, but he really liked sharing that moment with his two sons.

His husband suddenly stood up and took a letter from the coffee table.

"The minister asked me to give you this. They want you to come back to work quickly. Again. I don't understand how they can harass you like that after what happened. What would it take for them to give you a break? You losing an arm?!"

He sat down on the couch and emptied the glass in a single shot.

Harry didn't even bother to open the letter. He made it fly directly to the fireplace. His husband raised an eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation.

"I'll answer by telling them that I quit. That should calm them down."

Draco couldn't hide his surprise.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I certainly had very good reasons to do this job but I think I've done more than my part. It's time I get a bit more selfish and focus on myself."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet… something far less dangerous, that's for sure."

They fell silent as they both watched the flames devouring the paper. Draco was obviously concerned but Harry gave him time to put the right words on his feelings. When he finally spoke, Draco avoided his eyes, like he did when he felt vulnerable.

"If you ever want to ask for divorce I would understand… All the reasons you married me probably disappeared with the rest of your memories."

Harry couldn't help but smile and took a sip of his drink before answering.

"You know when I first woke up, I thought that you were an arrogant little prat."

His smile widened when he saw a faint blush on Draco's cheeks.

"Then I realized that there was more to you than met the eye. Every passing day I understand a little more why I married you in the first place. It would be a shame to end things now, don't you think?"

His husband didn't answer right away and Harry added, suddenly more serious:

"That is if you want to give it a try as well. After all, I probably changed and I may not be the man you married anymore."

Draco took a few seconds to consider the matter, his eyes lost in the dancing flames of their chimney.

"You did change. You seem more… peaceful. I guess some memories are best forgotten."

He stopped and Harry turned toward him, his arm laying on the back of the sofa.

"You didn't answer the question."

Draco smirked and Harry noticed that he really liked the curve it gave to his thin lips when he did so.

"In sickness and health. Those were my vows. And I still remember them. Sure I wasn't expecting amnesia but I still knew that with you it was far from being empty words."

He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something else but closed it as he changed his mind.

Harry exhorted him to keep going.

"But?"

Draco bit his lips and stared at his empty glass.

"No but. I still want to believe in us. It's just… complicated. In the beginning I felt as if you were a complete stranger. Almost as if my husband was dead and his body was being possessed. And yet sometimes you do or say something and I feel like nothing ever happened. The weirdest part is that it makes me feel… guilty. Almost as if I was cheating on my husband with you." He paused and nervously tapped his glass with his long fingers. "Sorry, that's ridiculous."

Harry smiled tenderly. There was something about Draco's vulnerability that was touching and addicting. The fact that he chose to expose himself to him and only him was the only thing really making him feel like the Chosen One.

"It's not ridiculous. I myself am struggling to make a connection between who I am and who I was." He added with amusement:

"You know what's ridiculous? The links my brain makes sometimes! I mean, the smell of wet grass makes me think of Quidditch games with Scorpius. OK, I get it. I must have played with him many times while it was rainy. The smell of your shampoo under the shower makes me horny. I think I can get that one too. But why on earth would I think of cinnamon cookies when I see you smile?"

And to his greatest surprise, Draco burst into laughter. A real, uncontrolled laugh, brightening every cell of his face. For the first time since he woke up, Draco let go of the fears, the doubts and the sorrows, only to fully embrace the moment. And he was gorgeous that way.

Draco bit his bottom lip to regain control and explained with a mischievous smile: " Well I may have tried something called positive reinforcement to make you like me when we both started working for the minister. But damn, I didn't know it worked that well."

Harry didn't listen, still mesmerized by Draco's smile. He felt a sudden burst of heat as his heart missed a beat. The words left his lips before he could even understand them.

"I think I'm falling in love with you again."

He almost regretted his words when Draco's smile froze. But then a small blush colored his husband's cheeks and as they closed the gap between them, nothing else mattered.

Their kiss was soft and shy. A light touch of their lips, asking for a permission to hope, slowly getting firmer as if to anchor the moment into reality.

It was far from being their first kiss, but it definitely felt like one.

[drcalmreid]

friends - s.r. (pt. 2/2)

pairing: spencer reid x female reader

summary: pure angst -  friends with benefits always ends up with one person scorn out of jealousy...and in this case, it’s spencer. especially when he sees you flirting with one of his BAU partners. (pt. 2/2)

content warning: consumption of alcohol, indication of sex (no smut!), mention of narcotics/psychological disorders

word count: 5.1k // part one

authors notes: yall know the drill….lyrics = indicate a flashback!! Make sure you read part 1 first! :)

YOUR POV

“JJ, will you get a look at these two…I don’t know which one I’m in love with more.” Penelope squeals, bouncing back and forth on her neon pink heels. I roll my eyes and give her a playful shove, but continue dancing near Luke. Luke smiles his model-status grin and moves to the music pulsing through the bar.

“Jesus, Pen! How much have you drank?” JJ smiles as she reaches the dancefloor yet again. I look over JJ’s shoulder to see Reid, blank stare locked on the dance floor, his fingers swirling around in the condensation on the table. Spencer blinks quickly as our eyes meet and he shakes his head, looking down again at the table.

“How much I have drank is irrelevant,” Penelope yells over the music and takes another sip from her half-filled drink, most of which has ended up on the dance floor.

“I think it's pretty relevant,” Emily chuckles, as Tara smiles in agreeance.

“I mean, c’mon! Look at them!” She raises a finger at Alvez and I, but I shake my head at her attempts to play cupid. I spin to face Luke and pull him closer to me, “Wanna give her a show?” He tilts his head, processing my words as I smile at him.

“(y/n),” Luke grins. “I’m extremely uncoordinated. I’m barely dancing as is.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” I say, wrapping my arm around him. The alcohol in my system, anger, confusion, and overall emotions combine and push my confidence to an absurd level. I feel as if I’m watching myself from the outside as I dance with Luke. He throws his head back in a smooth laugh as I spin against him. I move my hips steadily and lead Luke’s hands around my waist; I rest my head on his chest as our bodies sync to one another.

“Oh my god, they’re really going for it.” Tara gawks through laughs and Emily throws invisible dollars in our direction. Penelope fans herself as if it will cool her down as JJ raises her eyebrows and chews on the end of her straw, casually trying to look over her shoulder at our table, but I know she’s watching Spencer. I just can’t let him in, I can’t. I did that once and I ruined everything. I still don’t even know how, but I did. So if I keep dancing, keep drinking, keep moving, I won’t be able to stop and think. And rethink. And think again and again, replaying every memory of the time I spent with Spencer. My hazey eyes lift from the grimy club floor just in time to see Spencer bolt up from the booth and out the bar doors.  

All of your friends have been here for too long

They must be waiting for you to move on

“I love you,” the words slip out of my mouth like silk and I shoot my eyes open in the dark hotel room. Fuck. My sleep deprivation and mental exhaustion have made me become a love-struck puddle in his arms. “Spencer,” I whisper among the darkness, but there’s no answer. Thank God. Of course I love Spencer. I always have. The last four months have been some of the best of my life, but we both agreed that we wouldn’t place pressure on ourselves and keep everything private...but private means bottled up, and my bottle’s full. Hell, it’s overflowing. We’ve spent endless nights together, limbs tangled together, Spencer’s finger combing through my hair, or my hands running through his curls as he lays on my chest, his fingers tracing my sides. Tonight, Spencer breathes heavily beside me as sleep consumes him. More times than not Spencer falls asleep before I do, and I can’t help but think he’s able to because we’re together and finally comfortable and peaceful after the most physically and mentally draining days. Spencer releases a long breath and squeezes me tighter, as if I’m going to slip out of his grip and he’ll never hold me like this again.

-

The morning comes sooner than I’d hoped as I open my eyes to an empty bed and bright sun rays pouring through the cheap hotel curtains. I rub my face with my palm as my words come back to me. They echo in my head, bouncing off the inside of my skull...I love you, I love you, I love you. I realize now that I said it because I truly do love him, but admitting that to myself (let alone Spencer) complicates our non-relationship relationship even more than I thought possible. So, instead I shake my limbs and stand from the bed, shoving the memory of last night into a new bottle of emotions. “Spence?” I call out into the room, but there’s only silence on the other end. I walk in and out of the bathroom to no sign of the Doctor before I spot the hotel notepad on the side table. “Went in early to see if I could get some more files from the local PD, trying a new perspective. Didn’t want to wake you. -Dr. Spencer Reid”. I put down the cheap notepad and chuckle at his signature, even signing a note for his friend is formal and properly scripted...typical. I pull on my usual clothes for a long day of profiling and step out into the hotel hallway.

“Morning,” a voice chirps from behind me.

“Jesus! Luke!” I say startled and swat his chest. “Scared the shit out of me. You’re lucky I didn’t pull my gun on you.”

“Eh,” he pulls on the strap of his bag as we walk towards the elevators. “I would have been fine.”

“Oh your ego is that big that you think you’d survive a shot to the chest?”

“No no no, I didn’t say that,” he smiles as the elevator doors slide open. “I just know you’re an awful shot.”

“Oh fuck you,” I chuckle and slap his arm. He grins at me with a cocky look but doesn’t say anything else. The elevator glides downstairs and opens again in the lobby. The two of us climb into the BAU’s black SUV and head back to the local offices for the rest of our long day.

-

Once we arrive, I spot Spencer instantly as he sits cross legged on a wide wooden folding table. Files and folders are scattered across all parts of the floor as well as his lap as he stares ahead at the whiteboard in front of him. He glances down a few times, scanning over the pages he has, but turns his head in our direction as soon as Luke and I approach the room.

“After you,” Luke winks as he holds the door open for me. I roll my eyes at him but walk through the door into the glass-walled conference room. “What? No, thank you?”

“Nope,” I say as I sit down at the table, opening up my bag. “Not after you insulted me this morning.”

Spencer sits up straighter as if his body involuntarily responded to my words.

“(Y/n), I would never insult you,” Luke says as he takes the chair next to me. “I like you too much.”

Spencer clears his throat and keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead, but I know he’s listening.

“Besides,” Luke leans down to whisper in my ear. “It’s a lot more fun to mess with you.”

“I’m going to get a coffee, you guys want anything?” Spencer says abruptly and hops off the edge of the table, but he’s out the door before we can even answer.

“Morning to you too,” I comment as the door slams closed.

[Boy], I'm not with it I'm way too far gone

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

“Spence?” I choke out as I watch him lean against the brick wall. His tie is mangled in his hands as his chest rises and falls quicker than normal. “Are you okay? I saw you run out, I-”

“I’m fine, (y/n).” He spits back at me.

“Are you sure?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Alright, well if you’re fine, then I’ll leave you,”

“Do you like him?...Luke. Do you like Luke?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean- it seems like you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, you- you just were dancing and-”

“Oh my god. You’re jealous. Spencer, seriously?”

“I’m sorry that I can’t see you with other guys, it’s not fair for me to watch that. I can’t, (y/n).”

“Well...that’s not really my problem is it? You told me to, let’s see...how did you put it?” I glance up at the sky as if I’m trying to remember the exact words he used, but it’s all for show. I’ll never forget his words. They’re branded into me like a filthy scar on my heart. So I swallow my pride and turn the words right back at him, “ ‘Get over my feelings because we’re not together’? I believe that’s what you said.”

“(y/n), I-”

“Spencer, please just don’t say anything else. You’ve said enough. Just so we’re clear. None of this is fair, and I can dance with whoever I want.”

I step inside the bar yet again and practically sprint back to the group, desperately searching for the team. Luke spots me first and rushes towards me.

“Hey, hey,” he grabs both of my arms and squats down to get to my eyeline as I stare down at the floor. I try my best to push back the tears building up, but they’re becoming too much. “Are you okay?”

“I have to get out of here.”

“What did he say to you?” Luke gently asks.

“Nothing,” I mumble and wipe my eye with the back of my hand. “I just, I just need to go.”

“Okay,” he rubs my arms. “Let’s get you out of here.”

The next thing I know, I’m placed inside Luke’s car as he clips my seatbelt and I stare straight ahead, completely numb from everything. Tears continue to roll down my cheeks as Luke drives in silence. He coughs for a split second before turning to look at me, “I was going to drop you off at home, but I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“What do you mean like this?” I bite back and wipe my eyes with the edges of my fingers. “Shit, sorry Luke, I didn’t mean that.” I laugh and look at my mascara covered hands. “Obviously you meant like this,” I say gesturing towards my awful appearance. Luke chuckles lightly and glances over at me quickly before fixing his eyes back to the road.

“C’mon let’s go to my place first and then I’ll drop you off later.”

Normally I respond with some sarcastic comment and insist on going home, but honestly I’m too drained to even fight. So I nod slowly and stare out the window watching the passing cars.

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

The elevator door chimes and opens itself into the BAU offices. We all step out of the elevator calling out goodbyes for the night. Spencer heads towards his desk, as I follow closely behind. Ever since Luke and I came into the local PD offices two days ago, he’s been different. Spencer stayed in his own room our last night at the hotel, claiming he “fell asleep reading” but I know he was lying. Quickly, I pack my things into my go bag and get ready to leave, my own bed calling my name. I glance around and spot my teammates scattered across the bullpen: Penelope back in her bat-cave, Luke’s got his head down in a stack of files, Tara and JJ headed directly out the door headed home, Emily climbing the stairs to her office with Rossi shortly behind.

I inch closer to Spencer’s desk casually and lean against it to whisper to him, “hey”

“Hi.” He responds, keeping his eyes down on the book in front of him. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of the damn thing since we got on the plane. He was so enchanted by this book that he sat down opposite to me on the plane, rather than side-by-side. He just seems so….off. I can’t figure out what it is exactly, but he’s not the same. All our small gestures are gone—and I don’t want to overreact because it’s only been two days, but Spencer isn’t like this.

“Did you want to grab dinner? I’m starving,” I smile, trying my best to lighten the mood.

“Not hungry,” he coolly responds, with his head still down.

“Well, I am...so you—”

“So go get dinner, (y/n). Seems like a pretty simple answer.”

“I was waiting for you,” I say and he rolls his eyes, but doesn’t respond. I stand next to his desk awkwardly for a moment before Luke breaks my attention away. He shuffles all his things into his bag and slings it over his shoulder, “g’night guys.”

“Night, Luke,” I smile and he exits the office. Spencer releases a stifled groan and tries to cover it with a cough.

“What was that for?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. Spencer finally looks up from his book and shrugs. “Spencer, what?” I ask again and he frowns slightly, turning back down to his pages again. I shake my head at him and grab my bag from the edge of his desk and pull it over my shoulder.

“Goodnight, Spencer.” I say calmly and walk past his desk but he doesn’t respond, again. I can’t help myself and I actually chuckle at him, “seriously? You’re ignoring me now? What did I do? Did I do something?”

“Nope,” he sternly answers.

“Then why wont you talk to me?”

“We’re talking now,” he says, looking up from his desk. Our eyes meet and lock on one another. Neither of us break away from the stare as the tension rises between us.

“That’s not what I meant,” I whisper through gritted teeth. He shrugs again, his eyes unwavering from mine.

“Spencer, what the hell has gotten into you? You barely talked to me the rest of the case and on the jet. We usually talk after rough cases like this to check on each other.”

“Well I’m not your boyfriend, you made that abundantly clear, so I don't really need to keep tabs on you, do I?” Spencer snaps, standing up from his desk chair.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, shaking my head.

“Nothing- I just, we can’t do this anymore,” he rubs his face with his hands and gathers his books off the desk. He walks away from his desk, leaving me standing there stunned. He leaves the bullpen and presses the door to the elevator. The doors slide open and he steps inside. Without a second thought, I run through the office and into the elevator just in time.

“(Y/n), please.” He sighs, while pressing the down button.

“Spencer, just talk to me—”

“(Y/n), we can’t do this anymore because I don’t have feelings for you.”

“What? No—” I shake my head in complete shock and denial. I feel tears forming in my eyes, but I push them away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“We’re not on the same page….and I can’t control how you feel but, you need to get over your feelings because we’re not together. This doesn’t work between us, (y/n). Let it go,” Spencer says looking straight ahead as the doors slide open again and he exits through them.

All of your friends have been here for too long

They must be waiting for you to move on

[Boy], I'm not with it I'm way too far gone

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

“Luke, I’m not telling you what he said!” I protest, sitting cross legged on his couch. I throw a piece of popcorn into my mouth and then toss another in Luke’s direction.

“C’mon (y/n),” he sighs, stretching out his legs across my lap on the couch. “You and I both know how stubborn I am. I’m not giving up, what did Reid say? Do I need to kick his ass?”

“You, Luke Alvez, are the worst,” I laugh at him. “But, I’ll tell you because...well I’m still a little drunk so what the hell.” I sigh and tell him about everything. The details and stories pour out of me as Luke rests his head on his palm watching me talk. He doesn’t say anything, just listens.

“So,” I take a deep breath. “Now you’re caught up. God….Penelope’s gonna kill me when she finds out you know about Reid and I before her.”

He smiles and sits up on the couch, “listen (y/n), I know he’s a textbook genius, but Reid is an idiot. If he doesn’t realize how perfect the two of you are together and how much he loves you then any statistic he knows is useless. You’re too good, for him to be acting like this.”

“Wow,” I grin at him and give him a playful shove. “Look who’s getting sentimental!”

“Alright, forget I said it!” Luke stands up from the couch, throwing his hands up in defeat.

-

“Morning sleepy head,” Luke says, passing me a premade smoothie.

“Shit,” I sit up from the couch and blink my eyes harshly. “I can’t believe I slept here. Sorry, I’m the worst-”

“Hey,” Luke cuts me off. “Stop doing that. You’re fine. I was going to offer you the bed anyway, but you passed out before the movie ended.”

“Thank you, I mean seriously. All jokes aside,” I stand from the couch. “I’m glad you were there.”

“Me too,” he smiles. “Look, I’m not kicking you out either, but do you need a ride home?”

“Shit,” I shake my head. “Penelope and Emily drove me. My keys are at the BAU.”

“So we’ll stop there first.” He grabs his keys off the entrance table.

“Seriously, Luke,” I reach out and hug him around the waist. “Thank you.”

-

“So you and Reid…” Luke turns into the BAU parking garage. I shush him and he laughs lightly. “Four months?”

“Four months.” I nod while giving a weak smile.

“And you loved him?” He asks quietly, as if not to scare me.

“Yeah,” I turn to look at him. “I thought I did, but I don’t- I don’t know anymore.” Luke nods again as he pulls into his assigned spot. I open the car door and step on the pavement. The garage is empty besides a few chief cars and our footsteps echo off the walls. It’s a Saturday morning and no one dares to come into the offices unless directly called to...even the FBI needs a weekend sometimes. We walk quietly together through the empty lot and into the section of the building where our offices are located. Luke and I scan our badges and follow the normal protocol just to get inside.

“You really didn’t have to come with me.” I say to Luke as we climb the stairs. “I do work here, I think I would have been okay.”

“And missed you hungover trying to walk up these stairs? No way,” he smirks and continues up the steps. The rest of the time we climb up the stairs I focus solely on trying my best not to think about how awful I feel — both mentally and physically.  My head is spinning from the combination of last night's drinks and Spencer. Fuck, I miss him. Luke snaps me out of my own head when he opens the stairwell door, “You ever think you’re going to talk to him again?”

“I mean we work together-”

“No no,” he laughs. “I meant talk to him, yknow,” Luke raises his eyebrows suggestively with a smirk.

“Why do I tell you things?”

“Because you love me,” Luke sings as he opens the door to our bullpen and we walk through it. I turn back to him and shove his arms.

“Luke, if you don’t stop,” I say as we enter the BAU. I scan the empty desks looking for mine when my eyes rest on a slumped over figure on the desk...not just the desk, but Spencer’s desk. “Oh my god, Spence.”

Heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved

Running in circles, now look what you've done

Give you my word as you take it and run

“Oh my god Spence,” the words tumble out of my mouth before I even realize I’m talking. Spencer turns to face me as I begin talking and his eyes shift between Luke and I. Spencer takes a deep breath in and spins around again in his chair, his back facing us. I clear my throat and scan the room for my keys, and there they sit on the edge of my desk across from Spencer. I shake my head at him and Luke lends down, “you sure you’re gonna be okay?” I smile and give him a weak nod, and Luke responds, “I’ll leave you two.”

“Thanks for everything,” I whisper to him and Spencer’s shoulders tense. Luke leaves the office through the glass doors and silence settles between Spencer and I. I sigh gently and make my way across the room to my desk. Spencer keeps his head down in some files as I reach my desk and grab my keys.

“Walk of shame?” Spencer mumbles, still looking down.

“What did you just say?” I ask feeling the anger build in me.

“I mean,” he snickers. He turns a pen over between his fingers, moving the pen back and forth. “That’s what you’re doing right?”

“You’re ridiculous,” I huff and grab my keys from the table top. Don’t give in to him. I remind myself as I close my eyes and take a deep breath before headed towards the doors. “Have a nice weekend, Spencer.”

“You’re just going to ignore me?” Spencer spins in his chair.

“Easier than having this conversation,” I snap at him.

“So you’re just leaving?” He asks, standing up from the desk.

“No,” I retort. “That’s your job. I’m just going home.”

“Home? Or Luke’s home?” He tilts his head to the side and crosses his arms.

“Are you fucking kidding me…” I shake my head and step away from the doors, getting closer to him. “I didn’t sleep with Luke.” Spencer blinks slowly and swallows hard, but I continue, “and even if I did, why the hell does it matter? We’re not together, so who cares, right?” I practically laugh and cross my arms over my chest. Spencer leans back as if my words physically hit him in the chest. I turn around again, focused on the exit and getting the hell out of here.

“I do.”

“Yeah? And why do you care?” I yell, whipping around to face him.

Spencer runs his hands through his hair and screams, “Because I’m falling in love with you and I can’t stop it!”

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

SPENCERS POV

Love is never what you picture it to be. It’s messy, unpredictable, and hurts like hell. “We accept the love we think we deserve,” Stephen Chbosky once said...and I wish I did not agree with it. The exact moment I realized I was in love with (y/n) took me by surprise, I didn’t even realize what it was at first. I just always believed I wasn’t deserving of love—and no matter where I found it, ultimately it would all be a taunt before I was stripped of it. I realized I loved her on a flight home from a case in Dallas. The unsub was a young male with psychological disorders who was regularly using different narcotics to subdue his victims. Everyone on the case was hyper-sensitive of my relation to the case—Emily even offered for me to stay back home, but against my better judgement I got on the plane. Eventually, the case came to a close fairly quickly (as most do), but not without constant questions and repeated: “you okay?”’s from the rest of my team. Of course I wasn’t okay. (Y/n) and I followed our same routine as we always have for cases; I sneak into her room or she sneaks into mine, we bring each other food and coffee, steal longing glances at one another during profiles. and are just there for the other person. She didn’t ask or pry into my past about my emotions, she just listens to what I have to say and nods along calmly. She even reaches for my leg and hand under the table during a deep discussion of dilaudid, but her eyes never strayed from her papers or whoever was talking. She didn’t want to draw attention to me, but also didn’t want me forgotten. She made me feel normal. Unbroken. Deserving of love. On the flight home she sat down next to me and didn’t ask the baseless question, “are you okay?” instead she just said: “I’m so proud of you.” My heart nearly fell out of my chest when she said it. I didn’t realize the effect she had or the gravity of her words until she said them. I love her. When we finally landed back home, I wanted nothing more than to go to bed holding her and tell her I’m going to protect her from the world and it’s cruel intentions. But I couldn’t. Everything I’ve loved always leaves me, and I can’t let it be real because real means vulnerable. The following days pass by as if in slow motion, but also at the speed of light. Each one not just building up my love for (y/n), but also the walls around my heart. It feels as though I blink and we’re back on the jet for another case. Blink. The team is meeting with the local PD. Blink. We’re in the field with a new victim. Blink. (Y/n) and I are back in our hotel room as she mumbles, “I love you.” Blink. I lose my mind and lose her at the same time. Blink. We’re no longer friends. Blink. She’s moved on and onto Luke. Blink.  I’m screaming my confession of love at her as if we’re in a Shakespearon play. Blink.

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

YOUR POV

“What did you just say?” I ask as my heart rate skyrockets. Spencer stays near his desk, his face showing he’s just as shocked as I am. His gigantic brain must be a complete mess right now. “Spencer, what did—”

“You know what I said,” he takes a deep breath in. “I love you.”

“But—” I choke out.

“I know. I know,” he rubs his face. “I know I told you I didn’t have feelings for you, but I lied.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying now because you’re jealous?” I ask, filled with rage. He shakes his head vigorously and steps closer to me, closing the gap between us. This is the closest he’s been to me in forever. I want to just reach out and melt into him, but I fight back the urge.

“I’m not lying,” he clasps his hands together. I raise my eyebrows and my eyes twitch. “I really do love you.” He reaches out to touch my arm and I step back. I can’t let him in again. At least not this easily. “(Y/n).” He croaks, his voice breaking.

“Do you think I’m that stupid? That I’ve just waited for you to come crawling back?” I ask, my tears stinging my eyes as they roll down my cheeks.

“No, no. Never, I- I never thought that. Ever,” Spencer rushes out.

“Then what is this?” I shake my head, “Because I feel so fucking stupid, Spencer. You left me. You told me you never felt the way I did, and I loved you-”

“I know you did,” he says smoothly. His words stun me, he knew? I step even further back, and I want to keep going and going until I’m out the door. “I heard you, that night in the hotel. When you told me you loved me.” Tears continue to move down my face as his words sink in.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, wiping my face. Spencer steps closer to me, but I don’t move back.

“Because I was scared!” Spencer cries out. “When you said it, I- I felt it of course I did, but I was terrified. When you said you loved me and I knew I loved you...it all became real. Too real,” he sighs. “Everyone that I love, everything I love leaves me. I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“But pushed me away, Spencer.” I shake my head as he steps even closer.

“I know, I screwed up. So badly, (y/n). I’m so sorry,” he reaches out to touch my arms and instead of turning around, I lean into his touch. “If I could go back to that night, I would pull you closer and tell you then, but I can’t. So, I’m telling you now. I love you.” Instead of answering him, I just collapse into his arms completely exhausted. The back and forth, the drinking, the bottling of emotions, the confusion, everything...it’s too much and everything explodes at once. Spencer’s arms wrap around me and holds me up from melting into the floor. He wraps his arms so tightly around my torso and cradles the back of my head with his hands. My hands wrap around him and pull him closer than ever, I take a deep breath in and truly take him in. He’s here. I can’t lose him again.

“(Y/n),” Spencer coos, rubbing my head. I’ve missed him more than anything I’ve ever known.

“I do love you,” I sob and feel Spencer’s heart literally skip a beat. “I always have.”

“You do?” He pulls me away from his chest to look into my eyes. “I didn’t mess this up entirely? I didn’t lose you?” I shake my head no and lift my hands up from his chest and onto the sides of his face. He looks down at me with the kindest eyes. My heart sings and I stand up on my toes, pressing my lips to his. Spencer’s mouth molds into mine perfectly as if we never let one another. His hands squeeze my sides gently and Spencer pulls away smiling. I stroke my thumb across his cheek, whipping away one of his tears. 

“You could never lose me, Spencer.”  

—

yay! this is finally up!! took me longer than I wanted, but school work got in the way :/ anyway, hope you enjoyed!

masterlist // requests

stay safe & wear a mask!! -m

tags: @rexorangecouny