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princess-leaorgana · 6 months ago

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What Tieflings Do Chptr 7

Summary: After the takedown of The Absolute, Zelphie finds her city in need of more help and her home destroyed. She won't stop helping, but who can help her?

Rolan x Tav (Zelphie; ~30y.o AFAB, Sorcerer, Tiefling, not really described physically on purpose <3)

M/F

Author's Note: I fucking love tielfings. Along with this being a budding romance/smut/fluff/word vomit fanfiction, it's also my case study in DnD 5e tieflings, how they act, what sets them apart from humans and devils and elves. That being said, I have a few artistic liberties in here as well where I couldn't find a straight answer, if you'll amuse me.

Warnings - Spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3, Smut in this chapter, tiefling racism, little bit of angst

Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six

‘Come in.’

Rolan’s study was his little hideaway. Although Zelphie loved being invited there, when she was not, she meant to keep her distance. She meant to give him his privacy, for his studies and experiments were very important to him. However, she had just received an urgent message from Duke Florrick, Zelphie was needed for an expedition to The Cloakwood. This wasn’t the first of these she had been on, Scouts from the Flaming Fist were given a task and Zelphie was given the role of protecting them. Not usually did they run into any issues, but once anyone knew the person escorting the Fist was the person who defeated an Elderbrain and The Dead Three’s Chosen, they never attempted to put up a fight. Zelphie was usually just a bluff. She would report by morning and as the day was already late, so she would have to interrupt him. She opened the door and found him standing, hunched over a desk, dissecting something. She didn’t want to know. He glanced up at her and smiled.

‘Hello you,’ he said and looked back down at his work. She smiled back to him and walked over to his desk to place the letter down, her eyes shifting away from his experiment.

‘Good evening, I miss you,’ she said and Rolan picked up the letter she had placed down and removed a pair of magnifying spectacles from his face. ‘Duke Florrick is sending me on a two day trip to Cloakwood tomorrow. Should be easy, I’ve been there with the Fist before, normal delivery. Mostly walking,’ she said and Rolan read the letter. He glanced up at her when he finished.

‘And you told her no?’ He asked, handing her the letter back. Zelphie frowned and shook her head.

‘Of course not, why would I pass this up?’ She asked him, as if it was an illogical question. It was, as Rolan would always be, perfectly logical. Zelphie wasn’t incredibly well. In fact, she had an appointment with a home visit nurse the next day, which would have to be canceled if she went on this trip. She was also ill, and had been for about a week. She was incredibly tired and would get sick twice a day. She had no fever and had a great appetite. Rolan knew exactly what was wrong with her, and truth be told he was having a hard time with it. Zelphie assumed what was going on but neither of them were talking about it. Any person could see, along with her physical symptoms and her trigger happy sensitivity, that Zelphie was pregnant. Lia and Cal were tip toeing around the subject as well. It would also explain her weight gain, everything fit perfectly into the puzzle. So, naturally, Rolan was not happy for her to go.

‘Because, as lovely as the Flaming Fist are, you are more important than them,’ he told her simply. ‘You are not strong enough right now, my darling,’ he told her and she scowled, pointing her finger at a battle dummy, striking it with a bolt of lightning. The dummy was left singed and toppled over. Rolan frowned, understanding her point instantly. ‘I didn’t mean like that. You know I didn’t. These last few weeks, your magic has been incredibly powerful-‘

‘Then what did you mean?’ She asked him quickly and he sighed.

‘Powerful magic, plus the inability to control it and a weakened body doesn’t make you strong,’ he told her quickly. ‘It makes you weak, you are weak right now, not only could you get hurt, you would do a disservice to the Fist.’ Zelphie crossed her arms, fuming. ‘There are plenty of mercenaries out there who can help while we find out how to make you better,’ he told her and placed his spectacles back on the bridge of his nose.

‘You cannot forbid me to go,’ she told him stubbornly and he nodded.

‘You are correct, but I can wish it. I will be incredibly unhappy if you go, and I may insist on coming with you,’ he told her. It was strange how they had flipped their conversation as of late. Zelphie was now the hot head and Rolan had learned to control his anger, he did it only for Zelphie. Everyone else bore the brunt of it. Poor Cal. ‘I will write to Florrick on your behalf, if you are feeling guilty, I know that’s why you are upset,’ he told her and she huffed. He was right, and that was annoying. This wasn’t an incredibly important journey, any ranger in the city could assist. Zelphie still felt like she owed her city something. He glanced up at her, waiting for her argument. She didn’t have one. She just didn’t like him telling her what to do. He was absolutely correct, but she was struggling to accept that. ‘I will write to Florrick,’ he settled and went back to his work. Zelphie stomped her foot and turned around to leave. ‘I love you,’ Rolan called and she grumbled back at him. She wanted to hit him.

He was right, she had no right putting herself and others in danger. But what was the point of her anymore if she wasn’t to do anything? Besides a little check-up the next day, she had nothing. She could easily have stayed in Rolan’s office and either helped or learned something, but she was in a terrible mood. So, she would do what her body was telling her, go and eat.

Lia was in the kitchen, apparently having the same idea as Zelphie, she was picking at some sort of leg, probably a cow. Lia turned and looked at her, sucking something off of her thumb.

‘You look pissed,’ she said bluntly and Zelphie walked to the ice box and rummaged. She wanted something sour.

‘Because I am,’ she said back and Lia sighed.

‘When is your appointment again? Please tell me it’s in two minutes,’ she said and rolled her eyes and Zelphie shot a look at her. She slammed the ice box door and walked out of the kitchen and headed to the main living area. She should have gone to her room, since her mood was only getting worse, but that’s where she stomped off to. She sat on a large sofa and crossed her arms, angry as a toddler before their nap. Lajy wandered into the room, his tail up and curled over and he hustled to his mother. He always had impeccable timing. Zelphie broke down into tears and opened her arms for the cat, who purred in her lap and rubbed himself on her furiously. He was a lovely boy, terribly cuddly when he was needed.

‘You’re on my side, aren’t you Lajy?’ She asked the cat and she cried, rubbing his head. She laid on her side and cuddled him, crying and listening to him purr. ‘You don’t hate me, do you?’ She asked and the cat butted her head with his and she kissed his forehead. She just let herself cry and be comforted by the cat, looking down at her hand, rubbing her emerald for comfort. She knew deep down no one in the tower hated her. She was being very hard to live with. Still, for the past dozen days, Zelphie was no longer privy to the intelligent part of her brain. Only paranoid, raw emotions. She wasn’t alone for very long before Rolan appeared in the living room. She closed her eyes, refusing to look at him. She felt him walk over, his heavy robes making a low swishing sound with every footstep. He knelt down in front of her and placed a gentle hand on her head.

‘Would you enjoy a little fresh air with me?’ He asked her and she sniffed and opened her eyes. He looked so tired, but he was smiling at her.

‘Are you going for a walk?’ She asked him and he nodded.

‘I need to clear my head and air out my office. I hoped you would want to join me,’ he told her, knowing the exact right thing to say. She kissed Lajy’s head, still crying a little.

‘Come little one, walk with mummy and daddy,’ she said and Rolan’s smile grew. He stood up and helped her up. She hugged him tight as soon as she was up and she felt his arms around her. ‘I love you too, Rolan,’ she said and he laughed lightly and kissed her forehead.

The day went on like normal, Rolan did go back to his studies, but Zelphie felt better and had a cup of tea with Lia. The sisters teased each other and Lia got a little game going to try to see how many times she could make Zelphie laugh before Zelphie would either cry, lose control of her bladder, or at least fall over. Losing control of her bladder went first, and Zelphie excused herself for the night.

In the morning, for her appointment Zelphie dressed in a light wrap dress for the cleric’s ease. Rolan brought the cleric up to their bedroom to inspect Zelphie. He genuinely hated bringing strangers up this far in the tower, but it was a medical necessity, he would allow it for Zelphie’s privacy. The cleric was an older woman, a human, which made Zelphie a little uncomfortable, but the woman was kind and soft.

‘Your husband told me all of your symptoms the other day, and normally I make my visits fast, but after we spoke, I really don’t think this is much of an emergency,’ she explained and placed her bag on the bed. ‘Go on and lay down for me,’ she said and Zelphie did as she was told. Rolan walked closer but attempted to stay out of the way. ‘Master Rolan says you are tired, emotional, you're up sick a lot?’ She asked and Zelphie nodded.

‘Yes,’ she said simply and the cleric laid both of her hands on Zelphie’s stomach and pressed gently. The woman smiled and closed her eyes. Zelphie instantly felt warm and a faint yellow glow appeared by the woman’s fingers and on Zelphie’s stomach. The glow and warmth went away after a moment and the woman laughed a little. ‘I don’t know you from the freckles on my elbow, but my guess is that this is your first, sweetie,’ she said softly. ‘You can get up now, we’re done here,’ she said and Zelphie frowned. She got up and looked at Rolan. ‘Actually, why don’t you two take a seat,’ she said and Rolan sat next to Zelphie and took her hand. Once all was settled, the woman clasped her hands together. ‘It’s my honor to tell you that you have a wee one on the way.’ Zelphie’s mind went blank. Rolan was looking down at her, the woman was still speaking, but she couldn’t get past that. A baby. A wee one. She was pregnant. How could that be? She couldn’t be a mother. No, not her. Lajy was her baby, not an actual baby. How could she have a baby?

The poor cleric was still speaking, but Zelphie wasn’t understanding anything. She placed a hand on her belly and looked over at Rolan, who was just staring at her. She couldn’t really read his face, his eye contact was intense and his jaw was a little tight. He looked as though he was going to pop. He looked back at the cleric and responded to a question she had asked, but Zelphie kept looking at him, at his profile. His strong brow, his sharp jaw, the way his fangs caught the light as he spoke. He was going to be a father, a father to her child. Not just any baby, hers. He had gotten her pregnant. She would make him a father. Rolan stood up and Zelphie blinked, taken out of her trance.

‘Well, this will be my most pleasant visit today, that is for certain,’ she said as Rolan walked her out.

‘I don’t think I could use those same words myself, your visit today was nothing short of a miracle. A visit for a lifetime, thank you,’ he said and the cleric left, quicker than she had come. With that little visit, Zelphie’s whole world had changed. The door to their bedroom shut and Rolan turned around. Zelphie stood off of the bed and walked over to him and he held up a hand to stop her. She stopped and was nervous. He walked over to her. ‘No more walking for you,’ he said and very quickly and with little effort, he scooped Zelphie up, cradling her and walking her right back to bed. She squeaked as she was lifted suddenly.

‘Rolan!’ She squealed and he placed her on the bed, but before anything else, he kissed her. He was happy. She was very happy but had almost forgotten about Rolan. She didn’t know if he wanted children, he had never seemed like a man who liked children. Though, that was a shallow thought. Rolan was a hero to all of the refuge tiefling children in Baldur’s Gate. It was he who saved all of them in the Shadowfell. He was obviously a family man, but a man who would coo over a little baby? She wasn’t so sure. A man who wanted a little one? She had no idea. Now she had some kind of feeling he might have wanted that. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed into their kiss.

‘Oh my darling, my love,’ he muttered, kissing her. ‘I can’t believe this, I knew it, but I still can’t believe it,’ he said, his voice shaking. She pulled away and placed her hands on his face. His face contorted and he sobbed. ‘I never ever thought this would be my life,’ he said through tears and hers followed immediately. ‘Thank you, thank you,’ he placed his forehead onto hers and she laughed as she cried.

‘Oh Rolan, I’m so happy. You really want a child? A little snotty baby that will grow into a grubby little toddler?’ She asked and his wavered smile just grew. He nodded.

‘If that child is my child with my Zelphie, by gods yes,’ he said and sniffed and she kissed him once more. Their lips crash together, all of their emotions coming out physically. As they kissed, Zelphie’s legs hooked around Rolan’s. Rolan sat up and with ease of his forefinger, unwrapped Zelphie’s dress. She bit her lip and looked up at him, but he was looking at her body. He placed his hand where the cleric had and Zelphie grinned. ‘Is she here?’ He asked softly, his voice shaking. She. Zelphie sniffed and took his hand and moved it down, under her navel. ‘Right, right, that makes sense,’ he said and leaned down. He kissed her skin and Zelphie could have melted. ‘Hello in there,’ he whispered and Zelphie was a puddle, crying again. This was a wonderful moment. She’d never been happier, not for a long, long time.

‘Oh Rolan,’ she said softly and ran her hand through his hair, but he wasn’t done talking to the hard little spot under her navel.

‘I hope you can hear me, you and I need to have a little chat. Listen, you’ve been making your mother an emotional wreck, and I won’t tolerate that kind of behavior in this home,’ he went off and Zelphie screamed a laugh. Rolan felt silly doing it, which was not something he ever liked doing, but it made her laugh. ‘You’ll behave or I promise I will come in there,’ he said and that sent Zelphie over the edge. She kicked, her tears now from the uncontrollable laughter.

‘Rolan! Stop!’ She begged through tears and laughter. He chuckled and crawled back up to her and kissed her neck, tickling her. ‘Rolan!’ She squealed and he lifted his head enough to speak into her ear.

‘I love you,’ he said and she wrapped her arms around him.

‘I love you more,’ she told him, and he nipped at her earlobe and she sighed happily. ‘Mmmm…when you bite me, it’s like a little brand, right?’ She asked and he hummed in response, nipping and kissing her skin. ‘And you always make sure it’s in an area I can hide, like my thigh or my back or my bum,’ she said and he hummed again. ‘Pretty soon, one of your little marks will be very hard to hide,’ she told him playfully and he lifted her head to look at her properly. ‘The baby,’ she explained and Rolan leaned down and kissed her lips. The baby would grow and it would become very obvious to everyone around. Zelphie was very happy about it, but Rolan would be warned that proof of their sex life was about to be public. Clearly, he didn’t care. She felt his finger loop around her underwear and pull on them gently. Zelphie lifted her hips so he could remove them. He kissed down her neck and she purred loudly for him. She was stupidly happy, delirious with joy.

‘Oh,’ she cooed as she felt Rolan’s fingers in her middle. He was delicate with his fingers, careful of his claw as his forefinger stroked her. She was incredibly sensitive. That was just fine with Rolan. Her hips pushed against his fingers a little and she felt his fangs digging into her collarbone. She hissed and her hips bucked again. Her tail curled up between his legs and rubbed up against him. She cursed his robes, he always had to dress so well. He moaned softly but continued his work, stimulating her clit, and making a mess of her collarbone. She ground her hips and he chuckled.

‘Don’t you tell me you’re already so undone,’ he muttered and tutted playfully. She rubbed herself against him, begging for more. ‘My darling is soaking, is that what I do to you, hm?’

‘Yes Rolan, you ruin me,’ she whimpered. She was desperate. The phenomenal news was coursing through her and evolving into pure instinct. His dominance, taking complete control over her and the situation. She was turned on more than she could remember ever being. She was so in love with Rolan, but the added situation that he had impregnated her was scratching an itch she didn’t know she had. She always felt a flutter when Rolan showed off his power, magical and physical, but this? She’d never thought of him more powerful. It took two to make a baby, but in one action, Rolan changed her life for good. Forever.

‘Let us just see how sensitive my little wife is,’ he said and she whimpered. ‘Shhhh…no need to beg, I’m here,’ he said and kissed down her torso. She opened her eyes and looked down at him. He was so beautiful. She was hyper focused on his face as she breathed through the warm sensation she was feeling. His eyes flashed to hers as he lowered his face to her middle. She felt light headed. He ran his tongue firmly from her hole to her clitoris and her eyes rolled back into her heat. Just hearing him licking her, up and down, was sending her over the edge. Her tail was coiled tightly around his upper thigh. ‘So needy,’ he muttered, holding her thighs down and open for him. She sighed, as if gasped for air. She was terribly close.

‘Oh gods dammit,’ she muttered. That familiar tingle in her toes, a warmth rushed over her. He was barely doing a damn thing. His hands on her thigh refused to move as she attempted to writhe her hips and the legs. He did make sure now to just give her clot attention, his warm breath quick as his tongue. She wanted it but she was a little angry he had gotten her so quickly. ‘Rolan,’ she whimpered and grabbed one of his horns to brace herself, as he pinned her to the bed. Warm, wet ecstasy ran through her, gushing from her. Normally, Rolan would slow down, allowing her to ride out her orgasm, but his new ego wasn’t going to let her go. She kicked as he kept going. His one hand was holding down on her mound, making sure she didn’t slip from him, spreading her lips as he tormented her.

‘Relax,’ he whispered, not removing his mouth from her. Her hips bucked and she howled, her hips bucking, and he laughed.

‘Ro,’ she whimpered. He finally let her go and her body convulsed. Electricity shot out of her fingertips, little sparks and Rolan growled happily.

‘Beautiful, that’s my girl,’ he sat up and wiped his face. She caught her breath and he laughed again. ‘What a mess,’ he tutted and she felt the burn marks she had left on the sheets. She felt guilt, but her euphoria was so much higher. She caught her breath and he gently traced her thigh with his claw, making her shiver and twitch.

‘Rolan,’ she whimpered and he smiled. ‘Damn you,’ she said and he smirked. She placed her hand on her forehead. He just watched her, watched his work, reveling in what he had done to Zelphie. She looked up at him and tilted her head at him. ‘Are you going to make a mess with me?’ She asked. He was fully dressed, his hair was a little messier than before. He grinned and tilted his head back.

‘What do you mean by that?’ He asked her, his voice so soft and low. She pouted up at him. He laughed again. ‘Was that not enough?’ He asked her and got up on her elbows.

‘Are you going to make me beg? Me? Your pregnant wife?’ She asked and Rolan’s face fell. He cleared his throat and regained his composure. He knew she was guilting him, but the phrase his pregnant wife stopped his heart. He took her hand and leaned over to kiss it. Zelphie pulled his hand. She wanted to kiss him. She got what she wanted. His lips crashed to hers and she got her hand wedged between their bodies, finding his erection through his robes. He sighed softly into her mouth. He sat up a little, fussing with his robes, pushing them up enough so he could quickly enter her. Zelphie gasped, not thinking he wouldn’t even get undressed. He thrusted quickly, watching her bounce under him. ‘Fuck, fuck,’ she cried and Rolan placed his forehead on hers and she bit her bottom lip, keeping eye contact with him. ‘I love you, I love you,’ she whispered and he groaned, quickening his pace. This was perfect for her, Rolan selfishly rutting on her. He had the length, the girth and the texture of a teifling, so it felt incredible, but she liked it when he acted like this. Desperate, untamed. She couldn’t explain it, but him fucking her, desperate for an orgasm, for a release, it excited her to no end. The sounds he made, the way he held her, his claws in her hips. She could smell him. She closed her eyes and she felt his hand on her neck.

‘Look at me,’ he said, his voice gruff. Her orange eyes opened to see his yellow ones looking right back. His brows were knitted together in concentration. She kept eye contact until his eyes shut.

‘I love you,’ she told him, knowing he was close. ‘I love you, Rolan,’ she moaned and kissed his neck. His hand on her hip and his hand on her neck tightened. A guttural moan and shiver came from him and after two hard thrusts, he slowed dramatically. She leaned up to kiss him and he kissed her back, softly, he was spent. She giggled and rubbed her legs against his. He peppered her face with little kisses and she continued to giggle.

‘All mine, mine, mine,’ he whispered and she nuzzled her nose to his.

‘No, mine,’ she said and caught his lips once more. He sat up with a groan and gave her backside a little pat.

‘Well, now that that is out of my system,’ he said and she laughed. He looked her over as he pulled his robes back down to cover himself again. ‘You and I have some planning and chatting to do,’ he said and she sat up with him, covering herself up.

‘Oh? Chatting about what?’ She asked him and reached over to fix a lock of his hair.

‘About you, and myself, we’re going to need to change how things are run here, certainly. I can have you in the shop still, but…’ he began and she frowned. Uhoh. ‘No more…excursions,’ he told her, it was a kind request, or demand, but Zelphie did frown. ‘I don’t want to argue about this, so please, let me explain myself. I’m not trying to control you, although, truly, sometimes I wish I could,’ he expressed and her brows furrowed. ‘But…you cannot be, you and I are very different people. You go and you have friends and you have your adventures, and I do love that about you. I love that we are different. You’ve shown me a different way of life. Since we met, you have shown me how to…’ he sighed and shook his head. ‘And I have tried to give you your life. I wish for you to do what you want, be independent, but now…’ Zelphie watched him carefully. Rolan was correct, as controlling and brooding as he was, the homebody, the sage, he did allow her whatever freedoms she wanted. She knew it killed him for her to be gone for days on end. Once or twice she had come back in worse shape than she had left and she knew he hated it. But he, as much as someone like Rolan could, bit his tongue. He had compromised with her every single time, with little arguments every once and a while. ‘I don’t-’ he cleared his throat and held her hands. ‘I don’t want to put you in a box, in a display case, don’t think that’s what I am asking. But…when I don’t know where you are, I can’t breathe,’ he said and rubbed her knuckles. Zelphie’s face softened a little.

‘I used to live worse than this,’ she assured him and he sighed.

‘I know, but that doesn’t mean you should go back. Would you be very happy if I returned to Avernus?’ He asked her quickly and she stared up at him. ‘I survived Avernus, so surely, I can survive everything, is that what you think?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not saying you are not capable, but if capability meant one hundred percent success every single time…well, that can’t be. You will get hurt, you have gotten hurt. One day, that hurt might…’ he trailed off and chewed his lip. ‘Yesterday, losing you meant a lot of pain for me. And of course Lia and Cal and all of your friends, but I only cared about my pain. Now? Darling, I don’t want for our child what was given to us,’ he said and Zelphie just looked at him. She looked down for a moment. ‘When I picture myself as a parent, I picture myself giving every single thing on this planet I can to my child, would you promise the same?’

‘Of course I do,’ she said and her mind rattled. He was absolutely correct. She was preparing for a little fight, one where she would win, he couldn’t tell her what to do. She was not his caged pet, she was his partner. But his point, like usual, was logical. She was having a baby, making her a mother. Her priorities needed to shift. It wasn’t about her anymore, or even Rolan. She placed her hand on her lower belly. ‘I…you’re right,’ she said softly and she felt Rolan’s lips on her forehead.

‘And don’t think for a moment that I’m excluded in that. My work will take a step back. No longer will I be locked away in my study, all hours of the day, though, I will admit, I do need to take up reading on a subject I have yet to ever read on,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘I’ll be more present, I’ll make you sick of me,’ he told her and she smiled a little.

‘I suppose the man with every script written in Faerun needs to go book shopping,’ she said and he laughed.

‘Indeed,’ he said and rubbed her hand.

‘I promise to…act a bit more like a mother might,’ she said and Rolan shook his head.

‘You already have fantastic maternal instincts,’ he told her and she smiled a little. ‘You are the most loving person I have ever met, giving selfless. The reason you want for your adventures is to help others,’ he explained and she buried her face in his shoulder and he laughed again. ‘Don’t feel like you need to give me any credit either,’ he said as he wrapped his arms around her. Zelphie laughed and shook her head.

‘You know well enough you have much more parental instinct than I do,’ she said and looked up at him. ‘You at least know what family feels like, I’m very new to it, and I only have it because of you,’ she told him and he leaned down to kiss her.

‘And before anything else, there is one more thing I would like to ask you,’ he said and Zelphie just looked up at him. ‘Before you become the only one in this whole tower entitled to ask for anything, of course,‘ he said and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. ‘Could we tell Cal and Lia?’ He asked and she blinked a few times, waiting for the favor. It never came, that was it. She threw back her head and laughed.

‘Yes! You idiot!’ She laughed and he grinned. She stood up quickly, fixing herself, her linen dress completely ruined by their little romp. He got up with her and helped her and she fixed his cowl. ‘They probably already know,’ she said and the couple walked out hand in hand. Cal and Lia most certainly already knew. Everyone knew. Zelphie knew very well, as did Rolan. They knew about her appointment, and were waiting impatiently in the sitting room. Lia had her arms crossed and was pacing. Cal was staring out a window. They both swiveled to Rolan and Zelphie’s attention when they entered. Cal hurried right over, his eyes darting between his brother and sister-in-law.

‘Well?’ He asked and Zelphie’s heart beat quickly. Zelphie looked up at Rolan. She was going to burst, but they were his siblings. He would have the honors. Rolan smiled and looked down at Zelphie and then over to his brother and sister. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lia jumped in.

‘YOU’RE PREGNANT!’ She shouted and put her hands over her mouth. Usually Lia was boisterous, but that had clearly been an exciting accident. Thank goodness she had been correct.

‘Yes, thank you, Lia,’ Rolan said, his face falling into an annoyed frown. Lia enveloped her brother into a hug quickly and Rolan hugged her back. Zelphie watched the pair before she got her own hug, a big one from Cal. Zelphie hugged him back.

‘Thank you for making me an uncle,’ he said happily and Lia squealed, hugging Rolan tighter and he groaned.

‘Aunt Lia and Uncle Cal! Oh! And mommy and daddy, oh I can not believe it!’ She squealed and kissed Rolan’s cheeks. Rolan got out of her hug and pushed her away gently.

‘Would you give me a little room for air?’ He asked his sister, who just took to hugging Zelphie. Zelphie welcomed the hugs and kisses and Cal hugged Rolan. Zelphie just hugged Lia tight.

‘Good thing you two didn’t have a wedding, saves money for baby, oh I’m so excited! When? How far along are you? Oh! Are you feeling alright? You should sit,’ Lia rambled and Zelphie laughed.

‘I don’t know, I didn’t ask, it feels early though,’ she said as Lia pulled her to sit on the couch. ‘But I’m fine, a little tired, but fine. Not like I thought it would be,’ she said and looked up at Rolan, who was just beaming.

‘I’ll go get something bubbly from the kitchen,’ Cal said and then faltered a little. ‘Oh, uhm…can..c-can you have something bubbly?’ He asked and Zelphie grinned.

‘No, no she can’t,’ Rolan said and Zelphie huffed. Rolan looked down at her. ‘And I won’t either,’ he said before she could argue. Lia sat with Zelphie and put a hand in hers.

‘Then none of us will, it’s fine,’ she said and squeezed Zelphie’s hand.

‘You three are absolutely too much,’ Zelphie sighed. She was incredibly lucky.

For the next few days, Zelphie and Rolan could be called obsessed with their new journey. Rolan spent a lot of money on not only items for the baby, but many things for Zelphie as well, different potions and foods and drinks and oils for her to keep strong, happy and healthy. If Zelphie had thought he was overbearing before, she’d never thought about him like this. A lot of it was too much for her to deal with, hovering over her like a hawk, giving her unwanted advice over everything, like he usually was but harder. Though, it came with a lot of perks, like taking care of her and being around more often. Rolan’s sexual appetite was still alive and well, but he was so much softer and caring. He was very caring, nurturing to Zelphie, taking care of her in the bath, rubbing her back and staying by her side when she was sick, massaging her before bed, all of it. She certainly wouldn’t complain as she was pampered.

A hot afternoon hit Baldur’s Gate as Zelphie was obsessing over what was her previous room. She had used the room for about twenty days in total before sharing a bedroom with Rolan, now it was just a room for her privacy. It went unused mostly. Zelphie was now found here most of the time. Lajy was with her as she was tending to a little garden area on the balcony. Tiefling babies had a very careful diet, and Zelphie was very happy to grow herbs and vegetables to help with the little ones’ diet and health. Six months wasn’t the longest time to plan. In the corner of the bedroom, Zelphie’s mage hands were knitting a yellow blanket. She was also very happy to make things for the little one, where Rolan would purchase. Some things Zelphie couldn’t make, but a few pillows and blankets and nappies were doable. A knock on the door and Zelphie stood up to see Lia in the doorway.

‘Hey, I was hoping we could go for a walk?’ Lia suggested and Zelphie smiled and nodded.

‘I would love that, all done for today?’ She asked and wiped her hands of dirt and Lia nodded.

‘Yes, and the last couple that came in did me in, they were bitching about every single thing in the world, I need to cool off,’ she said and Zelphie grinned.

‘Did you bite their heads off?’ She asked, removing her apron and Lia laughed.

‘You know I’ll get in trouble, so I just gave them to Cal and walked away,’ she said and Zelphie snickered.

‘Oh, and I’m sure they’re in love with him now,’ she said and Lia nodded. The two left the tower and began their walk down the Upper City.

‘I could have scratched their eyes out!’ Lia was still going on about the older couple who had come into the shop. Zelphie was just letting her rant, that was all that was needed. Zelphie worked with the public before and had her share of stories about problem customers. Though, some of her problem customers would have been abusers, so Zelphie would keep those stories to herself. She never told Cal and Lia about her previous work, before the kidnapping. She had barely mentioned it to Rolan once and he almost lost it.

‘Maybe one of these days you should, what did they even want?’ Zelphie asked, getting a little distracted with the smell of food in the marketplace. Her tail curled up a little.

‘I couldn’t tell you if I tried, it was as if every single time they asked a question and I answered them, they were looking for something completely new! It was awful, I’m working the counter tomorrow, fuck Rolan’s unperson,’ she said and Zelphie snorted.

‘Hellspawn!’

From the crowded rows of people, a few onlookers decided to take time out of their day to terrorize the tieflings. Rocks were thrown at their feet. Normally, Zelphie wouldn’t leave the Upper City for this reason, though racism was strong in all of Baldur’s Gate, the Upper City residents usually never shouted or got violent. They were not kind, but never violent. Today was different, for some reason. Lia wiped her head to find two men, calling at them, more putrid words of hate. Lia reached down for the thrown stones but Zelphie held her back.

‘Lia! No, no no, come on, leave it,’ she begged, pulling in Lia. Lia resisted, always in the mood for a fight, but after stress from work, she was like a time bomb.

‘I’ll show you Hellspawn!’ She shouted back at them.

‘Lia! Stop! Don’t fight back,’ Zelphie begged. Normally, Zelphie would live to fight back, but it was common knowledge that if either one of them got into a public fight, they would be arrested. Tieflings just weren’t welcome anywhere. ‘Think of your brother,’ she said and Lia put her hand down, dropping the rock. ‘Thank you, come on, come on, let’s find something to drink,’ she said and pulled Lia from the crowd. Lia grumbled and Zelphie held her close as they walked. ‘I know, trust me, I know,’ she said.

‘Fucking two tieflings saving the goddamned world wasn’t enough for those people?’ Lia went on, she sounded like she was going to cry. Zelphie laughed.

‘Unfortunately, one of those tieflings took her tiefling family and gave them the best real estate in the city. That on its own is a crime. They only mourn Karlach because she died. A dead tiefling is a behaved tiefling,’ Zelphie went on and Lia sighed. ‘For your brother’s sake, we really have to behave. His ownership of the tower can very well be easily contended, don’t give them any excuse, Lia,’ she said and walked Lia into a beautiful tavern, the Vicor, to try and steal her nerves. Zelphie wasn’t doing too well either, she was very easily rattled lately, so this little hide was for both her and Lia.

‘I’m doing it for your sake,’ Lia said as they sat down. ‘I don’t give a rat’s ass about the tower,’ she grumbled and Zelphie shook her head.

‘Liar,’ she said and Lia huffed. ‘I mean it, the tower means everything to all of us. It’s safety. It’s growth, literally. You’d be very upset if you couldn’t live there anymore, I know that,’ she said as a barmaid walked over. Zelphie ordered water and lemon and Lia ordered an ale.

‘I’d rather no one throw rocks at us in the street,’ she hissed and Zelphie nodded.

‘I like to think once my belly gets a little bigger they might stop…but I doubt it,’ Zelphie said and reached over for Lia’s hand. ‘Might get worse…I never used to get that around here though,’ she muttered and Lia nodded.

‘Maybe there really is no place for us,’ Lia grumbled.

The two settled over a drink. Lia went back to complaining about her work, and then the topic lightened to talk about the baby. Lia was very excited. She was convinced all of her normal anger would manifest into love for the new little one. Lia asked twice if it was already kicking, which sent Zelphie into a fit of giggles each time. Of course not, two months would not a kicking baby make. Zelphie paid and left extra, to Lia’s annoyance, but Zelphie would always do it. Maybe one day it would soften the hearts of Baldur’s Gate to tieflings. At least the privileged ones. They continued their walk, and were heading home when Zelphie noticed a little something odd. A newspaper hawker was shouting out a headline, something about a new guest from Neverwinter. Zelphie walked over to the young boy, who immediately stopped his little performance.

‘Oh, ah…you want a paper, miss?’ He asked and Zelphie smiled.

‘Absolutely, I can’t believe I didn’t know about some dignitary visit,’ she said and handed the little one a gold piece.

‘Oh, well, I uhm…you aren’t one of those tiefling wizards, are you?’ The boy asked and Zelphie frowned. ‘From the tower?’ He asked and Zelphie nodded.

‘Yes I am,’ Zelphie said and the boy frowned.

‘You shouldn’t buy this paper, miss,’ he said softly. ‘They didn’t write anything good about you in it,’ he said and Lia laughed.

‘Oh! Finally, a paper that doesn’t mention Zelphie’s heroism, Baldur’s Gate is healing,’ she said and Zelphie looked at Lia.

‘I don’t think that’s what he meant,’ she said and looked back down, holding her hand out. ‘I’ll take my paper, please,’ she said and the boy gave her the paper.

‘Just don’t be angry with me, they just pay me to sell it,’ he said and Zelphie nodded and she and Lia walked a little. Zelphie began to read through the paper, skimming until the third page.

‘Oh for fucks sake,’ she muttered and pulled onto Lia’s hand so they could hustle back to the tower. ‘This is why those brutes felt so bold earlier,’ Zelphie muttered, handing Lia the paper. The two entered the tower quickly, brushing past the entrance and there he was. The paper had an article from a guest writer, a writer who wanted Rolan and his family removed from Ramazith’s Tower. The writer had a few opinions on Rolan, one being he was a brutal homicidal maniac who killed Lorroakan in cold blood, for no other reason than his infernal blood. Tieflings were never lucky, tieflings did not rise to the top, clearly, this was devil work.

Rolan didn’t look up at his sister or wife when they entered. He had read the paper, Zelphie could tell. He was staring at the floor, his hands behind his back. Zelphie walked over to him and reached out for him.

‘Ro,’ she whispered and he slowly looked her in the eye. ‘Ro, it doesn’t matter,’ she told him and he shook his head, looking back down at the ground.

‘When will we ever be safe?’ He asked her softly. ‘I’ve put a target on our backs,’ he continued and Zelphie shook her head.

‘It’s one person out of thousands, please, Rolan, don’t think like that. We are incredibly safe, because of you,’ she told him, placing a hand on his cheek. ‘No one can come here, no one, me and Lia and Cal are safe because of you. And we have the power of the Council on our side, Rolan. They can’t take this from us,’ she continued, but knew there would be nothing that could put him at ease. The truth was, Rolan, along with others including Zelphie, had murdered the rightful owner of the tower. Rolan did not have any right to claim this historical building, other than he defeated its master.

‘That won’t stop a revolution in the streets,’ Rolan said and Zelphie frowned.

‘It will, I will write to Duke Ravengard, he will fix this,’ she told him and that seemed to irritate him.

‘He can’t just keep being our hero, Zelphie,’ he snapped. ‘I broke it, I must fix it,’ he argued and she scowled.

‘No Rolan! You can’t keep thinking that this is Elturel or Avernus, we live in a community now. A thriving community,’ she argued back. ‘Sometimes you are entitled to being helped,’ she told him and he sighed.

‘Zelphie is right, Rolan. You can help this family by asking for help. This isn’t going to be solved with the four of us alone. When Zelphie and I were on our walk, these two men-‘ Zelphie whipped around and hushed Lia. Rolan looked up at Lia and his brows knitted together.

‘What?’ He asked and Zelphie sighed.

‘Gods dammit, Lia,’ she scowled, but Lia continued.

‘They were shouting at us and were throwing rocks, I’m sure this article had something to do with it,’ Lia said and Zelphie glared at her. She didn’t enjoy keeping things from Rolan, but he was already in a state, she would eventually tell him. Eventually.

‘Who was this?’ He asked quickly and Lia shrugged.

‘Just two men, trust me, I tried to fight back, but Zelphie refused. Good thing too, as it might have proven this writer’s point,’ she sighed and Rolan looked down at Zelphie.

‘Are you hurt?’ He asked and she shook her head.

‘No, they had bad aim,’ she said and Lia laughed. ‘It’s not the worst thing someone has hurled at me,’ she reassured Rolan, who was not very reassured. He sighed, but he nodded and looked back down at the floor. Zelphie looked at the spot he was staring at. She knew that spot very well. It was the last place his old master had been, where his corpse had lain. Her hand left his cheek and she took his hand. She didn’t know what to say to him as he reached up and rubbed his temple.

‘I need…to think,’ he said and looked at Zelphie, who frowned but nodded.

‘Call for me if you need me,’ she told him, assuming he would want to be alone. He looked at her in silence for a moment and nodded. ‘I love you,’ she told him and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. He grasped the side of her head tightly as he did so, and it broke her heart when he walked away.

‘He’ll be fine,’ Lia told Zelphie, who just nodded and shook her head.

‘I know, I know, I just hate to see him so upset that he won’t even argue,’ she said and Lia smiled.

‘Sometimes I forget how well you fit into our family,’ she said and Zelphie smiled at her.

Zelphie continued to tend to her little garden after a ‘light’ snack, a whole six ounce slab of beef. Lajy brought her a dead mouse. At least one of them was productive that day. While Zelphie had her fingers in the soil, she felt a little buzzing on her finger. She lifted her hands and stared at her right hand. Her wedding ring was buzzing, humming. She looked at it curiously. Then she heard something. She held her hand close to her pointed ear and listened. The ring, while humming and buzzing, was crying. Crying? How could it be crying? Why was it crying? Why did it sound like Rolan? Zelphie looked at her ring again, just as she did at least once a day, but really inspected it. She waved her left hand over it, trying to see if she could feel whatever magic might be causing this. There was magic, but nothing that Zelphie could recognize. She walked out of her room and the crying got louder. She opened her bedroom door, it was empty. She walked upstairs and heard the crying get louder. It was certainly Rolan. She walked to his study, and the ring got louder. She knocked gently and then opened the door.

‘Rolan?’ She called and walked in. She looked at his desk and saw Rolan hunched over it, sobbing. A half drunk glass of wine beside him. She walked over to him quickly. ‘Oh Rolan, my love,’ she called and wrapped her arms around him. He heaved a loud sob. ‘Oh my darling,’ she muttered and knelt next to him. He had his head buried in his arms. He placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Hey, hey look at me,’ she told him softly.

‘I-I c-can’t do a damn thing,’ he sobbed and lifted his head. Zelphie hugged him tight and kissed the side of his face. ‘I can’t save us,’ he sobbed into her neck, holding her a little too tightly.

‘Shhh….we are okay, we are okay. You know where I was just a moment ago?’ She asked as he just cried into her shoulder. She felt awful. She had seen him cry to himself twice before, but this was something different. He was devastated and stressed beyond measure. ‘I was tending the baby’s garden, out of the balcony. I couldn’t have been more safe, I was so happy, tending that garden, thinking about all we have, my family. You’ve already made me safe, Rolan. If you didn’t bring me here, if you didn’t love me so much, I’d be selling myself on the streets of the Lower City,’ she told him and he sobbed harder. That was the truth, but she probably should have kept it to herself. ‘My life is so, so much better and safer than it ever was, even before my kidnapping. Because of you and Cal and Lia. So when I see you so upset over my safety, it boggles my mind,’ she told him. She rubbed his back, her heart was truly breaking for him. ‘Oh Rolan, I’m sorry,’ she whispered. She wanted to make him feel happy once more, but whether this alone was truly killing him, or was the last straw in a list of stressors, she knew a few words weren’t going to make him feel better.

She stayed right there, kneeling in front of him, letting him just cry. It was awful, but he needed it, and she wouldn’t stop him. This was her job, to support and cherish him. She was very happy to do everything she could for him, so she would be his handkerchief and diary whenever he needed her. She just rubbed his back and kissed his forehead.

‘Come on, let me get you more comfortable, Rolan,’ she pleaded. This wasn’t comfortable for her, she couldn’t imagine how comfortable he was, hunched over. She got him to his feet and walked him to their bedroom. Their bedroom, amongst all of the chaos these last days have brought, stayed mainly the same with one small additional, a cradle. Well, some of a cradle. Rolan had been working on assembling one with a lot of help from Cal. Rolan wasn’t exactly good with laborious activity, but he was incredibly picky and Cal had to deal with Rolan’s vision while he did the actual labor. It was a little on the massive side, nothing that Zelphie would have chosen personally, but she never gave any negative input. She didn’t mind at all, as long as baby was safe. She loved that he was working so diligently on the cradle, she loved watching him fuss over it.

‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I can’t shake this, all of this,’ he said miserably, walking to his side table for a handkerchief and blew his nose loudly into it.

‘Rolan, please don’t apologize, after everything we all went through in this past year, I don’t blame you. When was the last time you cried?’ She asked him. ‘Really cried because of stress?’

‘When Cal and Lia were captured, and then again when I almost died in that godforsaken Shadow curse. Only to be saved by you,’ he told her. Zelphie walked over to him and helped him with his robe. She wanted him in bed, without a care in the outside world. He deserved a good cry, a glass of water and a cuddle.

‘Everyone deserves saving, Rolan, especially you,’ she told him softly.

‘But how am I to ever pay you back for what you have done? How many times did you save my ragged tail since we met?’ He asked, sounding so desperate, as if he wanted her to berate him.

‘As many times as you absolutely needed it. And it wasn’t just me, my love. When Cal and Lia were taken I had…six, SIX other people also helping! And I would have dragged you down into those dungeons with me if you were cursed with a tadpole, I promise,’ she told him and reached up to hold his face. ‘You’re damned powerful, especially when you are angry. But we couldn’t bring Halsin or Jaheira there for a reason.’

‘And Lorroakan…’ his voice cracked and Zelphie shouted a laugh.

‘Oh that mother fucker? I hit him maybe once before you and the angel got to him, I don’t want credit for that,’ she told him and laughed and there it was. He was still crying, face wet with dark red blotches, but he smiled a little. She leaned up and gave him a little kiss, tasting the salt of his tears on his lips. That would do for now.

‘You are my angel,’ he said softly and hugged her. She hugged him back quickly and she kissed his cheek.

‘And you are mine,’ she told him softly, her tail cooling around his ankle. ‘I don’t know what I would be without you, Rolan,’ she told him softly and his grip got a little tighter.

‘Do you really mean that?’ He whispered and she nodded.

‘Yes, yes with all my heart,’ she told him and the couple stood in a hug for a moment. Rolan had calmed down considerably, at least with his sobbing. He had little hiccups, she would fetch him some water. ‘Rolan?’ She asked softly and he hummed. ‘Are our wedding rings sending stones?’ She asked and his grip on her loosened. He pulled away enough to look at her.

‘Yes, yes they are…I…’ he began and she looked up at him. ‘They won’t work to track your general whereabouts, but…if you rub it, I will know where you are,’ he told her. She had only rubbed her ring when she was terribly upset and needed him. And each time he appeared to comfort her. ‘Stupidly, I got lucky today, you’re as smart as a whip, figuring that out yourself,’ he told her and she tilted her head.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ She asked him and he bit his lip and shrugged. ‘Rolan,’ she urged him and he shook his head.

‘I don’t know…when we exchanged them a lot was going on, I forgot and then when I wanted to tell you you weren’t around and…I don’t know. I did not mean to keep it from you,’ he said and sighed. ‘And…after you used it the first time, I sort of assumed you knew what it was, or I was happy to think that you might have thought-‘

‘That you could show up when I needed you?’ She asked and he winced.

‘Yes,’ he said and looked away. Zelphie frowned and looked at him. She didn’t know how she felt about that. A flash of her Dream Figure showed up in her mind, The Emperor. ‘It wasn’t the intention, I promise…I’m sorry,’ he said and looked back down at her. ‘If you want the stone removed, just tell me, I’ll understand,’ he said and she shook her head.

‘No, no, I genuinely don’t mind it, it is incredibly handy. I don’t mind you knowing where I am…it just,’ she said and shrugged. ‘Is there anything else you wish to tell me, Rolan?’ She asked him and he sighed through his nose.

‘I don’t think so,’ he told her softly and she nodded.

‘Can you teach me how to use it?’ She asked and he smiled and nodded.

‘Of course,’ he told her and leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him back. He held her close again and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with his hair. It was getting pretty long. She would never ever tell him that she preferred it this long, she would just compliment it. If he ever wanted to cut it, she wouldn’t fight, but she did secretly love it long and down. Her fingers played with the little knot keeping it half up and she felt him laughing against her lips. ‘Like a cat with a toy,’ he told her and nuzzled her face.

‘Sorry, I like playing with it,’ she told him and he smiled.

‘I have no complaints,’ he reassured her and she grinned.

‘Let’s get you into bed,’ she told him and as unusual as that would be for Rolan, he didn’t put up a fight. He had drunk three glasses of wine and cried for about an hour. He was ready for a lie down, for certain. He climbed in and she poured him a glass of water and handed it to him.

‘Thank you,’ he said and she smiled at him.

‘Do you need anything else? Lajy cuddles?’ She asked him and he raised his eyebrow at her as he drank his water. He finished his drink and shook his head.

‘Lajy would be fine, but I better be getting you in this bed,’ he said and her tail thumped happily. ‘Unless your little herb garden is more important.’

‘Little herb garden?’ She asked and placed her hands on her hips. ‘Don’t you patronize me,’ she said and he chuckled as she climbed in next to him. ‘Are you feeling a little better? I know I can’t fix it, and I hate that I can’t,’ she told him, getting under the covers. Rolan enveloped her into his arms quickly. He brought her to lay on his chest as he sat back on pillows. He kissed her forehead.

‘I do, thank you. And now, all I want is to hold what is precious to me. I don’t know what will happen in the future, and that is killing me. But for this moment, my pregnant wife is here, and she is safe, and that’s all that I want,’ he told her and placed his face in her hair, his jaw fitting very well in between her horns. She nuzzled into his neck, just relaxing. He was so warm, like a pile of burning charcoal. She loved it.

‘Lia asked me if I know if the baby is a boy or girl again today,’ she said and he laughed loudly.

‘I’ll make her do more homework tomorrow,’ he told her and she laughed, knowing that Rolan can assign Lia to read a million books about the biology of a tiefling pregnancy and she wouldn’t read a single sentence. She was just ready to hold the little bundle.

‘I might just lie to her next time she asks,’ Zelphie said and Rolan laughed again.

‘Don’t you dare, you’ll just create another headache if you are wrong,’ he told her and she smirked.

‘A headache for you, maybe,’ she said and she felt Rolan’s hand on her tail, and he pulled it playfully, making her laugh. ‘I want to know too, I’m so impatient, I cannot wait for our little one to be here,’ she told him and he gave her a little squeeze.

‘I would say I’m the same, but I’m not ready yet. There is still a lot to do,’ he said and sighed. ‘Still so much that I don’t know,’ he said and she laughed.

‘I don’t know if you’ll know everything before they come, darling. Babies are very fickle creatures,’ she said and he huffed.

‘Infuriating,’ he muttered. She lifted her head slowly and smiled at him.

‘Knowing you, I can assure you, any spawn of yours will be incredibly infuriating,’ she said and he scowled.

‘Oh, oh my darling, kettle, pot,’ he said bluntly. Zelphie laughed at his grumpy face. ‘I mean it, you are the most infuriating person I know,’ he said and she continued to laugh, wrinkling her nose. This was fun Rolan, sassy Rolan. He was feeling better. ‘I cannot wait for the headaches your child will give me,’ he said and she howled. ‘Getting into places and business they don’t belong, making a mess of every room in the tower,’ he said and she continued to cackle and he let up and laughed with her. He nuzzled her and sighed out. ‘And I will be so happy.’

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire #rolan bg3 #rolan #rolan x tav #bg3 fanfiction #mine

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lukelxiv · 7 months ago

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I believe in magic. I believe in things outside of scientific explanation. I believe in fate.

When my father had an arteriovenous malformation in his brain burst, he hit the floor face first. My step mother thought he was dead. I had randomly decided to get off early that day, living about 30 minutes away from where I worked at the time. This town was closer to my father than the city I worked in. So, as I sat outside in the sun, doodling, I got the call from my adopted brother. He told me my dad was being rushed to the hospital and that he'd had a stroke.

I immediately packed my bag, and my husband and I sped to the other side of the state, pushing the speed limit most of the way. We made it across the pass about half an hour before there was a landslide that closed the pass for 3 days. If I had still lived in the city, I might not had made it to my father for days. If I had not gotten off early that random spring day, I might not had made it to my father for days.

When we got there, the diagnosis was grim. He'd bled in his brain heavily, he did have a stroke after the burst and he was currently in surgery attempting to save his life.

In my purse, I had packed the medicine bag my father gave to me when I was 7. It was soft buckskin, with a little carved salmon trinket on one of the strings made from polished abalone shell. I had kept that medicine bag amongst my most treasured possessions since childhood and I would often hold it close when life was tough and I didn't have anyone to talk to about what was happening to me.

My father told me, very seriously when I was young, to never open it. Ever. It would let all the magic out. You can bet that 7 year old me was so curious to know what the magic inside looked like, what items had been placed there that had been deemed magical and held such otherworldly allure. I never opened it. I would smell it often, and it smelled like lavender and sweet grass and something I could never really place, but it was warm spice and smelled like home. There were small stones in it, but I never knew what colors they were or where they came from. This was all part of the magic.

My father made it out of surgery, full of tubes and his eyes swollen shut with the bruises he'd got from falling on his face. We were told he'd likely never regain consciousness and would be in a vegetative state until we decided to pull the plug on the machines that were breathing for him. I was 25 years old and I was not ready to lose my father. I felt I was too young to say goodbye to the man I had had such a wonderful, tumultuous, agonizing relationship with.

My father had been an addict most of his adult life, and those of us who have addict family members know the struggle and the pain of watching someone who means the world to you make choices, driven by their disease, that puts them further and further off the path of health and happiness. I wanted him to have time. He needed more time.

I, stubbornly, refused to believe this was going to be the outcome. That I would have to say goodbye to him there and then. So I refused to believe it. I took the medicine bag out of my purse and put it in his left hand and asked the nurse to please keep it with him at all times. I wanted him to have all the magic in that bag. I wanted it to be real. I wanted him to open his eyes and say 'Hey, Bug. I didn't mean to scare you.'

He had another stroke the next day and was put into surgery again. Bless the nurse who told the doctor that she would not remove the medicine bag from his hand, nor would he. That it needed to stay with him, period. I hope that woman is blessed beyond measure wherever she is at now.

I remember asking the universe, the Great Spirit, the gods of my father to please, please, please give me one more year. I was not ready to let him go yet. I was not ready for the heartbreak of saying goodbye. I could not stand it. So please, Great Spirit, Universe, Gods of my father - please give me one more year with him.

I talked to him once he was out of his second surgery. For hours. I would tell him what had happened - he had to he scared that he could not open his eyes and was stuck in darkness with machines beeping around him and people poking and prodding at him. I told him he was in the hospital, what it looked like in his room, how he was laying, what it looked like outside his window. I would touch his face and hands gently, his legs, his arms. I named them as I did so he could feel them again. I told him he could find his way out of the darkness, but he had to fight through it. He had to try for me.

The 5th day came and he squeezed my hand - so tightly it took the breath out of me. 'I'm HERE', is what that hand squeeze said, 'I am HERE and I am FIGHTING and I love you'. I squeezed his hand back, he squeezed mine back, and it went on like that for a few minutes. It was the strangest and yet the best hug I've ever received. He was there. He was fighting.

The days progressed with him being able to squeeze hands to communicate - once for yes, two times for no. His medical team was amazed. He began to heal. I had to leave to return to my side of the state and to a job that would not allow me further time to tend to him 8 days after his incident. He opened his eyes on day 9. I was not there to see them, but I know he looked for me. I hope I did not disappoint him by not being there when he did.

My job kept me busy and underpaid enough that driving or flying over to see him was not in the cards. But he got to go home. He got to see his grandkids. He got to sit outside with the sun on his face. He got a tracheotomy to keep his airways clear and so that he didn't inhale food, but he would call me and as best he could, tell me how much he loved me. I have a voicemail saved from him that I listen to when I need to hear his gravelly voice again.

One year, to the exact date, my father was back in the hospital. He got pneumonia and sepsis, blue coded (where his heart stopped entirely for a few minutes) and was declared brain dead. There truly was no coming back from this one, and I knew it when I saw him. He was there, but his spirit was already somewhere else. This was simply the shell that was left over. The magic had been used up.

I never knew what happened to my father's medicine bag. I like to imagine that it left with him, after the magic was spent and the wish had been granted. I like to imagine he's still out there somewhere holding onto it for me until I see him again.

I am thankful I never opened it. I am thankful that it had enough magic in it to grant my father one more year on this earth, one more turn around the sun. I am thankful to the Great Spirit, the Universe and the gods of my father who listened to me that day and gave me the magic I so desperately hoped for.

I believe in magic.

#the years have passed #but i still think about this magic all the time #and him #and how thankful i was #for one more year #personal writing

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lily-drake · 3 years ago

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Photograph

Based on

Thank you @johannaiii for letting me write this!!!! It was so much fun and it was a really good prompt!

Talia didn’t like the process of giving birth, in fact she loathed it. She swore she would never, and she meant never do it again. But when she was giving birth, and she found out that she was having twins, and she got to hold her children that she sacrificed and suffered for, she loved them. When she learned that one of them was a girl, she knew that her father would be furious and demand her death. So she immediately summoned one of the monks from the Tibetan temple that her father was allying with and gave them the girl. She demanded that they train her and protect, and that she would never, ever be mentioned to Ra’s. She even killed the nurses who helped her give birth to make sure that there was no one left who would know. It wouldn’t be hard to find replacements for them anyways, it’s not like their lives were significant. They had served out their use, now there was no need for them. When it was time she presented her son, Damian, to her father claiming him to be the only child and heir to the Demon’s Head. Ra’s was very pleased with her and she felt pride at being able to carry out her task properly that her father was very much pleased with her and her child.

Even though Marinette, as she had named the child before she had given her up, was no longer in the league, she made sure she was still in her daughter’s life. Once every year she left for “training” purposes with Damian and went to the ancient temple in Tibet to visit her daughter and make sure that the two siblings got to spend time with each other. Marinette was growing up so fast and the monks would report to her of her daughter’s progress. They told her that Marinette was destined for greatness and to be a powerful leader, and that pleased Talia greatly. The man in charge of her daughter's training, Master Wang Fu, would show her photos of her daughter and her accomplishments; she wished that she would be allowed to do the same for Damian. But the League and the Temple of Order, while partners, were two separate entities when it came to how they were trained and taught. She smiled as she saw her children sparing on the temple’s grounds, each assessing how strong the other had become since their last meeting a year ago.

They were both 6-years-old now, and Marinette had lost one of her top baby teeth. She wore the traditional light blue training robes the monks wore while Damian wore his traditional black and red armor with his katana sheathed on his back. She watched her children and a small smile graced her lips as she watched the two. They were opposites in almost everything, yet they were still so similar. Damian’s fighting was aggressive and forceful while Marinette’s focussed on out maneuvering and tiring out the opponent from a distance before striking where it hurt the most. Their personalities were like fire and ice with Damian being aggressive and mighty while Marinette was soft and humble. Damian was assertive and forceful in the way he spoke, while Marinette was gentle and descriptive. Though, like she said before they had many similarities that helped to cement their relationship. They both were very artistic, in battle they both would get up and personal with their challenger if given the opportunity, both were very intelligent and soaked everything up like a sponge, and both were highly competitive. The sound of metal being hit together sounded from the training grounds as Damian and Marinette fought with their respective weapons; Damian with his katana and Marinette with her two daggers.

“You’ve definitely improved since the last visit, 'ukht, but so have I.”

Damian announced as he went in to sweep his sister’s legs all while bringing his blade down towards her. Marinette used her daggers to lift Damian’s blade and flipped backwards as Damian tried to perform his strike. She was very flexible and graceful when she was in the air. It sometimes looked as if she were flying when she performed some of her stunts.

“Maybe you have, Xiōngdì, but I seem to still have the upper hand.”

Marinette replied with smugness dripping from her voice as her brother glared at her. Marinette carefully crafted her words to manipulate while Damian spoke his mind and used his to order and command. They were opposites, but they completed each other in a way few will ever know.

The day Damian and Talia were to begin their trek back down the mountain Fu ran up to Damian and placed a piece of paper in his hands. He bowed respectfully to the old man and looked at the picture. It was a picture the old man had taken a few days ago. Marinette was smiling brightly and had her arm around his shoulder while he had his arms crossed in front of him and leaned into his sister’s touch with a small smirk. They were both in their training clothes and stood in front of the mountains that hid and protected the Temple of Order. He smiled at it and glanced at his sister who was waving goodbye with a big sad smile. He simply nodded and left not knowing that this would be the last time he would for many years that he would lay eyes on her once again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Order, it was gone, destroyed! Marinette felt tears rush down her face as she watched her friends and mentors perish in the flames of miraculous magic gone astray. She could feel the cold wind passing by her as Master Fu dragged her away, but she couldn’t remove her gaze from her home that was falling into pieces. What would Damian think, she had to leave something for him to let him know she was okay! But she was never given the chance because she couldn’t pull away from her master. They were the last ones left, and Marinette couldn’t wrap her mind around it at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Damian and Talia hiked the trial many months later, and as they neared the top they could sense something was definitely off. The top of the temple would usually be in view by now. When they finally reached the top they froze as they saw the ruins of the burned and destroyed temple in front of them. Talia was the first to break from her daze and ran to the ruins searching through them to find any remains of her daughter. Damian soon joined his mother, but it was no use. Damian and Talia believed the worst had happened to her, and with silent tears flowing down his face he stabbed his sword into the ground in front of the burnt remains and fell onto his knees in front of it. The sword would serve as a gravestone for the fallen warriors here, but it specifically would serve as Marinette’s grave marker. She was a brave warrior, one of the best, and she was gone now. Talia stood by her son’s side and soon kneeled in front of it as well with her hand placed on her son’s shoulder. As they traveled down the mountain Damian swore that he would never be vulnerable again, he would never care about anyone ever again, because the pain he felt was too intense and never wanted to feel it ever again.

So both He and Talia took on more missions, Talia was rarely at the base, always gone doing whatever her father needed. The training in Tibet never happened again, and Damian grew closer to his grandfather. He trained harder, attacked ruthlessly, and channeled all his pain and rage into his strikes. He held onto the photo that Fu had given him of the two of them so many years ago. He had it tucked away in a secret place in his room where no one would ever find it, because he wanted to keep her with him in some way. Never again, he wouldn’t be hurt like before ever again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette lived with Master Fu in a tea parlor under the guise of Marin Fu. She helped him run his parlor and distribute his charms to the people through the teas she brewed while he placed charms on people through the massage therapy he did. Fu let her be home schooled as she already knew way more than any normal school could teach her. She would just be repeating things when she could be learning more new material. She was also taught how to better practice her magic and use the miraculous. She was going to be the new guardian one day, she was going to be the last guardian one day, and that thought scared her and brought back all of the nightmares. She locked that night and anything before the fire back up in her mind only remembering what she needed to when she needed to.

Fu wanted her to interact with people though, so with the money he made he sent her to a gymnastics class where she could still retain her skills and get better at them. She honestly loved the classes and she felt so free when she did them. Nobody could beat her, in fact she advanced to level 10 quickly and was well on her way to the elite by the time she was 13. And that’s when Hawkmoth struck Paris.

Lady Rouge and her partner Chat Noir made a decent team, but he was nowhere near her skill level which often annoyed her. He wasn’t a true black cat, her brother was. He was her balanced counterpart, and this cat was just a stand in. And as time went on the imbalance continued the boy became corrupted by the destructive energy of the ring. She had continually told Master Fu about it, but he would not listen. And then it was time for him to pass, and she became the grand guardian, the last grand guardian. Tears fell down the young 15-year-olds face as she watched her mentor's spirit leave him in his peaceful slumber. He was so old, and it was just his time for him to go, but now she had nowhere to go, but she knew what she had to do.

“Hello, M’lady.”

Chat Noir said in a flirty tone as he spun his staff as if the speed he was doing it at would impress her.

“Hello, Chat.”

She replied terse with her arms crossed in front of her as she leaned on the railing of the Eiffel Tower and gazed at the sky that held little stars due to all of the lights of the city below them.

“Are you not excited to see your soulmate? Come on M’lady,”

He said grabbing one of her hands with a large smile and deep voice,

“let me take you out somewhere, just the two of us.”

It took everything in Marinette not to break his wrist in that moment, but she had to play along.

“Okay.”

Chat’s eyes widened and his leather tail began to move side to side in an excited manner.

“W-wait, really?!”

“You know what, ya. This week has been really tough and I could use it.”

Chat’s smile turned into a smirk and a dark twinkle lit up his eyes. He took a step back and held his hand, his ringed hand, out for her to take. SHe smiled at him gently and innocently and took his hand, and as he was about to pull her forward she took hold of the rings and ripped her hand off, taking the ring with her. There was a blonde boy with green eyes staring at her with shock and hurt written all over his face, then eventually anger.

“I am revoking you from being able to wield the Black Cat Miraculous. You are not compatible to wield this power as you are not my balanced counterpart. The ring has been corrupting and harming you after all of your exposure to it when you are not the right one to wear it while I hold the earrings. Thank you for the help you have given me in the past, but I’m afraid that I can not risk hurting you any longer.”

The boy stared at her with wide shocked eyes and nodded. She could see that he too had now noticed the change as with the ring it didn’t feel like he changed at all. She helped him get to his house and left after shaking his hand and thanking him one last time for his help. And as she was about to leave the property she heard the sound of something above her opening and through the now open window she saw an akuma flying out of it.

She quickly caught the akuma and crashed through the glass window into the dark room. Before Hawkmoth could even realize what had happened she had tied him up in her yo-yo and he was pinned in place with the tight cord. If she pulled it any tighter it would cut into his skin and draw blood. She grabbed the broach from the middle of the suit --which was as hideous as his akuma designs, if not worse-- and watched the man detransform making sure the camera on her yo-yo recorded the whole thing.

“You will be subject to the curse of whatever your abused kwami sees fit for you, and then the people of Paris will have you.”

Was all she said as she brought the man onto his knees so he could properly respect the kwami and the God’s they are. Nooroo appeared and stared down at the man in front of him with an angered fiery glare.

“Gabriel Agreste, you have abused me and my miraculous for too long! I bring upon a curse upon you, that no one will ever believe a word you say, and that your craft of manipulation will only work against you!”

And with that, pain courses through Gabriel and the wings of a butterfly were branded on the left side of his chest just above his heart. She left soon after that and sent the footage for the police. She watched from a distance as the police took him in, and told one of the officers that Adrien was innocent and had no connection to his father’s scheme. Once she was sure Gabriel would not be able to escape his justice she pulled the horse miraculous from her yo-yo and summoned a portal to wherever she needed to be next.

~~~~~~~~~~

Damian was in the cave training when Todd burst in and began to run towards him with a stupid smug grin on his face. Damian rolled his eyes and watched Todd stop in front of him holding something small and flimsy in his hand.

“Demon Spawn,”

He breathed out, his smug smile growing wider,

“Did you have a girlfriend in the league?”

Damian was….confused. He had no such thing, but as Todd showed him the thing in his hand his blood froze. It was the photo of him and Marinette. How did he find it?! Why did he even have it?!

“Give it back, Todd.”

Damian growled lowly hands gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.

“She is! Guys, Damian had a-“

He tackled Jason after that and wrestled the photo out of his grip and held it close to him. He glared daggers at Todd and made absolutely sure that the old photo was still intact. Once he was sure. Todd was back on his feet and Damian had the urge to run him through with his sword for daring to rummage through his belongings and to dare touch his picture. He opened his mouth to spit out fiery words of anger, when a portal opened right in front of Damian. A girl walked out of it and the portal immediately closed. It was absolutely silent in the cave as the other occupants who were also there stared at the person. The girl was rigid as she stared Damian directly in the eyes, and he felt a familiar pull to her.

“Kaalki, Tikki separate. Tikki spots off.”

She spoke quickly, and her voice, and those words, and he knew who she was. But that was impossible, because she had died, hadn’t she?! Arms wrapped around him and he could hear sniffles and he felt his arms wrap robotically around the small frame of his sister.

“Xiōngdì, I missed you so much! I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner! Th-the Order was destroyed and Fu woul-wouldn’t let me leave a message, and-and someone was misusing the Butterfly in France (sniff). And-and…..”

She took a long shaky breath in and sighed,

“I missed you so much.”

It took a while to realize that silent tears were falling down his face, and he hugged her even tighter against his chest. Because his sister, his twin sister was alive, and she hadn’t died in the fire and destruction of the temple.

“It’s okay, 'ukht. I’ve got you.”

They stayed like that for a few precious moments before Todd yelled,

“What the f*!”

———————

Permanent Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar

#maribat #sibling au #sibling daminette #marinette al ghul wayne #marinette fu #damian al ghul wayne #monk marinette #talia sugar #bio!dad bruce wayne #twins au #The Order #mlb x batman #dc x mlb #angst #fluff

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wri0thesley · 3 years ago

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examination - overhaul x reader (2.5k)

warnings: dark content. yandere/overly controlling overhaul. non-consensual drugging, medical kink, glove kink, examination, surgical setting kind of, reader is basically a prisoner, choking, mindbroken reader, needles, non-con implied. afab reader, fem pronouns. not sfw, minors dni!

me: might write that overhaul choking drabble today idk. also me: writes this 2.5k shameful bullshit instead

this is the first mha fic i’ve ever written pls be nice to me, i love this horrible horrible man

The leather of the operating table sticks to your bare thighs uncomfortably as you tug the gown down, despite knowing that the small gesture is useless. You will end the ‘examination’ on your back, gown pushed around your hips, feet in stirrups--

The door opening startles you, big doe eyes flying to the door to see him. Half of his face is still covered by the bird-mask that you always see in your nightmares, but the overall expression of his eyes is satisfied. You are exactly where he told you to be, exactly when he told you to be, exactly how he told you to be. It’s not a surprise – he’s aware of how much fear he commandeers – but it’s still pleasing to remember just how thoroughly broken you are.

He doesn’t greet you as he comes to stand by the operating table, his eyes instead roaming over all of the bare skin not covered by the medical gown. You’ve been careful. You know that you’re not bruised, or cut, or scratched – you’d looked at yourself in the mirror before you’d made your way here.

Bare-faced, hair brushed back, skin still looking a little uncomfortable and raw from the thorough scrubbing you’d given yourself. It’s better to pre-empt these things, you’ve learnt.

He lets out a sigh. Gloved fingers come to pinch at his mask and remove it – you lean back automatically, not wanting to breathe on him or anything that might set him off, and you win a light tilt of his lips that’s covered with a clinical black surgical mask a moment after you’ve seen it.

The gloves he’s wearing are tugged off with a furrow of displeasure, dropped onto the tray beside him as he snaps the new dark latex ones over his hands and wrists instead. Seeing his bare hands always makes a flash of fear go through you. He does not threaten, in so many words – but sometimes, if you displease him, he tugs at the wrist and you feel coldness drench your back.

“Open your mouth,” he says, detached. He always talks like that to you; still, you occasionally hear talk of what he’s like with those who have displeased him, and you think perhaps his cool detachment as he probes and pokes and prods at you is preferable to the other options. Two of his fingers push on your lower lip, forcing your jaw wider until you ache. “Stick out your tongue.”

You think actual doctors use some kind of tool for this; you don’t think they press two long fingers onto their patient’s tongues so that your eyes squeeze shut for a moment, the taste of rubbery latex flooding your senses. You just manage to stop yourself gagging; there’s no telling what he’ll do if you do that with his fingers still in your mouth.

“Hmm.” He says, golden eyes trailing over your tongue. You are not aware of the throb of heat that goes through him at the sight of you, docile and obedient, your mouth wide open for him. He is an expert in making sure his feelings do not project onto his face. “I’ll up your vitamin dose.” He pulls his fingers out, eyes narrowing in displeasure as he changes out the glove on the hand that was on your tongue.

You sometimes wonder how many pairs he goes through, and let yourself have a brief smile at the thought of how much of the Shie Hassaikai’s budget must be devoted to things like surgical masks and latex gloves and anti-bacterial hand gels. Certainly, your little room in the compound must have cost a pretty penny in all of the vitamins and supplements and other various medications that Overhaul tells you to take.

Another vitamin. Your face is falling before you can stop it, and school your features into a blank mask. He does not miss the change; you are usually so good for him.

(You don’t need to be taking half of the things that Overhaul makes sure are emptied into your too-large pillbox. But you’re easier, sweeter and more pliant when you’re so drugged up you can barely open your eyes.)

“Is there something wrong?”

There’s a knife edge to his voice. Your shoulders shrink in, fear evident in every inch of your expression. Thumb and forefinger come to grip your chin, jerking it harshly so you’re looking directly upwards into narrowed, golden eyes.

“I asked you a question. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

A knot of fear in your throat almost stops you from speaking; but that fear, you know, will be tenfold if you make him madder than you already seem to have. Overhaul doesn’t shout; but his cool, clinical tone and the dangerous glint of his iris is just as frightening as if he did.

“I already take so many,” you whisper, your voice very quiet, cracking. You don’t speak much anymore. His face twitches.

“Perhaps a throat spray, too,” he says, evenly. The fingers on your face trail down, and you bite back a whimper as suddenly both of his hands are on your neck, thumbs pressing directly into your windpipe. He doesn’t press, yet, but the danger lingers there as he keeps his gaze on you. “You sound scratchy.”

(He thinks of a throat numbing spray; of your sleepy, dazed eyes as he pushes himself further inside. He might make you bleed, or tear something, he supposes – but his quirk was made for quickly fixing such flaws, even if he was the one to have made them.)

He presses one thumb down, relishing in the soft wheeze that issues forth from your mouth; the terrified, deer-in-headlights shine of your eyes under fluorescent lighting.

“S-sorry, ‘m sorry--” You manage, voice sounding even drier than before. Overhaul tips his head to one side to consider you. You certainly look sorry, pathetic as you are. But . . . not good enough. Your neck feels good under his hands. He presses the other thumb.

Your hand flies up as if you’re going to grab his forearm, but flutters before it does. You force it back down, curling your fingers around the edge of the operating table – good. He doesn’t know how he’d have punished you if you’d been so bold as to touch him without permission or asking, but he knows you won’t have liked it.

You hate the feeling of the latex gloves on your bare skin; hate the squeaking sound they make when they rub against something, hate the cloying scent of them that lingers wherever Overhaul goes.

The fingers wrapped around the back of your neck dig in, too. He’s pressing too hard, restricting too much airflow – you try and take a hurried breath of air, but nothing can get through the blockage. Your lips suddenly feel very numb. Panic is flooding your senses, as well as a vague sense of . . . nothing.

If Overhaul chokes you out right now, and keeps going until you’re limp and your heart stops beating, nobody will do anything. Nobody will care. The thought is strangely comforting.

He releases the pressure, turning away in distaste as you let out a series of distressed little coughs. You manage to get your wrist in front of your mouth before you cough everywhere, but an antiseptic wipe is still pressed into your other hand forcefully before you’ve even stopped choking.

“What do you say?” He asks you, as he turns back to the medical trolley as if he didn’t just come seconds away from killing you. His gloved hand brushes various silvery medical tools, not all of which you recognise, and your heart misses a beat in fear at the sight of the surgical blades. He ignores those ones, thankfully, instead settling on a syringe.

You’re not sure what’s in this one, but you don’t ask. He’ll tell you as he does it; you no longer know how truthful he is, but it’s not like it matters.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you manage, through the hazy mess that is your poor oxygen-deprived brain. “I-I’ll t-take whatever you tell me to take.”

“I do it for your own good,” he tells you, tapping the syringe with one gloved finger. He looks at it with that same bored, unreadable expression. You wonder if you could tell what he was thinking better if he didn’t wear the mask. “I just don’t want you to be sick.”

He stresses the word. He is always talking about how filthy and ill and diseased the rest of the world is. You swallow again. You should be grateful. You should. Should be grateful that, for all he tells you is wrong with you and plies you with medicines and drugs and vitamins, he doesn’t think you’re sick enough to just outright disassemble you and put you back together.

You hold your arm out, hoping your compliance will make some of his anger at your outburst fade. His eyes linger on the pinprick bruises of your inner elbow, the side he usually injects.

“Just a painkiller,” he says to you, but you don’t believe him.

He doesn’t give you a warning the way nurses used to when you had to be injected as a child. The needle presses into your skin immediately, almost too deep, and you’re immeasurably glad that Overhaul doesn’t see the flinch on your face because he’s too busy watching the liquid be injected directly into your bloodstream.

Needle out. Gauze. Medical tape. He is practised, clinical, careful as he bandages the site of the injection.

(It’ll kick in in about fifteen minutes, he thinks. By then, you’ll have your back flat and your feet in stirrups and you won’t say anything as he presses three gloved fingers inside of you. All you’ll do is let your breath catch, your hips jerk, your eyes hazy and unfocused as the tranquiliser works its magic.)

An alarm sounds from the device wrapped around your wrist.

“Ah,” he says. “I’ll give you the new vitamin now, then. Just a moment.”

He strides over to the other side of the room and you are well-trained enough to not let your eyes follow him, as perfectly organised cupboards are opened and the rattle of pills echoes in your ears.

You turn the bracelet around your wrist off. It’ll beep again once more, later on, for your third lot of medications. Once in the morning, to both wake you up and to tell you to take your first cocktail of pills. Overhaul never usually sees you until the afternoon unless he wants to check on something, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let you rot in bed hating your life all day.

(You are permitted some books, some hobbies that Overhaul does not think will be damaging to your poor health and that don’t make a mess. There is a half-finished embroidery in your desk drawer, a jigsaw puzzle you must have done twenty times spread out over the desk proper, origami animals in a neat line on your bedside table.)

The second alarm goes off at five fifteen. You are supposed to be in this room – you always consider it the surgery room, though it’s more of an examination room than anything else. You’re not permitted to wander the upstairs of the base at your leisure, much less the cavernous underground hallways, so you often wonder what else Overhaul is hiding down here. Overhaul gives you these drugs himself; sometimes this particular cocktail features some new tablet that you’ve never taken before. He watches you take them with the eyes of a hawk, checking underneath your tongue to make sure you’ve swallowed them all.

And the last lot are taken before you go to bed (half nine in the evening, always. Overhaul says a routine for you is integral to keeping you well).

He’s back. One small cup full of rattling pills and medication is given to you, and a half glass full of purified water from the water filter jug in the refrigerator.

He watches you tip the small cup back, watches the bob of your throat as you trustingly swallow them.

You don’t bother looking inside of it before you do this; you probably won’t recognise half of what it is, anyway. You’re going to take them no matter what, so you have decided perhaps it’s better the devil you do not know.

A gulp of cold water, too loud. You’re given a tissue to wipe your mouth.

You’re suddenly getting very tired. Your arms feel very heavy, your mouth dry, your head stuffed with cotton wool. You blink so slowly you feel like you’re wading through a marsh.

“Mouth open,” he’s saying, again, and you do it so he can check you’ve taken the medication, but it sounds and feels like he’s very far away. If you spoke aloud right now, you feel certain that your words would come out slurred and unrecognisable. “Good.”

Your brain attaches itself to the phrase. He so rarely praises you. You feel your mouth pull at the corners, your smile somnolent and pliant. You cannot see the way Overhaul smirks at your expression underneath his mask, but you can see the pleased light reflecting in his eyes.

“Last examination,” he tells you, brusquely. “Lean back. Feet up. You know what to do, don’t you?”

You do! You’ve done this one a hundred times. A soft giggle escapes from your lips as you swing your legs slowly onto the table and the back is readjusted by Overhaul’s own steady hands to make you comfortable. It is comfortable, despite the cold, sticky leather. You miss the stirrup the first time, and you hear Overhaul click his tongue as you’re forcibly pushed into them. It’s not your fault. You always feel drowsy after taking your medicine, but today is even worse than usual--

“Just relax,” he tells you. Latex-covered fingers rest on your outer thighs, pushing the thin medical gown up so that the hem is ruched up around your waist. “Close your eyes. This will be cold--”

You close your eyes and let out a soft sigh as slick, cold fingers (you suppose that he lubricated them, and you’re grateful – he’s not always so kind) gently prod at the space between your legs.

You could fall asleep, right here, you think – which is absurd. You shouldn’t be feeling so heavy and tired and comfortable whilst your . . . you never have quite the right words to describe what Overhaul is to you, but the fact remains that you shouldn’t be so trusting and naive as to fall asleep here with fingers that have killed probing your slit.

You can hear a clock ticking as if it’s somewhere very far away. You can hear Overhaul’s meticulous, even breathing – like even that has to be perfectly in time, perfectly meted out. You can feel your own erratic heartbeat, like a bird trapped in your chest.

You shouldn’t fall asleep, you shouldn’t fall asleep--

You watch fireworks and swirls and patterns on the inside of your eyelids like you’re at a festival; the kind you are no longer allowed to attend, lest somebody’s sickness rub off on you. Watching your own in your mind seems like the next best thing.

You drop into oblivion.

#overhaul x reader #yandere overhaul #overhaul smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #yandere bnha #chisaki kai x reader #not sfw text #yandere for ts #writing #overhaul x you #medical kink #glove kink #mindbreak for ts #drugging for ts #non con for ts #dub con for ts #bnha posting

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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Look After You [Joel Miller x F!Reader] SMUT

Summary: Joel Miller goes out of his way every single day to take care of you and protect you. So, naturally, when he joins you during your first shower in weeks, you decide it’s your turn to look after him and show him just how much you appreciate him.

Warnings: 18+ Explicit, male receiving oral, handjob, body worship, shower seggs

Word count: 1,2k

Summary: I’m still in Tumblr jail guys! The only way people will be able to see this fic is if you reblog it. As always, reblogs mean so much to me but now more than ever, I really really would appreciate them. Without reblogs, my fics are going to get ZERO reach because my blog is flagged and my works won’t show up in the tags! And reach gives me motivation. I hope you all understand and enjoy this little ficlet. I’ve been playing TLOU and phew, Joel Miller has my heart.

gif by: @hunterschafer

———————————————————

It was your first shower in weeks, and there was simply no feeling comparable to the steamy hot water splashing against your skin. Your response was immediate. You wanted to cry with happiness as it washed away the extensive amount of dirt that you’d accumulated over the past month or so. The pressure was amazing too. You turned around, letting the water hit right between your shoulder blades. It felt ethereal.

You were so lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t even realise Joel had stepped in the shower and was standing behind you, watching you shamelessly as you twirled around underneath the stream of water. His big hands steadied on your hips and he squeezed at the soft flesh. You gasped at first, shocked by his presence, but your body quickly curled into his chest as he extended his strong arms and wrapped them around your torso.

“Feels good?” Joel drawled out with a light chuckle, his Southern accent thick and delicious.

You moaned out something incoherent but judging from the smile on your face and the way your eyes were closed with delight, Joel assumed you were having the time of your life. He hadn’t seen you this relaxed... ever.

“You don’t mind that I’m here?” Joel asked, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Sure, you two had been sleeping together, but he didn’t want to intrude on your first shower in weeks. If you wanted alone time, he wouldn’t be mad at you for that. You leaned your head into the crook of his neck and pulled him under the stream of water, illustrating that you were more than happy that he was here, with you.

Your hands palmed his body as you tried to wipe away the dirt. Your fingers gently brushed against the scars he had, crossing his chest and stomach. Joel swallowed thickly as you touched him.

“I have something,” he told you, reluctantly swatting your hands away and turning around to grab a bottle of 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner and shower gel. He presented it to you with a charming grin. A smile that could break hearts.

You couldn’t help but gasp, taking the bottle from his hands and examining it closely.

“Joel!” you exclaimed. “Did you find this in the pharmacy raid?” Joel nodded proudly. “But how?”

“It was the last bottle and it was just laying on the floor. Looked like someone must’ve dropped it and not turned back to pick it up.”

You shook your head in disbelief and laughed ecstatically, popping open the cap and squirting the teal blue liquid into the palms of your hands. It smelled like fresh mint.

“May I?” you asked Joel, curling your fingers and gesturing to his torso. He nodded his head and you began to work the soap into a foam, rubbing it into his tensed up body.

His eyes snapped shut and your hands moved like magic. You pulled him so he stood under the stream of hot, steamy water, and worked the soap into his body for a good few minutes, not wanting to miss any inch of skin. The 3-in-1 soap probably retailed at around two dollars, but this felt like the first genuine luxury you’d had in years.

Joel opened his eyes briefly, watching you as you bathed him. Your lips were curled into the most adorable smile and you were humming a sweet melody. He recognised it as the song you nursed Ellie to when she struggled to sleep.

“You’re so beautiful.” Joel admitted with a huff, and he instantly felt his cheeks blush a warm rosy colour at the admission. You were shocked too, judging by the way your eyes widened and you looked down at your feet. Neither you nor Joel ever got romantic, per se. Meaningful words of affirmation were never really Joel’s forte.

You reached up and pressed your naked body into his. He brought his hands to the curve of your ass and held you as you maneuvered your own hands to his dark locks of hair. You ran the shampoo through your fingers and massaged it into his scalp, doing your best to ignore his erection that was now pressing into your thigh.

You kissed him softly along his collarbones and you dragged your tongue to the column of his neck, where the skin was soft and damp. You removed your hands from his hair and let the water rinse away the soap.

“Your turn.” Joel announced, his voice having dropped an octave or two.

Joel copied your movements, squirting the soap into his hands and rubbing it into your skin. He paid extra attention to your breasts though, palming at the soft flesh and rubbing his thumbs over your hardening nipples.

“So perfect.” he murmured, alongside other words of appraisal. You curled your body into him on instinct, loving the way he caressed you under the steaming hot water.

Joel loved your body. He loved to touch it and worship it.

You dropped your hand to his already hard cock and began to pump it, living for the way gasps and whimpers fell from his lips. He gently pushed you down to your knees and applied the shampoo to your hair, rubbing it in as you peppered kisses along his thick length.

You started by kitten-licking his slit, relishing the beads of precum that had gathered there and adoring the salty taste on your tongue. You spent some time massaging his balls before finally settling and wrapping your lips around his head.

He was big. Bigger than you’d ever taken before. You pushed your mouth onto him, as deep as you could, and began to suck. Joel tossed his head back and moaned lewdly, tugging on your wet hair as you sucked him off.

“F-fuck, f-feels so good,” he gasped out and you couldn’t help but smile around him. “Keep doing that and I won’t— I won’t last.” he warned.

Joel tried to concentrate on washing the rest of your hair but as you increased your speed, your hair became bunched up in his fists.

You pulled off him with a pop, your saliva trailing from the tip off his cock to your soft lips. You gasped for breath and battered your eyelashes, looking up at him with the most innocent doe eyes. The water was still splashing against you and the hot condensation in the room was working wonders.

“You work too hard Joel,” you told him, still pumping his cock with your hand. “Taking care of us all. Protecting us. Just relax and let me look after you.”

Joel opened his mouth to protest but before he could argue, you reattached your lips and continued blowing him.

It wasn’t long before you felt his manhood twitching in your mouth. A loud gasp and a buck of his hips had him cumming down your throat. When he finished, you slowly pulled away from him and rose to your feet.

You placed your hands on either side of his face and lovingly nudged your nose against his.

“You’re so good to me,” he sighed. “So good.”

“It’s what you deserve.” You promised him before gently pressing your lips against his. He held you tight as you kissed him and he cradled your body, not wanting to lose you like he’s lost everyone else he’s ever cared for.

———————————————————

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @beskarprincessjenny @readsalot73 @softmedics @jade10077 @dodgerandevans @planetariumx @pascals-cat @ajeff855 @spideysimpossiblegirl @smoldjarin

#help me pedro tumblr #reblogs are my only hope #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou #idek why i’m tagging this when i’m in jail and it’s not even gonna show

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cruciology · 4 years ago

Text

Under the Table

Requested by anon: Ok i don’t know if this is too smutty but could I request a sandor x reader where they’re at a tavern or something and reader starts touching him under the table. No one notices but he has to stay serious and tries his best to hide it and as soon as they’re both alone she’s getting her reward.

a sequel to my fic, The Princess and the Dog

The chilly air of Winterfell gave you constant goosebumps. You supposed it was better than being on the King’s Road as you had been for a month, but you were still cold, even with the new fur cloak you had been gifted by your father. You had a feeling it meant he had bad news for you, he just hadn’t told you yet.

You wrapped the cloak tighter around your nightdress as you stepped out of your room and into the hall. Your little sister slept like the dead in the room next to yours. It was only your first night in Winterfell, but you had taken notice of where the guards were placed. It was easy enough to avoid them as you sneaked to the end of the hall, passed where Joffrey and Tommen slept, and rapped on the Hound’s door. After a moment, it cracked open just the slightest bit. When he saw it was you, the Hound quickly pulled you in before anyone could see.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He growled, shutting the door as quietly as he could. He had been in bed and wore only his pants, his hairy chest bare.

“I didn’t get caught, it’s alright,” you insisted. You were hoping he would be happier to see you. On the road, you were constantly surrounded by guards or your family. Besides a few squeezes of your hand in passing, you hadn’t felt his touch since you left the capitol. Your mother had kept her promise and hadn’t said anything after she had caught you with him in the library, but she kept a closer eye on you now. “I missed you,” you said softly.

His mouth was a hard line as he looked at you. Finally, he placed his hands on your hips, drawing you close to him. You pressed your face into his chest, almost crying at having him close again after all this time.

“It was stupid,” he said as he held you. You laughed.

“Don’t worry, I know you missed me too,” you said. He sat down on the wooden chair that stood by his window, pulling you by the hand until you sat on his lap. The cloak fell to the floor but you were warm enough when he wrapped his arms around you, his rough hands sliding over the silk of your nightdress.

Finally, you were able to press your lips to his. You kissed him gently first, as a lady should, but then you needed to show him just how much you missed him. Heat pooled between your thighs as you threaded your fingers through his hair, kissing him hungrily. He growled low in his throat as he kissed you back. His hand went under the hem of your nightdress, up your thigh, and you gasped softly as his finger entered you. You hadn’t even had enough space in the last month to touch yourself and his touch felt like magic as he stroked you from the inside.

He kissed your cheek, your jaw, then your neck, sending a chill down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. “How does that feel, Princess?” He asked against the shell of your ear.

“So good,” You muttered back, eyes closed.

You felt him start to remove his hand and squeezed your thighs tight in an attempt to keep him going. He laughed slightly as he brought his hand to his face. He licked you off of his fingers, groaning softly and sending another surge of heat through your body.

He kissed you roughly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “You taste so fucking good,” He said against your mouth. He gathered you up in his arms with ease, moving to take you to the bed.

Someone pounded on the door with a heavy hand. In an instant, you were on the bed, the Hound quickly covering you with the thick blanket. Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened to the Hound open the door once again. It nearly froze when you heard your father’s voice in the hall.

“Didn’t wake you, did I, Clegane?” He laughed. He was drunk, it was clear from his slurred words. The welcome feast ended hours ago. He must have stayed up drinking with his old friends.

“Wasn’t sleeping, Your Grace,” The Hound spoke to your father with your taste still on his lips. “What can I do for you?”

“Put some clothes on, Hound, we’re going on a hunt,” The King said. You could hear him clap the Hound on the shoulder roughly.

“It’s well past midnight, Your Grace,” The Hound informed him.

“What are you, my wife?” Your father said. “I am your king!”

“Why don’t you retire to your chambers, I’ll get you more wine,” The Hound suggested. He knew your father well. He wouldn’t say no to more alcohol.

“Wine and a girl,” The King laughed. Your lip curled in disgust, but if it got him away from the Hound’s room without him seeing you in the bed, you didn’t care what your father did.

“Wine and a girl,” the Hound confirmed.

“Get one for yourself while you’re at it.” You heard your father stumble away. For a brief moment you wondered if you should worry about him, but there were dozens of other guards along the way who would help him back up to his room. He would most likely be asleep before the Hound could find him again.

You felt the blanket fly off of you as soon as the door was closed. “Go back to your room,” The Hound instructed. “Now.”

You stood up, not even coming to his shoulder. You reached up, touching the burnt side of his face, letting your fingers memorize the scar. His eyes closed just briefly. He put his hand over yours. You stood on your toes, kissing him gently before sneaking out again.

---

You never really drank. But after the news you had gotten, you decided now was as good a time as any. Your body wasn’t quite used to it, only having previously had a few sips here and there. As the residents of Winterfell were once again crammed into the dining hall, you nursed your third glass, feeling the warmth spread in your chest. Everyone was pleasantly drunk around you, save for the severe Ned Stark and his lady wife, so you didn’t feel left out despite sitting off on your own at a table near the exit.

You stared at the table where your newly announced betrothed sat. Robb Stark was handsome, strong, and kind. He had lands and a title. You would be the Lady of Winterfell. You had known this was coming, but it didn’t mean you had to like it. Your mother didn’t even try to hide the smug look on her face when your father broke the news to you earlier. You suspected it was directed at your guard who had been in the room as well, something you were sure she had planned. Your mother would get what she wanted after all.

“Princess,” You heard from behind you. Your heart lifted instantly.

“Sit,” You insisted, patting the seat next to you. The Hound’s eyes scanned the room and you rolled yours. “It’s not unheard of. You’re supposed to be guarding me, you can guard me from down here.”

“You’re drunk,” He noted as he sat next to you. You felt the bench creek under his large body. You wished that you were alone so he could pull you into his lap. You were so tired of not even being able to hold his hand.

“I might be,” you said.

“You are.” He grabbed a pint for himself, taking it halfway down with one solid gulp. “Celebrating your engagement, Princess?”

“Stop it,” you said with a tight jaw. “You know I’d rather-,”

“Be quiet about that,” The Hound said, his eyes darting around the room once again. A few eyes were on you, but they were passing glances, folks wondering why the Princess was off alone, but you knew they were not going to question your choice of company.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “But you can’t be upset with me, I can’t take that along with everything else. It’s not my fault.”

The Hound made a noise half way between a grunt and a sigh, but still didn’t look at you. “I know,” he said.

Your hand found his knee comfortingly under the table. It was probably the wine in your stomach that made you unafraid of any consequences. You were surprised he didn’t pull away, but he let you leave your hand there. You were feeling sad and stupid. You moved your hand up further, touching the inside of his thigh. The growl from his throat didn’t stop you. So long without touching him for fear of being caught and here you were now with your hand in his lap when the dining hall was full of eyes.

“Princess,” he said through clenched teeth. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He was trying not to draw attention. Just drunk enough not to care, you moved your hand even further. His breath came out as a hiss as you palmed the growing bulge in his pants. His massive hand clamped around your wrist.

“No one is even looking,” you said, not really caring if they were.

“Are you trying to lose me my head?” He asked. You noticed that he hadn’t moved your hand away from him. You squeezed him, making him groan. “Fucking hells,” he muttered, placing both hands on the table. He wasn’t going to stop you.

You made sure you weren’t looking directly at him as you stroked your hand up and down his length through his pants. You watched his hand on the table clench into a fist as he tried to keep a straight face. “It’s a lovely feast, isn’t it?” You asked, a wicked smirk playing at your lips. He merely grunted. The wine and the thrill of touching him once again made you forget for a moment the pressure you had felt since the news of your engagement.

“But I do think I have had a bit too much to drink,” You said, loudly enough for anyone at the tables near you to hear. Luckily, they were drunker than you. “Walk me back to my room, please.”

The Hound rose first, helping you balance yourself. You really did have a bit too much to drink. He let you go as soon as he thought you would be able to stand. You looked over your shoulder for just a moment, catching a glance at your mother. She sipped her wine next to your father, who was probably the drunkest one in the room. No one would say anything to the King about his drinking. Your mother caught your look but said nothing. She knew who your father would believe if you went to him with what you knew.

The Hound walked a few steps behind you as you walked out of the hall. The voices from the dining hall carried out into the corridor. As soon as you turned the corner, far enough away from the crowd, his hands were on you. You giggled drunkenly as he scooped you up.

“You’re going to get me in trouble, Princess,” he said into your neck, placing a sloppy kiss on the column of your throat. He shouldered the nearest door open. You should have been more worried about getting caught but the only thoughts swimming through the alcohol in your brain were about the Hound’s mouth.

The room was empty and almost pitch black, the only light coming from the full moon outside. The Hound sat you down on the plush loveseat pushed against the wall. You grabbed his belt, attempting to pull him towards you and finish what you had started in the dining hall but it appeared he had other plans. He pushed your hand away.

“Your turn, Princess.”

He lowered himself to his knees in front of you, giving you a breathless kiss, his massive hand cupping your cheek. Leaving your head spinning, he pulled away. He shoved your skirt up, gathering it at your thighs. He pulled you down to the edge of the seat, spreading your legs before him. He placed your legs over his broad shoulders, the metal of his armor cool on your flushed skin. From the wine or from him, you couldn’t be entirely sure.

He bit the inside of your thigh, placing a kiss over it just as quickly. You were just about to tell him not to tease you when you felt his tongue at your apex. Your hands went to his hair, your head going back against the love seat. It had been so long since he could have you like this, he lapped at your pussy hungrily, his fingers digging into your thighs in a way you knew would leave a bruise. That made it even sweeter.

“Sandor, please,” You begged, tugging at his hair, trying to pull him up to kiss you again. You weren’t sure how much time you had with him and you wanted to feel all of him before you had to part. Normally, he would tell you he was going to take his bloody time, but he was probably thinking the same as you.

The Hound wrapped his arm around your waist, moving you to lay with your head on the armrest of the loveseat, his body looming over you. He was always afraid to put his whole weight on you, but you liked feeling his presence. You helped him pull himself out of his pants and with one quick thrust, he was fully seated inside of you. He paused for a moment, his face in the crook of your neck. You guided his face back to yours, kissing him. You wrapped your legs around him, making sure he was as close as he could be to you. He rutted into you, each thrust punctuated with a grunt. He kissed your neck, your cheek, your collarbone, your mouth, any bit of you he could. His thumb found its way to your clit, finishing what his tongue had started. Your legs squeezed him tighter. You tried to stay quiet, but his free hand still went over your mouth, muffling the cry as you came, your legs tight around him.

He took his hand from your mouth, placing it on the loveseat next to you to brace himself. His other hand moved to the small of your back, pushing you closer to him as he fucked you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in to whisper in his ear, “Cum in me.”

The hand on your back moved to your outer thigh, squeezing tight as he shuddered, finishing into you with a final grunt. He hid his face in your neck, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Stupid, that was stupid,” The Hound muttered into your skin.

You pulled his face towards you, making sure his eyes met yours. “I love you,” you said firmly. His eyes darted away again. You had said it only once before to him. He never said it back, it wasn’t his way.

Instead, he kissed you and responded, “Aye.”

#I am so sorry I haven't posted in 5ever #I had a lot going on but here y'all go #the hound #the hound fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #smut #fanfiction #sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #the hound x reader #sandor clegane fanfiction

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mimisempai · 3 years ago

Text

I love you every ways you are

Summary:

Loki is injured in a mission in which Mobius did not know he was involved. When he finds Loki unconscious in the medical wing of the TVA, he is surprised to see him in his Jotun form... how will he react?Tumblr request : Mobius sees Loki in his Jotun form and comforts him.

This request was a godsend, I had been saying to myself for several times that I absolutely wanted to write a scene where Lobius sees Loki in his Jotun form, it's done and Mobius is as always, adorable.

I wish everyone to meet at least one person who loves us in all our forms.💕

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32731816

1308 words - Rating G

Mobius was finishing up signing off on some papers when HB popped into his office.

"Mobius! I need you to come to the medical ward, it's... it's Loki."

"What?! Loki?!" He stood up quickly and followed her, almost running.

"HB tell me! What's wrong?"

"We were on a mission and -"

"What mission?! Loki never told me he was going on the field today!"

HB looked sheepish and guilty.

"We really needed him and his... special talents. Loki agreed on the only condition that you were not told."

"What?!" Mobius felt like he was going from bad surprise to bad surprise. "But why?"

"Mobius, I can't tell you... you'll find out... when you see Loki, I can't tell you more. He wouldn't want me to."

"But how bad is it? How is he?"

"He has a concussion and is unconscious, but the prognosis is good."

"What do you mean by concussion?!"

They had arrived in front of the room where Loki was supposed to be, HB put her hand on Mobius' arm to try to calm him down, "I'll explain when we get to the room" seeing that Mobius didn't want to give up, she added, "Please Mobius..."

Mobius, clearly upset, nodded and they entered the room.

They approached the bed where he could see his lover lying down.

When he got closer, he couldn't hold back a gasp.

Loki was in his frost giant form.

Mobius came even closer.

He could now distinguish the blue skin. Loki's hands, resting on the white sheet, were bringing out that special shade of blue.

He had already seen Loki's appearance as a frost giant in the TVA files, but seeing him in the flesh had something unreal, almost magical.

Yet it was his Loki, the fine features of his face, his long fingers, his long black curls.

Mobius could not resist the impulse to touch him.

He delicately took Loki's hand in his own. At first he was surprised by the coldness of the skin, but nothing that he could not bear.

The only thing that distressed him was that the hand was inanimate in his.

The door to the room opened and Mobius gently let go of the hand to turn to the doctor who had just entered.

"Are you..." the visibly embarrassed doctor didn't seem to have how to address their relationship.

"I'm his partner, at work and in life." Mobius replied in a firm voice.

"Um... alright... uh... let me first reassure you that your... companion is fine. He has not suffered any damage from his concussion and he should wake up any minute now. All that's left to do is wait. You can stay with him as long as you need to. Let the nurses know if anything changes."

Mobius nodded and thanked the doctor, who excused himself and left, leaving Mobius and HB with the still unconscious Loki.

Mobius pulled out a chair, placed it next to the bed and sat down. He took Loki's hand in his, stroking the back of his hand with his thumb and looking at Loki's face with a worried look.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder and gently squeezed it.

"Mobius, it will be alright, Loki is strong."

Mobius nodded then asked softly, "HB, what happened, and why didn't I know about this mission?"

"The Void Research Team reported to us that a frost giant was hiding, and they didn't want him to think of them as the enemy. Their goal being to save any variants that might have survived. Loki found out about this and offered to help, by taking his frost giant form, provided that you didn't know about it. We agreed because we had no better solution. Everything went well, Loki had managed to "tame" the ice giant, but one of the team members -who was already sanctioned I promise you-, made a sudden movement that scared the frost giant who in a defensive movement sent Loki flying, hence his concussion. Everything is back to normal now."

"Except for Loki..." muttered Mobius.

"I'm so sorry Mobius, I'm sure he'll wake up soon." replied HB, squeezing his shoulder again before continuing, "I have to get back to work, let me know if he wakes up."

Mobius simply nodded his head.

Once HB was out, he moved even closer and pushed a strand of Loki's hair back behind his ear and asked, his voice hoarse with emotion, "Sweetheart, why...why did you hide it from me?"

The hand in his quivered slightly.

"Loki?"

The hand moved slightly again.

"Yes, that's right sweetheart, wake up..."

He saw the eyelids flutter and slowly open on the scarlet pupils.

Then as consciousness slowly returned, he saw surprise and then panic come to dull the brilliance of Loki's beautiful eyes.

"Mo- Mobius... What are you doing here?"

Loki squirmed, trying to remove his hand from Mobius' and turning his head to the side.

"Loki...? What's wrong?"

Without turning his head and still trying to free his hand, Loki whispered, "I... didn't want... you to see me like this..."

"What?" Sweetheart please look at me, and answer me, why didn't you want me to see you like this?"

Loki shook his head and did not answer.

Mobius took the cold chin firmly, and turned Loki's face towards him. Loki clenched his eyes shut, refusing to meet Mobius' gaze.

Mobius said softly, "Loki, please open your eyes and answer me."

Loki whispered, his voice broken, still without opening his eyes, "I am a monster, how can you look at me and touch me, when I look like this?"

Mobius, not letting go of his grip, answered in the same gentle tone, "The same way I touch and look at you every day, sweetheart.

"How could y-"

"Open your eyes and see that I am not lying to you," Mobius continued gently.

Loki swallowed and slowly opened his eyes.

He gasped as he faced Mobius' gaze, for it was a gaze in which he read no rejection, no disgust, no dislike, just love and awe.

"I... I don't understand... I never... never... how..." Loki stammered, completely unable to believe anything he read in Mobius' eyes.

"Loki... even in this form you are you, how could I not love you? These fingers..." He gently kissed Loki's fingers one by one, " These are yours, this face and these eyes..." He delicately traced the features of Loki's face with his fingertips, "these are yours, and this heart..." he leaned over and placed a kiss in the middle of Loki's chest, "this is yours. Loki's heart. How could I not love it?"

"You... you mean it?"

Mobius took Loki's hand and placed two fingers on his own temple, then said softly, "Look for yourself in my head, if my words are not enough for you."

Loki shook his head and replied, "No, I believe you. As incredible as it is, I believe you."

The red pupils were filled with disbelief and something akin to wonder.

Moving his hand to Mobius' cheek, Loki whispered with a broken voice, "Every time I've done something, or said something that I think will drive you away from me, every time you prove me wrong and show me how worthy I am. You're the first one to do that for me. You're the first to break through my darkness."

Mobius placed a light kiss on his trembling lips and said as he pulled back, "It's about time someone did." He grasped Loki's hand again and said with a wink, " The only thing I miss now is Loki's smile."

Mobius was delighted to see probably one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen on Loki's lips.

A smile that said the happiness of being accepted.

A smile that said happiness to love and be loved.

A smile that said nothing but happiness.

_________

Whole series of oneshots here : X

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

#established relationship #jotun loki #lokius fic #loki #mobius m mobius #emtional hurt/comfort #wowki #moki #loki x mobius #time husbands #time lovers

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manyfictionsmusings · 3 years ago

Text

Pull Me Like A Ripcord

Summary:

This story takes place immediately after the events of X-Men Apocalypse, where Peter decides against going back to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, despite seeking his father’s attention prior. This fic will just be growing and “mutating” as I write but promising lots of Dad/son angst, hurt/comfort etc.

Chapter 1: AfterEffects

As naïve as it was, Peter had hoped Erik would somehow realize he was his son, now that idea seemed cold and stupid. Why would Erik magically know who he was? He wasn’t Charles, a mind reader, and this wasn’t a fantasy kingdom where the orphan got his father in the end of the story.

Peter pulled his legs up to his chest, or at least he would have if he could have moved his shattered knee, the pain, coupled with the emotional turmoil of the long day sent him easily to tears. He wasn’t used to losing, he wasn’t used to being physically injured. The finale of the Egyptian battle had seen the x-men triumph, but Peter himself had lost…lost another chance to connect with Erik, if only he’d been able to get the better of the Immortal it might have impressed his father enough to take note of him, but instead if it hadn’t been for Raven’s distractions, the Beast’s strength and his own father’s shift in loyalties, he would have been just another victim in the note book of Apocalypse.

Peter drew a shaky breath, trying to force the events to wash over him, normally things didn’t bother him, but the last few months he’d changed, the others here at the school, or what was left of the school…he didn’t want to call them family but that’s what they felt like to him. It scared him and it was too much to hope for, he’d been disappointed to many times to open up like that. Which was why he’d told Beast to take him to a regular hospital in Cairo and he’d make his own way home once he was healed.

Beast had had his reservations about it, leaving the scrawny, pale kid who’d been with them since he’d saved literally everyone at Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters seemed a shitty way to repay him, but he’d finally consented to it, only after Peter had gotten angry and started yelling.

He felt lonely now, in the hospital bed, with an oxygen tube in his nose and his injured leg casted and hoisted by a sling, a thousand miles from anyone he knew, but the pain was reminding him of his failures as one of the x-men and the isolation served to remind him why he didn’t bother with people, especially his father.

They always left. Or were never there to begin with.

He deserved this.

“You don’t deserve any of this, Peter.”

Peter jolted, startled for only a second by the gentle voice, there was only one person it could be, to know what precisely he was thinking. He hurriedly wiped tears off his face before Charles came any closer.

“I told Beast I was fine. I don’t want anyone wasting any more time on me.”

“Beast didn’t tell your secret, but I was worried about you, Peter. You think I was going to just leave Egypt without you? I wouldn’t leave here without any of you.” Charles stepped closer, softly he took his hand and squeezed gently. “You all mean so much to me. I owe you my life, Peter.”

He removed his hand and crossed his arms. “I didn’t do anything, if…if Erik hadn’t stepped in, we all would have been killed-including you.”

Charles glanced towards the monitors attached to the young man, before his eyes roamed across the physical state of Peter, in contemplation. “It was a group effort; it took all of us.” He finally spoke after a moment of hesitation. “I know you seek his attention and yet you’re afraid of it…Lehnsherr is coming back with us to New York, he’s going to help me rebuild the institution.”

Peter glanced up, his eyes reflecting a youthful hope the professor hadn’t seen for some time. “I thought he left.”

Charles shook his head. “It’s a way to…perhaps earn his attention, little by little anyway. What do you think? Will you return with me?”

Peter grimaced. “I’m not in great shape professor, encase you haven’t noticed. I might swing in when I’m up and around.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “I know all your pains, I’m sorry. I put your life in such horrific danger-”

“I came along on the mission of my own free will, no one forced me,” Peter interrupted.

Charles gripped his shoulder suddenly with an assertive intention. “Let me oversee your recovery, Maximoff, please, it’s the least I can do. I won’t leave here until you agree to be transferred to a hospital in New York, preferably close to Salem Center. You don’t have to be bothered by anyone from the school. But knowing you aren’t in Egypt would put my mind at ease.”

Peter sighed, he was feeling it again, the warm sensation that made him relaxed and somehow extremely uncomfortable at the same time. Family was something he would never be able to hold on to. He was going to mess it up, he knew that. He could already feel the threads slipping between pale, desperate, grasping fingers. But in the meantime, Charles cared about him enough to hunt him down in one of many Cairo hospitals, and he’d checked in under an alias. The professor cared enough to come back, or had he never left in the first place? His caring nature was beyond consolation to Peter’s broken, cold body, so comforting in fact he felt tears welling up again!

He sniffled and hurriedly wiped his brow before their return, nodding. “I’ll come with you.”

Professor Xavier had kept his word, medically and financially he’d arranged for everything to be taken care of, transporting Peter from Cairo to New York. He’d also arranged for him to have his own private room in Sheeran Hospital—a private hospital in upstate New York, forty-five miles from the current disaster of Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters.

Over the next two weeks physically Peter’s injuries slowly healed but mentally he felt wrecked beyond compare. He started having reoccurring nightmares that he couldn’t run; his ability had been fractured when the monstrosity had snapped his leg like a twig under his boot. In the dream he was trying to run away from someone, his first thought was that it was Apocalypse but a couple nights later he realized it was just a shadowy figure, one he could never outrun. Each time he fell, immobilized as pain shot through his leg, the sound of his own bones crunching reverberated in his ears, just as it had that day.

The nurses had unfortunately taken note of his mood, though Peter hadn’t put much effort into hiding his grim attitude, he’d slipped in a snarky remark about getting some extra drugs for an overdose. The nurse didn’t find his dark humor amusing and Charles suspiciously showed up the very next day.

He didn’t say much at first, just sat near Peter’s bed, looking out the enormous rectangle window that looked west, on a glowing sunset. “You have a good view though,” he finally spoke.

Peter pursed his lips. “I do appreciate your hospitality Professor, but I’m fine, you don’t have to check in on me. Just... really bored here you know, I don’t think I’ve ever stayed in one place this long…it’s wearing on me, I feel weird being at this speed.”

Charles turned his chair to face him, hands in his pockets, yet concern on his features. “Must be very uncomfortable to be forced to slow down. How’s physical therapy going?”

Peter avoided the older man’s gaze for some reason and snorted. “I mean it’s slow, I’m not the patience type or a patient for that matter…”

Charles nodded. “But the sooner you’re hobbling around, the sooner I can get you out of here.”

“And take me where?” Maximoff snipped with his signature deep-set frown.

Charles chuckled, “You’d be surprised what several telekinetic mutants can accomplish when it comes to construction. The east wing is already rebuilt, for now we’re using it for sleeping quarters. It’s a little crowded but…”

“…Anything is better than the smell of hospital?” Peter finished, trying to keep his mind in constant motion—moving from thought to thought. He didn’t know how much the professor knew about what he was thinking but Xavier had already noted his inward conception about seeking Erik’s attention in Egypt, so his guess was he was an open book, but Peter’s thoughts could be about as fast as his movement when we wanted them to be. “Well sounds like I need to hit therapy harder, if you’re actually going to get me out of here.”

As much as Peter didn’t intend to be shambling around a cramped wing in the school, Charles’ visit served to kick him in the butt about getting out of Sheeran soon, regardless of where he went afterward. And if he was being honest, he had never planned to go back to the school, though he also wasn’t ready to face his reasoning for not returning there.

No one was going to miss him, well not the one person that mattered, because he couldn’t even see Peter for who he was. A new plan had quickly formulated—get his leg in good enough shape to slip off before Charles came back for him and circumvent the entire situation altogether.

The nightmares continued to plague him, as day after day he added a little weight to the tender broken leg, between tears and a lump that had formed on his lip from how many times he had bit it to deal with the pain, he started making it all the way through the routes the therapist had set up for him. Once he realized he could make it to the end of the routine he had to mentally stop himself from trying out his true speed. He continually checked himself, forced himself to be normal, move slowly. He embraced the pain wholly, promising himself a whole box of Lemonheads when he got out of here.

A week and two days after Charles’ visit, Peter decided he was going. He’d woke up from his worst nightmare by far, clutching his throat, covered in sweat, his heart was beating hard enough his chest ached. His leg was throbbing with shadow pain from Apocalypse breaking it, only in this dream he hadn’t been saved before the giant mutant had slit his throat and tossed him aside like trash. His father hadn’t even noticed or cared.

Peter swallowed painfully, still tracing his fingers across the smooth, blanched flesh of his neck as he slipped out of bed. His x-men costume had been lost somewhere in the shuffle, or maybe the professor had taken it, either way Charles had been kind enough to replace it with his current pajamas and a change of clothing. Not the usual silver tinted clothing but considering he still wasn’t up to his Quicksilver speed, it seemed fitting to pull on the dark blue jeans and faded orange hoodie. Peter sighed in comfort at the velvety worn state of both items as they contacted his skin, though he tried to ignore how billowy the clothes were on him, he’d lost a significant amount of weight since Egypt—which the nurses had been lecturing him over—but what could you expect when there was only hospital food and no snacks to be seen.

Next Peter attempted to calm his silvery hair, by brushing his fingers through it repeatedly, which only seemed to make it worse. Between the wild shock of hair and the dark rimmed eyes, his reflection looked ghostly, coupled with the dim hospital lighting.

Peter exhaled calmly before grabbing the only items that had made it back with him from Egypt, his googles and his earphones, he stuck one of the foreign crutches under each armpit and silently slipped out of Sheeran Hospital…

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sopafa · 3 years ago

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PARAPLEGIC DOUXIE! AU P4

AO3 CH 4

All the windows on the Hospital's third floor cracked and exploded into a thousand pieces with a burst of blue light behind them. The rest of the building trembled to the beat of sobs and laments that echoed with anguish, within the hospital. Some of the hallways even stayed without lighting for a couple of seconds. The wails of sadness and desperation reminiscent of a ghost or a haunted mansion.

But there was no demon or monster on the inside.

Just a poor and broken soul with no relief.

A wizard that had misplaced liberty.

A boy that had lost everything.

Some of the personnel had to hold on to a piece of furniture or a wall due to the impact. Dr. Velasquez stepped back as the wave made him retreat.

But Dr. Lake-

She wrapped the wizard between her arms and cradled him against her chest into a hug.

Douxie didn't fight it.

Actually, Douxie did not move at all.

He let the woman move his hands around her neck and even allowed her to run her fingers through his hair. A soft and calming coo came through Barbara's lips in an attempt to calm him.

A few members of the hospital entered “alarmed” into the room; one even had a syringe in their hands with some sedative, just in case. But it was late, Ms. Lake had already taken charge of the situation, comforting the boy in her arms.

Douxie finally responded to the hug, grasping pieces of the doctor’s coat between his fingers. The wizard screamed and groaned until his lungs couldn't continue with more. He left sobs and regrets slip from his lips.

Even on the outside, people were able to hear him.

Claire's heart struggled when the wails reached her ears. Jim felt the tightness on his hands when Claire squeezed him.

It reminded her of "La llorona".

Douxie must have finally woken up.

=====

It was not the first time they had to rebuild Arcadia -and surely, it wouldn't be the last- so as always, the people of the town just ignored the fight among celestial demigods, trolls, or whatever-magic-being had attacked the city this time and focused on the getting back to their "normal" routine.

But, being honest, even when the buildings were raised again and looked barely new, it didn't feel the same. At least, not for the trollhunters team.

It was hard, spending a lot of time on the hospital, getting used to the flat white color of the walls, and the antibiotic-alcohol smell. It was just a lot.

Douxie was transferred from the ER to a rehabilitation center two days after he woke.

The new place was different. To say something.

The walls of the hallways among bedrooms were colored in beautiful pastel tones, each corridor was marked by a different color, there were playrooms, recreation rooms, a cafeteria, the exercise-rehabilitation gym, and even a pool for those that required aqua therapy -Douxie included- but even with the fancy installations and shiny colors, it still felt like some kind of hospital.

The uniforms were the same as the nurses from the hospital, and the way everyone talked to him made Douxie feel like an elder. An actual elder. It was as if the weight of his 920 years was finally having some effect on his body

Hisirdoux did not want to talk, he didn't even take the trouble to respond to the greetings of his personal nurses, that each morning asked him how he was feeling, and what he wanted for breakfast. He just stayed there, frowning with his crossing arms. He also looked away when they tried to convince him to eat something.

He didn't even talk to the team.

It was becoming tedious. They tried to visit him every day, but he didn't even looked at them. The moment they crossed through the door, he rolled his eyes and looked away, he would turn in the bed to face his back to them, but well... he couldn't move. At least, not yet without help.

And that was ever more frustrating.

That day his hope was on the floor, and he had absolutely no patience to hear the team again, so without even moving his hand, or pronouncing a single word, he casted a spell. The pillows on the sofa near his bed brightened in a strong blue, before flying into the faces of the kids that had just entered to the room.

"Dude" Steve screamed while the pillows forced him all the way out.

"Douxie-" Claire tried to hold on the door, but before she could put a foot back in the room again, the soap and shampoo of the bathroom rushed flying to her forehead. 10 points, straight to the witch’s white hair, or at least that would have been if she hadn't opened a shadow portal just in time to avoid the hit.

"Hey!" Jim turned to him, seconds before the door smacked right on his face. Lake stepped back almost losing balance. They heard a click, and then the entrance was closed. "Are you okay?" Jim looked at Claire.

Aja crossed her arms while Claire nodded to her boyfriend.

"So mean-"

"It’s not the first time" A nurse said from behind them. The black lady pointed at the wall behind them, and they were able to see a few marks of- What was that? "He likes throwing cleaning stuff at the wall- and us. We are actually considering removing his privilege of own personal cleaning products. Maybe we will use liquid soap. But yet, he keeps playing with the bottles Your friend is not very talkative, is he?".

Actually, he was.

The lady made a gesture with the hand to ask Jim to move away. The trollhunter did so, and the woman walked to the door.

"Uh- Miss? I think it’s-" Toby did not finish his warning about the closed door, the lady instead took out a set of keys from her pocket, and introduced it to the latch. She opened the door.

"We have already talked about this, Casperan. You can't keep throwing stuff on the ceiling." Her authoritative tone made the rest uncomfortable. "Maybe you should go". The lady turned to them with a sweet tone and a warm smile "He's kind of moody today- and he does not like visits when he's moody" Another floating soap was thrown to the wall. "Hey! Stop it! Right now!" She glared at the wizard, while the rest followed her advice, and left.

Another bad day.

"So- what made you so angry today, hu?" Sabrina -that was her name- saved the keys while approaching him. "Aw, man. You didn't even touch your breakfast again."

Hisirdoux snorted.

"Maybe you'll finally eat something at the noon" She smiled, but as always, got no answer. "Are you ready to turn around?" Sabrina took a pillow from the closet and left it on the bed.

The lady looked at the cat a few feet from her, and slowly smiled.

"This is not going to be comfortable" She warned -but Archie didn't knew if it was directed to him or Douxie-.

Then, she rotated the wizard to his side, before positioning the pillow behind his back to keep him from rolling back. She then grabbed another pillow and placed it between the boy's legs. Douxie groaned.

"I told you it was not going to be comfortable"

"It never is," he mumbled a little.

"What was that? You finally speak? OMG, I was afraid that you were mute. Thanks the lord," she joked. "Well, Mr. Grumpy man, I'm going to comeback in a few hours to roll you back."

"Whatever."

Archie looked at her from behind Hisirdoux, and mouthed a "Thank you" to her. The familiar knew his human could be hard sometimes, especially since the news. But Archie couldn't do anything but stay by his side, even when he was acting like a child, throwing things at everyone else.

Yeah, it was not correct, and that was not the manners that he had taught Douxie, but Archie refrained from commenting, and that nurse kept being sweet with them even with that attitude because both saw what nobody else did.

When the visiting hours end and the light from the hallways was reduced, during the silent and cold nights, Hisirdoux talks.

Maybe he did not show emotion through the day, but when nobody is watching but Archie, he lets them run until the breaking point. Each night, Douxie cried his soul. He cursed and swore with words, while fat tears rolls from his eyes. He forced the wails to stay inside his chest, but inevitably some sobs came out.

Archie is always awake, always on his side, purring to his chest.

Sabrina -the nurse- one night heard him cry. She didn't say anything, but stayed outside his room for hours, listening to each of the wizard’s words. The way he prayed among tears for help, for someone to save him from the suffering, from the pain. He begged for Archie's forgiveness because he didn't think himself strong enough to continue living, to survive the fear. Each time he closed his eyes he remembered the fall, the feeling of his life leaving his body, and he couldn't hold on for much longer. He wanted to throw the towel, he wanted to die. So he begged Archie to forgive him because he was going to leave him because he was not strong enough.

He was not.

#douxie #he just wants to make his dad proud #toa hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #archie #trollhunters #jim lake jr #toa #wizards toa #rise of the titans #toa wizards #post rott #remember the p2 of the fic that im writing #angst #injury #back injury #wheelchair #depression

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years ago

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The Reward of Suffering

next chapter

Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13.

Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins

A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk

Word count: 12.1k

“Reid is in jail.”

I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.

Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

“Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.

“In Mexico.”

My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.

It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”

Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”

“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”

For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.

There was no way he would throw all of that away.

“What type of drugs?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.

Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.

“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.

“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.

Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.

I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.

“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”

I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.

“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”

Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.

“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”

The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.

“This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”

“Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.

“The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.

“Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

“We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.

“Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

“Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.

“Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”

“How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”

“Three days.”

“That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.

The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.

Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.

“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”

“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.

“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.

But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.

“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.

“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.

“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.

I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.

When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.

“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.

“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.

Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.

“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”

A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.

“You two are close, I take it?”

I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.

“He’s my best friend.”

Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.

“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.

Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.

“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”

“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”

“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.

“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”

Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.

“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”

My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.

“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.

When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I absolutely hated it.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”

The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.

“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.

“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.

“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”

“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.

Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.

My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.

“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.

Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.

“We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.

“Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.

Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

“Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”

Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.

“Where did you meet her?”

Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.

“I… I don’t remember.”

“If you saw her, would you remember her?”

Spencer nodded in affirmation.

“You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.

“It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”

“And you’ve been drugged?”

I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.

“Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.

“Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.

“Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.

Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.

Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.

Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.

“Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.

Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

“Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”

Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.

“Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.

“Can… Can you stay?”

Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.

“I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.

“Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.

Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.

And then there were two.

I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.

“Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.

“About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

“I’m… In Mexico.”

A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.

“You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”

I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.

“It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”

“Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”

“Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”

“How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.

“I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

“Wait, so, where are you?”

“I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.

“Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”

I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.

“The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”

“I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”

“I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”

There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.

“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”

“Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”

“I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.

For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.

I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.

I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.

I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.

“I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”

He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.

I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.

“Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.

“I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.

“M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.

Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.

“Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”

The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.

“Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”

The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.

It would have to be enough for now.

Nadi Ramos was dead.

I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.

I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.

And target him he fucking did.

“We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.

“How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.

“She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.

Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.

“We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”

“What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.

“He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”

I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.

“Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”

Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.

“It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.

“Do I want to know?”

Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.

“Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”

“I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.

“Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.

“I’ll try.”

Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.

“There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”

Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

“What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.

Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.

Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,

“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.

Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”

Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.

“I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.

“Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”

Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.

“I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.

I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.

“I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”

I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.

When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.

We are so beyond fucked.

“How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.

“He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”

“They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”

Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.

While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.

“We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

“I don’t know how.”

“He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.

“If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”

“Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.

“Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”

“I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”

Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

“Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”

“So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”

“I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.

“We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”

“Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.

“Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

“Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.

“We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”

Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.

“Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”

“That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

“Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”

“I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”

“So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.

“It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.

“Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.

“Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”

“Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.

“You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”

“Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.

“Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”

“We need to know more about her,” Clara said.

And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.

“What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.

Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.

“There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”

“Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

“Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

“Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.

“Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.

“So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.

“Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.

“Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”

“Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

“Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.

“Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”

“I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.

“Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”

“Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.

“Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”

“That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.

“What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”

“Why?”

“Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”

“Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.

“Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”

“This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.

Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.

“It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.

“We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”

Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

“I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.

One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.

“With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”

Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.

I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.

“We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.

Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.

“I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.

“It was for the right reason.”

“I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.

“We do, too.”

Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.

“Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.

“Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.

“I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.

“I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.

“Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.

Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.

“For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”

I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.

We cannot give him that recording.

Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.

“I didn’t record it.”

Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

“But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.

“I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.

Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.

“You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.

But so is Scratch.

All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.

Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.

“You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.

“I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”

“You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”

Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.

“Since when did you get so insightful?”

A grin stretched its way across his face.

“Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

“And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.

I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”

Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.

“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.

“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”

“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.

“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”

I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.

“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you��re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.

“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.

“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”

Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.

JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.

“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.

Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.

“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?” “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”

I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;

Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.

JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.

Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.

Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.

Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.

Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.

Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.

That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.

I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.

“We’re on our own.”

And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.

-Storm Constantine

#spencer reid smut #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds self insert #prison spencer #prison!reid

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guiltypleasurefandomface · 3 years ago

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They were all at the end of their tethers, especially Brian. The dopey look on Roger's face, the waxing lyrical of Emily, the way his head turned everytime someone went by... especially if they went by and they had red hair.

"Rog," Freddie said, "It's just the WRVS lady with the tea, calm down will you?"

"It could have been Emily." Roger replied mullishly.

Brian felt his nostrils flare as he breathed in. "You don't even know Emily."

"But I burn inside to know her!" Roger exploded, standing up. "My heart thrums at her name. The world is perfect for having Emily in it, at last. It's fate, it's true love-"

"It's a bloody spell you've had put on you, you idiot! Sit down, will you? You don't even like read heads!" Brian snaps, and feels instant regret at the way Roger looks at him, sitting down slowly, clearly hurt by his words. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Roger Taylor?"

Their heads all snap up over in the direction of the nurse calling Roger's name.

"Here!" Freddie says, and then pulls Roger up. "I'll go with him, Brian. You stay here and wait for John."

Chastened, Brian nods and watches as Roger and Freddie go with the nurse.

"That was bloody wierd!" is the very first thing Roger says to Brian and John when he comes back out of the treatment room, looking a bit dishevelled and quite tired.

"Are you all... fixed, now?" Brian asks uneasily.

"Oh yes!" Freddie says, just trailing behind him. "They made absolutely sure of it. He had to drink a foul smelling concoction and then stand there in his skivvies as they did a removal spell on him. No trace of any magic spells left in his blood. Certainly no traces of Emily."

"I don't even know her!" Roger cried.

"That's what I said!" Brian cried back.

"Er, fellas?" John said, "Maybe we should continue this chat somewhere else? Maybe in the car? The receptionists are starting to glare."

"It feels like it was all a dream." Roger said, between slurps of tea. "I can remember bits of it but it doesn't make sense now. I remember feeling very happy one minute, then very sad, and there was a face in my mind and even though there was a voice in the back of my mind telling me it was all wrong, I wanted to see that face." He paused thoughtfully, "Emily's I assume. We'll have to ban her from gigs."

"And the market." John said.

"Hmm..."

"I called Miami, and Harris," John said, looking between Roger, Freddie and Brian, "I told them to keep an eye out for any redheads at any gigs or interviews, and to get me or Freddie so we can see if it's her or not."

"Good idea." Brian said, not bothered he wasn't one of the ones to go to. He didn't really see her, or at least not her face. Just that she'd gone up to Roger and a second later he had reeled back. And he'd gone over before she could get Roger to go off with her.

"You were right about one thing, though." Roger said, looking at Brian.

"Was I? When?"

It was so out of character for Brian to question himself being right, that John and Freddie couldn't help but give him a double take for it.

"It's been a very confusing morning!" Brian said, in his defence.

"When you said I don't even like redheads." Roger said.

Brian's mouth fell open. "I thought you couldn't remember anything!"

"I said I could remember bits of it. That's one bit I remember."

"I'm really sorry," Brian said, quite apologetically, "I was very worried and stressed when I shouted at you. It was like looking after a very demanding puppy with no self awareness and I just reached a limit."

Freddie snorted in to his tea.

"Thanks." Roger said, flatly. "I've been described worse, I suppose."

"You've been described better, too." John added, unhelpfully.

"But you were right." Roger repeated. "I don't normally go for redheads."

Brian nodded, not sure as to what to say to that.

"I've been going for brunettes, lately."

John spat his tea out back into his cup.

Brian looked over at John, worried, and then looked back at Roger, confused.

"Curly haired brunettes."

Brian was glad he didn't have a mouth of tea because he might have spat it out back into his cup, too. He risked a glance at Freddie, who seemed to be hiding his face in his bone china tea cup, or at least hiding his laughter, and not doing a very good job of it.

"Not Freddie, you berk!" Roger said, and gently shoved his shoulder. You!"

"Me?"

"Christ you're impossible."

"It's been a very confusing morning!" Brian repeated, "I'm going to need a few minutes to process."

"Well don't take too long, yeah? I'd like to go on a date with you by the time we're fifty."

It was Brian's turn to smile dopily now. "You want to go on a date with me?"

"By the time we're fifty, yes." Roger replied dryly.

"That would be lovely." Brian said, unable to contain the bubble of happiness wanting to burst out.

"Maybe we should take Brian to the hospital this time. He's got the same look on his face Roger had four hours ago." John stage whispered to Freddie.

"Oh don't pretend you're not a romantic." Freddie said. "Besides, I've been waiting four years for this moment."

"Maybe you should send Emily a thank you card then." Roger suggested.

"Don't you dare!" Brian said, "She'll probably return it to sender with a curse put on it."

#Maylor #Magical realism #A belated valentines day fic

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headoverheelsforramsey · 3 years ago

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Your Love Is Killing Me (Part 1)

Pairing : Dr. Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr. Meera Bose) Summary : A canon divergent take on the emotions Ethan and Meera face on returning from Miami, and what happens when Meera faints in the hospital atrium. Category : Angst Warnings : A few swearings, PCOD and cardiovascular disease that comes with it, stress and anxiety Word Count : 1724

A/N : So this is my first fic,🙈 so please ignore some of the rookie mistakes, also please send in criticisms, I would love to improve. Got tired with clone Ethan and PB writers and the book 1 replay got to me so I thought torturing myself through angst will be a good idea. Happy Reading! ❤

Meera shifts in her bed. Rolling over to face away from the window. It was another sleepless night for her. Where usually she used to be famished after coming home from work and all she desired for was her head to touch the pillow the last 5 days was completely different. These 5 nights she spent staring into the ceiling as a train of thoughts ran through her mind. Dr. Ramsey's words kept on ringing in her head "I need to be able to push you to your limits. To help you become the doctor you want to be. The one I know you can be." Lost in her reminiscence of that magical moment in the balcony of the Miami hotel, Meera didn't seem to notice the sky changing its colours from the dark starry blue to the first hues of gold, orange and red, signifying the beginning of a new day. She turned over thinking what went wrong, a calculation she was doing for the zillionth time and each time she came to a fruitless answer. Meera was interrupted by the sound of her alarm, one which was useless as she wasn't able to close her eyes for a single minute.

She sat up in bed rubbing her eyes and catching a glimpse of herself on the full sized mirror. She was in her comfiest sweatpants, her uncombed curls sprawled over her shoulders and face. She removed her hair from her face and found tired eyes, deep dark circles and chapped lips staring at her from the mirror. She closed her eyes, hugged her knees close and rested her forehead on her knees as she thought about her plan for the day. For the past five days she had planned her days carefully so as to not run into the grumpy attending at any cost. She was on high alert. Any sign of him nearby and she always made an one eighty degree rotation in order to escape him. She went to meet the patient X to take his regular vitals and monitor required medicines on hours she was cent percent sure Dr. Ramsey was busy. She replied with lies and smiles to Dr. Banerji's unending question about the conference, Miami, Ethan and the sudden change in her behavior. Although she sometimes felt he could see right through her.

Meera stood up from the bed and went into the shower. As soon as the cold water hit her skin she remembered how Ethan had abandoned her in the hotel in Miami. How she had been sitting there on the bed dressed in luxurious blue with her heart and bed cold as tears swelled up in her eyes. She remembered the awkward flight from Miami to Boston and the bare three sentences of exchange between her and Ethan. How she thought that the flight washroom was her safe haven and how she wished to spend the entire flight there. All these thoughts were such an emotional burden on her and she finally gave in to the inevitable. She double downed with sobs as she cried in the shower keeping as quiet as it was humanly possible for her so that her roommates won't get to know. After a few minutes she was finally able to compose herself. She stepped out of the shower a towel wrapped around her as she rubbed her hair dry. Meera got into a fresh pair of scrubs combed and tied her hair into a tight high ponytail. As she applied a generous amount of foundation to hide her dark circles and chapstick to moisturize her lips her phone beeped with a notification from her period tracker which notified that her period was 3 days late. She didn't think much about that as she had been dealing with PCOD since she was sixteen. She had almost defeated the disease with changes in her lifestyle and a few medicines, but after all there is no permanent cure. She had learned to live with it over the years.

Finally she looked at herself in the mirror. She was now looking like Dr. Meera Bose the confident number one intern at Edenbrook Hospital. She forced on a smile to face her roommates outside her bedroom door and the world in general. This is what Meera's life looked like for the past five days. She was tired of putting on a happy show for the outside world and hence once she was inside her room with no one except herself her thoughts collided against each other and finally left her crying. She was tired of going through the same crescendo of thoughts and emotions again and again but there was no other way out because the only possible solution to end her pain, in Dr. Ramsey's words was "unethical and complicated."

It was noon when Meera was already done with 6 cases. She also made it a point to check up on Dr. Banerji first thing in the morning when she was completely certain Ethan was in a board meeting. She was once again walking the crowded but motivated halls of Edenbrook navigating her way to her next patient's room.

Meera felt a sudden piercing pain in the middle of her chest which slowly travelled to her left arm. It started as a mild one but quickly accelerated. From the corner of her eye she saw Ethan rounding a corner and walking towards her. It had been six days since both of them were in the same corridor. Before she was ready to process anything further she broke out into a sweat and started feeling tremendous trouble in breathing properly. All she remembers next is darkness and the sound of her charts slipping away from her hand and hitting the floor. In the last moments before her unconsciousness hit she felt someone holding her close and tight, the chaos of the hospital becoming silent to her as she tried with all her might to figure out if she had the opportunity to be in Ethan's arms once again like she was in Miami but she failed.

Ethan was very annoyed when he was held all morning in a stupid board meeting and wasn't able to finish any of his work. Ethan often doesn't listen to half of the things the board members say. He utilises those hours to mentally untangle the complications of the diagnostic team patient, something which he felt was much much more important than listening to entitled doctors who aren't even good as they think themselves to be. But today it was different. He was unable to concentrate at all. His mind wandered back to the one curly haired brunette intern. These past six days Ethan had immersed himself in work. Between the interns, the diagnostic team and Naveen's mystery illness his mind was pretty busy. He took on more cases than usual, pulled all nighters at the hospital and the little time he was at home he did find some article he needed to finish writing on his laptop. This was the only way he could keep her out of his head. Atleast this is what he believed, because work, patient care and her career was the only thing standing between him and her.

He was quickly making his way towards the diagnostic team office once he was finally freed from the conference room. He turned a corner and started walking through the corridors, pinching the bridge of his nose. That's when he heard a thud and saw a chaos forming around a patient who had just fainted, up ahead in the corridor. He picked up his pace ready to yell at the intern who was responsible for this. When he was merely steps away, he stopped in his track, completely recognizing that it wasn't a patient but an intern. The intern that topped the charts in the diagnostic team competition, the intern he was so keen on avoiding, and for the first time in years his doctor senses didn't kick in. He was looking at the intern, not as Dr. Ethan Ramsey but as just Ethan.

She was nestled in the strong arms of the Averio paramedic she was friends with. Ethan snapped out as the chaos became louder, a stretcher was brought and Meera was lifted into it. Surrounded by her intern friends and Dr. Delarosa, she was being rolled towards the ER. The immediate thing Ethan did was follow her, but that's when his pager beeped. It was a code blue from Baz. Ethan stopped once again evaluating his next step. He knew the diagnostic team was already understaffed and needed him, on the other hand Meera who- who- who was exactly what to Ethan he didn't know. Ethan did the same mistake he had done in Miami, he put his work, before her inspite of what his heart wanted.

It took Ethan twenty minutes to handle the situation of the Diagnostic Team patient. After which he was on his way to the ER, determined to check up on Meera. He felt, him running after just an intern would stir up the hospital gossip. But did he care for it? He didn't, until he heard a few nurses huddled together talking in loud whispers. "I think she is pregnant, Mary told me she was feeling nauseous the other day." one of them said. "Are you serious?? Do you think it was Dr. Ramsey ?" another one asked. "I don't know, they spent two whole days alone in Miami, who knows what they were upto." the first one replied. "You know, I think you are right. Dr. Olsen told me that she wasn't even half smart and intelligent as he was and yet she is leading the competition. It's very clear Ramsey favours her." a third joined in. "Whatever it is, I don't know what he sees in her. I could be standing her naked waiting for him to fuck me, but he wouldn't budge." with this the group of nurses started giggling and moved towards the atrium their back towards Ethan. After this encounter he couldn't risk being found close to her. It's her career that was at stake. Something that he priced over his own feelings for her. Dejected, he made his way back towards his office, locking the door behind him and immersing himself in paperwork.

Thank you so much if you have read till here, it means the world to me. I will put up the second part as soon as possible, till then sending love and hugs your way! 💖

Tagging : @starrystarrytrouble @mm2305 @charisworld @choicesfanaf @potionsprefect @genevievemd

+@choicesbookclub

Let me know if you want to be added or removed. 💜

Part 2 is up now! Read it here

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crystalas · 3 years ago

Text

Medical Muddles

Medical muddles

More of the Demon Bull Divorce AU, another one shot wherein Tang gets a phone call from a panicked Mei about an exploded truck and Red Son needing the hospital. Red Son blurts out a few secrets in the process…

also send me prompts if you want more of the Demon Bull Divorce

Tang was sitting in his study at the university when he got the call from Mei, from what he managed to decipher from Mei’s panicked ramblings is that he needed to get to the garage and fast. Red Son and Mei had been working on the Noodle Truck while Pigsy and MK were at a Food Hygiene training course [she mentions something about installing a nitro and Tang made a note to tell Pigsy before he drove it again.] She had gotten a phone call from her dad and left the garage to answer it, luckily, she had managed to turn a corner when there was a massive explosion that shook the building besides her. She had found the truck’s fiery remains, a decimated garage and Red Son slumped against the far wall.

To be fair at this moment during the call Tang wasn’t that worried. He had seen Red Son take a jet bike to the face and only be temporarily stunned, heck he had seen on live TV the fire demon being ejected from a high speeding racing car onto the road and walk it off! Blunt force trauma was nothing the demon couldn’t handle. But Mei quickly swept away that peace of mind when she continued to tell him how Red Son had been impaled through the shoulder to the wall by a large piece of shrapnel. He told her to keep calm and wait for him and by no means call an ambulance!

By the time Tang had gotten there Mei was freaking out, she hadn’t mentioned the blood! It was splattered all around garage wall and the guilty piece of metal laid on the floor coated in it. Red Son was passed out and Mei was clinging to him trying to put pressure on the wound.

“Mei what happened? You know better than to remove objects from wounds like that!” Tang cried as he rushed over.

“It wasn’t me!” she squeaked as he checked him over “I was keeping him conscious when he just muttered something how he needed to get on with clearing this up and just yanked it out!”

Tang checked him over, he had cuts and scratches all over and the smaller ones where quickly healing, it was big ones that he was worried about. Red Son may have demonic healing abilities but even he could bleed out it seems.

“Help me get him into the car, we need to get him to Sandy’s” Tang declared as he tied the fabric Mei had been using tighter onto Red Son’s shoulder, the demon muttered something incoherent as they dragged him to Tang’s small city car.

“Hang on…Sandy’s?!” Mei asked “We need to get him to a hospital!”

“Trust me a hospital would only complicate things!” Tang declared as he drove off with Mei in the back with Red Son keeping him steady as Tang drove like a mad man through the streets, “He’s a demon remember? They don’t do well with purified water and saline would be the first thing they try and pump into him, not to mention blood types, physiology and all sort of other complications.”

Tang couldn’t help but remember the time Pigsy had cut himself badly while in the kitchen; if he remembered right Pigsy was trying to show off his vegetable dicing skills and it had gone very wrong with a deep gash on his hand. Tang had rushed him to A&E only for the nurse on duty to give him a look and told him that the veterinary clinic was two blocks away. This was twenty years ago mind you but it still put a bad taste in his mouth when he thought about it.

They got to Sandy who Mei had been called on the way there, he was ready and waiting for his patient when they skidded to a halt on the peer. Sandy wasted no time quickly tending to red Son’s wounds and applying medical balms and applying bandages and gauzes, giving Red Son a small cup of syrupy tea to help with the pain. Mei hovered close by and watched how Sandy worked with practised ease.

“Don’t worry Mei Red Son will be fine, he just needed a little help this time that’s all” Sandy declared once he was done “He’ll be up and about in…”

Red Son stirred and sat up groggily.

“Well right about now it seems” Sandy amended, Red Son looked around blearily before smiling at Tang and waving weakly.

“Heeeey Mr Tang…” he slurred “why do you smell like beetles and gold? And why does that make me hungry?”

“Red Son, how are you feeling?” Tang asked and sat in front of him who wobbled slightly as he tried to focus on the scholar before giving a happy smile.

“It’s so weird that you smell like that…oh hey Mr Tang, I feel fiiiiine!”

“Sandy? Is this normal?” Mei inquired looking at the gentle blue giant, he coughed nervously.

“I may have given him a bit too much pain relief…” he muttered.

“Dragon Horse girl!” Red Son cried happily and beckoned her over, “Great you’re here we need to get moving!” Red Son struggled to get up but failed due to his injuries.

“Red you need to keep still” Mei said gently as Tang pushed him back into the bed.

“No, no, no, no I need to get back to work on the truck!” Red Son declared “Pigsy can’t know I messed up; we need to fix it before he gets back!”

All three exchanged a look of disbelief, Red Son was pale and clearly not thinking straight. Mei knelt down in front of Red Son’s bedside so she could look him in the eye.

“Red the truck is totally trashed” she said slowly as if she was talking to a small child “there’s nothing we can do right now so why don’t you just rest for now…”

“Trashed? That means I need to work quicker!” he stated and wiggled out of bed but his legs gave out before he could even take a step and Mei caught him before he could collapse on the floor. “Maybe I could find a transmutation spell! I mean if noodle boy can do it with a stick I can do it with fire magic, Com’on dragon horse girl I need to get moving!”

“Red you nearly bled out, you need to rest!” she tried again but Red Son shook his head and was becoming distressed. Mei helped him back onto the bed but he just curled up gripping his hair with his good hand.

“I’m trying so hard this time!” he whimpered “I’m trying so hard and I’m still screwing up!”

“Red…”

“I can’t afford to mess up this time!” he cried out tears now pricking his eyes, “I have no where else to go! I don’t want to stop playing pretend!”

That last bit got the three’s attention and Tang could see Mei bristle angrily as she grabbed Red by the unharmed hand to get his attention.

“What do you mean ‘play pretend’?” she demanded, “This better not be some long con you and your parents cooked up to get us to lower our guard!”

“I wanna keep pretending that you guys like having me around” Red Son whimpered “I like it when you guys listen to me and pretend that I’m doing a good job…I know it’s only a matter time before you guys get sick of me and want me gone…I…I just don’t want that to end…I don’t want to go back to feeling alone and despised all the time…” at this Red Son broke down into tears. Mei’s suspicious anger dwindled away as she tried to console the now sobbing demon boy.

Tang glanced at Sandy who gestured at his kitchen, he gave a nod and Sandy went to go make some sleepy time tea. Tang was angrier at himself than anything now, he had hoped his experience with helping MK through his issues would have given him a sort of template to help Red Son through his. He had assumed that because Red Son hadn’t been showing any ill signs like MK had when helping him deal with his family and abandonment issues that Red Son was coping with it all. That clearly wasn’t the case and he now realised where he had made a very foolish mistake on his part.

MK had only a few years to build up his emotional walls and learn how to put on a façade, Red Son had centuries to work on his. After all it had taken him and Pigsy weeks to notice how much Red Son was reluctant to go home or the faded bruises.

Sandy came back with the tea and handed it to Tang to give to Red Son so not to crowd the already upset boy, the poor demon looked up at him forlornly as he approached.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered “Please don’t hate me…”

“I don’t hate you Red Son, none of us do” he said tenderly as he gave him the tea to drink “I’m more upset by the fact it’s taken nothing short of you loosing a couple of pints of blood and being off your head on pain killers for you to be emotionally honest with us.”

“I’m sorry…I’ll try not to mess up anymore…” Red Son mumbled.

“Just drink this and try to rest, ok? We’ll talk more when you wake up.” Tang exclaimed Red Son downed the tea before flopping back onto the bed, his eyes fluttered shut and soon he was asleep.

Red woke up slowly his shoulder hurting like a bitch along with other body parts. Red Son and pain were old acquaintances at this point so he took note of what might need attention as he tried to move his aching limbs; he attempted to recollect what happened.

He was working on the Noodle Truck; Mei was there he remembered that because they were discussing the logistics of installing a nitro into the truck. He was doing some routine maintenance while checking where improvements could be made when Mei got a phone call, he had begun to check the oil levels when he heard her answer the call.

“Hey dad! How’s things?”

That innocent question struck a chord in Red Son that made his heart clenched painfully and then he did something he hadn’t done in what seemed like centuries…he lost control of his powers. Before he could even think about it flames licked up around his body and normally that wouldn’t have been issue had he not been currently working near flammable liquids.

There was an explosion and he remembered being thrown against a wall from the blast, aching agony erupted down his spine followed by several sharp pains across his body the biggest one in his shoulder. His ears were ringing as he saw Mei rush up to him calling to him through what felt like walls of cotton wool. He saw the truck…oh god what a mess he needed to fix that before Pigsy saw it…he tried to get up and only then saw the large chunk of metal pinning him to the wall.

Mei tried to fight him as he grabbed the metal and tore it out, by the gods that hurt but he needed to get moving, there was work to be done and besides this wasn’t the first time he had done this. However, when he tried to cauterize the wound shut Mei was putting her hands over it with her jacket and getting in the way. He didn’t want to burn her by accident but she wouldn’t let go of him… he didn’t remember what happened after that because things got very fuzzy very quickly.

His last thoughts before he blacked out was that he needed to remember to grab a mop there was messy puddles splattered all over the place…

He finally opened his eyes and looked around and saw Pigsy sitting next to his bed, wait how did he get here? Oh crap Pigsy was here! He hadn’t fixed the truck!

Pigsy glanced down at him and noticed he was awake, Red Son felt his gaze burn into his skull.

“How you feeling?” the pig man asked gruffily “Heard you got hurt badly”

“I’m fine!” Red Son blurted “I’ll be up and moving in no time, don’t you worry demons heal fast…” he sat up and tried to move he wobbled but stayed up straight. “I’ll get back to work now okay?”

“Sit back down!” Pigsy barked and Red Son looked at him annoyed to be ordered around but saw that look of displeasure and sat back down. Cold dread now filled Red Son’s chest, he hadn’t fixed the truck he had left a huge mess and Pigsy was obviously mad at him. But if he was going to get punished then he was going to at least face it like the demon prince he was.

“My apologies, as soon as I am able I will repair the…” he started but Pigsy just glared at him even more angrily.

“You seriously think I’m worried about the truck?!” he snapped “Tang told me what happened! You had been skewered and nearly bled to death!”

“Oh…” Red Son stuttered.

“Don’t worry about the truck, MK has trashed and reassembled that thing so many times I’ve lost count.” he explained,

“So…you’re not mad?” Red Son ventured softly.

“Listen Red, I’m more upset about the fact that you are more concerned about a freaking hunk of junk than your own health!” he explained.

“So, I can stay?” came the quiet reply.

“You thought I was gonna chuck you out because of this? Red if I did that MK would have been out on his butt several times over!” Pigsy explained “What matters is that you’re ok, you really scared us there”

“You’re really not mad at me?” Red Son asked again, the idea that he wasn’t getting punished for this wasn’t quite sinking in yet.

“No, I’m not mad and I’m not going to kick you out or punish you or whatever else messed up thing you got cooked up in your head!” Pigsy declared “What we will be doing is talking about this idea you got that your place in this family is based solely on what work you can do, cos it ain’t! you’re a good kid Red you don’t need to keep proving your value, you need to be able to see that we care despite what you can or can’t do…”

Red Son was looking down at his fists that clench and unclenched at the blankets on the bed. Pigsy was worried for a second that none of that had sunk in and if anything he might have made things worse somehow until he heard a hoarse whisper.

“You said…This family…” Red Son repeated so quietly “I have a place in this family? You really want me around?”

“Yes!” he sighed happily and put his hand on Red Son’s arm. “Yes we do!”

#monkie kid red son #red son #monkie kid pigsy #tang being a good father figure #demon bull divorce AU #lmk mei

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rainydaymiddleearthimagines · 4 years ago

Note

What about Aragorn x witch reader? The night of Helms Deep battle she helps Aragorn put on his armor and get ready and she tells Aragorn she will keep him safe and assure him that they will survive? Aragorn was everyone's emotional support that night the man needs someone to do the same for him🥺

This request is so cool! Let’s do this!

You were a bit of an odd case amongst the court of Théoden. The man had been ill, years prior to everything that was going on now. You had saved his life with an unconventional remedy and the man started asking you for more assistance. Or at least this was the story everyone was told. Your days amongst his court were typically very pleasant though. This however was one of the worst days of your life. The man that you had spent multiple years helping had betrayed you and stuck you in the dungeons.

You paced when you were bored and when your legs were too tired you sat. Éowyn was the only thing keeping you alive, you being too frail now to even function. Fucking Grima allowed Saruman to seep into Théoden’s mind, poisoning his boy and soul.

You laid on the floor, clinging to the only crack of sunlight you could find, unaware that Gandalf was there now with the future heroes of Middle Earth. You coughed, sick from the lack of basic human needs and struggling to remain alive. In one last poor attempt to fight you said “help”. You weren’t expecting an answer.

Gandalf turned, looking around. “Is there something wrong Gandalf?” Legolas asked. “Do you have a wizard in your court?” Gandalf asked Théoden who was now well and alive. Théoden’s eyes widened and Éowyn took off in the direction of the dungeons. The group all followed her, finding you barely breathing. “My gods.” Théoden gaped at the sight of you chained to the wall, eyes tired, skin pale. “Get this woman some water!” Gandalf demanded. A guard ran over with a pitcher of water. “It’s Grima he let--” “We know...” “Saruman has betrayed us all” “We know.” Éowyn soothed, you leaning against her. “I’m so sorry Lady Y/n.” Théoden said. “I should apologize to you my king... I let you fall into the hands of Grima, I should have been more vigilant.” You muttered. Aragorn looked in your eyes, you meeting his gaze. You seemed exhausted just by the mere act of standing.

“Sir Aragorn can you take her to the-” Aragorn needed no further instruction, lifting you up. He walked to the healers, you still in his arms. “I’ve seen you before.” you muttered, groggily. “I do not recall when we have met.” Aragorn said. “It was not a meeting... It was a vision.” You muttered. Aragorn tensed. “You are Isildur’s-” “No. You’re mistaken, my lady.” He halted.

Hours passed before you joined everyone in the main hall again. “Lady Y/n, it is good to see you recovered.” Théoden said as you walked. Aragorn was shocked at the sight of you. No longer were you frail, no longer were you pale and close to death, you were beautiful. Your hair was pulled back but you were a dress similar to Éowyn but it was blue, reminding Aragorn of Arwen. You stood up straight, bowing to the king. “Now for a proper introduction. This is Lady Y/n L/n of Rohan. She is our court mage.” Theoden introduced. “I do not deserve such a warm welcome your majesty.” you said softly. “Nonsense. She’s more of a daughter to me than an assistant.” Théoden said. “You speak more kindly than I deserve.” You muttered. “Y/n, where is this coming from?” Eowyn asked. “I should’ve done more than what I did to keep Grima away from the both of you.” you muttered. Aragorn noticed your eyes, sad as they looked forward. “My dear girl, an army couldn’t have swayed my way once Saruman took control.” He said.

You still seemed remorseful, looking down. “Lady Y/n, it is an honor to finally meet the lady of the lake.” Gandalf said, Legolas gaping. You turned. “You are the Lady of the Lake?” Legolas asked. “What has earned you that title I wonder?” Gimli asked. Aragorn was equally as confused as the dwarf on the title. “You know not of the lady of the lake--” “Shh!” You hushed. Footsteps came from behind the door before it opened, two terrified looking children stepping into the hall. “These two children rode in from a village in the west.” A guard said. You frowned. “Then we are in need of evacuation.” you said. You kept a stern face, Aragorn raising a brow until you looked the little girl in the eyes and kneeled to her level.

“What is your name?” You asked, your voice soft and expression softening. “Freda- my name is Freda.” She whimpered. You brushed the hair from her face. “The children will remain with Lady Éowyn, my lord I request that we-” “We will send our citizens to Helm’s Deep.” Théoden said. You nodded. “You will help the citizens--” “No my lord.” you halted. He rose a brow, as did Aragorn and Legolas. “I charge with the men, you need protection outside of a sword.” you stated. He sighed. “I cannot ask this of you. It is like letting my own child go out there.” He said. “Nor can I ask you to lead towards death, for it is like sending my father to his doom.” you said simply. He sighed, Aragorn looking at you. “Then you charge with us.” He said. You nodded, turning on your heel.

The next time Aragorn saw you, you were in armor, your hair pulled back out of your face. You seemed quiet, watching the new addition to the group in silence. You rode next to Aragorn, not speaking as you listened to Gimli’s rather odd tales of home. “So your title.” Aragorn started. You looked over, nodding. “You’re referring to this ‘lady of the lake’ business I suppose.” you shrugged. “What did earn you that name?” Gimli asked. You chuckled, looking ahead at Théoden as he rode. You glanced at your wrists for a moment, them being covered by your vambraces.

“I was almost dead. Goblins had stormed my village and nearly took my life. They left me for dead in a lake not far from it.” You muttered. Theoden looked at you with a sad look. “Something in me wanted to keep fighting. It wanted to stay alive.” Aragorn noticed that look in your eyes, it being far off and pained. “So when they least expected it, when they were removing the sword from my brother’s corpse all they saw was a woman with glowing white eyes emerge from the waters before they were struck down and killed with my powers.” You explained. Aragorn looked at the sword on your side. “Was that your brother’s then?” He asked. “Yes.” you nodded. “How did you end up with Lord Theoden?” Gimli asked. You smiled kindly to the dwarf. “I went unconscious after using my abilities. He found me, asking if I wished to stay with his niece. I said no after first but not long after he found me he fell ill. My mother taught me the ways of medicine and I nursed him back to health. After helping him his villagers started coming to me. After two years, I agreed to help him.” You answered. “You seem happy here.” Aragorn said. You looked at Éowyn who was smiling at something a villager said. “I am.” you answered.

Aragorn liked that smile. It was beautiful, it reminded him of home. “I know of an elven woman who is skilled with water magic.” Aragorn said. “I stayed with the woman you are speaking of.” You said. He blinked. “Arwen Undomiel is the woman you are speaking of, correct?” you asked. He nodded slowly, raising a brow. “Before I lived in the village I stayed with the elves. I spent most of my time in Lothlorien but I also spent some of my time in Rivendell, learning the art of healing from Elrond.” You said. “Why not stay with your family?” Gimli asked. “Power without control is a dangerous thing sir Gimli.” you said. “You trained with us?” Legolas asked. “Yes. I have indeed met your father. Great man. Stern. But great.” you said. Legolas seemed to tense up at the mention of his father. “There are many strange things about you Y/n.” Aragorn stated. “I know. But strange and mysterious is more fun that way, don’t you think?” You asked, clearly amused by the man’s confusion. He gave you a small smile, your heart doing a small backflip as you looked at him.

“Are you close with Lady Arwen?�� you asked. “She is practically my sister.” He admitted. You looked over confused. “Elrond raised me.” he said. You rose a brow. “Then how have we never crossed paths if you were in the same places that I was.” you asked. “I am much older than I appear, my lady.” He said. You looked at the man confused. “I am 87.” He said, you blinking with surprise. “You have seen many winters my lord when I have only seen 25.” you said. “You are wise for a woman who is so young.” He said, smiling. Again your heart pounded in your ears. “I have seen many things in this world that provided me with wisdom.” you told him, smiling at him. He felt this strange feeling in his chest.

You noticed a bird in the sky, sticking your arm out so it would perch. It landed, you looking at it as you fed it a cracker from your pack. “There are enemies nearby.” you said. Aragorn rose a brow. “You’ve kept a sentinel?” He asked. “Yes I have.” You answered before lifting your arm, the hawk flying away. You drew your sword, Theoden riding off to the side instructing the men to protect and fight as best as they could. You all rode away from the group, deterring the enemy away from the refugees.

Aragorn immediately noticed you abandoning the horse you rode in on, sending it back to the group before you swung your sword, cutting down an orc. You fought hard, Aragorn noticing your skill. But the large thing he noticed was your habit of keeping close to Théoden. By no means was the man unskilled for battle, he was fighting very well. You though, had this raw energy of fighting that seemed untouchable.

You stabbed an enemy close to you, noticing a warg hurdling towards Aragorn before you stuck out your hand, an invisible force knocking it back out of the way of him. It seemed annoyed by your intervention, standing back up. “Shit.” you breathed as it prepared to charge. It sprinted forward, readying your blade before someone blocked for you, attacking the warg before it could hit you. You looked at him, nodding as a thank you before another warg bit your arm, dragging you as it ran. Aragorn frowned, about to stab it before he realized that his boot had latched itself to the saddle that an orc rode on. “CUT IT FREE!” you yelled, smacking the warg to make it let go. It was in vain as Aragorn made one last attempt to do as he was told before the warg launched itself off of the cliff.

You managed to get free, cutting the loose leather strap of the boot away, pulling Aragorn close. “What are you-” “Trust me” was the last thing Aragorn heard.

Your bodies collided with the waters, it feeling like concrete when you landed. You both washed up on shore, you being a bit more lucid than Aragorn who was still unconscious. “Spirits -o nature hear nin plea. Help nin help nin núr. Help nin help hon núr (spirits of nature, hear my plea, please help me help my people. Help me help him)” You whispered, your voice traveling on the wind before you closed your eyes. You felt something hanging over you, you looking up at a horse… the horse you sent back to the group. You pulled yourself up by the reins, lifting Aragorn up. He groggily climbed onto the horse, you doing the same before it rode on.

You chose to rest while riding, Aragorn slowly waking up. He was leaning against something. He leaned back, his vision slowly returning before seeing you, slightly hunched over as you slept. He was grateful for you. You had saved his life taking most of that fall and he had been much appreciative of that. He noticed that peaceful look on your face, your eyes closed, hair damp from the waters of the river and cheeks slightly rosy from the cold. He held you closer, providing his body heat to keep you warm and you tensed up at first.

It wasn’t until dusk that you actually woke up, Aragorn holding the reins to the horse. You leaned up after realizing that you had fallen asleep against him. “You’re awake.” He noticed. “Yes….” you muttered before noticing something. You leaned forward, looking at the horizon and frowning. You took the reins from Aragorn, making the horse ride faster. “Y/n, What are you doing?” He asked. “There are forces coming from the west, we don’t have much time before they reach Helm’s Deep!” you said.

So you rode, clearly worried. Aragorn couldn’t stop looking at you, something was different about you. Maybe it was the fact that you were no longer a frail woman who needed assistance to even do so much as walk. Maybe it was the fact that you were so determined to save your people from a potentially hopeless battle. Aragorn found himself admiring you.

You rode through the lands, encouraging your horse to go as fast as it could before arriving at the gates. Éowyn was overwhelmed when she saw you, her hugging you on sight. “You’re alive! I knew it!” She said. “Where is Lord Théoden?” you asked. “He is in the hall, Y/n I don’t think he--” “Forces are coming and fast. We must fight, we do not have a choice.” you said before walking past her. You shoved the doors open, walking into the hold. “Lady Y/n!” Théoden gasped, hugging you. “The people are in danger my lord, we must fight. We have no choice” You said. “We do not have the men-” “Then we must call for aid my lord, we have to do something!” you said, urging him to fight. “Y/n, you act as if we have resources to do so.” he said. “We do, we can ask for Gondor’s aid!” you said. “Gondor!?” “Yes my lord! If we call for aid-” “Calling Gondor would be useless.They will do nothing!” He said. “My lord if we fight with only our men we risk leaving them all to die.” You said. He let out a frustrated sigh. “If you do not wish to call for aid then I could-” “No.” He halted you. You frowned. “Sire, our people need protection, if you would just let me-” “I will not allow you to do that Y/n, do not press this any further.” Théoden halted. “Sire-” “I REFUSE Y/N, NOW STOP!” He yelled. You swallowed hard, Aragorn looking at you as you pushed past him and walked out.

You started taking off your arm braces, Aragorn walking after you. “Y/n, there may yet be hope.” He said. You shook your head. “So long as it is only our men that charge, there is no hope for survival sir Aragorn.” You breathed, braiding your hair. He frowned, putting a hand on your shoulder. “There is still hope Y/n, if you would trust me.” He said. You looked in his eyes, before looking down. “There is one last thing that we can do my lord…” you said with a sigh. You looked at your wrists, the markings of chains embedded on your skin. “What is that?” He asked. You looked at him and shook your head. “I am… Not what you believe me to be.” You told him. “What is it that you mean?” He asked. “My lord I am not in Théoden’s court as a healer or a sorceress.” you said. He raised a brow. “Then what are you there for?” He asked. “I am a weapon.” you answered.

He looked at you. “I am not to use my abilities unless it is life or death for it may kill me.” You admitted. Aragorn frowned. “Then no, we will not use that.” He said. “We have no choice, if it is my life for hundreds then so be it.” you said. “I cannot lose you!” He said. “Why? Because you care for me!? I care too much for my people than to sacrifice their winning chance because you decided to feel something for me.” you snapped. He sighed, closing his eyes. “If we lose you, who’s to say that sacrifice would not be in vain?” He asked. You sighed. “I must try Aragorn. Even if it does kill me.” you said softly. He closed his eyes and you put a hand to his cheek.

“Im am sorrui an what cin lothron lose Aragorn. But know i whatever does happen. Im ceri- care an cin. (I am sorry for what you may lose Aragorn. But know that whatever does happen... I do care for you.)” You said softly. He opened his eyes, looking at you. “I should find the armory.” you said, clearing your throat and leaving.

Hours had past, the sun was falling on the horizon and war was creeping closer. You had remained in the armory, watching children who shouldn’t be prepping to die, prepare for death. You looked over, Aragorn putting on his armor in silence. You walked over, tightening a strap he couldn’t reach. He cleared his throat. “Are you really… going out there?” he asked. “Unless a miracle happens then I will make whatever sacrifice I have to.” you muttered. Aragorn looked down, clearly saddened by this. First he lost a woman who was practically his sister by sailing away to the Undying Lands. Now he was losing someone all over again.

You heard a loud horn, looking up confused. “That is no orc horn.” Legolas noticed. You rushed off with Aragorn, walking out to see elves. You paused, looking at the sight in front of you. “Who… called for aid?” You asked, looking at the elven general. “I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. An alliance once existed between elves and men. Long ago we fought and died together.” Haldir said. Aragorn smiled. “We come to honor that allegiance.” Haldir added. “Mae govannen, Haldir. (Welcome, Haldir)” Aragorn greeted. He hugged the man, earning a small smile from you. “You are most welcome!” Aragorn said clearly relieved by the man’s presence alone.

Morale boosted greatly as you continued to prepare for war. Théoden found you putting on your breastplate. “Y/n… a word.” He said. You turned around. “Yes, my lord?” you asked. “I apologize for yelling at you earlier, it was wrong of me.” He said. He noticed you didn’t put on your vambraces. “Are you planning on using your abilities?” he asked. You swallowed. “...I saw those forces Théoden… There’s too many… We will lose.” you muttered. “...Do what you think is best.” He said after a long silence. You looked up. “Sire-” “you have always done what was best for our people. You’ve fought strongly and bravely and when I said you were like my daughter, I meant it.” Théoden said. “Sire… Do you think I should use my abilities?” you asked. “I think you should only use them in a moment you think it’s truly needed.” He said. You nodded before he walked out.

You walked to the wall, standing next to Aragorn. “You seem a bit more confident.” you muttered, looking at the man as he adjusted his boot. “Indeed. We have more aid.” he said. “Aragorn I..” you sighed and shook your head, him raising a brow. “Y/n if you wish to say something I’d advise you to say it before we possibly die.” he said. You rolled your eyes. "Great job on boosting the morale sir Aragorn." You muttered. "Speak now or forever hold your peace." He said sarcastically. You sighed. "... You've been pleasant to be around. And I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. I want you to know that whatever happens out there… I'm glad that I am fighting next to you. And I'm glad that I knew you." You said to him. Aragorn rose, looking at you. You faced the battlefield, trying to ignore the gaze of the man.

Course that became more difficult to ignore when Aragorn pulled you into a kiss. You sunk into it, your heart beating in your ears as you nearly collapsed into the man's arms. "I am glad to have you with me." He said softly. You nodded slowly before he walked off to investigate the other groups on the walls.

Rain poured around you as twilight finally set and you could see the forces approaching. Aragorn soon came back to a place on the wall, looking at you as you stared at the forces gathering and then the chain tattoo on your wrists. Aragorn looked at you before taking your hand. You looked at him and then turned back to the battlefield. You had a dagger in your freehand, you looking at your wrist and then the battlefield again. "....Aragorn?" You muttered. He looked over. "Hmm?" He asked. "Thank you for being here." You said softly. He smiled and you looked back at the battlefield. You slid the dagger back into your holster, looking at the orcish army before you.

Perhaps you would live to see another day.

#aragorn #aragorn imagine #aragorn x reader

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