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sinnoman · 4 years ago

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Letting Diavolo Go To The Human World Is The Same As Letting The Pigeon Drive The Bus… Do Not Do It!

tw: cursing. also, minus luke.

The Demon Prince’s fascination of the human world wasn’t a new thing to you. However, it did surprise you how much he did not know of the customs and cultures humans had. He’s centuries older than you can imagine and he’s never impulsively gone up there before?

When you asked him about it, he gave you wide grin. “I’ve only gone up there for conferences and meetings. I’ve never gone up there simply to have fun. I have so much work and it takes up too much time.”

You frowned a little disheartened that Diavolo hasn’t been able to experience or enjoy a trip to the human world without it being work related. You were about to suggest a proposition as Barbatos added on, “Speaking of conferences, your four o’clock meeting is about to start in ten minutes, Young Master.”

The bright smile on Diavolo’s face fell a little. “I’m sorry, MC, our weekly tea has to be cut a little short.” You reassured him it was no problem as he got up from his seat and walked you to the door. He told Barbatos to escort you to the House of Lamentation. The minute Diavolo was out of earshot, Barbatos leaned towards your ear with a strained smile on his face.

“The Young Master is able to do what he wants. However, no matter what he does, do not let him go to the Human World by himself and with no motive.”

You didn’t understand why Diavolo wasn’t allowed to go up there without being supervised. He was a grown man and the literal Future King of Hell. Surely, he could take care of himself. So a few days later you asked him if the two of you could to the Human World together and he agreed. What could possibly go wrong?

Oh, you were wrong. You were so wrong!

It’s been less than twenty-four hours and now the both of you are sitting in a jail cell. Your left hand was sticky, your clothes were damp with rainwater and you were sure the guard kept eyeing you up and down as if you were insane. Diavolo sat next to you with a guilty look on his face. He mouthed a “sorry” at you, making you giggle while tearing up at the predicament you both were in. He could only laugh with you as you laugh and cry at the same time.

When the guard had told you were allowed one phone call (courtesy to Diavolo for compelling him to do so) you immediately headed towards the jail phone and punched in the number. You were a little surprised that the Devildom phone numbers worked but you didn’t really dwell on the thought.

You just hoped the person you called would bail the both of you out.

LUCIFER

Sigh…

Someone get him five shots.

When you called Lucifer to tell him that you and Diavolo went to the Human World for a day trip, he was hoping you were going to ask him if he wanted anything before the both of you came back.

What he wasn’t expecting was (in less than 24 hours) for you to tell him not only have the both of you created an unnatural phenomenon, you managed to commit three felons, crashed a car that neither of you have a license to drive and managed to get caught of all things.

When you told him that you got arrested he was debating on letting you go to prison so you could learn your lesson. Then he heard Diavolo’s voice in the back and started choking on his wine.

How in the three realms did Diavolo managed to get arrested? And how did you (the one he thought was as responsible as him) allow this to happen? What do you mean you let Diavolo drive the car? He has a butler for a reason, MC, obviously hE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE—

Was about to lecture you about the danger you put yourself (Diavolo) in and what the consequences when he heard Diavolo’s, “I don’t want to go back.”

Immediately gathers everyone to go and pick you both up. Has the bail money ready to go, makes sure he thinks of everything that can go wrong and gives it a solution and prepares to drag Diavolo out that jail cell himself.

When he gets there he gives you a glare that could soil cheese in 2.5 seconds.

When he goes to bail you both and the guard tells him you both can’t be released tonight, he snaps. Immediately threatens the guards with the unholiest torture threats you’ve ever heard. The guard ends up caring a little less about his job and a little more about his life and let’s you both go.

Diavolo doesn’t leave the cell. Father help him, his patience is running thin.

The next two hours is just him, Barbatos and Diavolo arguing.

“Young Master, for the last time. Get out the cell.” “NO!” “Can we just leave him—” “Quiet, Belphegor! We cannot leave him. Lord Diavolo GET OUT THE CELL!”

MAMMON

Impressed but at the same time mostly concerned.

When you told him what happened, his face started to get paler with each word. How did the two of you manage to do all this in less than a day? And here he thought he was a troublemaker…

Then the words finally process in his head. “Ya got in a car crash?! Human what we’re ya thinkin’? What if ya died? I don’t care who was drivin’ I’m never letting ya near a car again!”

Looking and thinking for someway to profit off of this. Then realizes, as the appointed human watcher, if Lucifer found out that he let you get arrested ON TOP of Diavolo being there with you while he made money off of it, his head would be ripped off.

In a state of fear in panic for both his life and yours, he goes to pick you both up alone.

It’s not his first time encountering the police. He’s been arrested before for illegal gambles, dealing, fights and such its not hard to guess what for. He will tell you though that he’s actually not the first brother to get arrested.

When he gets there the first thing he does is rush to you and make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t really care that Diavolo is there too. He just has to make sure that you are okay. All human parts are intact? Okay. Good. Let’s go.

Then the guard tells him that he can’t let you both leave yet because you need to be trialed.

Uh oh. Frustrated Mammon is here.

Immediately starts arguing with the guard. He gets so angry he’s about to start throwing punches. That’s until the guards throws a handcuff on him and shoves him in the cell with you.

He gets a phone call too, though.

You tell him to call Lucifer or Barbatos and then Diavolo tells him not to call either of them because he really doesn’t want to go back. Suddenly, Diavolo and him are best friends.

You command him to call Lucifer though and he bites his lip. The ringing of the jail phone has his heart pounding. When the phone connects, the words spill and he mentally cursing at you.

Long story short, Lucifer is the one that gets you both out and leaves Mammon there.

LEVIATHAN

Immediately asks you why you called him of all people. Doesn’t hesitate to try and refer you to someone else.

Then immediately remembers it’s like that this is exactly like that one anime where the—

When you told him why you got arrested he got extremely nervous, ESPECIALLY when he heard Diavolo’s voice in the back correcting you when you left a detail or two out. Not because he’s of the intensity of the crimes but, because he knew Lucifer would absolutely strangle you.

Is already panicking and looking for a solution. Is trying to remember what his brothers had done when he got arrested. (Spoiler Alert! He was the first brother out of all of them to get arrested. He punched a child in the face at an anime convention. The kid snitched and told his mom, cough cough, little shit, cough cough. Does he regret it? Nope! In his opinion, the kid deserved it.)

He voices his anger when he realizes that he has to use manga money to bail you both out. How could you do this to him? He thought you were his Henry. Turns out you’re just a fish…

He blogs and video records the minute he gets up there. It’s going to go viral, he just knows it. Then he gets a message from Lucifer with a smiley face and a link to his blog and he’s panicking. He has to get you two out of there. NOW!

Simply just throws money at the guard, not really caring if you two can’t leave just yet. He’s getting you two out of there one way or another before Lucifer gets here. Listen MC he doesn’t care that he’s making things worse, he refuses to die without having his 93849281849th Ruri-Chan marathon.

Then the dilemma of Diavolo not wanting to leave hits him and his patience is running thin. Why of all people did you have to get arrested with the person needed most in the Devildom?

It becomes too late when he finally manages to start convincing Diavolo to come back home. Lucifer walks through the door.

And Levi summons Lotan.

SATAN

Mr. Agent of Chaos #1 is so proud and impressed with you.

Don’t get him wrong, he was worried about you. Getting arrested and caught for your crimes is a big deal. Yet, you managed to commit three felonies before you got caught? Love, he’s invested.

He has so many questions for you. What felonies did you commit? What was your favorite felony? How’d you get caught? What do you think was the first mistake you made that got you behind bars? If you could do this all over again do you think you would get caught? Here, let him get a pen and paper so you can tell him every little detail of what happened so he can make it fool proof for you.

Then, he here’s Diavolo say he’d be glad to provide the details of what happened and now he realizes what the big issue is.

Oh he can’t wait to hold this against Lucifer’s head. Wait, let him go tell Belphie!

He has everything prepared and is ready to bail you out. You knew he was reliable.

If you see him take a picture of the two of you curled up together in the cell. It’s for research purposes. Totally not for Belphie and him to hold against Lucifer. You can’t tell him to delete it, his printer is already making hundreds of copies.

Turns out Satan isn’t as reliable as you thought. This is because five minutes and a broken desk later, he’s thrown in cell too.

He knows he should get a call too but the guard doesn’t tell him he gets one. Starts cursing so quickly you can’t even make out the words he’s saying.

When Diavolo tells him it might be better that he doesn’t get a phone call, it clicks in his head. Who needs to be bailed out when you can just escape, duh.

He doesn’t even get to the good part when he sees his brothers, Simeon, Solomon, and Barbatos walk through the door. Turns out Belphie’s sleep talking doesn’t have a filter.

He gets a little upset after this whole ordeal. He didn’t even get to try his escape plan…

ASMODEUS

Honey, he can’t relate. It sucks to suck.

Like Lucifer, he has never been arrested. He’s been close to but whenever that happens he just distracts the police from doing it… wink wink.

He knows and seen how stingy police can be with arresting people so he immediately feels for you. And when you’re telling him why you’re in a jail cell, he immediately starts getting ready to come charm you out of that cell. Then he hears Diavolo’s voice.

On second thought…

He immediately has thoughts on how Lucifer would react if he found out he were some how involved in this. Yeah… no, he rather have skin blemishes for the rest of his life.

No matter how nervous he is, he marches his perky butt up there and goes to get you both.

When he gets there he immediately goes to baby you. Checking for any injuries and makes comments on how you’re wet and such. Then he takes in his surroundings.

You’ve been here for how many hours? Oh no. Honey, look. There’s rust everywhere, unidentifiable liquids on the ground. Ew, is that a dead roach caught in a spiderweb? Why were you sitting on the small bench they had? Do you know how many gross people sit on it too? Don’t even get him started on the smell of this cell. Once the both of you go home, straight to the bath.

He goes to pay the bail but then the guard tells them they can’t leave just yet. He knows it’s time to work his magic.

You owe him. The guard is grimy and smells like he hasn’t showered in months. Not only that they’re very persistent at about their job. Charming them is taking longer than he originally had planned.

And then he realizes that Lord Diavolo does not want to leave. Oh boy.

Explains that Lord Diavolo can go anywhere he wants after this, he doesn’t care. That was until you interrupted him saying neither of you can leave without him. He really starts to stress. Why did this have to happen to him?

Somehow and in someway, the both of you manage to convince the redhead to go home. When you get to the House of Lamentation, he’s pulling you straight to his bathroom.

BEELZEBUB

You made him drop his macaroons… his macaroons. He just got them… :(

He is so confused on how you managed to do all of this in a short amount of time? Then he realizes what you just said and he starts stress eating. Poor baby, you kinda regret calling him because it really stresses him out.

“What do you mean you got into a car crash? Are you okay? Are you sure? Don’t worry I’m coming to get you.”

Then he hears Diavolo’s “take your time” and now he’s really stress eating. Not only does he have to bail you out, he has to bail out Lord Diavolo too? Oh boy, the amount of stress you’ve given him is making him have stomach tremors.

He was thinking about getting the both of you alone. Then he started having thoughts of all the human world food and realizes he wouldn’t be able to go alone without getting distracted. So, he brings Belphie to keep him on track.

His frown grows deeper when he sees the two of you curled into each other in the corner of the cell. He ignores how Belphie’s laughing and taking pictures of you both before walking over to you two.

He didn’t bring any bail money. Like Levi, ignores how the guard is saying that they can’t let the both of you leave. Simply pushes the guard off of him when they try to stop him. He also rips the bars from the ground and throws them aside. C’mon, we’re leaving.

Then Diavolo doesn’t want to leave and that’s where Beel gets upset. He’s hungry, Lord Diavolo. He doesn’t have time to be fooling around. His stomach his about to make earthquakes.

In less than three seconds, he’s now playing tug-a-war with Diavolo. Trying to ignore the empty promises of royal dinners the Prince is throwing at him.

“Lord Diavolo, we’re leaving!” “I will let you have anything you want to eat from the Palace is you let me stay!” “WE ARE LEAVING!”

BELPHEGOR

He knew he should have slept through the phone call.

He was actually wondering where you were. You missed their daily nap session. If he wasn’t too tired, he would have gone looking for you earlier.

When you explain to him what happened there’s two opposing sides to his thought. On one hand he’s like “What do you mean you committed three felonies?” in an amusing way. Lowkey is kinda proud. The most he’s been arrested for is fight with some mom who told him he couldn’t sleep at some park with his pillow.

On the second hand he’s like “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU COMMITTED THREE FELONIES?” He’s stuck on the part on how you could have died in less than 24 hours. He’s more angry at the fact you’re making him worried about you then at the fact he has to go pick you up.

When he went to go get Beel so they could go pick you up, Mammon overheard and started making a whole commotion. You can only guess what happened next when eight demons, a sorcerer, and an angel showed up at the police station.

When he sees not only you behind bars, but Diavolo too, he’s really wishing he slept through your call.

He snaps when the guard tells him he can’t go home with you just yet. Starts picking a fight the guard. It’s a screaming match before it turns into fist fight. He’s not leaving here until he makes a point Lucifer. He’s winning this fight one way or another! You can’t stop him!!

When he hears that Diavolo doesn’t want to leave, he doesn’t care. He drags you out the cell and leaves the Prince there. Lucifer can deal with him. He just wants to go home.

When you guys do finally get to go home, he’s covered in scratches and a couple of bruises. He’s using you as a body pillow tonight whether you like it or not.

DIAVOLO

He’s so happy.

He doesn’t care that he’s committed serious crimes and is now sitting in this jail cell. He also doesn’t really care that it could potentially hurt his reputation as a ruler. He’s so happy he’s got come up here and do things he’s never done before. And he’s most happy that he got to do this with you!

And although it’s mostly his fault, he pretends as if none of it matters and keeps reliving the moments in head. (He’s sorry, truly. But when he gets so excited he just simply forgets about everything else and focuses on what he wants to do. Laws and regulations; out the window. It’s Diavolo time!)

At first you were more than a little upset with him. But then he couldn’t contain himself and started telling you about what happened today as if you weren’t there. The words are coming out his mouth so fast it gets to a point where he gets all tongue tied and he’s barely saying words.

He tells you every single detail all over again and every emotion he felt within that moment and thought he had too. And the more and more he speaks, that anger you felt diminishes. You’re happy that he’s happy and enjoyed himself although this day hadn’t particularly gone to plan.

Even when Barbatos and Lucifer come to pick you both up, he’s smiling through it. Especially when they both are lecturing you, it goes through one ear and out the other. He’s glad he was able to experience this.

Oh and don’t think it’ll stop here. He basically tries to convince you to go with him again.

BARBATOS

Longer sigh…

He warned you.

He told you not to do it and look what happened. He hopes you learned your lesson.

He also knew this was going to happen regardless of his warning. He tried preventing it, really. But no matter what alterations he made to the timeline, you both still ended in a jail cell.

When you told him what chaos the both of you have caused in less than a day, his anxiety spikes. You let Lord Diavolo drive a car? Of course he’s going to tell you he knows how to drive. Just because he tells you doesn’t mean he actually knows MC—

He’s upset with you but at the same time he feels for you too. He knows how his Young Master gets when he’s too excited. There’s nothing stopping him, he’s really the definition of one-track minded.

He tells you to give him a few seconds to gather a few things before hanging up. You thought it was going to take a half hour at most but then Barbatos is walking through the station door three seconds later.

The guard lets the both of you go willingly and with no money. You suspect it’s Barbatos doing and when you ask him about it, he acts as if he knows nothing.

Actually, he covers the entire mess completely by altering time. He can’t have people finding out Lord Diavolo had gotten arrested by human authorities, can he now? Nothing pops up when you search for news reports on the web.

He lets Lucifer deal with your punishment as he deals with Lord Diavolo’s. However, he does lecture you about it the next time he sees you. Oh, and the two of you alone together? Never happening again.

SOLOMON

You don’t get to finish your explanation before he’s laughing in your face.

Mr. Agent of Chaos #2 is so amused by this, he wants to hear exactly how you got yourself in this mess. He’s even more surprised that you allowed yourself to get caught. You have pacts with seven demon lords and you thought to not use any of them?? This is more entertaining than Asmo at a frat house.

WAIT DID HE JUST HEAR LORD DIAVOLO’S VOICE TOO?

He starts laughing even harder. The Demon Prince got arrested too? This is comedy gold. Wait a little while longer, he needs to document it for future references. Quick question: what type of unnatural phenomenon did the two of you create? Describe it to him.

He knows what the police are like but never has had to deal with them himself. He can’t be shady if he hasn’t avoided the police for a decade or so. What? He got tired of paying taxes…

He goes alone. When he sees you and the large demon smiling at you he starts to laugh again. It’s to the point where he’s wheezing and bending over. He wipes tears from his eyes afterwards. This is priceless. Please let him take a selfie with the both of you in the back.

He goes over to magically open the cell until the guard tells him he can’t do that and you guys can’t leave. He looks over at the guard and mumbles a few words in latin. Now the guard’s a duck, great. Nice going, Solomon.

When Diavolo tells him he particularly doesn’t want to go back the Devildom, Solomon doesn’t care. He can do what he wants as long as he can take you back with him. But when you tell him to help you convince the Prince to go back home, he sighs.

He threatens Diavolo about calling Simeon to come get him and the redhead is glaring at him but still walks out the cell. Great! Now everyone can go home!

So about that the phenomenon….

SIMEON

Three words: What the fuck?

How did any of this happen? When did any of this happened? What do you mean it happened today? The day’s barely ended! You got into a car crash? Are you okay?

Voices his concerns, deeply. Makes you feel so guilty about what happened today you start crying while the jail phone is pressed against your ear. Diavolo can only rub your back as he listens to Simeon thoroughly explain to you on why what you did was wrong and that you’re lucky he isn’t Lucifer.

He then hears Diavolo’s “Maybe calling Simeon was a bad idea.” Oh. Now he’s really upset. Doesn’t understand how Lord Diavolo allowed this to happen. You could have died, he’s not ready to see you in the Celestial Realm just yet! He tells you to pass the phone to the Demon Lord and you can’t imagine what Simeon is telling Diavolo that’s making him so pale. It’s your turn to rub his back.

When you get the phone back, Simeon tells you to sit tight and he’s coming to get you.

When he does get there, the frown on his face makes you feel even more guilty than on the phone. You could even Diavolo go stiff beside you.

When the guards tells him that the both of you aren’t allowed to leave, he’s super close on letting the both of you suffer the consequences. Yet, he tries to make the guard more lenient by guilt tripping him too.

When he hears that Diavolo doesn’t want to go back, it doesn’t take much for him to convince the Prince to go back home. All he does is glare at him and the redhead is walking out the cell with nervous chuckles.

When the three of you go back to the Devildom, he makes the both of you explain to Lucifer and Barbatos as to what happened within the last hour and why he had to go and pick you up.

TAGS: (sorry this is really long.. also don’t mind the grammatical errors I wrote this on my phone and actually less than 24 hours)

@beels-burger-babe

@mammonsemptycreditcard

@obeythebutler

@minteyeddevil

#obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me brothers #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me headcanons #otome game #crack headcanons #crack taken seriously #crimes #diavolo please why can’t you just behave?#diavolo and mc adventure number one #a study of firsts: a series

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

Note

📋 Hello I am putting a formal request in for more Chris Saves Himself AU ft Mama Nakamura taking him I’m home only to realize the full situation

Continuing the Chris Saves Himself AU: One | Two |

CW: Grief, memory loss, recovering whumpee, some very brief and very vague references to noncon, minor whumpee (OC is 17), angsty fluff, reunion

It takes six days for the cops to let Akio's mom bring Tristan back to their house.

He's ready to be discharged from the hospital by day two, but there's nowhere for him to go. WRU is still saying there's no record of his existence, even with the barcode on his wrist. Tristan's only known living relative, Joanne Botham, is claiming he ran away from home and she had no idea what happened to him, that what she had told the Nakamura family was out of frustration and anger at Tristan for disappearing. The governor is out on bail facing charges for keeping Tristan in the mansion in the first place.

There are a lot of charges.

Akio feels by turns numb and enraged when he hears a news anchor read them out loud, bloodless words that don't seem to reflect at all how serious their meanings are.

The first few, he can process - false imprisonment, bodily assault - but then they keep going, and they get worse in ways Akio can barely even begin to imagine.

What Tristan has lived through... Akio's brain refuses to let it coalesce fully, but he has nightmares, dreams about Tristan screaming for him and being on the other side of a door Aki can't open.

He dreams about hands on Tristan's body and the way he might have screamed for help. Akio wakes up crying, retching, running to the bathroom to throw up whatever he's eaten that day as if he can rid himself of the poison of knowing.

His mom calls a therapist.

His father tells him to stop watching the news.

Akio just waits until they're in bed and searches for everything he can find on twitter, on reddit, on every-fucking-place anyone is talking about this. And it's everywhere.

He stops telling his parents about his nightmares after the second night.

Oliver Branch says WRU sold him a product they knew was outside the bounds of the law and lied to him about it. WRU says they don't know what he could possibly mean by that and they have no paperwork or documentation that Tris was ever in the system at all, and if he was, then there must have been a mistake about his age. They swear they'll do a total review of every single Box Boy, Babe, or Buddy to ensure absolute compliance.

The soundbites make Akio's mouth dry.

How many are there, then? If they have to keep looking to find more? How many like Tristan?

How many?

Joanne Botham, who never answers Aimi's furious calls and then changes her number after the second day, goes on TV and says she did nothing wrong and there's no proof that anything happened except maybe Tristan lying about his name and age to make WRU agree to take him in. Oliver Branch says he has the proof WRU knew, and he'll provide it in exchange for immunity.

They all point fingers at each other on national television, in press conferences and through their attorneys.

Through it all, Tristan sits in a hospital bed staring out the window at the blue sky as though it will be stolen from him all over again, waiting to be told where to go, what to do.

And it takes Aimi nearly a week to get the police to agree to allow her to take him home. She brings everything she can think of to meetings with the detectives heading up the case, shows them reams of team photos and home movies, folders and folders of everything Aimi and Mrs. Higgs had ever talked about or done together with the boys.

The hospital needs the room, needs the bed. The detectives don't want to put him into foster care when he barely seems to understand he's a person. The social services people won't take him because they're not equipped to handle a situation like this one. The adjustment houses don't want him because of something to do with what kind of Boxie he was, and Aimi doesn't elaborate and something in the set of her expression makes it clear Akio shouldn't ask.

After a week of mostly just being able to look at him through the small little square window in the hospital room's door, Aimi finally gets legal permission to take him out of there.

Akio isn't prepared for the slew of news vans that are there when he and Aimi arrive, someone having tipped off reporters that they might get a glance of the governor's secret Box Boy today. Aimi, though, simply sets her shoulders, slides a pair of dark sunglasses on, and walks through the crowd like a queen with her head held high, a small duffel bag handle in hand.

Akio hurries behind her, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, hood pulled over his head, trying to ignore ten thousand camera flashes. It's so much worse than the leadup to the Olympics would have been, if he were still performing at elite.

Or at all.

He has a strange, surreal hope that Tris won't be disappointed in him for quitting after Tris died.

Even though he's not dead.

They step into the hospital room around 10 in the morning to find Tristan not in the bed, but sitting on the couch built into the wall under the window, curled up on the crinkly plastic cushions to look out the window, humming low, soft and tuneless.

The hum makes Akio's heart ache with a sudden realization that this odd waking dream he's been living for a week isn't a dream at all. Tears flood his eyes and he has to blink them away as fast as he can. He's heard that hum in his ear as kids during sleepovers, he's heard it when Tris was nervous before performing a new routine, he's heard it while they waited anxiously for scores or studied for school.

"Hey, sweetheart," Aimi says, her voice low and soft, but even so Tris jumps and turns to look at them with wide, startled eyes. One hand goes up to his neck, and Akio swallows when he sees Tris has wrapped gauze around his neck to sit like the collar he was wearing when he fell from the governor's bedroom balcony.

Akio watched the cell phone video that made the rounds over and over and over again. The flash of red hair, shirtless, the bruises he was covered with, his hazy drugged eyes. Over and over and over again.

Watch him fall, watch him land, watch the people run to him and get him out of there when Akio has been sitting here crying his eyes to red half the time for a dead best friend who wasn't dead at all.

"H, Hello," Tristan says, but he doesn't know them. Akio can tell, the way his eyes move between them is uncertain, unsure. "Hello, ma'am. Can, can, can I, what..." He swallows, shivering, and Akio watches the fear move across his face. "What... what can I... do for you?"

His slowed-down voice makes Akio feel sick. He's only ever seen Tristan do that when he's with people who don't understand him or love him for who he is. Now it seems like it's the only way he remembers how to talk.

All Tristan's muscles from gymnastics are gone, leaving only faded shadows of his strength behind. He's skinny, so pale he nearly reflects the light from the ceiling. His freckles are faded, and his hair is shorter than Tris ever liked it.

Being so thin makes his eyes even bigger, they seem to overwhelm the rest of his face.

"Honey, we're going to take you to our house," Aimi says, keeping her voice the same low gentle cadence. "While we figure out what happens next. Aki and I will be taking care of you for a while. How's that sound? Would that be okay?"

Tristan looks between them again, and something shifts in his face. A kind of desperation moves there, and he turns more fully to face them, leaning over a little to look up at them. Hair falls over his forehead, and his hands move to rub over the texture of a loose pair of sweatpants someone gave him to wear under his hospital gown. "To... your house? Would I be... yours?"

He looks at Akio again, and there's something in his face that says he sees that as the best case scenario, that he was ready for far, far worse than simply changing owners. That he's... hoping he'll be Akio's property now.

Akio's stomach flips at the thought and he has to put a hand over his mouth and turn away, catching the sob before it can make its way up out of his throat.

Aimi's arm moves around his shoulders instinctively, and she leans over, pressing a kiss to her son's short black hair. "It's okay," Aimi whispers. "It'll be hard at first. But it's going to be okay, Aki. Saishūtekini wa daijōbudesu. Tristan wa mada anata no shin'yūdesu."

Tristan, sitting on the little couch, blinks a few times. "Friend," he says in English, a little haltingly. "Shin' yu. Means... best friend." He scoots closer to them along the couch, and his eyes are so big and so very, very green. Just how Akio always remembered them.

Aimi's head raises and turns to look at him, her arm tightening around Aki, breath catching in her throat. "You remember that?"

"No." Tristan shakes his head. Scoots a little closer, even. "Yes. I don't know why. Are you..." He looks at Akio. "Wa-... watashitachiha... sh-shin, um, shin-shin'yūdeshita. Yes? Did I-... did I say it right?"

Tristan's Japanese was never great, he'd just picked up some here and there from all the time he spent around the Nakamuras at home and in their car. They used to lay awake at night during sleepovers practicing over and over until Tristan had a new phrase to impress Aimi with.

But hearing his voice, his living breathing real live voice, sounding out the words...

It's too much.

It's too fucking much.

"Yeah, um, y-yeah, you-..." Akio's words are suddenly gone. He chokes on his fear that this somehow is a dream he will wake up from to find Tris still cold in some unknown open grave, and he can't keep the tears back any longer.

His knees buckle under the onslaught of grief and hope and fear and love, and he drops to the cold tile hospital floor, hands pressed over his mouth until his lips are pushed painfully into his teeth, and he wails, muffled but loud enough that there's rustling as the cops guarding the door turn to look inside through the viewing window.

Aimi drops into a crouch behind him, rubbing at his back as he curls over himself. Her voice trembles with tears she doesn't shed. Akio remembers the days after they were told Tristan was dead, how she would cry in her room at night with Aki's dad when he was home from work, but somehow when he and Emi were bawling their heads off, her voice stayed calm, she kept her composure.

Right up until she was alone.

Now, though, she's barely hanging on as her son sobs on a hospital room floor before the emptied-out shell of his best friend.

Bare feet pad along the floor until Tristan drops down in front of him, reaching slowly out. Cool fingertips touch the back of Akio's hand, and he pulls them slowly down to look and see Tristan only a foot or so away from him, kneeling, watching him.

"I know you," Tristan whispers. "It hurts, but... I know... you. Don't, um, don't I?"

Akio can barely see him through the tears that have turned the world to watercolor suggestions. Nothing's in focus. But he grabs onto Tristan's hand, those familiar always-cold fingers, and holds tight.

"You know m-me," He manages. "You do, Tris. You know me. We-... we know you. We want to t-t-take you h-home."

Tristan tilts his head to the side, and it's such a familiar gesture, one he was so sure he'd never get to see again. "My... name is Baldur," He says, softly. "My Sir named me-"

"Please don't call him that. Can you... can you answer to Tristan? Please?" Akio is the one to reach out this time, touching Tristan's shoulder, hesitant. Waiting for him to pull back and away, to flinch like he's been doing when they watch him with the nurses.

Instead, Tris takes a breath and leans into the touch.

"It hurts," He says. "But, but, but, but-... but I can try."

Akio nods, and then Tristan is moving forward, and their arms are around each other and Akio is scared of himself for a second, scared of the welling of feelings he can't control. He's afraid he'll crack Tristan's ribs with how tightly he holds on.

Tristan's face buries itself against his neck, into the crook of his shoulder.

"I missed you so much," Akio whispers against the coppery hair. He's going to start crying again. He can hear his mom sniffing behind him, digging into her purse to pull out the little pack of tissues she always has in there. "I missed you so, so much, Tris."

"I think... I think I, I, I missed you, too," Tristan whispers back, and Akio isn't sure if he can even know if he means it, but he also knows that it's so good to hear the words that he doesn't even care.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @what-a-whump @whumptywhumpdump @downriver914 @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

#whump #chris saves himself AU #chris the strawberry blond romantic #akio nakamura #rescued whumpee #escaped whumpee #recovering whumpee #memory loss #dehumanized whumpee #reference to collars #grief tw #referenced death #caretaker and whumpee #memory recovery #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #box boy whump #minor whumpee

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drwcn · 4 years ago

Text

maybe after today’s acls training i can finally write that chengqing ER oneshot.

— “Patient male, mid-twenties, motor vehicle collision, eta 3 mins”

— “What no vitals? No GCS? ETA 3 mins? Who’s on the paramedic team?!”

— “No one….Dr. Lu hit someone with her car on her way out of the hospital.”

【A Midnight Conversation in Your Local ER】- Complete

[1]

The night hunt had gone to shits.

That much was undeniable.

Jiang Cheng heard the panicked shout of his disciples just as he saw the array that he had stepped on.

Fuck.

The ghost of an once mediocre demonic cultivator wanna-be was going to bring Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wanyin - the Sandu Shengshou - to meet his maker. The irony of the situation would be laughable, if he wasn’t so irrevocably screwed.

That was his last thought before his entire body was engulfed by a blinding light and the world he knew disappeared.

The ground beneath his feet gave away, weightlessness paralyzing his body though he did not fall. He felt…launched, his body warping and squeezing and stretching, the air sucked from his lungs into the endless black vacuum.

But just like that it was over. Jiang Cheng barely had time to make peace with his death before his feet touch solid earth again.

Or at least….he thought it was earth, this black, tarry hard thing striped with yellow and white. He stared at it dumbly, breathless and disoriented, barely able to react when a loud blare assaulted his senses and his world went blindly bright yet again.

This time there was pain.

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu, ready to fight, but then his head hit the ground and everything went dark. When he woke up again, an indeterminate amount of time later, he was in a small tube and had a distinct feeling he was not wearing pants, socks or shoes.

How the fuck do you ‘scan’ a cat???

[2]

Method actor. The nurse, from the other side of the curtain, mouthed silently.

“Sir, can you tell me your name.”

“Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wangyin.”

The resident paused, awkwardly contemplating how to continue. “Uh…..which is it? Jiang Cheng or Jiang Wanyin?”

“Jiang Cheng, zi Wanyin.”

“Traditional parents?” The resident tried to crack a joke, but it fell flat. The strange man stared up at him with a blank look in his eyes and a frown that was rapidly deteriorating into a scowl. The resident cleared his throat and cast his eyes back onto his clipboard. “Uh, ahem, just the name on your ID please.”

“My what?"

"Your personal ID….like a driver’s license?”

“Cultivators of the gentry fly on swords or ride horses. We do not rely on carriage valets.”

“Eh… right. Uhm, can you tell me how old you are and what year it is.”

“I’m 39, and the year is jiachen.”

Lu Qi frowned from where she stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her resident and medical student work. 39? He looks like a college student. But he also thinks he can fly, so I guess age is the least of our worries.

“Jiachen.…?”

The M3 fished his phone out from his scrub pocket pocket and typed it in. “Sounds like the ganji system, like an old timey way to record year used in the past.” He whispers clandestinely to the resident.

“….Right. And uh, do you where you are?”

The man scowled at him. “Am I supposed to?”

The resident scribbled something on the chart, and then looked up with a plastered awkward smile. “Well, thank you Mr. Jiang for your patience. Wang Fei here is the medical student on our team. He’s going to stay and ask you a couple more questions if you don’t mind. Afterwards we’ll confer with our attending and the team will be back to see you shortly.”

As he turned away, the R3 grimaced and shared a look with Lu Qi, who was the youngest attending physician in their ER, but was not technically working at the moment and so was not on the case. And technically, as the perpetrator who hit Jiang Cheng with her car, she had a severe conflict of interest.

At least this Jiang Cheng dude didn’t seem keen on pressing personal charges against her for MVA or suing the hospital in general… but that being said…

Yeah, they’re going to need a psych consult.

Unless he’s on acid.

Well… okay, psych consult either way.

[3]

"It’s okay, you can relax.” Jiang Cheng said, waving dismissively at the woman standing by his bedside. “I’m not going to take you to the magistrate for hitting me with your carriage - car. You didn’t mean to, and I just came out of nowhere.”

“....Thank you.”

“You’re not Wen Qing. I know that now. Your name is Lu Qi. You can call off those psychia - psych - psychics - head healers - or whatever, I’m not crazy. It’s not my fault, you just… look so much like someone I used to know."

"Wen Qing.” Lu Qi echoed.

“Yeah. Wen Qing. She was a healer - a doctor - like you, but different.”

“I see. What happened to her?"

"She died. Almost twenty years ago."

"I'm sorry... that's awful.” Lu Qi’s response rolled off her tongue so well, because she had said those word a thousand times during her residency. So much so that it no longer had much meaning to her. Tonight however, she meant what she said. “Were you two close?"

"No, well…yes, maybe. No we weren’t exactly friends if that’s what you’re asking. She...operated on me. Without my consent or knowledge. Took my brother’s golden core and put it in me and then lied with my brother to my face about it. So no we weren’t “close”, but Wen Qing saved my life - well the purpose of it anyway. Saved me from a life of ordinariness.”

Lu Qi did allow herself to dwell too much on what the fuck a “golden core” was, because her gut response was almost instantaneous. “That’s shitty of her.”

She clamped down on her tongue.

God, why did I have to say that? To his face?! He was obviously in love with this Wen Qing person and they were encroaching on some dangerous emotional territories, but Lu Qi swallowed down her caution and plowed on nevertheless. There were things she felt she had to say, and since she’d already hit him with her car, how much worse could this shit get? “What I mean is she shouldn’t have. Not without telling you. Besides...there’s nothing wrong with ordinary.”

Jiang Cheng chuckled bitterly. “Maybe you’re right. Still...she didn’t deserve to die. What her clan did was not her fault.”

Now that threw Lu Qi off. Did this guy...kill her?

Lu Qi half wondered if she stumbled upon a Yakuza-esque member whose psyche finally snapped after years of murder and violence. And yet, he seemed perfectly coherent, no flight of ideas, no tangential thought, no hallucations. Even his delusions seemed...logical.

I must be the one losing, damnit.

Jiang Cheng scratched a little at his chest, as if palpating for the “golden core” that he spoke of. "She saved my life, but when she needed help, I couldn't save her. But, if I were to go back… I can't say I'll choose differently. My clan needed me, my clan who was almost cleansed by hers. No, no I wouldn’t choose differently. I don’t regret my choices, but I am sorry. Sorry to her, sorry to my brother. I'll always be sorry that she died, and that I failed her when she needed me."

Jiang Cheng had no idea why he was telling this stranger any of this, but maybe after twenty years, he was finally ready to address this guilt that he lived with. I mean who else was he supposed to tell? Jin Ling? It was nice, to have that face as an audience, receiving his words of confession.

"She would forgive you."

Lu Qi had no idea why she was offering absolution as if she had authority in this matter, but when she said it, the conviction she felt was so real, it was almost as though some external force was acting through her.

Which was ridiculous of course, but...

"How do you know? You're not her." Jiang Cheng shook his head. “I wouldn’t forgive me.”

"No, but you said she was a physician. So she should know, more than most, that sometimes there is no choosing who gets to live or die."

Jiang Cheng fell quiet at that, and his gaze grew distant. Lu Qi thought perhaps he was no longer seeing her as she was in front of him - white coat, scrubs, stethoscope - but someone entirely different. The tension he held in his shoulders slowly eased, and he sighed. In the silence that stretched between them, Lu Qi hoped that this strange man with his strange past could find a sliver of peace.

[4]

— Did you love her?

— I thought so, foolishly, but maybe I didn’t. Even if I did, it was not well enough.

— Do you love her still?

— No... I don’t know. It’s been too long...but sometimes, late at night when Lotus Pier is quiet, I think I do.

...

— Are you ashamed of it?

...

— No. No I’m not.

[5]

The patient known as Jiang Cheng left AMA, that is, against medical advice. It was the term they used sometimes for people who just up and leave without informing the team.

Lu Qi had gone out to check on his labs, which came back with bonker numbers (I mean really, a hemoglobin of 455, sodium of 200, and a HCO3 of like...3?), but Jiang Cheng was gone from Bay 6 when she returned. The nurse made the overhead page, a code yellow was called, but four hours later, Lu Qi was ready to admit that she was never going to see this Jiang Cheng ever again.

Somehow, she was okay with that. She had said what needed to be said.

Her chief had given her a call on her cell and told her to go home and sleep. The guy didn’t look like he was gonna press charges, let’s count our blessings and move on. But the night had just been too damn strange that Lu Qi was all wired up from it and couldn’t possibly fall asleep. She had handover at 10 anyway. There was a change of clothes and toiletries in her bag. She could always take a shower in the anesthesia staff’s on call room and sleep until then.

Dr. Sun was the anesthesia staff on-call tonight and was currently stuck in trauma OR. They were buddies since medschool; she’d understand.

Sighing, Lu Qi took a seat on the bench across from the bougie cafe in the lobby of the hospital. At this hour, it was the only one still open in the entire facility. The drinks they sold cost an arm and a leg, but Lu Qi needed the pick-me-up after the night she had.

As she nursed the last bit of her matcha latte, two bickering voices pulled her attention to the front entrance.

“Aiyo, A-Liang I already said I’m fine! I don’t need to be here!”

“Fuck out of here with that bullshit, Chen Zhaoxi. You fell off the fucking roof! If Wu Kun hadn’t called me, you’d have gone on -”

It was him! Lu Qi shot up. It was Jiang Cheng!

But no...no it wasn’t him. The well-dressed man dragging the second man (dressed in red pajamas) into the hospital was not Jiang Cheng. He had the same face - chiselled, handsome, scowling - but it wasn’t him. For one, his hair was trimmed short and neat, unlike Jiang Cheng who looked like he walked straight out of a BL xianxia tv drama. Secondly, his face was softer, eyes younger, and he couldn’t have been older than Lu Qi herself in her early thirties.

“I was just trying to get to the litter of kittens trapped -”

“Yes, yes, and it was very heroic and I’m sure it would’ve made Wu Kun very horny, and you morons probably would’ve fucked once he got home had you not made a valiant attempt at breaking your neck -”

“Excuse me,” the security guard manning the information desk chastised sharply. “It’s 4am. This is a hospital! Lower your voices, sirs.”

“Sorry.” The men apologized sheepishly.

Then, A-Liang, Jiang Cheng’s doubleganger asked, “Could you please direct us to the ER? This is my brother, he fell off a roof.”

Lu Bin had no idea what possessed her to interject. “I can take you there.”

All eyes fell on her. She walked towards them, heart pounding.

This can’t be happening, this kind of thing just can’t happen...

A-Liang’s face broke into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Miss -” Then his gaze trailed to her badge, and he corrected himself, “Dr. Lu. I’m Shen Liang. This is my brother Chen Zhaoxi. I think he fractured...well multiple things, please help him.”

“Of course, come with me. Let’s get him a wheelchair. If he fractured is leg, he probably shouldn’t be walking.”

“I didn’t fracture -”

“You, you shut up.” Shen Liang rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He can lose three out of four limbs and say ‘ t’s but a flesh wound’.”

Lu Qi couldn’t help but chuckle as she put an arm under the complaining Chen Zhaoxi and helped him towards the wheelchair.

Shen Liang’s smile widened.

[Extra]

“Holy shit, took you long enough!”

When Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui finally dragged Jiang Cheng to their portal site, Jiang Cheng realized that the transportation talisman had created a channel through realities between what looked like two metal garbage dumpsters in a back alley behind a food establishment marked by giant yellow bunny ears.

Standing guard there, Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen were each munching on a strange layered bread and holding tall drinks contained in...what was it called again? Right. Styrofoam.

“What is that?” Jin Ling wrinkled is nose at it. Brat.

“It’s a Big Mac.” Replied Lan Jingyi as if Jin Ling was stupid. “And this is a milk shake.”

Jin Ling scowled. “I said the bag of gold I gave you was for emergencies.”

“Yeah but we were hungry.” Ouyang Zizhen defended. He neglected to tell them that the cashier had refused to accept the gold and instead asked for “cash” or “card”, neither of which they had, so Zizhen used a liiiiil confounding talisman he learned from Wei Wuxian. They did leave more than enough gold though...and that ought to cover the restaurant’s cost for their “burger”lary . Reaching into the brown paper bag he held under one arm, Zizhen pulled out a little box that opened to show pieces of... something. “These are chicken nuggets. They’re delicious! Try one! They’re really good with this sauce....hold on...”

Lan Sizhui sighed. “We don’t have time for this. The portal will close soon. Let’s get Jiang-zongzhu home and we can sample these exotic food later.”

The boys agreed.

Jiang Cheng shook his head and huffed.

#cql #the untamed #chengqing #wen qing #jiang cheng #a midnight conversation in your local er #cql ficlet #corie fics

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janekfan · 4 years ago

Note

You need to back off + Please come home for some angsty Jmart?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122362

Prompts are getting filled! Slowly but surely! :D

I hope you like it ^^

Jon woke himself coughing with the realization that what he’d hoped were allergies the day before was now full blown body aches, chills and a productive hacking cough. Reaching out for comfort, he encountered only cold sheets and he shut his throbbing eyes tightly against sudden tears, too emotional. Needy. Sick. Not that he wasn’t needy when he was well either, but.

Martin wasn’t here.

Jon gripped a handful of bedclothes, curling on his side in the space where Martin should be and wasn’t. He thought of warm hands and soft kisses testing his temperature and gentle tutting. Martin would fuss over him terribly, plying him with medicine and perfectly steeped tea with honey and lemon for his sore throat. He would want for nothing, of that he was certain, but.

Martin wasn’t here.

And it was Jon’s fault.

No. Not entirely. He was away for the long weekend for an international conference.

But the shouting match they’d had before he left was very much Jon’s fault.

It figured that he would chase him away. Jon was miserable and ungrateful on his best days and like a dog with a bone on his worst. Why couldn’t he just let things go? Why did he have to push and question and needle Martin like that when he knew his partner needed time to think? Was already anxious about being away for so long? Jon certainly knew how to pick the best time for a row. Impeccable timing as usual, god damn him. Another fit crept its way through his tight chest, up his throat, painfully forcing itself free, and he stifled himself in a pillow.

He wanted Martin.

He had no right to, but he wanted him just the same.

After allowing himself just a few moments to wallow in misery, he forced himself up, driving the heels of both hands against his eyelids. It was a cold. It’d been going around the university and he was always early to catch whatever pathogens his students carried with them. He’d been run down and tired the last week and not from finals apparently. He shuffled awkwardly to the bathroom, limping heavily on his bad leg, absently trying to massage the deep ache left over from the worms all those years ago. He let the water run for a moment, get as hot as he could stand it, and with Martin’s voice in the back of his head, resigned himself to the use of the shower stool he’d insisted on. Sagging forward, Jon let the pounding pressure beat heavy against his back, breathing in the steam in the hopes it would loosen the knots tied thick and rigid around his lungs. Washing up took everything he had left and he wanted nothing more than to collapse back into bed and curl up around Martin’s pillow. Instead he slipped on his favorite of Martin’s jumpers over his pyjamas and took up his cane and made himself tea with honey and lemon and forced himself to drink it even though it tasted wrong. Struggling through the foil of the blister pack exhausted him further but he dutifully downed the tablets with the dregs of his cold cup of subpar tea. Dizzy, nauseated, the room spun around him wildly and he swallowed it down with a sob, laying his hot face against the cool surface of the dining table.

He wanted Martin.

Martin asked him to please not call unless there was an emergency. This wasn’t that. This was some sort of bug and Jon was an adult and he could take care of himself. He shivered. Teeth chattering in his skull and against his better judgement he fumbled for his cell with numb fingers. He thumbed it awake, blinking at the blinding glare. Recents. Martin. Messages. Jon scrolled through them, lingering on his responses. It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough and Martin had asked him. Asked him not to contact him. For emergencies only. This wasn’t an emergency. It wasn’t. The screen went dark. The tears slipped over the bridge of his nose, tracing the faint scar there left by some fear or another so long ago and Jon chose to be selfish.

What else was new?

“Jon.” Measured, but not cold like he feared so much it would be but focused enough to cut him off before he could even think to apologize. “You need to back off. I’ve asked for some space and I would appreciate it if you would let me focus on this conference. I’ll be back soon. We can talk then.” He paused and with it, so did Jon’s heart. “I love you.”

“I, I love you.” But he’d already hung up and Jon didn’t blame him.

Shivering with chills, Jon dragged his sorry self back into bed, curling into the duvet and closing his eyes against the woozy rolling of his stomach. The tea wasn’t sitting well and Jon found himself panting, shallow and fast, concentrating on keeping himself together and willing himself to sleep though that plan didn’t seem to be working. Salt flooded his tongue and he lurched for the bin beside the bedside, dry heaving painfully. Sweat poured down his face, dripped off his chin.

It wasn’t an emergency.

It wasn’t.

He coughed, wincing and lifting a trembling hand to his throat and pressing against Daisy’s remnant souvenir, imagining the hurt there. A mewling whimper carried on an uneven breath escaped the cage of his fingers. Restless sleep crashed over him, was dragged away from him, uncomfortable, hot and cold somehow simultaneously. Jon picked up his phone repeatedly to call, to text. But he needed to let Martin have this. He wasn’t like him. He needed time and Jon needed to be patient no matter how ill he was feeling, no matter how much he wanted Martin’s reassuring voice. And it was his fault he couldn’t have it.

Jon couldn’t remember a time in his life where he felt this poorly; not even starved for statements, or scarred by numerous fears. Sleep hadn’t been forthcoming after he lurched awake to be sick again and he hadn’t had the forethought to put anything he might need on the bedside table. Objectively, he knew when he ran fevers they had a tendency to spike at night and that if he could just get up to fetch some medicine he would feel better. Subjectively, he was convinced his legs wouldn’t hold him, that he was dying here alone and when Martin returned for his things he would find his body. Panic built and built and built in his chest, cutting off his ability to breathe, stealing the air around him as surely as Crew had when he dropped him effortlessly, eternally through the void and before he knew it his fingers were acting without express permission.

Insistent buzzing next to his ear dragged Martin up from the depths and he groaned in irritation when the rectangle of light blinded him momentarily. He sighed when he could finally see the caller and he supposed Jon had waited as long as he could before giving in and ringing him again. The man was not known for his patience, after all. Martin glanced at his still sleeping roommate, a paramedic out of Brussels, and slipped out of bed to take the call in the hallway.

“Jon.” The frustration was warranted but melted away into concern when his only answer was a strangled, hitching gasp.

“I, I’m s’sorry.”

“Jon, darling, what’s wrong?”

“Y’you want space and, and m’sorry, but I--” A sudden explosive cough caught him off guard; it sounded painful and tight.

“Jon, I need you to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry.” His hoarse whisper didn’t hide the wheeze on his breath. “Shouldn’have called, m’sorry.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.” Martin clutched his phone, voice calm and steady, hundreds of miles away from where Jon was falling apart.

“P’please?”

“What, Jon?” He was openly crying; big, ugly sobs in between each shuddering syllable, and Martin was almost at a total loss, murmuring sweet things through the line in an attempt to calm him, until his hiccuping slowed and he asked again and he answered, sad and small.

“Please? Come h’home?”

“Jon?” Tim let himself into the flat, speaking soft and low, lest Jon was asleep. “Martin told me you aren’t feeling so hot.” He pushed forward to the bedroom, sympathy welling up at the sight of Jon curled up so small, face hidden in his sweat-damp pillow. “Hey, bud.”

“Tim.” Raspy and rough, like he’d been chewing on rocks, he finished his identification on a weak cough.

“The one, the only.” When he laid the backs of his fingers against his temple, Tim hissed through his teeth at the blazing, dry heat of his skin.

“M’sorry…” the ghost of an exhale, shaky and slurred, and Jon managed somehow to pry heavy lashes apart to reveal unfocused eyes glassy with fever. Tim stroked messy curls away from his face, heart clenching when he groaned low in his throat, before deep brown rolled back and dislodged more tears.

“Let’s get you taken care of, okay?” But first, a quick status update for Martin, who had called him nearly in tears himself.

“How is he? Are you taking him to A&E?” Tim could almost see the way he was clinging to his phone.

“I don’t think so. Gonna get some water and medicine into him and see how that goes.”

“Tim? Is he okay?”

“He’s sick, looks like the flu and he’s likely been down with it a couple of days.”

“God, he tried to call me and I--”

“Gonna cut you off right there, Marto. This isn’t anyone’s fault. It just happens.”

“I was so upset with him--”

“And I’m sure he earned it. When he’s well again you can talk it out.”

“Tim.” Trembling,

“I’ll make certain he’s alright until you get home. I’ve got him, Martin.” While on the phone, Tim gathered up supplies, thankful that Jon lived with someone with brains enough to keep a stocked medicine cabinet complete with a fancy ear thermometer with disposable covers. Because Martin. Jon didn’t so much as twitch this time. 39.4. “Okay, buddy. Up you come now.”

“Nng…”

“Mhm,” Tim hummed good naturedly, holding the glass of water to chapped lips and going slow. “Good?” He took the unintelligible noise as a yes, allowing him a few more careful sips before slipping the capsules onto his tongue. “There we go. We’ll see how that sits.” He divested Jon of the wash worn wool keeping in all the heat, soothing him wordlessly when he tried in vain to keep it. A clean set of pyjamas would make him feel better and he let the relatively cool air of the room wick away the moisture left from a cursory damp flannel.

“...Tim?”

“Hey, sleeping beauty.”

“Why’m’I in...in my pants…?”

“Did your best to sweat through the last set, here.” Tim helped guide loose limbs through the appropriate holes.

“S’cold…” punctuating his statement with a full body shiver, Jon slumped forward into Tim’s chest. “M’Martin’s cross.” Nodding, Tim gathered him up to deposit him on the sofa so he could change the bedclothes. “S’my fault…”

“When he comes home, you can apologize. Get him his favorite takeaway, yeah?” Jon listened intently, watery gaze fixed to Tim’s. “Put up those books of yours he’s always tripping over.”

“He, he. He’s coming home?” Lower lip trembling, Jon sounded too hopeful for this to be the distance of a long weekend.

“Oh, you daft fool, of course he is, of course.” He let Jon cry himself out on his shoulder. “He loves you, just needed some space, you know he likes space to get his thoughts in order. Of course he’s coming back.” Gentle and soft, Tim kept up his reassurances and hoped he’d forget that particular fear. Jon was too used to abandonment and all too accepting that he was the cause of it. That he was unlovable. “Alright, dry your eyes now.” Tim thumbed away matching saltwater tracks after settling him back on the couch cushions. “There we are.” Lord, he looked exhausted, the very textbook image of a bad flu with sore, red rimmed eyes limned with bruises. “Back in a tick, love.”

Clean, cool sheets, Jon tucked between them, kettle cooling off the hob, Tim set himself up on Martin’s side of the bed, getting another read, 38.1, and sending a quick update text before tapping open his most recent gaming obsession. The conference ended tomorrow morning and Martin would be home the same evening. With the next day off, Tim could wait that long. Jon’s burn-scarred hand snaked from under the blankets to grip his joggers.

“Hullo.” Tim tugged his fingers through messy curls. “Feeling a little better, champ?”

“Yeah…” It was still early hours and Jon needed all the sleep he could get.

“Sip on this.” And fluids. Tim levered him up, helping him hold the lukewarm mug of tea in shaky hands and laying him in his lap where he could knead out the knots tying up his shoulder blades until he sank deep.

Familiar voices hummed around him like moths just out of reach, melting together, drifting apart, slipping through his fingers. A door opened, closed, and Jon thought for a moment the Distortion must have him until a familiar palm pressed itself against his forehead. Martin’s face materialized in front of him and blurred just as quickly when tears filled his eyes. Wildly, he dove for him, not thinking about the edge of the mattress and collapsing into him when his legs gave way.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, you’re alright, love.” Jon pushed his face into Martin’s neck, body numb with relief. “Shh, shh, shhh.”

“M’m’sorry, so sorry.”

“I know.” Martin curled around him, holding him firmly, tightly, running his hand up and down the shallow seam of his spine. Jon didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve how good Martin was to him. And he, he didn’t--

“I d’don’t unders’stand.”

“Understand what?” Jon couldn’t look at him for fear of what he might see, hiding instead in Martin’s jumper. He shouldn’t have said anything at all. “Why I came home?” He didn’t speak, shook harder, swallowed with difficulty past the cloying clot of emotion in his throat. “Oh, love. You’re not well and everything’s a little mixed up right now.” Lightly, softly, Martin kissed his temple. “I’ll always come home.” Jon felt needy and childish, choosing to believe Martin and taking comfort in it, in the chaste press of his lips against any skin he could reach. “Back in bed now, you’re burning up. Tea?” Nodding once, Jon couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth again, worried that he’d destroy this tentative peace and so, so grateful to have Martin home and the next time he opened his eyes it was to Martin climbing into bed in his pyjamas, tea already on the nightstand.

“Will you tell me about the conference?” Jon accepted the open arms as the offer they were, fitting himself like a puzzle piece against his side, sick and sweaty and lulled by the soothing rumble of Martin’s voice beneath his ear.

There were other things to talk about, but for now, the two of them, here and now, were enough.

#TMA #The Magnus Archives #Jon Sims #Martin Blackwood #Tim Stoker #Jmart #JonMartin #sickfic #fever #flu #vomiting #panic #insecure jon #fight #argument #not pictured #love #caretaking

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 4 years ago

Text

L.D.S.K: Part Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, and angst, fluff

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

Hotch wants everyone to reenact the shooting at the park to get a better idea of where the unsub was located. One of the cops is playing the unsub while the BAU team is on the field where the other victims were. With the help of the cones as well as your abilities, everyone has a place to call their own. The only people not on the field are Detective Calvin, Hotch, and Gideon.

Elle is standing where the father and son were playing catch. You, Spencer, and Derek are standing where the guy was flying the kite. Other officers are standing where the last victim was shot as well as bystanders. Everyone has comms in their ears to communicate with the agents at home base. They have cameras everywhere to get a good idea of where everyone was. You hold your camera and scan the area to see what your victim might have seen.

“Elle, Jerry Middleton was facing a little further south. Can you give it to us?” Hotch instructs over the comm.

“How’s that?” she asks when she turns the camera more to her right.

“Perfect. Hold your camera right there.”

“It doesn't look like Jerry Middleton had a clear view of the sniper's vehicle when he was shot. The tree branches were in the way,” Gideon observes.

“I do have a clear view of the vehicle from here. Tim Reilly would have seen it if he'd looked down from the kite,” Spencer informs.

“Good. Have the unsub pop the trunk. See if Reid can see it,” Hotch orders.

A few moments later, and the trunk of the car pops open big enough to get the barrel of the gun through. You can see it, but only because you know that’s not how the unsub did things.

“No, sorry, I can’t.”

“Hotch, I don’t think he popped his trunk,” you blurt out.

“It’s the only way to stay hidden from everyone else.”

“That depends on the kind of car the unsub uses. Didn’t the really old cars used to have their gas tank behind their license plate? That pops open.”

“We’ll keep that in mind. Thank you. Okay, everyone, move to position two.”

While everyone was shifting to the next positions, you take a few steps to your left to approach Derek. He’s looking at Spencer as he scans the area, and you nudge his arm.

“You have to go easier on Spencer.”

“What are you talking about?”

“A couple of mornings ago? You know how he feels about failing, and it feels like you’re kicking him when he’s down.”

“I was just teasing him. He knows that.”

“There’s a difference between teasing and being mean.”

“Why do you care? You got feelings for him or something? I heard about the two dates you’ve been on.”

“So? We just went to see a movie,” you shrug.

“That’s not what I heard. A little birdie told me you two kissed.”

“It was the cheek, and damn it Penelope,” you curse.

“How’d you know it’s her?”

You just give him a look that screams, “are you kidding me?” You turn back to the car where Officer McCarty is playing the unsub. You look off the right to see JJ, Gideon, and Detective Calvin hassling a news reporter. Something isn’t right. The Detective walks over to Hotch who is on the phone with who you presume to be Penelope. Something is definitely not right.

A SWAT team approaches the car McCarty’s in from behind. They get out a smoke bomb and unleash it so that McCarty’s view is tainted. Shit, something is definitely wrong.

“Derek, Spencer, get down!” you hiss and grab both men’s sleeves.

You yank them to the ground as you get down. They yell out in shock, but once they see the smoke, they are on full alert. You can’t hear what’s being said, but McCarty throws out the assault rifle and his sidearm out of the trunk. He gets out with his hands in the air, and once it’s clear, a SWAT member takes him down to handcuff him. They get him up, and as they are leaving, someone shoots McCarty in the head right between the eyes.

“Get down!” Gideon tells once the shot is fired.

You reach over to place your arm over Spencer’s head as if to protect him. You look up and notice a car lingering in the back. The license plate is gone until it’s shifted back into place. You can’t read what it says, and the car peels out of there quietly before you have a chance to see or do anything.

However you did get one thing… a flash of a hospital. That’s when it all clicks into place.

You knew it.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, right?” you ask Spencer once you get back to the office.

“No. I’m fine,” he whispers.

“How did McCarty end up playing the unsub?” JJ asks.

“Weigart punished McCarty for mouthing off during the profile briefing by making him the unsub and sticking him in the trunk of the car all afternoon,” Detective Calvin answers.

“Wait, then how did the unsub find out about the reenactment?”

“Come on. Cops talk. Pissed-off cops talk loud—at home, at the bars, at gyms, and to anyone who'll listen,” Derek sighs.

“What do we know? Our unsub went from wounding civilians to executing a police officer, so he's escalated. He's not staying on script,” Gideon thinks out loud.

“Sometimes, it's what they don't do,” Hotch points out.

“He did not pick McCarty at random,” Spencer adds. “He didn't take the gut shot.”

“Why?” Hotch asks the group.

“He wants to send a message. ‘Nobody takes credit for my work’. His ego won’t allow it. He feels under appreciated. He doesn’t have contact with the media, but he does have contact with the victims. He’s not a police officer,” you just get started.

“Go on,” Gideon encourages you.

“I saw something out there. I saw a car. I wasn’t able to get a license plate number, but I did see the license plate shift back into place which confirms my theory of how he shoots the victims. When we got here, I mentioned something about where the victims go when they get shot.”

“Where do people who get shot go? The hospital. Was he getting away to get there to see the chaos, or is there another reason entirely?” Spencer repeats what you said word for word.

“Right, that,” you say slowly before getting back on topic. “The shooter isn’t a cop because he’s a surgeon. He wants to play the hero when the victims come in for surgery. He doesn’t kill them because he wants them to die, he does it to save them. It’s what fuels his ego.”

“Alright, thanks,” Derek says into the phone before hanging up and rejoining the group. “Garcia nailed down the geographic profile. The crime scenes are centered on two separate locations.”

“The hospitals,” you and Hotch say at the same time.

“I believe it's a case of hero homicide,” Gideon says.

Detective Calvin is driving with Gideon up front with her and you and Spencer sitting in the back. The rest of the agents are in another car following.

“What's that?” the driver asks.

“The best-known case was hospital nurse Richard Angelo. He would inject toxins into his victims, then wait for them to crash so that he could run to the rescue and save them. He killed 25 people, and that's just what we know of,” Spencer explains.

“If he attacked then to save them, why'd he kill 25 people?”

“He wasn’t very good at it,” you shrug. “And hospitals don’t keep records of people who almost died.”

“So, what's the profile on one of these guys?” the detective asks.

“Arrogant, conceited, and feels superior to everyone around them,” Gideon answers quietly.

“You've just described every surgeon I've ever met.”

“Landman,” Gideon says suddenly.

“Who?” you wonder.

He doesn’t answer but instead takes out his cell phone. Whoever is on the other line picks up quickly, and Gideon doesn’t waste any time with pleasantries.

“Let’s start with Landman.”

Before going to the surgeon in question, most of the team gathers in a conference room to discuss Dr. Landman in detail as well as a course of action. The only person who isn’t here is Hotch because he’s checking out Landman’s car.

“Okay, courtesy of Garcia,” Derek says when he takes the piece of paper she faxed over. “Landman was in the army, and started out in M.P. School.”

“There’s your law enforcement,” you scoff.

“But he was smart, got a degree on Uncle Sam, and ended up a doctor with special forces. He bounced around from hospital to hospital since his discharge in 2001,” Derek reads from the paper.

“Has Dr. Landman been under any unusual strain? Has he had a reprimand? Has he had any kind of major blow to his ego?” Gideon asks as he stares out the window.

“Last month, he was passed over for chief of surgery,” the woman in charge, Cheryl Marston, says.

“Let's get a warrant for his house. Let's see if we find the weapon.”

“Okay,” Derek nods and gets up to do so.

“What can I do to help?” The stranger asks.

“You can tell me where he is right now.”

One look at the suspect in question, and you knew he isn’t the shooter. You saw bits and pieces of what the shooter looks like, and Landman doesn’t have any of the distinctive marks. How can you tell this to the team? How can you prove it wasn’t him? How can you make them see what you see?

As Gideon is talking to the surgeon, Hotch approaches everyone from behind. You, Spencer, and Elle are standing outside of the glass watching the interaction.

“You get anything from his car?” Elle asks the older agent.

“It's a red 2-seat Maserati.”

“It’s not him,” you say.

“How do you know?” Hotch asks.

He claimed earlier in the week that he wants to understand what you can do, and this is your opportunity.

“Remember when we checked out the crime scene at the park before the re-enactment? I saw the car pull up to the spot. A man got out. I didn’t see his face because there were three black holes where his eyes and mouth were supposed to be. Everything else was distinctive. Landman doesn’t have the same build as the person I saw. Landman has a full head of hair. The shooter doesn’t.

“It’s not all in my head. I don’t see things because I want to see them or because my mind is twisting things. I see them for what they are. Landman isn’t the shooter. No matter how arrogant he may be. It’s just his personality.”

“Okay, I trust you. Where is he?”

“Dr. Pate isn’t the only person who thinks I’m a God,” Landman practically shouts so that everyone on the other side of the class can hear.

“This way,” you instruct and walk away from the group.

“Let’s go, Reid,” Hotch says and takes your crush with him.

“Check out Dr. Pate if it’s necessary. But I can say with 100% confidence that it’s not Landman. Richard Angelo wanted to be a hero because in his everyday life, he was a nobody. Landman’s a great surgeon, and with that, comes with respect and power all on its own.”

“Yeah, but you know, surgeons are a different breed. There are stars in the field, and Landman is definitely not one of them,” Spencer spits out.

You three approach the nurses desk where a gentleman is standing with his back turned to you. You stop short in your tracks as the vision of the car comes into your mind.

“Excuse me. I'd like to speak with Dr. Pate,” Hotch says and flashes his badge.

The nurse turns around, and it’s like the whole picture is cleared up for you. The man you saw in your vision becomes clearer to match the person in front of you. The black holes disappear to show the face of the man standing before you. He looks at the three of you before nodding.

“Yes, sir. I'll go find her for you,” he says and walks off.

Your eyes stay glued to the man.

“He’s not a surgeon,” you whisper fearfully.

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goldentournesol · 4 years ago

Text

All That Matters

*gif originally posted by @heat-waveee *

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Reader doesn’t visit Spencer in prison.

Length: 3.0k

A/N: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON 12 FINALE AND BEGINNING OF SEASON 13!

Part 2: Here For You

masterlist

Spencer’s absence was felt in every aspect of her life.The bullpen wasn’t the same without him, her apartment, although they lived separately, wasn’t the same without him, even the jet wasn’t the same. She was so used to looking over and seeing his tall frame sprawled over that beige couch that she found herself glancing over out of habit just to find someone else there. It was just as disappointing every time. Her heart ached for him. It ached because she knew that there was nothing more she could do to help him or ease the pain he felt as he was being tortured in prison and it took a huge toll on her mental health. Everyone else had visited him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Hey, Spence.” JJ said tearfully as soon as he took a seat across from her in the visitation room.

“Hey, is everything okay? It’s not my mom, is it?” He hurriedly asked with slight panic.

“No, no, she’s fine. Y/N and I saw her yesterday, she asked about you.” She nodded, smiling in an attempt to reassure him. He mirrored her expression with relief when she told him his mother thought he was at the beach. A short silence ensued.

“How are you doing?” JJ asked, as sympathetically as possible. Spencer fought back tears.

“I’m okay. I’m, uh, really happy to see you.” He admitted, even though he knew it probably wasn’t a good idea she was visiting. However, she reminded him of the promise she made him the last time she saw him. She promised she’d never leave him alone.

“How’s…” he paused with a swallow, “Y/N doing?” The question came out tentatively, his facial expression displaying something between a grimace and a hopeful look. The last time he’d seen Y/N in the courtroom, she was in a silent fit of tears.

“She’s...fine.” JJ lied. Spencer raised his eyebrows questioningly. It didn’t take a profiler to know that that was a straight up lie. “Alright, she’s not doing very well. I just didn’t want to tell you that because I knew you would worry about it and I don’t think you need any more of that.” She gestured around. Spencer heaved a sigh. He expected her response, he just didn’t want to hear it.

Later that day, JJ found Y/N at her desk, nose deep in a file. Her eyes were frantic as they raced through the words on the page, hoping to find something useful. She had thrown herself into the case files, the Spencer-related and the non-Spencer-related. When she wasn’t occupied with the work, her mind would wander over to Spencer, which would send her into a whirlwind of panic, guilt, and rage.

Panic because she didn’t want to imagine what he was going through, alone, scared, hopeless--.

Guilt because she hadn’t visited him yet, she just couldn’t bring herself to see him. Not when she couldn’t wrap her arms around him, not when she couldn’t kiss him, or hold his hand.

Rage because time was moving so slowly without him and they weren’t any closer to getting him out.

She hadn’t heard JJ come up from behind her and rest a hand on her shoulder. She yelped out in response, having been totally focused on the file.

“Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” JJ said as she was met with Y/N’s red rimmed eyes.

“It’s alright.” Y/N muttered softly.

“Y/N, when was the last time you took a break? Or got some sleep?” JJ asked, noticing the constant nervous tapping on her thigh.

“A break? I can’t--I can’t take a break, JJ!” She uncharacteristically snapped, standing from her seat. JJ took a step back at her sudden outburst, her friend’s eyes aflame.

“How am I supposed to take a break when he’s in there, probably terrified out of his mind?! How do you think he would feel if he knew I was sipping on some tea or...or styling my hair instead of helping him get out of there?” She spat, not even caring that she was gaining attention from people around her. She didn’t know that this was the guilt taking over and speaking for her, but JJ knew.

“He asked about you today...again.” She stated coolly, seeing Y/N’s angry expression soften immediately. She averted her gaze quickly, heart wrenching in her chest. She grabbed some files and made a move to leave, probably to shed some self-wallowing tears, but JJ stopped her by grabbing her arm gently.

“We’re going to get him out of there, I promise. But we need you on board with us. I suggest you go home and get some rest. This won’t be solved overnight.” JJ assured her with a determined voice. Y/N pulled her arm out of her friend’s grip and made a beeline for the exit.

It’s not like she didn’t want to see him, of course she wanted to see him. She wanted to see him more than anything, but she wouldn’t stop. She wouldn’t rest until she caught the son of bitch who put him in there. Spencer wanted nothing more than to see her face and hear her voice.

At first, he genuinely couldn’t blame her for not wanting to visit, but as matters outside the prison began to worsen, the matters inside were on another level. Then, hope began to elude him. He stopped hoping to see her, stopped hoping for a future. Spencer struggled to see his future as anything other than void and bleak as the four walls of his cell consumed him every night. He tried to file away any resentment he felt for her, he even stopped asking JJ about her. Whether or not she chose to share anything about his girlfriend was completely her choice. It had become too painful for him to think about her, let alone talk about her.

And in the beginning, he was thankful for his eidetic memory because it allowed him to replay their conversations and memories on a loop. But now, the memories mocked him and kept him up at night. She became a part of his past life and he didn’t know whether his new life after prison could accommodate her.

What if they never solved the case? What if he had to spend the entirety of the 25 years in prison? Would she come see him then? At what point would she move on from him? Would she even bother showing up to break up with him? Or would he eventually have to learn from JJ that Y/N found a new lover as she mistakenly mentions her name in conversation?

This is ridiculous. She loves him. He knows that.

Right?

Curse the intricate inner workings of his brain. It never ceased. He shouldn’t be thinking this way. But pulling himself out of the darkest place he’d ever been was proving to be increasingly difficult.

Rage filled him as he learned of his mother’s abduction. He didn’t know why he expected Y/N to come take him home when he’d been released instead of JJ. He shouldn’t have done that. He also shouldn’t have felt disappointed when he saw Penelope all by herself right outside the prison doors.

But he did.

No one mentioned her on the way back to the headquarters, but she invaded his mind anyway. He didn’t have the time or the energy to be thinking of her, he needed to find his mother.

She had been eagerly awaiting his arrival in the bullpen with the rest of the team. She grinned for the first time in months as she saw his tall figure appear through the glass doors. She watched as Rossi grabbed Spencer’s face and kissed his cheeks before pulling him into a bear hug. She watched Emily stroked his hair and kissed his head. Even Matt threw his arms around Spencer. Tears fell as she watched the scene unfold across the room from her desk.

Spencer’s entire attitude shifted as his eyes finally landed on her. His smile dissipated, his shoulders were pushed back, and his eyes, his kind, soulful eyes were cold as they bore into her wet ones. She felt a shiver race its way down her spine. The air in the room shifted. It was eerily quiet, everyone waiting for the fallout. But Spencer stood still and silent, neither of them making the first move. There was so much left unsaid between them.

“Let’s go find my mother.” Spencer spoke as he averted his gaze from her and made his way to the conference room.

A silent sob wracked through her body as she fell back into her chair, her fingers gripping at her roots in frustration. Penelope rushed to her quickly and tried to console her, the rest of the team already in the conference room discussing the case.

“Go help the team, I’ll have Emily brief me later.” Y/N said, taking a deep, shaky breath as she pried Penelope off of her frame. Penelope reluctantly nodded and made her way into the conference room. Spencer’s expression was stone cold and indecipherable as he watched Y/N scurry off into the direction of the bathrooms through the window.

Hours later, they had managed to retrieve Diana after learning that Cat Adams was in fact impersonating Mr. Scratch along with some help from Lindsey Vaughn. They were now doing the best they could to track down the real Mr. Scratch, but the team had been caught in a horrific car accident, which led to Emily’s abduction. Spencer was currently at home with his mother. Y/N, Penelope, and Matt hadn’t gone with the rest of the team. Y/N had been too shaken up to go out into the field.

“Y/N, get Spencer and meet us at the hospital! Rossi’s refusing treatment until he talks to you two!” Matt yelled as he and Penelope raced to the hospital. Y/N nodded and called Spencer. Her name was the last he wanted to see on his phone, but he picked up anyway. He almost didn’t.

“Spencer! There’s been a terrible accident, Emily’s been taken by Scratch, I’m picking you up now! Rossi’s refusing treatment! I’ll explain everything on the way to the hospital.” She spoke frantically into the phone, speeding off into the direction of his apartment. He hadn’t even had time to reply before she hung up. Minutes later, he got into the car and noticed her panicked state.

“Are you okay to drive?” He asked, immediately noticing her rapid breathing, wide eyes, and white knuckles from gripping the wheel tightly. She met his eyes, shaking her head. Spencer saw the tears and switched places with her, driving to the hospital. He also noticed how she failed to manage her breathing.

“Hey, hey. Try to match my breath.” He breathed in and out slowly. She shook her head in disbelief, hating the fact that this was their first encounter. He was still the caring man she fell in love with, even though she knew he probably hated her guts right then. Her breathing evened itself out and she fiddled with her fingers.

“I’m good, I’m good.” She muttered, mostly to herself, “Spencer, I-” she began but he cut her off harshly.

“Not now, Y/N.” He spat as he rolled into the hospital, searching for JJ and Rossi. Y/N’s heart wrenched as he ran to JJ’s side, treating her with the tenderness she craved. She found Rossi and ran to him quickly.

“Where’s Spencer? Get Spencer.” He uttered, obviously in pain. Y/N brought Spencer over.

“What’s going on?” He asked, walking into the room.

“Shut up and listen.” Rossi demanded, eyes shifting between Y/N and Spencer, landing on Y/N as he spoke, “First, you, go through my pants pockets and find my keys. Second, you’re back on the team.” He referred to Spencer.

“Not sure I should be. Has the director approved that?” He asked.

“I’m making the calls now. I’ll take the heat. You’re back on the team.” He panted.

“I’ve got the keys.” Y/N said, holding them.

“There’s a little one there to a file cabinet in my office. Inside, there’s Chicago Bears season tickets. When you get them, call Matt Simmons. I promised him those tickets.” He seemed adamant.

“Rossi, did they give you something to make you loopy?” Y/N asked.

“I’ll get the doctor, we’ll get him into surgery.” Spencer stated and made a move to leave.

“Just shut up and listen.” He insisted, “Emily is missing. Stephen is dead. As for you two ass clowns, you’ll do me the courtesy of following my orders. And for the love of God, work through whatever it is you two are going through and then I’ll go into surgery.”

She and Spencer nodded as they left the room. “This has nothing to do with season tickets.” She stated and he agreed.

“Ass clowns?” Spencer muttered confusedly and she repressed a giggle.

They had been so caught up in the urgency of the case that they hadn’t found the time to talk, but Y/N was glad that Spencer was at least conversing with her, even if it was strictly about the case. With Emily now found and Scratch finally dead, they learned to breathe again. Y/N offered to drive Spencer home from Stephen’s funeral, seeing how morose he seemed. He reluctantly agreed and got into the car.

“I know you don’t want to, but we really have to talk.” She said softly, afraid that if she spoke too loud, he’d either snap or break. It was unclear which was more likely to happen.

“Now’s not really the best time, Y/N.” He spoke defeatedly, his hands running over his face and digging into the sockets of his eyes.

“It’ll never be the right time, Spencer.” She pushed, “I missed you.”

He laughed crudely, almost mocking her, “Oh, you missed me?”

“Yes, I missed you. Of course I missed you. I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“Sorry?!” He practically screeched, turning to face her. Her jaw clenched in reaction as she focused on driving.

“You’re sorry for what exactly? For not coming to visit me? For not bothering to write me any letters? For practically pretending like I didn’t exist? Do you have any idea how often I hoped to see you? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be disappointed to see one of my best friends because I was hoping it was you? I hated myself for it, but it happened. How could you, Y/N?!” He seethed, voice uncharacteristically booming through the small space between them. It was laced with hurt and betrayal. She abruptly pulled the car over on the side of the road and turned to look at him.

“How could you forget about me like that?” Spencer’s voice was small and shaky, tears threatening to spill.

Her own tears found their way down her cheeks as she stared at his heartbroken face, “Forget about you? I could never forget about you, Spencer.” She sniffled softly.

“You were all I could think about. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. I’m pretty sure I developed an ulcer from the stress, by the way. I didn’t visit because…” she swallowed, pausing to blow her nose, “because I was angry. I was so angry, Spencer. Not at you, of course. At the situation. It was unfair to you and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I know no amount of apologies will undo it, but I couldn’t handle it. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to handle seeing you in there and not be able to hold you or kiss you or...or touch you.” She paused again to blow her nose.

Her words were disguised by the sobs, but Spencer managed to comprehend them. “It would have been too painful for me, I’m sorry. I was too weak and too selfish. You deserved so much better than that, I know.”

Spencer’s heart ached to see her cry, but he was so upset that he didn’t know if he could forgive her just yet. His throat got that familiar feeling of being so tight that he couldn’t speak. He just shook his head and rubbed at his eyes, turning away from her.

“Just take me home.” He whispered and she nodded, pulling herself together. Spencer occupied himself with a loose thread on his clothes, the soft hum of the engine was the only thing filling the silence between them.

She pulled up in front of his apartment complex and he was about to step out of the car when she reached for his arm, stopping him. She drew her hand back immediately, realizing that that was the first time they made physical contact since he got back. She hoped she wasn’t overstepping. He stared at her curiously at both reaching for him and drawing back.

“Spence, I understand if you want to end things. I just...I love you. I never stopped loving you and I never will.” She reminded him and he nodded, the tenderness she’d grown so used to returning to his eyes.

“I love you, too.” He spoke quietly, offering her a tight smile that obviously hid a lot of pain.

She watched as he got out of the car and disappeared inside the building. He hadn’t confirmed nor denied that he wanted to end things with her and she didn’t know if she should be relieved at that. All she did know though was hearing those four words from Spencer again breathed a new life into her lungs.

He still loves her.

That’s all that matters.

Part 2

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot

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moonknightly · 4 years ago

Text

and you keep me holding on : santiago garcia x reader (eight)

Word Count: 2.3k+

Excerpt: “He still can’t reach out and touch her. All he has to do is move his hand a few inches forward and he could be touching her but he just fucking can’t, he can’t do it and he wants to scream at himself for being so weak.”

Warnings: Mentions of malnutrition, mentions of death but if you’ve made it this far you know that already. Cursing. I think that's it but please tell me if I’ve missed something.

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

Santi’s been awake for a few hours now. They’d moved from the ER to an actual room at some point, but just like earlier, he doesn’t really remember how he got there. All he knows is that now he’s sitting in a chair by her bedside, watching his leg bounce in time with a ticking clock from somewhere in the room, and he still hasn’t allowed himself to fully believe that he’s actually where he appears to be.

He keeps telling himself that it’s just a sick, twisted trick, that his mind is simply playing a game with his heart. He drank or he smoked too much before bed, and he’s stuck in some fucked up fever dream. It’s not real, she’s not real. He’ll look again and she’ll be gone.

But every time he lifts his head, every time he pinches his skin until he’s bruised, she’s still there. She’s there, and her chest is rising and falling with each breath, and the monitor above her bed is spiking with her heartbeat. The IV connected to her hand is dripping with a cocktail of vitamins and medications, fluids.

She’s there. She’s alive.

She’s not okay.

But she’s alive.

The door behind him opens with a soft click, and he doesn’t turn around to see who it is. Now he’s afraid that if he looks away, she’ll disappear again.

Jay takes a seat on the opposite side of her bed, and Santi briefly, so briefly lets his eyes flutter up to the other man’s face, only because he could still see her out of the corner of his eye, but he still doesn’t risk taking his attention off of her for long.

Several minutes pass in silence, and Santi’s not sure if he should break it or if Jay was just wanting to be close to her too. It’s weird, how the room feels so empty yet so full at the same time. So loud yet so quiet, it’s making his anxiety skyrocket. Santi sighs without really realizing it and runs a hand through his already messed up hair.

“What did the doctor say earlier?” he finally asks once it becomes too much. He adjusts in his seat and lets his head rest in the palm of his hand, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her hand. He hadn’t touched her yet, he’s almost scared to. Definitely scared to. “I was-”

“Kind of out of it, I know,” Jay mumbles, nodding his head. Santi watches out of the corner of his eye as Jay refuses to look away from her as well, and somehow that manages to quiet his nerves just a little bit. Two people watching over her is better than one.

But then Jay leans forward and puts his hand on her leg through the blankets, and that small bit of comfort is gone again. He’s not jealous, he just wants to touch her. Why can’t he fucking touch her?

“She’s dehydrated, malnourished.” But you can tell that just from looking at her. “Her blood tests were all over the fuckin’ place. She-”

Santiago nods along and listens with rapt attention, holding onto and memorizing all of the information that’s being thrown his way. He listens, and there’s two things that really stick out to him through the rest.

Her white blood cell count is so extremely elevated and her blood test results show a number of vitamin deficiencies that could take months to bring back into normal or even acceptable ranges. He expects that though, he’s not shocked by it.

But it sticks out to him because there’s fluid in her lungs — pneumonia, and for a moment, he can’t believe that she caught it in early October, but then he remembers he has the undernutrition to blame for that.

And then he remembers all of the complications that come with malnutrition, and how her body is going to struggle to fight off that sickness. It sticks out to him because he’s seen undernourished children die from a common cold because their little bodies just couldn’t handle it.

It sticks out to him because he knows what pneumonia could mean for someone in her state, and he can’t bear the thought of losing her, actually really losing her when she’s right there in front of him again.

But still, he listens, and Jay can tell that Santi needs some time alone again to process it all. He squeezes her leg once, then stands up from his chair and walks out of the room with the promise of bringing a fresh coffee and a change of clothes for Santiago.

Santi doesn’t move for some time, he’s not sure that he even blinks. He just sits there and stares at where Jay’s hand had been while his leg starts to bounce again.

He shakes his head, knowing he needs to pull himself together. The last year had been hell, if he could handle that he can sure as fuck handle this.

She’ll be okay. She’ll be okay she’ll be okay she’ll be okay.

He finally stands and moves to the edge of the bed, letting his hands rest on the rail. He grips it tightly, and he’s almost sure he could snap it if he really wanted to.

He still can’t reach out and touch her. All he has to do is move his hand a few inches forward and he could be touching her but he just fucking can’t, he can’t do it and he wants to scream at himself for being so weak.

But when he opens his mouth, it’s not a scream that comes out, it’s a whisper.

It’s hardly audible and he doesn’t even realize what he’s said at first, but he lets her name slip past his lips for the first time in so, so long it feels almost foreign.

But God, it’s just as fucking sweet as he remembers. So sweet it feels like honey dripping off his tongue and his anger at himself immediately evaporates and is replaced by something he can’t even think of a word for. Something like guilt, maybe?

He still can’t reach out and touch her.

“Wake up.”

He needs her to open her eyes. That would be enough.

“Just please hold on.”

OCTOBER FOURTH — DAY ONE

He hates it when they have to take her away the next morning for an MRI, just to rule out any sort of head trauma. He hates having her out of his sight, he hates thinking about the possibility of her opening her eyes and he’s not standing right there. Santi can only imagine how scared and confused she’ll be, and he wants to be there for her. He just wants to keep her safe, do what he couldn’t do before. He just wants her.

But he knows he’s not allowed to go with her and he doesn’t even try to argue it, he wants to stay on the doctor’s good side.

He decides to use that time to take the longest shower of his life, and he just sits there on cold tiles with the water pounding down on him for what has to be an hour. It’s long enough that his knees fucking hurt when he tries to stand again, and he has to brace himself on the wall for several minutes before he even tries to take another step. He changes, uses his fingers to comb through his tangled hair — he’d forgotten how dry hospital shampoo always makes it, and by the time he’s finished she’s still not back. The silence is closing in on him again.

So he calls the boys, somehow managing to get them all into a conference call to let them know that she’s okay, they found her.

Will and Benny are both stunned into silence, but the relief is evident when they finally start to ask questions, and Santi’s sure he hears Frankie crying softly, though he otherwise stays silent.

“And Nathan?” Will asks during a small stretch of silence.

Santi’s hair stands on end at the mention of his name, and the blood coursing through his veins feels hot like venom, like fire. He hadn’t thought about Nathan, not yet. His entire focus had been on his wife, of course it had been.

But now, his mind was racing with different thoughts and possibilities. Different things he wanted to do to him. How he wanted to make him suffer.

“Yeah, did they catch him?” Frankie sniffles, pulling Santi away from his thoughts.

“No.” His voice is clipped, and he can picture the boys holding their breath, can see in his mind how they would share nervous glances between each other, ‘cause they all know what that tone means.

“We-”

“We don’t need to be talking about this right now.”

It’s Will again, always the voice of reason, and Santi knows that he’s right. They don’t need to be talking about it over the phone.

“You guys wanna grab dinner or something sometime this we-”

They all interrupt him this time, but it’s Frankie who breaks through the noise and takes over.

“Dude, no. Not this week, fuck, maybe not even next month. Just...focus on her right now, okay?”

“But-”

“Santiago, she needs you. Just be there for her.”

Again, Santi doesn’t argue, because he knows the boys are right.

He needs to get with Graves, figure out what’s new, what they know though he assumes it’s not much.

He can’t help but think that’s a good thing.

He wants to get to Nathan before anyone else even has the chance.

She hears him. She always hears him. It’s always his voice in the back of her head, his voice in her dreams. It’s always him him him him him.

Santi.

She hears him, and the light in the room is so bright through her eyelids she’s sure she’s died and moved onto whatever, wherever existed beyond life and Earth. She can’t remember the last time she woke up to sunlight. Sunlight, Santiago, a warm blanket covering her shivering body.

She’s dead.

That’s okay.

But she doesn’t want to open her eyes. Even in the afterlife, she’s afraid that if she opens her eyes, he’ll disappear. She’s afraid she’ll open them and see Nathan, not Santi.

She just wants Santi. Only ever Santi.

And so when she hears a second voice, a man’s voice, one that she doesn’t recognize, she panics. She starts crying. She doesn’t want Santi’s voice to go away, she needs him. She fucking needs him.

She opens her eyes and he’s right there. He’s right there and that’s when she knows for certain she’s dead.

He looks almost the same. There’s a little more gray in his hair and he’s sporting a short beard instead of his usual stubble. His hands are shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie — it’s one that she recognizes, one that she’d wished for on cold nights when Nathan would chase her through the snow for fun, dangling freedom right in front of her face but always managing to track her down.

She wants to call out to him, she wants him closer. She wants to yell at the other man to leave the two of them alone but her voice feels stuck in her throat. She just cries harder, but she knows she doesn’t make a sound. Nathan never liked it when she cried.

A third body enters the room and she immediately slams her eyes shut, but it’s Jay. Just Jay.

And he saw her before she had time to look away.

“Her eyes were just open.”

Santi doesn’t even glance back towards him. His full attention is immediately on her, and he leaves Graves standing there to move back to her bedside, though this time he doesn’t even reach out to grip the rail like he had the night before.

He still can’t touch her.

But he does gently call out her name again, hoping and praying that Jay’s mind hadn’t been playing tricks. For a second, he thinks that must’ve been it. She’s not responding. But then he says her name again and he watches as her fingers twitch and grip the blanket between them.

Graves is out of the room to grab a nurse before Santi can even ask him to, and she opens her eyes again at the sound of retreating footsteps, beyond terrified thinking they belonged to Santi.

But he’s still there. He’s still right there, and Jay is there, and she’s in an actual bed and not on the floor.

Sunlight, Santi, blankets. Voices drifting from down the hallway, Jay, a bed.

She’s dead and that’s okay. It’s perfect. It’s all she’s been wanting for...she doesn’t even know how long she’d been with Nathan.

He says her name again, and she thinks it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard. So sweet it’s like honey dripping off his tongue.

It’s the little push she needs to finally find her voice, and it’s weak. It’s so weak, but he can still hear it, still understand her words and they make Santi’s chest ache.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t hold on.”

She doesn’t give Santi a second to even register her words, doesn’t give him a second to respond or ask if she’d heard him begging the night before.

“Please don’t leave, you always leave.”

It breaks Santi’s heart.

He needs to reach out and touch her, he needs to let her know that he’s still right here, that she’s here. She’s okay and he’s never going to let another bad thing ever happen to her ever again.

He still can’t touch her.

All he can do is say her name again, but this time, it’s broken. He feels broken.

He hates that he feels this way when in comparison, this last year has been easy on him.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.”

#santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader

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cycwrites · 4 years ago

Text

WIP Things aka Unofficial Fic Tease

In order to remind myself that I’ve left all of you hanging for the rest of my trilogy rewrite, I thought I would post my unbeta’d, unedited, good with the bad chapter 1 for the second movie. I also have hope that it will make me feel guilty for taking so damn long and get back to it. Especially since I’ve basically closed myself off from writing (and the muses) and I’m trying to pry the doors back open because I really do miss sharing my stories with you guys.

I wrote this well over a year ago, along with a 2nd chapter that deals with the Dean’s office, and really just hope you like it.

--------

About Damn Time

Chapter One: So That Happened

Word Count: 2600 -------- ~B~

At the end of Beca’s junior year, two things of note happened.

First: Chloe, once again, made the decision to stay with Beca and the Bellas and failed Russian Lit for the third time. Beca had tried to talk her out of it, torn between wanting Chloe to move forward in her life beyond Barden and guilt that she was relieved they wouldn’t have to figure out how to work a long distance relationship. She wasn’t ready to try that and couldn’t imagine leading the group without her. But Chloe had insisted this was where she’d wanted to be and she didn’t feel like she was missing out on anything.

Second: The Bellas were asked to perform at President Obama’s 50th birthday celebration at the Kennedy Center on August 8th.

Beca had laughed when the call had come through the never used landline at the Bella house.

“Good afternoon, this is Mack Johnson and I’m calling on behalf of the White House…”

“Yeah right. Nice try, Jesse.” She hung up and pulled out her cell phone as she walked into the kitchen. Pausing by the counter she typed out a quick message to him.

Beca: I’ve gotta give you points for originality though. You almost sounded like an actual adult.

She poured herself a glass of lemonade before he answered.

Jesse: I’m going to take that as a compliment and ignore the wound to my manly pride, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Beca: Whatever you say, ‘Mack.’ If you’d said you were calling from anywhere but the White House I might’ve let you keep talking.

Instead of answering via text, Jesse called her.

“Are you day drinking, Mitchell?” Jesse clucked his tongue. “Without your lesbro? I’m hurt, Becaw.”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Beca lifted her glass and took a sip. “What inspired your call today?”

“Uh, your cryptic and confusing texts to me, of course.” Jesse chuckled. “Want to clue me in?”

Beca sighed. “Man you’re committed to this.”

“To what?”

Beca set her glass on the counter. “Fine – you just called me and –” She jumped as the phone in the living room rang for only the second time in her years at Barden. “Pretended… to be… from the White House.”

“I thought you said you weren’t drinking?” Jesse laughed but it sounded distant as Beca watched Chloe answer the phone.

Her girlfriend’s blue eyes went wide and locked on Beca’s as she said, “I’m sorry, did you say you’re calling from the White House?”

“Jesse?” Beca said absently.

“Yes, Beca?” His voice took on an echo as all the blood drained from her face.

“I gotta go pass out now.” She swallowed dryly. “I’ll call you later.”

“Beca wa-”

Beca had remained frozen in the kitchen while Chloe became more and more animated, frantically scribbling down notes on the notepad sitting beside the phone, though her voice was carefully calm and collected. Then she’d run into the kitchen, screaming and jumping in excitement and talking faster than Beca’s shocked mind could process. Drawn by the commotion like a frat boy to a kegger, the rest of the girls soon joined the chaos while Beca still stood frozen by the counter as they swirled around her.

The school had allowed them to stay on campus through the summer so they could discuss songs and choreography. The time had been a whirlwind of security checks and practice and everything they planned needed to be vetted by the performance organizers. Of course, since they’d come to the Bellas after their third ICCA win in a row, there weren’t any real problems.

Until the night of the performance when one set of tangled silks and a desire for no panty lines wrecked everything.

No pun intended.

~B~ Sunday, August 24th, 2014

Beca lay on their bed and stared at the ceiling, listening to Chloe pace beside her.

“I’ve ruined everything.” Pace to the head of the bed. “Destroyed our reputation.” Pace back to the foot. “Made the Bellas a joke.”

Beca sighed and pushed herself up on her elbows. “Chloe. It’s a capella. It’s already a jo-” She stopped as Chloe spun to face her, outraged. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Beca tried a smile. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.” She let it slip when Chloe just stared at her and Beca dropped back down to gaze at the ceiling. “Won’t make that mistake again.”

“I’m the one who gave Amy the green-light to do ‘Wrecking Ball.’” Chloe resumed pacing.

“Because, despite most of her claims, she actually had done some training on the silks before coming to the states.” Beca countered, as she had for the past three weeks. “She was good on them and never once in our rehearsals did she get tangled up.”

“But-”

“No.” Beca cut her off and sat up, pulling her legs up to sit cross legged and face her. “We all agreed to let her do it. It was a group vote.” She softened her voice and held out her hand. “This isn’t all on you, Chlo.”

With a sigh, Chloe took her hand and let herself be tugged onto the bed. Beca stretched back out and Chloe settled against her side. “It feels like it.”

“That’s because you’re the one who looks out for us.” Beca gently rubbed her back. “No one could’ve predicted this, love.”

“No…” Chloe said grudgingly. “But…”

Beca cut her off again. “There’s no buts.”

“Except Amy’s.” Chloe huffed, tension that had begun to fade making her stiffen up again in Beca’s arms. “All over the news.” She groaned. “Why didn’t I just use the cloth I was freaking holding to cover her up?”

“Same reason I didn’t,” Beca said reasonably, having heard a version of this several times before. “My mind went blank and I couldn’t move. I just… kept waiting to wake up.”

“Same.” Chloe pressed her nose to Beca’s shoulder. “I still am. This is such a nightmare.”

“She feels bad.” Beca offered. “It was her idea to do that press conference.” She winced as Chloe snorted.

“Yeah, where she then tried to show her ‘silk burn’ to the entire world.” Chloe sat up and pushed herself off the bed. “Again.” She resumed pacing and Beca’s mind hunted around for anything she could say to defuse things.

“At least we saved Aubrey’s college legacy from Pukegate?” Even as the words were out of her mouth Beca knew they were stupid and wrong.

“And ruined ours with Muffgate.” Chloe snarled.

“I wish I could find the asshole that came up with that. Bet it was those podcast people and of course everyone else jumped on it.” Beca made a face. “It was an accident and eventually there will be another crisis for them to focus on.” She slid over to the edge of the bed and swung her legs over. “It won’t be forever, Chlo.”

Pace, turn. “But tomorrow we go see the Dean.” Pace, turn. “With those podcast people who are apparently actually part of the Collegiate A Cappella Association.”

“They’re still weird and he’s an ass.” Beca stood up and stretched as she heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs. “Think you’ll be able to enjoy yourself at dinner tonight?”

Chloe stopped by the small table they inherited from Aubrey and took a deep breath. “Of course. It’s Amy’s birthday. I’m not going to ruin it for her.” She flashed Beca a small grin, the first in an hour. “Why do you think I’m up here instead of downstairs?”

“Speaking of,” a new voice said from the stairs. “There’s maybe… A situation.” Jessica smiled apologetically when they both looked at her as she reached the top.

Beca sighed. “Of course there is.”

“Do I even want to know?” Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Probably not, but Stacie sent me to get you.”

“Coward,” Beca muttered. “She knows I can’t hit you because you’re too nice.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, quick like ripping off a band-aid.”

“Amy’s sitting on the couch. With a towel on her lap.” Jessica hesitated.

“That’s… Why is that a big deal?” Chloe asked, confused.

“She’s… commando. Because of her silk burn.” The blonde’s shoulders bounced once but she didn’t say anything else.

“I swear to fucking god I’m going to glue underwear on her,” Chloe muttered under her breath.

Beca was struck by a horrible thought. “Is she sitting on another towel?”

“We were afraid she’d show us if we asked.” Jessica looked at Beca. “That’s when Stacie sent me to get you.”

“Why do I have to do it?” Beca knew she was whining but couldn’t help it.

“Because you’re the captain.” Jessica shrugged again. “You can threaten her with cardio if she tries to flash us again.”

“Yeah but Amy doesn’t always listen to me and I don’t want to have flashbacks.” Beca reluctantly headed for the stairs as Jessica started back down.

“Birthday or not…” Chloe muttered as she followed.

“I’m sure Lilly has a hot glue gun you can use,” Beca mused, not surprised to find Ashley hanging out in the hallway when they left the attic.

“Don’t tempt me.” Chloe didn’t say anything else the entire trip down the stairs.

Beca rounded the corner, passing Jessica and Ashley who had stopped in the entry and came to a halt herself, Chloe running into her back.

All she could see was the back of Amy’s head but she appeared to be looking straight at Lilly who sat cross-legged on the ottoman and staring back.

“Do I even want to know?” Beca turned her head toward Jessica but didn’t take her eyes off the scene.

“I didn’t ask that either,” came the whispered reply.

Beca took a bracing breath then walked into the living room. Despite the reassurance that the covering towel existed, Beca didn’t relax until she saw it for herself. It was nothing personal against Amy, but Beca just didn’t want to see any of the Bellas naked, Chloe being the obvious exception. You never knew when the visual would pop back in your head and Amy had already shown up enough in the past few weeks to last a lifetime.

“Amy.” Beca looked up at a sound from the kitchen and saw Stacie leaning in the doorway with Cynthia Rose and Flo sitting at the center island.

“Captain.” Amy didn’t turn her head or avert her gaze.

“Are you guys in a staring contest?” Beca frowned, looking between the two women. “And if so why?”

“I don’t know,” Amy lifted one shoulder. “All I know is she hasn’t blinked since she sat down and why take the risk of losing.”

Beca felt her eyes twitch at the thought. “Jesus, please cut it out before my eyes start watering.” She stepped between them and Amy closed her eyes in relief.

“Thanks, Shawshank. That was starting to burn.” She started to lift one corner of the towel to wipe her eyes and Beca threw out her hand.

“Nope. That stays there.” Chloe said it before Beca could.

“Please tell me you’re sitting on another towel.” Beca sighed and ran her hand through her hair.

“Of course I am!” Amy actually looked indignant. “I’m not a heathen, Beca.” She rolled her eyes. “The pants I want to wear to dinner are tight, so I’m giving my bits time to breathe first.”

“Now that’s in my head.” Cynthia Rose muttered from the kitchen.

“That’s in all our heads,” Ashley said from the doorway behind them.

“You could always wear that blue skirt,” Chloe offered diplomatically. “That way you’re not uncomfortable for your birthday dinner.”

“I do look hot in that.” Amy thought about it while the rest of them made sounds of agreement. “Alright, you’ve swayed me. And as it’s almost that time, guess I’ll go upstairs and change.” She started to stand as Beca moved back then paused. “If you’d all turn around and give me some privacy while I wrap?”

Beca rolled her eyes as she turned to face the front window that, thankfully, had the curtains drawn. “That’s what you get for being half naked in the public areas of the house.”

“I got bored in my room.” Beca heard Amy stand up and the rustle of fabric. “Alright, I’m decent.”

“Hey!”

Beca jumped at the unexpected shout and looked over her shoulder. Stacie had come out of the kitchen and was pointing at the couch.

“That’s my favorite towel!” Outage filled her face. “I was looking for that for over a week!”

“It’s also the softest towel in the house.” Amy said as she picked it up, tucking the other firmly around her waist. “It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt when I’m sitting.”

A choked sound from behind her brought Beca’s eyes back around to Chloe, who was biting the inside of her cheek and trying not to giggle. “I’m sure she’ll wash it before she gives it back.”

Beca tried to choke back her laugh and ended up sounding like a pug with a cold as she snickered into her hand.

“I think…” Stacie sighed. “Happy Birthday, Amy. It’s all yours.”

“You sure, Stretch?” Amy threw the towel in question over her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll need it for much longer.”

“Yup.” Stacie nodded emphatically. “I’ll go get another one this weekend.”

“Thanks, Stacie.” Amy smiled at her before her lips twisted slightly. “Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

“’S okay.” Stacie shrugged. “Now go get changed so we can celebrate your day.”

“Are you allowed to give me orders on my birthday?” Amy mused as she headed for the stairs.

“Probably not,” Beca said. “But I’ll probably do it anyway.”

“Bossy.” Chloe whispered behind her and Beca flashed her a grin.

“Alright.” Beca clapped her hands once. “Show’s over, let’s go get our party outfits on and get some grub. We’ve got a Bella to celebrate.”

Stacie walked past her, shaking her head. “Bossy.”

Beca let her head fall back as she stared at the ceiling. “I can’t with you two.”

“What?” Stacie paused in the door to the entry. “Did we do the thing again?”

“Yup.” Chloe pushed Beca toward the stairs. “I called her that thirty seconds ago.” She high fived Stacie over Beca’s shoulder when the tall woman grinned and held out her hand.

“Score one for us.” Stacie laughed and started up the stairs.

“I hate you guys.” Beca said weakly as she followed.

“Liar,” Chloe laughed and ran her hand down Beca’s back.

“Maybe.” Beca let Chloe go before her.

“Definitely.”

“Yeah yeah,” Beca waved her up the stairs, unable to help admiring the way Chloe’s muscles flexed as she moved. “But seriously, my stomach just woke up and if I don’t feed it soon it’s going to take over the world.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Stacie saluted as she stepped into her room.

“Smartass,” Beca threw back.

“And you love it.” Stacie closed the door with a laugh.

“Stop flirting with Stacie and let’s go change before you get hangry.” Chloe took her hand and tugged on it.

“She wishes,” Beca muttered but followed Chloe up to their room, ignoring the ‘Often’ that came from Stacie’s room behind them.

‘She’s got bat hearing, I swear.’ Beca thought to herself as she went to the closet to get her outfit for the night.

Tomorrow was still looming over them, but Beca pushed it all away, determined to think about Amy and the Bellas for the rest of the night.

It was one mistake and they’d just won three years in a row. Surely they weren’t in that much trouble.

Right?

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #all the other bellas #rise 1 #cyc fic tease #cyc motivational seeker

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asstronauts · 4 years ago

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don’t want no other shade of blue (but you)

rating: t word count: 2431 pairing: jemily bbs, the early days summary: in which we come to know why JJ loves her blue blanket so dearly, why she always wraps it so tightly around herself on the jet

read on ao3, if you’d prefer

---

"JJ," Emily groaned, pulling the pillow tightly around her ears to block out the blaring noise of JJ's ringtone. "Your phone."

There was a slight grunt in response, but no move to action came from the blonde beside her.

With great effort, Emily rolled over and stretched her arm past her sleeping girlfriend to where JJ's cell lay on the bedside table. She blinked a few times, allowing her eyes to adjust to the bright screen.

"It's Hotch," Emily whispered, placing a hand on JJ’s side. "We gotta get up."

JJ sleepily batted Emily's hand away, and despite the urgency of a call from the BAU at 3am, Emily smiled. How unbelievable it was to her that she had the privilege to call Jennifer Jareau her girlfriend, that they had spent the night simply enjoying every aspect of each other, enough to exhaust JJ into a state of ignoring Hotch's call. Seeing her sleeping soundly in Emily's bed, without a worry in the world, exposed a vulnerable side of the younger agent that she had never been allowed to see until recently.

For a moment, Emily considered answering the phone, if only to make the loud ringing stop, but the implications of that were far too great, and she was not prepared for Hotch to ask questions about Emily and JJ dating. After months of dancing around one another, they had finally settled into the rhythm of a wonderful relationship, and she wanted to keep the chats about professionalism and the inevitable teasing away from the exhilaration of it all for as long as she could.

The call went to voicemail, and a text popped up soon after.

Aaron Hotchner: Case in Augusta, Maine — urgent. Could you gather the team?

"Jayje," Emily tried again, this time shaking JJ's shoulder a bit. "We have a case. In Maine."

"Mmm...too cold."

Emily chuckled. "I know, babe. Next time, I'll tell the serial killers to hunt somewhere warmer, okay?"

"Yes, please," JJ tugged Emily's arm to wrap around her as she snuggled deeper into the covers.

"JJ," Emily protested, but she leaned into the embrace and curled her body around her girlfriend. "You need to call the rest of the team too."

JJ heaved a sigh as she took a moment to untangle herself and sit on the edge of the bed. Emily rose as well and tossed her a shirt from the floor.

"This doesn't fit. It's yours," JJ mumbled as she tugged it on.

"It looks good on you," Emily replied.

"You're not even looking."

With the both of them finally dressed, Emily rose to wash up in the bathroom and glanced at JJ, still seated in the same position. The older agent moved back and wrapped a blanket from the bed around her shoulders, drawing out a hum from her girlfriend at the sudden warmth.

"Wash up and call the team in ten minutes, and I'll let you bring the blanket onto the car," Emily promised with a grin, a bargain that finally motivated JJ to follow her to the bathroom.

---

JJ had passed out immediately during the drive, and Emily almost did not have the heart to wake her when they reached the BAU. She parked the car and took a moment to admire the woman slumbering on beside her, blue blanket drawn closely to her chin as she curled up tightly in the front seat.

The parking lot lights were not the most well-maintained, but in the hours before dawn, Emily could've sworn they were made just to illuminate JJ's sleeping face perfectly.

A loud knock on the window jolted both of them out of their respective dreams, as Emily was greeted by the smiling face and waggling eyebrows of one Penelope Garcia. She waved and held up a tray of coffee cups — an apology in advance for the merciless teasing she was about to unleash on the couple.

"Long night?"

"Give me those," Emily grabbed the coffee from her grinning friend and ignored the comment.

"You lovebirds are getting careless," Penelope tutted. "Spencer will take no time to notice that's not JJ's shirt on her, and soon, the whole team will know our little secret."

"You're only in on this secret because of your cyber-snooping," JJ grumbled, slowly dragging her body and blanket out of the car.

"I wouldn't need to cyber-snoop, if the two of you had just told me in the first place," the tech analyst defended herself.

Emily laughed and shook her head as she began to make her way to the building.

JJ frowned at her phone, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Hotch said to meet on the airstrip. We're briefing on the jet and headed straight to Maine."

"Must be a serious case."

"Kids," JJ's expression was difficult to read, but Emily knew she was struggling to maintain a steady voice as she read through Hotch's texts. "And an Augusta city council member’s two children are missing after a string of ritualistic homicides."

Without another word, the trio proceeded to the tarmac. Emily's hand dropped from JJ's lower back as they neared, seeing Derek and Spencer turn to face the approaching group.

JJ clutched her girlfriend's folded blue blanket closely to her chest, hoping it would hide the shared shirt from her frustratingly observant coworkers as they gathered to board the jet. If Spencer noticed anything, he remained silent, though the gravity of the case suddenly overshadowed any fear of their relationship being exposed.

Hotch handed out the case folders to each of them. “Thanks for coming in so quickly. Children in Augusta are being abducted in pairs,” he explained. “We have four victims so far, with two more children missing. Local police called us as soon as they recognized the ritualistic nature of the killings.”

“Looks like some sort of staging,” Derek observed, flipping through the crime scene images. “One kid is tied up in a chair, the other killed in front of him.”

Spencer hummed in thought. “But look at the way the head is restrained at that angle. It’s like he’s being forced to watch.”

“When we land, Morgan and Reid head straight to the crime scenes,” Hotch said, not looking up from his case file. “Prentiss and Garcia, I need us looking into victimology, any connections in these families beyond them having two children. JJ, we’re going to need to have a hold on what the press is showing, what with these latest abductions being from such a high profile family.”

JJ nodded, keeping an impressively neutral expression on her face, but Emily caught a glimpse of her shaking hands as she closed the manila file and placed it on the table in front of her.

Despite her concern for JJ, Emily couldn't help but stare lovingly as she bundled up in the blanket once more after the briefing, though the flight to Maine was far too short to make up for all the lost sleep from the night before. She dropped her gaze before the rest of the team could catch her staring, but they seemed too engrossed in the files before them to notice.

---

The cases with children were never easy.

Emily could see it in the way JJ's jaw clenched as they stood before the police department, in the tight nod she gave when Spencer asked if she was okay — how every thought was filled with fear over her own son. She could see the blonde wrestling over the fact that yes, Henry was safe with Will hundreds of miles away, but despite everything she knew to be true, the anxious thoughts remained.

“How are you doing?”

They had finally caught a moment alone, but in the middle of the police precinct, Emily didn’t dare to do more than hand JJ another cup of coffee and place a comforting hand on her arm.

“I'm fine."

She was lying, Emily knew. And JJ knew that Emily knew. But there was too much to unpack in the middle of the case, so she let it drop.

JJ picked nervously at her sweater. "I texted Will, and I'm gonna go pick up Henry for the weekend."

"Okay."

There was an uncertain silence.

"I'm not okay, but I will be."

Emily looked at her girlfriend. JJ was blinking hard, eyes searching for something in the room to fix her gaze and mind on. Emily knew how much it had taken to even admit she wasn’t okay, and in the moment, the older agent could offer only her unshakeable faith in JJ’s courage and a promise to be there for her until she came out the other side.

"I know you will."

---

Every press conference, every interview with the victims' parents, every drive to a new crime scene — each had been another crack in JJ's slowly crumbling facade, even after they’d caught the unsub. And after the exhaustion of hiding it from the public, Emily could see just how close she was to breaking down on the jet in front of her teammates.

JJ took her seat by the window and immediately pulled out the blue blanket, draping it loosely around her shoulders. Beside her, Emily longed to hold her close, pulling JJ's head to her chest, whispering words that everything would be alright until JJ had nothing to fear anymore. Instead she reached over and gave her girlfriend's hand a squeeze, a gesture that could at least be seen as platonic if any team members were watching.

JJ forced a thin smile, then turned away from her towards the window, pulling the blanket close.

Emily could sense JJ’s desire to withdraw and shut down, and she felt helpless against it. JJ's breathing slowed, and anyone who didn't know her the way Emily did would have assumed the blonde was asleep.

The dark-haired agent bit her lip and pulled out her phone, sending a quick text to Will.

Rough case today, could JJ talk to Henry?

Within a few moments of Will's 👍🏻 response, JJ’s phone rang, and Emily watched out of the corner of her eye.

JJ's face twisted into a strange expression of concern at the name on the phone, as though expecting the worst for her own child after the horrors they had witnessed on the case.

"Will?"

"HI MOMMY!"

Emily hid a grin as she heard Henry's cry of delight burst through the phone's tiny speaker.

"Hi Henry," JJ's face lit up, the worries from the case fading.

Despite JJ turning down the volume, Henry’s enthusiastic voice could still be heard rather clearly.

“Yes, I’m all finished working now, so I’ll be coming over to get you soon, okay?”

“Is Emmie coming too?” Henry asked.

Emily’s eyes widened, and she heard Penelope turn a fit of laughter into a horribly fake cough. She buried her head in her hands, refusing to look up and around the plane to see if anyone else had heard the nickname Henry had given her after a particularly wonderful date at the zoo.

“I, uh, I don’t know, bud. Maybe some other time,” JJ said quickly, shooting Emily an apologetic look before changing the subject. “I think it’s almost time for bed. Have you gotten ready?”

“I’m not tired,” came the mumbled reply.

“Well, mommy’s tired,” JJ argued. “What story do you want to hear tonight?”

“The moon one.”

JJ glanced out the window of the jet at the night sky and smiled. “The moon one, okay. This story is about two sisters who loved each other very much. They lived together on a farm out in the countryside with lots of animals…”

Emily watched as JJ chatted quietly with her son, beaming the entire time. Though the case had taken a toll on her, JJ would always cherish the little moments with the ones she loved.

The blonde hung up after Henry's bedtime story and fiddled with the fabric on her lap. "Thank you," she said softly.

Emily smiled back and reached a hand under the blanket to hold JJ's — just a hint of the amount of love she wanted to show, but enough to tide the two of them over for the remainder of the flight.

---

“Are you sure you’re okay? And don’t say you’re fine,” Emily asked, not taking her eyes off the road as they drove home.

There was a long pause.

“I don’t know how to protect him,” JJ said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Henry?”

JJ nodded. “We see the worst things every single day. How can I be okay with exposing him to all this? Doing what the unsub did — forcing him to see and know about death so closely.”

Emily took her eyes off the road for a second to look at her girlfriend. Her eyes were angry, but more than that, they were full of fear for her son. She picked anxiously at the blanket still on her lap.

“It’s not the same at all, JJ. You know that,” Emily reassured her. “We spend every day catching the bad guys, doing what we can to save lives.”

“Does it make a difference?” JJ murmured.

“Jayje, Henry admires you, the courage you have in your job. What you do...it shows him that there’s evil in the world, but it can be fought and overcome.”

Emily could see JJ turning the words over in her mind, pitting them against the lies her own thoughts had conjured of her inadequate parenting.

“He’s lucky to have you,” Emily added. “And so am I.”

JJ looked up and inhaled sharply as they turned the corner to Emily's apartment. "I can wash this blanket and give it back to you tomorrow."

Emily's forehead creased. In front of the team, she had been unable to do anything to ease her girlfriend's anxiety during the difficult case, but she had seen the way JJ wrapped herself in the blanket whenever she could, as though the warmth of the cover was instead a comforting embrace from the older agent.

Emily remained silent until the pair had exited the car and were standing hand in hand in front of the apartment.

"Keep it." After what felt like an eternity of not being able to hold her, Emily wrapped the smaller woman into a tight embrace. JJ's arms curled upwards to grasp at Emily's sweater as she buried her face into her neck. For a moment, the two of them rested in each other's arms, and nothing else mattered.

“Keep it as long as you need to, for all the moments I can’t hold you the way I want to.”

#i know it's probably just some cheap airline blanket but let me have this #em dash count: 6 #is she putting out content again who's to say #s/o to taylor swift for endless fic titles #and ty abbie for fic title specifically #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #my post

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your-eternal-muse · 4 years ago

Text

All I Wanted (Was You) Pt. 2

Part 1

Summery: Reader finally gets to talk to Spencer about the events of their relationship

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Swearing, description of an arrest, manipulation, signs of a toxic relationship, JJ slander, slapping, reader isn’t a good person in anyway shape or form, just you wait

Pairing: Criminal!Reader x Eventual Criminal!Spencer

A/N: Hey....it’s been a second...how y’all been? So this has been burning a hole in my google drive for weeks now, and I’m gonna be honest I’ve just been too damn lazy to post it. I truely started my new job, and guess what? I got covid, so that was real fucking fun. Plus I’ve been dealing with some personal shit that has not been entirely good for my mental health, but do not fret! I am doing much better than these past few weeks and weather its because of the iron supplement I’m remembering to take daily, or the fact that because I had covid, means the chances of me getting it again are slim, and I just don’t have it in me to care anymore is up in the air. And I do care. I wear my mask and social distance, but when it comes to me personally.....I couldn’t give a fuck. Anyway here it is, the long awaited part two. There are already four parts I have planned, so yay! Another series! Enjoy!

I’ve decided. I hate this fucking room.

I’ve also decided that I hate Agent Jareau. Or A.J. Or whoever the fuck she was.

I openly glare at her from across the table, since I can’t actively do the things that I want to do to her.

The man sitting next to her introduced himself as Agent Hotchner.

He’s the one that pulled Mathew back. Or Dr. Reid. Fuck.

“Ms. Y/l/n and I have spoken, and she has agreed to answer any and all of your questions. You have her full cooperation. On one condition.”

The annoyed grimace spreading across Jareau’s face slaps a smirk on my own.

“What’s the condition?”

I speak now, staring at my reflection in the mirror before moving eye contact back to Hotchner.

“I want to speak to Mat- Dr. Reid. Alone, with no surveillance, for a half hour.”

The room runs cold.

“No.”

“I will answer anything you ask. But only after my own questions are answered.”

I lean forward onto my elbows, still smirking. “You gotta give a little, to get a little.”

“We can answer any questions you have.”

“That’s not what I want. This is my one condition. You don’t give me this, you aren’t getting shit from me.” I spit, wishing I could grab her collar and throttle her.

“Listen here you little-”

“Stand down, JJ.” Hotchner has his arm outstretched in front of her, keeping her from jumping across the table.

“Yeah, JJ. Stand down.” I purr, and her jaw sets.

A cell phone rings.

Hotchner picks up, breaking eye contact with me for a second while he quietly asks, “Are you sure?”

Someone answers, and he doesn’t respond before ending the call and turning back to me.

“He’ll do it.”

Is it bad my heart jumped?

“What?” Jareau is staring at the side of Hotchner's face, but he keeps eye contact with me.

“You get a half hour. And if anything happens inside that room-”

“I don’t appreciate you threatening my client when she has just agreed to cooperate. Now, will you please uncuff her so she can go to the designated room?”

His face is a stone, barely showing any sign of his thoughts.

But he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out the keys while moving around the table to where I sit.

They fall from my wrists, and I pull the sleeves of the sweater Sheila gave me down to cover the red skin.

“Follow me.” he says, and I stand, free for the first time since this morning.

Running only crosses my mind for a second before I follow him through the hallways, glaring eyes burning into my back.

He opens the door to another small conference room, allowing me and Sheila to enter.

“We’ll send him in once you’re ready.” he says and without another word, he closes the door.

Sheila turns to me. “Are you sure this is what you want?” She takes my hands in hers.

“Positive.”

“Okay. You get a half hour. Use it wisely.” She lets go of my hands.

“That’s the plan.” I shove them into my pockets.

She nods, before opening the door, and leaving.

My heart pounds in my chest.

I wring my hands.

The door closes.

He stands, staring.

“Hi.”

I swallow, anger rippling through my bones.

I storm forward, and I see him hold out his hands to try and stop me, but he doesn’t put up much of a fight.

My open palm meets the skin of his cheek and fire eats at my fingers.

We’re both quiet for a moment before I reach forward, feeling his chest, his sides, his pockets.

I feel a bulk under his shirt beneath his waistband on his back.

“Are you fucking serious?” I pull up his shirt, grabbing the phone from his hip.

He doesn’t meet my eye as I see it’s on a call. With a certain agent's name flashing across the screen.

I throw it to the ground, stomping into it with my heel until I hear it crack before picking it up and opening the door.

“Y/n please..”

I throw it into the room of agents.

I meet the eyes of the person who made the initial call.

“You’re fucking lucky the deals still on, Jennifer. Or those people's deaths would be on your hands. So thank your lucky stars that I want to prove my innocence because if I didn’t give a fuck, you would have a lot to fucking explain right now.”

I slam the door shut, locking it behind me.

I stand, heaving, staring at the swirls in the wood of the door.

I wait until my breathing is less erratic to speak.

“You must think I’m fucking stupid.” My voice is oddly calm for the anger burning through my veins.

“I don’t. I’ve never thought that.” He moves to stand a few feet behind me. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

I turn then, moving into his face.

“How the hell was it supposed to happen!?”

I hear footsteps approach me as I stir the creamer into my coffee.

Hands are on my waist, and I barely have time to set my spoon down before he’s turning me around, and capturing me in a bone crushing hug.

I laugh nervously, hugging him back. “Good morning to you too.”

He pushes me back a little bit, and his eyes are red rimmed and frantic.

“Hey,” I cup his face, running my thumb over the apple of his cheek. “Talk to me baby, what’s wrong?”

Different scenarios run through my mind, all of them terrible.

None of them are what he actually says.

“If I asked you to run away with me, would you?”

My thumb stops. “What?”

His eyes dart back up to mine, and the sheer glow of urgency shining in his pupils makes my heart rate pick up.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” My hand starts to fall from his face, but his hands come up to grip my wrists.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Matty, just talk to me. Whatever it is, we can fix it, I can fix this.”

His eyes dart to the clock on the oven behind me, and his breathing picks up. “Shit.”

He licks his lips. “I-”

My front door slams open.

I jump back, hitting my coffee cup on the counter, spilling the contents.

Officers spill in and my stomach drops to my feet.

“Y/n y/l/n?” An officer comes forward, gun lowered, but finger still on the trigger.

I slowly raise my hands. “Yes? What’s going on? Matty, what’s happening?”

His grip on my arm is like steel, but officers come and pry him away from me, twisting my arm behind my back. His eyes dart between me and the people swarming.

“No! Please, this isn’t-, stop!” He’s shouting, looking around at the officers pool into my house.

I am acutely aware of the gun aimed at my chest.

My arms are pulled behind tight behind me, and it’s instinct to fight.

“What are you doing? Let go of me!”

“Y/n y/l/n you are under arrest for-”

I don’t hear the rest. All I hear is Matty’s voice, his fight to remove himself from the officer who was trying to cuff him.

No.

“Let him go! He didn’t do anything!”

He looks annoyed and frightened and tired all at once.

I’m being pulled away from the scene towards my front door.

“No! No Mathew! Don’t touch him!”

My wrists pull against the handcuffs, burning into my skin.

“Stop! My name is Dr. Spencer Reid! I’m an FBI agent with the behavioral analysis unit.”

I stop.

The officer stops.

The world stops.

“My badge is in my back pocket. I’m going to reach for it now.” He reaches back into his pocket and pulls out a leather badge, opening it to show the officers.

One nods, and they back off of him, letting go of his arms.

“What?” It’s broken and barely a whisper.

His eyes meet mine, and tears are freely rolling down my cheeks, and I blink to try and get rid of them, but it doesn’t work.

“You- You’re a-” I can’t breath. “What?”

My chest hurts.

“Y/n-”

I’m out the door.

The world is in slow motion.

Black coats and red and blue lights are everywhere.

I’m in the back of a police car.

He’s in the yard.

Staring.

“It wasn’t even supposed to. I got the call 5 minutes before they came. I didn’t have any time, I couldn’t do anything.”

“You couldn’t do anything?” I look at him in disbelief.

“You could have, I don’t know, not have lied to me?”

“It’s not that simple.”

His cheek is red.

I fight back the urge to reach forward and hold it against my palm.

We didn’t move, and I realize that this was not the best idea.

I move past him, going to stand by the window.

I never realized how high up we were.

He turns with me, watching me as I go.

“Who are you?”

I hear him shift. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. I��m an agent with the Behavioral analysis unit.”

“Doctor? What are you a doctor of?”

A doctor? A friggin doctor?

“I have 3 BA’s and PhDs in mathematics, chemistry and engineering.”

I can’t help but let my mouth fall open.

I see a small smile twitch on his face. “I also have an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

I shut my mouth and scoff. “That just proves that I know absolutely nothing about you.”

I start to pace, wanting to scream from the silence.

I go back and forth inside my head, wondering which question I should ask next. So many bubbled inside my head, it made my brain hurt.

“Why did you go undercover?” is what I settle on.

“We wanted proof that you had part in the murders. We couldn’t get that without inside information. I volunteered because from watching you, I know you’d take pity on me. It’d be believable that I didn’t know what I was doing. You wouldn’t feel intimidated by me.”

His hands are on my shoulders now, stopping back in front of the window.

He’s close enough now that I can feel his body heat against my back.

I hated that he was right.

“You get defensive around women you consider a threat, and you don’t trust men bigger than you. I was a good middle.”

I really wish he would talk louder. It’d make me feel like he didn’t care. The soft tone he was using was sending comforting signals down my spine.

I don’t want to be comfortable.

I want to be angry.

“So it was all for your case then? Everything you told me, everything we did, all those promises was a lie?”

I take a chance, and turn to face him.

I wish I could stop crying.

“Was anything you told me true?”

“Yes!” His hands tighten around my shoulders, startling me. Realization flashes over his eyes and his hands hesitantly remove themselves from me.

He takes a breath. “At first, work was all it was. I was just supposed to observe you, your behavior and report back to my team. But after a few weeks, something changed. You were fragile, and compassionate. When I looked at you, I didn’t see a cold-blooded killer, or a sociopathic dominate. I saw you. I saw the way you cared for people, how you stood up for your clients, and I couldn’t help myself. I feel in love with you.”

His hands are back on me, now resting just above my elbows.

“I love you. Everything I told you about us and what I wanted to do, that’s the truth.”

I wipe my tears away with my fingertips.

“You asked me this morning, before they took me away, if I wanted to run away with you. Do you still mean it, or was that just a ruse?” I worded the question carefully.

“I mean it.”

I sigh, finally looking up into his eyes. “You don’t think I had anything to do with those murders, do you?”

He shakes his head.

I set my jaw. “I want to hear you say it. It’s the least you owe me.”

He swallows. “No. I don’t think you do. I never did.”

My fingers play with the fabric of his shirt. “Spencer suits you.”

He smiles softly. “Thank you.”

“What are you going to tell your team?”

“Nothing. I can’t. And even if I could I wouldn’t want to.”

“Why? I would think you’d want to tell them everything.”

“Usually I do. But they don’t see you like I do. It’s just better if they don’t know. For everyone.”

I can’t help it.

I lean my head against his chest, and let his arms wrap around me.

We stand like that for what seems like years before I feel wetness on my hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

I just hold him tighter.

I know that he’s talking about the present situation. But I can’t help but agree for an entirely different reason.

If he hadn’t been the one to come in that day, we wouldn’t be here.

He wouldn’t feel guilty.

I wouldn’t be licking my wounds, going over every conversation we’ve ever had, trying to figure out what’s true and what’s not.

I’d be sitting in a jail cell, wondering where I went wrong, and he’d be helping his team, with no personal connection to me.

I’d be alone.

I hug him tighter, closing my eyes wishing I could be anywhere else with him.

My pocket feels heavy.

There’s a damp spot on his shirt when I pull away.

“I’m bad for you, Spencer.” My voice breaks.

“Is it bad that I don’t care?”

“You should care. I’m not a good person.”

He places his hands on either side of my face, swiping away me tears with his thumbs.

He doesn’t respond.

He just leans down and kisses me.

Kisses me like it’s the last time he’s able to.

Which may very well be the case.

There’s a knock on the door and he breaks, still keeping his hands on my face.

Another knock.

He drops his hands, sighing, before walking over to the door.

His hand hesitates over the knob.

Another knock.

He unlocks it, and opens it.

Agent Hotchner stands there, stone faced and slightly angry.

Spencer keeps eye contact with me, until Hotchner speaks.

“Reid.”

He looks down, and then turns and walks away.

Sheila walks in after they leave, closing the door once more behind her.

“How did it go?”

I shove my hands into my pockets. “I just want this to be over.”

She walks over, pulling me into a hug I don’t reciprocate.

“It’s about to be.”

I remove my hand from my pocket, and set the recorder on the table.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid series #spencer reid x criminal!reader #criminal!Spencer reid #criminal au #mob au #criminal minds #criminal minds series #All I Wanted (Was You)

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sstarcry · 3 years ago

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Into the fire chapter 1

The once bright white room i had been confined to became shrouded in darkness. I recognized a voice coming from the hall, the voice that belonged to carlos. I watched as my cell door opened, I hid further in the corner, not wanting to be poked and prodded again for the third time today. A mop of messy black hair came into my vision. It wasa carlos.

“It's okay, I'm here to get you out. I'm not letting them turn you into one of those things. But we have to move fast.” he said, hoisting me up off of the floor.

Could I really be getting out of this hellscape? He quickly grabbed a small bag from one of the lockers as we ran.

“Carlos? Why save me?” I asked, my voice strained after not talking for years.

“You deserve a future, not torment. I refuse to let them take you to South america. There's a rescue team headed our way.” he said, pulling me up the stairs of a clock tower. The city looked different. Cars were on fire, and it smelled of death and decay.

“Jill? Are you okay? I'm back and I have him with me. We can get out of here as soon as they arrive.”

That was over 20 years ago. In Raccoon city.

“Kole, are you even listening to me?” Chris, or captain redfield, asked me

“Yes sir, sorry sir.” i said still looking at the table below my arms

“Chris calm down. The kids been through hell, show some sympathy.” Jill said, giving him a smack on the back of the head. “I know you're bad with rookies but c'mon, he's only 28. He got out of Raccoon city with Carlos and i. God knows the horrors he's seen.” she said, ushering me out of the conference room.

“Are you okay?” she asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Im fine, it's just. Been 23 years since then and I can't shake it. I'm sorry.” I said looking down.

“Why don't you go sit with Leon in his office? He needs the company, even if he says he doesn't.” she softly spoke, rubbing my shoulder.

“I'll see if he’ll let me.” I said turning away from her.

“If he says no, tell him he’ll have to deal with me.”

“Thanks Jill, really.” I said, offering her a small smile.

I hesitantly knocked on his office door, still shy even after knowing him since he got back from Spain in ‘04. “Leon? Can I come in?” I asked behind the closed door.

“Sure thing kid.” he said as i opened the door “You okay? You seem lost.”

“I'm surviving, just memories y'know?” I said sitting in my usual spot in the corner chair beside him.

“I heard Chris from here. I dont want you to take this mission. Its too much like raccoon city, and I don't want to put you through that again. Okay?” he said, turning away from his pile of paperwork to look at me. “I still can't believe that you made it out. Hell, I'm still in awe of your resilience. And carlos’ dedication to get you out.” he said, placing a hand on my knee. “Stay in here as long as you like. I’ll be doing paperwork but if you feel like talking, just speak up okay?”

“Okay. thank you.”

Almost as soon as I finished my sentence Chris barged in.

“Kole, what are you doing. Were supposed to be leaving for Delena in 20 minutes.” he practically yelled at me

“I'm not letting him go. It's too similar to Raccoon city. That's an order Redfield.” Leon said, looking at the boulder of a man. “Besides, I'm sure you've got this handled. I'm not letting him go through what i did.”

“Just because he's still young doesn't exclude him from his duties, Leon.” Chris said with unwavering intensity.

“But he's still a DSO agent, so what I say goes in case you forgot. So get out of my office Chris.” Leon said, waving his hand in the direction of the door.

By the time they finished their conversation I was shaking, memories flooding my head of the cruel basement of umbrella. “It's time for your treatment, Kole. Follow Wesker.”

“N-no please no.” “grab him. And don't hurt him too bad we still need him alive. This is Austin, subject 0-009 is showing resistance.” “P-Please dont hurt me. I-i’ll be good promise…”

The room felt like it was closing in and the air became harder and harder to breathe. I felt a whimper escape my throat as I curled up into a tighter ball.

“Kole, hey. It's just me, Leon. It's just us.no one else is here.” I could barely hear him over the sound of them. “Wesker, put him in the room. We need him to be calm for this one.” “Yes sir. C'mon kid, don't make this any harder than it has to be.” “Wesker, please don't make me sit in the room again…” I said as sobs racked my body.

“Hey, hey now. Look at me.” Leon said, placing both hands on my shoulders and giving them a small rub. “I need you to breathe. Wesker isn't here. He got what was coming to him. I promise.” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “Shhh it's okay. I'm here now. And I won't let anyone hurt you, okay?”

“O-okay.” I said, mimicking his breathing, still shaking.

“Dont worry ill talk with Chris when he gets back. I hate seeing you this way.” he said, placing a kiss on the top of my head and rubbing my back. My grip on him got tighter as he rocked us back and forth. Soon my breathing evened out but his grip on me didn't falter. “I'm gonna make a quick call to Hunnigan and have someone do this paperwork so we can go home okay?”

“Okay, as long as we can cuddle for the rest of the day. I'm just drained.'' I said leaning into his chest as he picked up the phone on the desk.

“Anything for my baby.” he said before dialing Hunnigan. “Hey Hunnigan, I'm gonna need the rest of the day off. Yeah it was another bad one. Alright thanks.” he said into the receiver then hung up, helping me to my feet. “You ready to go baby?” he asked, standing up and grabbing my hand.

“I guess so.” I said following him out of the office and into the elevator. “Sorry for being a pain in the ass.”

“You are the furthest thing from a pain in the ass. Now Chris on the other hand.” He said with a light chuckle, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You, my sweet boy, are absolutely perfect in my eyes.” he softly spoke before kissing my forehead. “I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”

“Wow Leon, getting soft?”I asked him as the elevator doors opened to the car park. “Who'd've thought that it'd take a traumatized man to make you soft hm?” I asked him as we approached his car. Usually he'd ride the ducati but it was raining so he left it at home.

“I get that Chris is pushing 50 but he doesn't have to play the grumpy old man act.” Leon said opening the car door for me. “At least Jill keeps him in line.”

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my throat. “Damn babe tell me how you really feel.” I said watching him put the key in the ignition, cranking it. “But you aren’t exactly wrong.”

“Besides, he shouldn’t be that harsh on you. I've told him once before not to do that but I have no problem reminding him. Well, let's get home before the storm gets any worse.” he said exiting the parking deck.

The ride home was mostly silent, minus the soft music coming from the speakers and the occasional boom of thunder. I'm surprised that he still listens to the playlist I made him a few years back.

As we opened the front door we were greeted by our two cats, Ghost and Monty. “Hi boys, did you miss us?” I asked them, getting a loud meow in response from Ghost. “C’mere buddy.” i said picking him up and walking to our shared bedroom.

“You sure have a way with animals” Leon said as he took off his shoes, then followed closely behind me. “Don’t let them take up all the space in the bed will ya?”

“No promises. They have a mind of their own.” I said putting Ghost down and proceeding to take off my work clothes. I looked over my shoulder to see Leon doing the same.

“Cmere.” He said, opening his arms wide. I returned his embrace as he slowly walked back to the bed, pulling me down with him. “Move kitty. I want to cuddle with him, not you.” He said getting a meow in response.

“I don’t think he liked that Leon.” I said resting my head on his chest allowing his heartbeat to calm me.

He chuckled and pulled me closer. “Eh, he can think what he wants.” He said kissing my forehead. “Besides, the second the storm picks up again, he’ll be scurrying under the bed.” Sure enough, bright flash of lightning came through the window followed by a loud clap of thunder. I watched as ghost went from enjoying the pets Leon was giving him to running as fast as he could to get under the bed. “See?”

A small laugh escaped my lips as I watched the whole thing. “What can I say? He’s just a ScaredyCat.”

“Hey, I’m the one who makes the bad jokes!” He said pulling me up on top of him.

“Well looks like I just beat you to the punchline then.” I said sitting up slightly to look at him. His icy eyes held a gleam of happiness in them, a rare sight for him. His hand came up to caress my cheek and pull me into a sweet kiss.

“How did I get so lucky to have this. I thought for the longest time that I’d never feel slightly normal but I wouldn’t trade this for the world.” He said, carding his fingers through my short hair. A hum of content left my throat as I laid my head back down on his chest, just savoring the moment before something inevitably interrupted it. And to my surprise, I was able to drift off into a peaceful sleep as his hands rubbed patterns into the small of my back

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@thatgoblin @void-of-anarchy @questionedturkey

#leon s kennedy #resi #resident evil #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #Leon s Kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader

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airis-paris14 · 3 years ago

Text

Starlight Chapter 13

Summary: Amani is an orphaned heiress who's spent most of her life raising her younger sister. T'Challa is a widowed King and Father. Neither of them is expecting much from their night at the Lotus. But the coming months have many milestones in store for these young adults. Will becoming a family be one of them?

Warnings: N/A

Masterlist

2 months later

“Amani, I’m about to head out,” Amare called, grabbing her house keys off of the hook. “Okay, hold on, I'll be right back Baby.” T’Challa nodded into the phone and muted himself to speak to someone off screen. Amani hurried down the stairs and smiled at her little sister. “Okay, passport, keys, tickets, wallet, and medicine in carryon?”

“Yes mother,” Amare smirked.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe kid,” the older Okeke smiled and pulled her in for a hug. “You’re 18, not 21, so please, no sneaking off without telling Shuri’s guards where you all are going. Limit your alcohol intake, I know it’s legal over there but the last thing I need is a call from a German hospital saying you have alcohol poisoning.”

“I promise I will limit the drinking, and the sneaking out.”

“Good. Have fun, be safe. I love you.” Amani smiled and pulled her sister in for another hug. “Love you too sis. I’ll only be gone for a week.”

“I know, but you know I hate saying goodbye. You’re all I have left kid. But I want to let you live, so go before you miss your flight. Hug Shuri for me.

“I’ll call you when I land.” Amare bounded down the front steps and into her already packed car. Amani sighed watching her wave one last time before pulling off down the street. She waved at the patrol car as it drove by on its hourly surveillance drive by, before locking her door and heading up the stairs into her office. “And I’m back,” she plopped into her seat, reopening her MacBook.

“Personally I don’t think it’s fair that our sisters see each other more than we do,” the king teased. Amani rolled her eyes, “This is their first time seeing each other since we came home, it’s only been two months,” Amani laughed. “Yes, and after having you here for three months, I’ve decided that 61 days is too long to be out of your presence.”

“Well you know I’m working to get the venue started up, I just can’t travel as much as usual. You know I would be there if I could,” Her voice began to tremble.

“I know my love,” T’Challa reassured, “I am just teasing,” he frowned, noticing her eyes tearing up. “I know but lately I’ve just been feeling like such a bad girlfriend,” she began to sob and the king panicked. “Hey no, you’re perfect. Nothing's wrong. It’s on both of us and I was gonna tell you that I was planning to surprise you with a visit.”

“Really?” Amani sniffled.

“Yes so please stop crying entle.” The heiress grabbed a tissue from the box she had begun to keep on her desk after noticing that even the little things made her tear up. “I’m sorry. I ruined the surprise again,” she chuckled, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “It is fine, now you have something to look forward to. You hate them anyway,” the king teased.

“Are you sure you’re alright though my love? You have been extra-sensitive lately.”

“In more ways than one,” the heiress murmured. “Have you been to the new doctor, did she run the tests the doctor here ordered?” The king grabbed a stack of papers and began signing them. “Yep,” Amani read over and responded to an email her contractor sent before turning her attention back to T’Challa. “I have an appointment with her tomorrow. She and Dr. Zabulie both sounded very excited so I’m hoping it's a positive result.”

The king smiled at the news, “Well then I’ll be expecting a full report as soon as you know.”

“Of course. I’ll call your mother as well, I wouldn’t even be in this position if you all hadn’t encouraged me to go see another doctor.”

“We both just want what is best for you,” the king smiled, “but unfortunately I have a meeting to attend to my love. I will call you later tonight, okay?”

“Of course, I’ll see you later.” She blew a kiss through the phone before the king had to hang up. After responding to more emails, she scheduled some property manager interviews for later in the week and a building walk through. Her phone caught her attention as it began to ring, “Hello?” She answered. “Hey, Kura and I finished those designs for different set ups and interiors, are you free to go over them?”

“Yeah,” Amani smiled. While in Wakanda she and her friends decided to go into the event business together. They’d bought an old hotel downtown in Atlanta and decided to turn it into a sleepover venue. With suites and rooms designed for different party sizes and moveable features to make the room age appropriate. A spa, boutique, and restaurant, would be located on the grounds as well. There was also a separate grand ballroom and garden that allowed them to market the place as an all in one wedding venue. They’d started work while in Wakanda and now two months later they were weeks away from opening the ballroom, gardens, and other non overnight amenities for event bookings. They would use the money from the rentals to help recover the costs of renovating the hotel rooms.

“Bet. We’ll be over in 30. Sakura has to pick up the pizza first.”

“Cool, don’t forget extra garlic butter sauce. Imma hop in the shower. Y’all can just use your keys to let yourselves in.”

After hanging up the phone Amani hopped in the shower and let the water soothe her muscles. She’d been working so hard to make sure everything came together and it finally was. She was more in love with T’Challa each day, she was starting a business with her friends, and Darius had been spotted in New York living with some family he had there. She still had nightly surveillance, but knowing that he’d move out of the state definitely calmed her nerves.

“Madiyson?” The heiress called as the sound of the front door caught her attention. When she didn’t receive a response she shrugged and figured she had her beats on. She quickly motioned with her coconut oil,slipped into some sweatpants, and pulled a sports bra over her head before a voice sent a chill down her spine. “You’ve been holding out on me Amani.”

Darius got up from his seat behind her on the bed and revealed the kitchen knife he was holding. “If I had known you could look like that, I would’ve made you work out more.”

“How the hell did you get in my house?”

“No Thank you? Darius frowned.

“What do I have to thank you for?”

“Giving you a second chance,” Darius smirked before lunging at the Okeke heiress. Amani, dodged his lunge as he ran into the dresser she was standing in front of. “ A second chance for what you bastard!” The heiress resisted the urge to search for her phone, she knew Darius, he watched her eyes always to anticipate her next move. “You ruined my life. You were supposed to be my wife, look pretty, give me kids. Instead your ass got me locked up for damn near life. Now my dad is all on my ass because he had to call in a favor with the DA and the governor in one sitting-”

“Well maybe your ass should’ve just stayed in jail then!” Amani ducked, expecting the lamp on the nightstand to fly towards her head. She took the moment she dodged the light fixture to locate her phone. It was too far and she knew that she’d never be able to reach it before Darius finished his spiel. She’d have to leave her friends a clue that something had gone wrong.

“Now,” Darius eyed Amani as she backed up against the wall, “as I was saying. Everyone is counting on me to not fuck up! Which means I need to get my old life back, starting with you Ms. Okeke, now heiress of the Okeke Industries Tech Conglomerate.”

“No one will ever believe that we are a happy couple once again Darius, they found me, clinging to life, hypothermic, and bleeding because you literally beat our child out of me. It was on the five o'clock news for weeks straight.” Amani risked eyeing her keys once more, hoping that the plan she was hatching would work.

“What better way to show them that I am a changed man, than by having you forgive me. A redeemed love, a true love,” Darius stepped up to Amani and caressed her cheeks and lips. The woman felt like crawling out of her skin but she held it together. “Why don’t you just find another woman?” Not that Amani wished Darius on any other woman, she’d prefer he’d be locked up in a cell, but she needed to get him to back up. “Does it really matter? I want you, and I’ve already invested a lot in you Amani. You got a little break to have fun and spend time with other men, but you are mine. You always were and you always will be, it’s time I got a return on my investment. “ Darius took a seat on Amani’s bed and she silently rejoiced.

“Okay, then what’s your plan?”

“You don’t need to know all of that. Just know that I’m not leaving you behind Amani.” Darius pointed the knife and Amani nodded, “I’m just gonna grab my keys,” she gestured. “If I go missing, the police will look at all of your father’s and friend’s properties, no one will think I was stupid enought to take you to one of our vacation homes.” At least the waitress hoped this wasn’t the stupidest idea she’d ever had.

“Nah, cause I’m sure your friends and man know all about those places. Not to mention your little sister.”

“Amare is out of the country at a science conference, won’t be home for two weeks, you’ll have time to move me before she can get back. As for the others, they don’t even know we own vacation properties.” Amani scoured through her keys and grabbed the one she knew her sister would recognize as missing first. “Here, we can go to the chateau in the mountains in North Carolina. It’s secluded. No one for miles around.”

Darius stood up, “Nah, there’s a reason you’re helping me. What is it?”

“You’re never gonna leave me alone otherwise. I don’t wanna die, and this is most likely the last time I’ll ever get a decision about something that happens to me. Think of it as my final words.” As soon as the excuse left her mouth Amani felt her mouth go dry and heavy, for some reason, it did feel like she’d sealed her own fate.

“Amani!” Madiyson called as she entered the apartment. Sakura followed in hot on her heels to place the heavy pizzas in the kitchen. “I still don’t know why you ordered four pizzas for 3 people,” Madiyson laughed, dropping all of her interior design sketches and renderings on the table. “As much of a perfectionist each of us is… We're gonna be here all night and y’all are gonna be glad I bought enough pizza.”

“Well if AMANI would BRING. HER. ASS. DOWN. THE. STAIRS we could get started and be done at a godly hour.” Madison yelled up the stairs into the continued silence. “You told her we were coming, right?”Sakura joined her friend at the base of Amani’s stairs and frowned. “Yeah, she said just let ourselves in.”

“Maybe she’s taking a nap, she’s been doing that more often than usual.”

“Oh god, if she’s taking a nap then she’ll be dead to the world right now. You wanna wake her up while I set up?” Madiyson shook her head and walked back over to the couch in the living room. “Sure, just throw me into the lion’s den. You know she hates being woken up by anyone but Amare and Ada.” Sakura whined. “You’ll be fine, she would never hate you. Just make it seem like she woke herself up. Throw a pillow or something.” Madiyson shrugged and opened her laptop.

“Always the sacrifice, never the beneficiary,” Sakura mumbled as she jogged up the stairs into Amani’s room. “Mani,” the afro-asian woman sang as she burst into the room, only to be greeted by a perfectly made bed. “Amani?'' She tried to calm her heartbeat as she checked her friend’s closet and bathroom. “Okay focus, details details,” Sakura chanted to herself. “7:47, no phone in the room, nothing messed up, somebody sat on the bed,” the waitress took note of the room as she backed her way out, down the stairs, and towards the garage. “Hey, did you- what’s wrong,” Madiyson frowned as her best friend opened the garage door and looked out. “Did she say she was gonna leave?” Sakura ignored Madiyson’s original question, feeling her stomach drop at the presence of Amani’s car, and the empty house. “No, she said she was gonna take a shower-”

“Madiyson, She’s not here.”

“Look, I already told you what happened. Madiyson called Amani at 6:30, she picked me up, we picked up the pizzas, let ourselves in, but she wasn’t here when i went to check on her. I went into the room at 7:47. The shower had been turned on and the room was steamy, and someone had sat on her bed but Amani hates that unless she’s about to go to sleep. Except she isn’t in her room sleeping!”

“Why are you all not taking this seriously! Her abusive ex is a known kidnapping threat. For God’s sake she’s had a 24/7 patrol for months because there was fear he would try to retaliate! Now that she’s missing, y’all aren’t doing a damn thing.” Madiyson butted in frustrated at the officers staring at them like they were aliens from outer space.

“Ma’am, we are just trying to get all the facts first-”

I’ve given them to you three times, if you can’t comprehend then we’ve got a bigger problem!” Sakura fumed and the officers stood. “We’ll call headquarters and see what we can do. Technically it has to be 48 hours before we can report and adult as missing-”

“Just get out please,” Madiyson sighed. She held open the door for the officers who hesitated, their feathers obviously ruffled.

“I’ll try calling Amare again.” Sakura stood and walked out after the officers left. Madiyson locked the door and stared up at the clock, realizing she should probably call T’Challa.

“Hello?” Madiyson breathed deeply as the call finally connected to the king, “T, she’s gone,” the woman’s voice warbled but her words shook the king all the same. “What do you mean she is gone?” He stood, immediately stumbling to slip on some shoes and race through the halls to his mother’s room. “Sakura and I came for a meeting, and she wasn’t here. Her car is here but she isn't and she assured us she’d be here taking a shower. Someone else was here because someone was sitting on her bed, at the bottom. You know she hates people ruffling her sheets.”

“Have you talked to Amare? Are you sure she didn’t take her to the airport?”

“We’ve been trying to reach her but she's still on the plane. She would have been back by now if she just went to the airport. She knew we were coming.” Madiyson broke, sobbing into the phone.

T’Challa’s heart dropped, his mind racing back to how he’d begged his lover not to go back until the rumors that her abuser had officially moved were confirmed. Now she was gone and the king felt he had failed to protect her. “Madiyson, Madiyson, I need you to breathe and keep breathing. Did you call the police?”

“Yes, but-“ Madiyson stumbled trying to regain her composure, “they said since it hasn’t been 48 hours it’s not technically a missing persons case.”

The king felt anger rush through his veins, “So they aren’t doing anything?”

“Not really,” Madiyson moved to grab tissue from Amani’s bathroom. “Have her call the detectives over these two imbeciles. She was on 24 hour surveillance due to risk of revenge from her abuser. Them sitting around doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know, I know, I’m heading downstairs right now-” Madison paused as she noticed Amani’s keys on her vanity. “Wait, one of her keys-” Madison trailed off flipping through the keys. “One of her keys is what?” T’Challa knocked on his mother’s door. “It’s missing. When her parents died, she kept keys to all of their properties. With them all labeled with numbers but I don’t know which one is which. Just number three is missing,” Madison ran a hand over her braids and huffed. T’Challa banged on his mother’s door again before taking a step back and pacing the hall. “Okay, You and Sakura just stay there, keep trying to reach Amare. I’m on my way and I’ll try to reach Shuri. See if you can figure out what key is missing.”

“Okay, call us when you land.”

T’Challa hung up the phone, “Umama!” He banged on the door before Ramonda yanked it open. “T’Challa, what in Bast’s name-”

“It’s Amani, she’s missing. We have to go now, can you try to reach Shuri? Her friends think they have a lead but we need to reach Amare.”

“How long has she been missing?” The queen mother rushed back in her room and started to get dressed and pack a bag. “We don’t know, I just got off the phone with Madiyson. They went to the house and she was missing.”

“Did they call the police?”

“They say they can’t report her absence until 48 hours has passed,” T’Challa opened his beads and messaged Okoye. I need you, Ayo, a plane, and five of your best warriors. Meet me on the tarmac in 30.”

“When do we leave?”

“In 30 minutes, I have to pack a bag. Ayo and Okoye will meet us at the tarmac with some back up, can you please try to reach Shuri while I get ready?”

“Yes, I will try calling her.”

The king nodded and turned to rush back to his room. “T’Challa,” Ramonda called out,”We will find her. She will be alright.” He offered his mother a sad smile before continuing down the hall.

“It’s the North Carolina key?”

“Yes. Number 3 it's her favorite number for her favorite house.” Amare insisted as Sakura flipped through the keys again.

“Do you know the address?” Madison interrupted.upiui

“Uh, number 3 Lodge Street Asheville, North Carolina.”

“And you’re sure that is the key that is missing?” T’Challa interrupted Madiyson and Amare. The teen looked at the king through the camera, the lights of the quinjet humming behind her as Shuri watched on. “Yes, I’m positive. Amani is heading to the North Carolina house.”

The king hit the table and turned to his guard, “We are heading to North Carolina. Now.”

“We’ll meet you there-”

“No,” T’Challa and his mother answered at the same time.``You two stay exactly where you are,'' Ramonda demanded. “All due respect, I am not staying over here in Germany when my sister has been kidnapped by her abuser!” Amare rebutted. “Yes, but for all we know he has men looking for you too. As well as Madiyson and Sakura. So until then, at least we know where you are. We are sending Dora Milaje to your hotel.” T’Challa finalized.

“No, I am not standing back when my sister is in danger. I wasn’t there the first time she was saved and opened her eyes, I want to be there this time.” Amare demanded while she teared up and T’Challa sighed. He walked around the desk to look at Okoye and his mother. “You all can head back to Wakanda, once the extra Dora arrive. Once we have her, we’ll bring her back to Shuri’s lab, there you guys can see her.” The king looked at everyone in the room, “Besides, I don’t think it is safe for any of you to be in the US alone right now.”

“So what are you saying?” Sakura sat up from her place on the couch. T’Challa nodded at the general of the Dora Milaje. Okoye tapped her staff and escorted the rest of the warriors out of the home. Once the door had shut the room turned to face T’Challa again. “I have been thinking, especially in light of what has happened to Amani, that you all should move to Wakanda. Stay in the palace of course. I know you two would have to travel for business and Amare we’d have to figure out your schooling, but it is obvious that this government has no vestment in keeping you all safe. I can do something about it and I will, if you all will let me.”

“I don’t know T-” Madiyson started.

“I had been thinking about transferring to study with Shuri, but I don’t know how Amani would take it.” Amare added. “She’s not just gonna give up her independence. She just got it back from Darius,” Sakura added. “I know but it is not safe here, at least for now. As well connected as that fugitive is, who knows what will happen to you all if he goes back to jail. I let Amani convince me she would be safe, and now two months later we are searching for her praying to Bast that she isn’t dead.”

“T’Challa this is not your fault,” Sakura interjected. “I know, but if I can keep you all safe, I have a responsibility to do so. You will have free will and autonomy, but at least inside Wakanda’s borders, I can guarantee your safety.

“I think this is a lovely conversation, but might I remind you all that this is a time sensitive case. Let’s table this discussion until we all make it back to Wakanda” Shuri interrupted the discussion that seemed to be heading towards an endless round table. “Shuri is right, time is of the essence.” Ramonda spoke standing, “everyone comes back to wakanda for the time being. Once we rescue Amani, we send our war dogs to clear any suspicions and make sure it is safe for you all to return. Then we make a decision. Until then-“

“We focus on the task at hand.” Madiyson finished and Ramonda agreed. “Shuri and Amare head back home once the Dora arrive. When we have Amani we’ll let you know.”

“Keep my sister safe T’Challa,” Amare asserted before hanging up. “She’s just nervous,” Sakura reassured. “We are all glad we have someone here to help us this time. But we should get on the road. Darius works fast.” The Afro-Asian waitress added solemnly. The king nodded, “Phambile,” he called and the guards opened the doors escorting everyone to the cars waiting to race to the airport.”

Fourteen Hours Ago

“Amani.” The heiress fumbled to wrap the stick back it s package and hide it on the sink before running out of her bathroom. “Hey,” she offered her younger sister a smile but only received a confused face in return. “Hey, you’re up early, I thought you’d be sleep,” Amare took a seat in one of the overstuffed arm chairs in her sisters bedroom. “I wasn’t feeling well. I got up to take some medicine no biggie,”Amani shrugged. “You go to the doctor again soon right? You should have her check it out.”

“She’s an OBGYN, but I’ll see what she might be able to recommend.”

“Cool, well I’d been thinking-“

“Oh that’s never good,” the heiress laughed as her sister shot daggers her way. “As I was saying. I’ve been thinking about transferring to study in Wakanda with Shuri. It’d make it easier for you to come see Tchalla and I could get accustomed to the culture before we move there-“

“Hey hey, who said we we’re moving to Wakanda?”

“Amani. I’m not dumb or a little girl anymore. I know how marriages and relationships work. I know you live tchalla. I know he loves you. And I know how monarchies work. I also know that T’Challa has asked you to move in or visit more often and that I’m probably the reason you’re hesitant about doing either.”

“You’re right, but I didn’t say anything cause I don’t want you thinking you have to move because of me and T’Challa. I want you to follow your dreams, and dtudying at MIT was one of those dreams.”

“And dreams change, Amare reminded. I used to any to be a ballerina, astronaut, actress, and hear I am studying at MIT. And now, I know that the university of Wakanda can offer me so much more. Plus I’ll get to spend more time with my best friend and take advantage of her lab. It’s a win win!” The young genius insisted. Amani sighed and settled on the chair next to her.

“How about we finish out this fall semester and pick up the conversation over Christmas break. I just don’t want you to regret anything.” The older sister explained.

“That’s fair.” Amare nodded and stood. “Back to you though, are you sure you’re feeling well enough for me to leave?”

“Now you sound like the older sister. I’ll be fine kid, you go have fun at your conference thing in Germany. Have you finished packing?”

“Nope, I wanted to get and early start at the stores so I can pack before my flight.”

“Okay, I’m headed back to sleep. But don’t crash the car and fill up the tank before you come back please.”

“I always do,” Amare smiled before kissing her sister's cheek and slipping out of the room. Once Amani heard the front door shut. She locked herself in the bathroom and unwrapped the third and final test. She sat them all in a row before flopping down on the toilet.

“Shit.”

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hailing-stars · 4 years ago

Text

@febuwhump: day two - I can’t take this anymore

no screens for the concussed

summary

“Is he broken?” He heard Happy’s panicked question from somewhere out of sight. “He can’t be broken. We can’t return a broken kid to May.“

“Relax, Hap, Peter’s taken rougher falls than this one,” said Tony, his voice still calm, even if his eyes were panicked. “Right, kid?”

Peter’s stomach lurked, and finally, he knew how to say what he needed to say. ”Trash can.”

“What?”

“Throw up,” said Peter. “I’m gonna.”

A flight goes wrong thanks to turbulence causing Peter to take a blow to the head.

Peter gripped the straps of his overnight bag, and stared at the Stark Jet sitting on the tarmac, waiting for them to board it. It wasn’t his first time on a plane, or even on one of Tony’s, so he couldn’t explain the dread, the tight knot sitting in his stomach, wound and ready, it seemed, to snap him in half.

That morning he’d woken up anxious, with a slight nauseous feeling and an ache behind his eyes. All day the anticipation built, built and built, by no single thought in particular, though the plane gave the anxiety a target, a threat in which to spiral and to tighten.

“What’s the deal with the sunglasses?” asked Happy, once the three of them got settled on the plane.

Tony chose the seat next to Peter. “Leave the kid alone, Hap, he’s obviously learned his fashion sense from the best. Sunglasses inside will always be hip.”

“Don’t say hip,” Happy told Tony. “You’re old just like me.”

“Old and hip, right, Pete?” Tony nudged him with his elbow, and the plane moved, at least it did for Peter. One look out the window told him that they were, in fact, standing still. “You okay, kid? You look sort of pale. And disturbed, like that time you were arguing with that film critic on Twitter.”

“He wasn’t a film critic,” said Peter. “Just some guy on the internet, and he got Star Wars completely wrong. Probably didn’t even watch it.”

Tony chuckled, and pulled his cell phone from his pocket and began to scroll. Peter was thankful for the distraction, redirecting his anxious, now angry, thoughts towards the people on the internet, until Happy made a move to pull his overnight bag from his hands.

“I want to hold it,” said Peter, clutching his bag, embarrassingly aware of how similar he probably looked to a child hugging a bear.

“Okay,” said Happy, giving him a suspicious stare. “You sure you’re alright? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“I’m fine, Happy.”

“Just making sure.” Happy backed away from where Peter and Tony sat, and sat down at the table on the opposite side of the plane. “May would kill me if you collapsed before we even got to the conference.”

“What he really means is May will make him sleep on the couch.”

“Can we please not talk about that,” said Peter, quickly, before Tony took the conversation to awkward, uncomfortable places.

Happy grumbled in Tony’s direction, before sinking into his chair and pulling headphones out from his pocket, plugging them into his phone and ultimately, pointedly sticking them in his ears.

Peter thought Happy sort of had the right idea.

Headphones were what he needed for this flight, and he needed to get to them before the plane roared to life and they shot up into the air. He unzipped all the compartments of his bag, his search becoming more and more frantic as it had started to become apparent his headphones were missing.

“Shit.” He pushed his bag off him, and when it landed to the floor, his wallet fell out of the smallest pocket.

“Kid,” said Tony. “Take a breath. What’s wrong?”

“I left my headphones at home.”

“What? Conversation with me that unbearable, huh?”

Tony smiled at him, but Peter wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He turned his attention back to the floor, where his bag still laid with the contents spilling out. He kicked at it, and Tony gripped his forearm.

“Pete?” asked Tony, his voice low and quiet, making it clear his words were just for Peter to hear. “What’s up? Something’s clearly bothering you. Something a little deeper than headphones.”

Peter sat up straighter in his chair and looked straight ahead, his thoughts racing and spinning out, about the plane, and about having to confess that he was Spider-Man and that his anxiety was getting the better of him.

“It’s not a big deal,” said Peter. “Just feeling a little anxious.”

Tony frowned at him. “About the flight? You’ve flown -”

“I know, look, I know, alright?” Peter’s words left his mouth sharper than he intended. “I’m sorry, I’m just -”

“-Anxious.”

“Yeah,” said Peter. His arm flew to grip the armrest as the plane shifted beneath them. “And I don’t have my headphones.”

“I could steal Happy’s for you.”

Peter sunk down in his chair, and gripped the armrest even tighter. “Please don’t… please don’t turn this into a big thing.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at him.

“You know, like freak out about it, and call May, and discuss it like I’m not here, and get all concerned and worried and helicoptering.”

“Doesn’t help much, does it?”

And because Peter was too stressed to lie, he told the truth. “Not really, no.”

There was silence between them, until the plane started to roll forward, and Tony pulled his laptop from his own bag, placed it on the table in front of them.

“I have just the distraction,” he told Peter. He clicked a few buttons and the titles of movies appeared on the screen, all Peter’s favorites. “Thought I’d start working my way through the list.”

“What is this?”

“Everytime you make some off the wall movie reference I have FRIDAY add it to the list, if I haven’t already seen it,” said Tony. “So, how about it? No better time to knock one of these out than a flight.”

Peter nodded, allowing just a small smile, and distracted by his tightening anxiety by the revelation that Tony actually listened to him when he talked about things. The opening credits began, and Peter could do this. He could survive this flight.

Peter couldn’t do this.

It had been fine for a few minutes, once they got up in the air, and Tony had started the movie, and it had been easy to pretend they were anywhere else.

But everything went to hell when the turbulence started.

Peter gripped his chair so tightly he was sure the armrests would be dented and broken once he let them go. He imagined outside the plane was being tossed around like a ship on an angry sea, and once or twice, he watched Tony’s reaction, knowing he didn’t have to worry if his mentor wasn’t displaying any signs of distress.

And he wasn’t. Neither was Happy.

They were tense, clearly uncomfortable, but overall, not anticipating their impending doom the way Peter imagined being violently ripped from the dark, angry clouds.

Happy looked a bit like the time May forced him to come to a Decathlon meet and sit in the uncomfortable folding chair, and Tony frowned, the way he did whenever Peter mentioned hanging out with Harry Osborne.

“We’re good, Pete,” said Tony, after a particularly nasty bump. “All normal.”

Peter nodded, too nervous to be embarrassed by his anxiety. And he would’ve been fine, would’ve gotten over his draining feeling of doom that twisted his insides, if it hadn’t been for the nauseous feeling that came with it.

He tried to ignore it. Pretended that the only thing bothering him was the plane being tossed around, but then everything went still. The turbulence stopped. And it did nothing to improve the turbulence in Peter’s stomach.

He bolted from his chair.

Peter ignored Tony yelping in surprise and yelling at him to sit back down. Yelling that things were probably about to get rocky again, and because the universe always had to spite him, because Tony Stark always had to be right, that was exactly what happened.

The plane shifted, and Peter was knocked off his feet and sent stumbling towards the left wall, where his head caught the corner of a cabinet. It was sharp, blinding pain on the top of his head, so splintering that his eyes were dizzy with stars, so disorientating that he hadn’t realized he’d fallen to the ground until there was a weight on his shoulder and Tony’s head floating in the space above him.

“God, Pete, are you okay?”

Peter mumbled his words, unable to get them out in a way that made sense.

“Is he broken?” He heard Happy’s panicked question from somewhere out of sight. “He can’t be broken. We can’t return a broken kid to May.“

“Relax, Hap, Peter’s taken rougher falls than this one,” said Tony, his voice still calm, even if his eyes were panicked. “Right, kid?”

Peter’s stomach lurked, and finally, he knew how to say what he needed to say. ”Trash can.”

“What?”

“Throw up,” said Peter. “I’m gonna.”

Happy brought a trash can to where he was laid out on the floor just in time for him to stick his head into and throw up. Once he finished, he rested his head against the plane’s carpet and shut his eyes, until he couldn’t ignore the nudging on his shoulder any longer.

“Stop, Tony, tired.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t go to sleep.”

Peter opened his eyes and stared at him. “Why?”

“Because your hair is getting crusty with blood and you probably have a concussion,” Tony told him.

“Not a doctor.”

“Nope,” said Tony. “But I have Google, and I’ve known you long enough to have had cause to look up these symptoms at least seventy-two separate times in the past.”

“Can’t be that many,” said Happy, still somewhere out of sight.

“Have you met Peter?” asked Tony. “The kid attracts accidents and illnesses so often I’m starting to think it’s another side effect of the spider bite.”

Peter groaned, as his stomach lurched a second time, and as the plane shook some more. When things went steady again, Tony got up and left him, only to return minutes later with a warm cloth he used to gently attack his hair with.

“That’s a pretty nasty cut,” said Tony.

The mention of blood was too much for Peter’s weak stomach, and he stuck his head back in the trash can and threw up some more, with the added bonus of smelling and splashing around his puke from the first time.

“Hap,” said Tony, taking the trash can away from Peter when the second round was over. “Flush this.”

“Why do I have to be the puke dumper?”

“Would you rather flush the puke or clean the blood?”

Happy marched over and took the trash can with him to the bathroom, and Tony stayed with him on the floor, gently dabbing at his head between spurts of turbulence.

“This really sucks,” said Peter. His eyes were heavy, and sleep felt just inches away, beckoning him, willing him to just shut his eyes and give in. “I hate this. I want off this plane. I can’t take it anymore.”

“You can,” said Tony. “Because you have to, so you will, and we’re almost there. Just a few more minutes.”

“Never flying again.”

“Yes you will.”

“Will not,” said Peter. “Let’s take a train next time.”

“I don’t see how that’d be any different,” said Tony. “You’d just find a way to injure yourself on that, too.”

The plane shook again, shook the inside of Peter’s head, which already felt as if it were on fire. It shook the inside of his stomach, which still felt like he still needed that trash can.

Happy, as if he could read his thoughts, reappeared with the now empty trash can. Peter took it, and gripped the edges, but thankfully, the sick feeling went away. He was left hugging the plastic container, just in case, as the plane blazed through the clouds.

They went straight to the hospital once the plane landed. After being blinded with flashlights, and put through MRI scans, the doctor agreed that he had a concussion, but a mild one that allowed them to leave the hospital and check into the hotel.

Tony kept the lights dim in the suite. He pushed him into a bed, and ordered him to stay there while he went downstairs to the lobby to buy him ridiculously overpriced gatorade, ginger ale, and crackers. Happy stayed behind, and stared at him from the armchair in the corner.

“You still remember your name, don’t you?”

Peter made a big deal about looking up at the ceiling. “Uh, umm, it starts with a P, right? Something about a park maybe…”

Happy’s alarmed expression was enough to spin the entire trip, both the flight from hell and the visit to ER, in a brighter light.

“Chill out, Happy,” said Peter, the hint of a laugh in his voice. “I’m fine.”

He still didn’t look convinced.

“It’s Peter. God, I know my name.”

“That’s not funny,” said Happy, standing from the armchair and waving an accusing finger at him, at the same time Tony walked into the room with a bag filled with sick people remedies. Happy brushed past him, and grumbled, “I’m going to bed.”

The door to the adjoining room opened and closed, and Tony dropped the bag on the bed by Peter’s feet.

“Alright, what will it be?” asked Tony. “Glacier Cherry gatorade? 7up?”

“Uhhh,” said Peter. “...I’m good.”

“You have to drink something,” said Tony. “You’re getting the gatorade. I don’t wanna find out what dramatic thing happens when spiders get dehydrated.”

“I resent that,” said Peter, but accepted the frosty, cold drink anyway, knowing Tony wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if he didn’t at least sip on it.

He worked on taking slow drinks while Tony buzzed about the room, messing around with their suitcases and putting all the sick person snacks away. Finally, he sat down on the other bed, and looked at the TV they couldn’t turn on.

“Worst conference ever,” said Peter. “I’m rating it one out of ten.”

“Wow. That’s historically bad, bud, considering it technically hasn’t started yet, and we won’t even be attending anymore.”

That had been Tony’s call. Over protective, really, like refusing to turn on the TV and taking Peter’s phone away. No screens for the concussed. It was completely unfair.

Tony had declared on the ride from the hospital to the hotel that they’d stay in and rest the next day.

“I’m sorry I ruined your trip.”

Tony laughed. “It’s a technology convention, ran by people years behind SI, Peter. We weren’t going there for me. We were going for your college application.”

“I’m sorry to my college applications, then.”

“Don’t be,” said Tony. “There’s still plenty of time for that. Other conventions. Better ones. Truth be told, just wanted the time to hang out with you and Happy.”

“Could’ve just invited us over for pizza.”

“Nah,” said Tony. “This was more fun.”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Pizza, huh? That mean you’re getting through your pukey phase?”

“Maybe,” said Peter. He hadn’t noticed the bad feelings in his stomach had become less pronounced, had almost disappeared completely. “Hopefully.”

“How’s the anxiety?”

“Better,” said Peter. He chuckled, despite himself, and his concussion, the way the motion hurt his head. “Don’t really know what it was about, actually.”

“Anxiety doesn’t need a reason,” said Tony. “Or at least one that’s obvious.”

That idea of randomness, that anxiety would always be around, lurking, might have really fucked him over earlier. But it was a little easier to take knowing he had Happy providing trash cans and dumping his puke, and Tony to help him through it. Two extra people in his corner on bad days, so it was alright. Everything was alright.

#febuwhump2 #febuwhump2021 #I can't this anymore #hurt Peter parker #irondad #irondad fic #my fic #concussions #vomitting #Tony and peter

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cherrybracelets · 4 years ago

Text

Ghost Girl

intro // gg masterlist

spencer reid x bau!reader

word count: 2.5k // warnings: typical cm violence, nothing too graphic in this part!

summary: before your time in the bau, you worked on a very secretive and dangerous task force. you thought that life was in your past, almost four years later without a word of who you used to be. that was until today, when everything came back to haunt you.

an: this is just a small lil intro to this fic!! obvi this is regurgitating the emily story line i know they sound similar but once we get into details it will be different! lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

There were days where you could forget. Days where the memories somehow faded to the back of your mind. You were able to pretend you were okay.

Today was not one of those days.

You were with the team in Seattle this week, working on a suspected serial killer couple. The case was one of the more open and shut ones; not many twists and turns, the duo made it quite easy to find them. Sometimes there were cases like that, played right by the book, making the jobs of you and your fellow profilers quite easy.

So as you stood in the conference room of the Seattle Field Office, taking down photos from the boards as the team prepared to leave, having no idea how the next 24 hours of your life would unfold.

“Hey, did you remember to call Casey and let her know we’re on our way home?” Spencer asked you, wrapping his arm around your waist and kissing your cheek. You could feel Derek rolling his eyes behind you, a habit you had gotten used to since Spencer was not shy with PDA.

“Um, yeah, she said she’d stay until we landed so she can make sure they all get dinner,” you responded, assuring Spencer that your plethora of pets were being well taken care of by your pet sitter.

Spencer smiled happily, taking his warmth away and heading out to the hall. You watched him leave, your boyfriend of two years now, the room feeling so much emptier without his presence.

You felt your cell vibrating in your back pocket, taking your mind away from already missing your boyfriend, even though he literally walked out of the room ten seconds ago. You pulled your phone out cautiously, hoping it wasn’t an emergency.

You didn’t recognize the number, but you instantly knew the area code. Boston.

You felt sick to your stomach as you continued to watch the call go unanswered. Who the hell would be calling you from Boston?

You finally answered after what seemed like hours, carefully closing the door to the conference room and locking it so you could be alone. Whoever was calling, it couldn’t be good news. And you couldn’t let anyone else hear.

“Who is this?” You whispered into the phone, your voice shaky and harsh.

“It’s me.”

The voice held the same nervous tone that yours did. You felt your heart stopped as you heard his voice, a sound you thought you would never hear for the rest of your life.

“Wade… what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry to have to call you about this, (Y/N). But you need to know.”

“What’s going on?”

“Zack Philips escaped from prison last night.”

There was silence, for what seemed like an eternity. Your brain flipped over the words, not sure how to handle the information that was just shared.

“How is that possible?” You finally managed to get out, shaking your head in disbelief.

“We believe he may have had someone helping him on the inside. Me and Alicia are trying to figure it out.”

“This can’t be happening. He was supposed to rot in there,” you gasped, your eyes swelling with tears as horrible memories of him came flooding back to your reality.

The sound of Hotch shaking the locked door handle, trying to enter the room you had barricaded yourself in. You quickly hung up the phone, trying your best to compose yourself as you unlocked the door and let your supervisor in.

Apparently you aren’t as good of a liar as you thought, because he could immediately sense the tension clung to the air. He closed the door behind him, assuming the sensitive nature of your worries.

Aaron Hotchner was one of two people that knew about your past before you came to the BAU. You were hoping that you would never have to tell another soul outside of the task force you worked with, but it seemed that Aaron would have to know if you were to work in his Unit.

“Wade Jefferies just called me,” you admitted, still shaking your head in denial.

“Is everything okay, (Y/N)?” You had a sense that he somehow already knew what you were going to say, a certain look in his eye as if he knew it was only a matter of time before your past came back to bite you all.

“He escaped prison.”

“How long ago?”

“Last night, sometime. I’m not sure when, exactly.”

The two of you shared a glance, a mutual look of ‘Oh, shit.’

“Do we need to involve the team?”

The team. You couldn’t even imagine them involved in this. It was your battle before you came here, and you promised yourself you would never let them get wrapped up in it. Especially Spencer. It was hard lying to him every day about who you were, where you had been… but you had no choice. And you still had no choice. There was no way you could involve them.

“I don’t think we need to do that yet, Hotch. We don’t even know where he is. There’s a chance he could just go into hiding.”

“You know Zack Philips better than anyone. Do you believe that’s what he will do?”

No. He would come look for you. There was no doubt in your mind.

“I’m not sure. But it’s not this team’s responsibility either way. Wade is getting together with the other members of the task force. I’m sure we’ll be able to track him down.” You avoided his eyes, knowing if he caught a glimpse at your face, you wouldn’t be able to lie for much longer. Hotch nodded cautiously at you, not entirely believing your story, but knowing better than to press the conversation any further.

Although Hotch knew details of the case, there were still many things he was in the dark about. If he knew just who this man was, there wasn’t a chance in hell he would let you handle things on your own. Part of you was glad there were parts of this you kept hidden, all to yourself. Only you knew what he was truly capable off, which was why it was extremely dire that you found him.

∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗

Spencer knew there was something off with you. He had been dating you for two years, and you’d been living together for almost one. There was no way he wouldn’t notice a dramatic shift in your demeanor. It was even more suspicious watching Hotch glance over at you every few minutes on the plane, a look of concern pasted on his face.

Something was wrong, something that you were refusing to share with Spencer.

He tried to get you to talk, begging and pleading for you to share whatever was on your mind. But all you would give him is a slight smile, assuring him you just weren’t feeling well.

“The time change, it always makes me feel yucky,” you assured him as you walked into your house, letting him know you just needed a hot shower and a good night's sleep.

Spencer kissed you before you headed up the stairs, watching you closely as you ascended into your bedroom and walked anxiously into the bathroom. He heard the water turn on, and he felt a little better, trying to convince himself that there wasn’t some big secret you were hiding.

What Spencer didn’t hear was the quiet phone call you tried to make as the steam from the shower filled up your master bathroom. You dialed Wade’s number anxiously, tapping your foot on the tiled floor as the phone rang.

“Are you someplace private?” He asked, no time for kind greetings or small talk.

“Yeah, I’m alone. What have you found out?”

“According to a trusted source, Zack got on a plane this morning that’s headed for Washington.”

“He’s coming to us. Should be easier to find him,” you said, trying to convince yourself you all had a chance. You brought him down once before, it was possible you could do it again, right?

“I talked to the Director. He wants all of us back together, working non stop until we find him.”

“I can’t disappear, Wade. What am I supposed to tell the team?” You looked around nervously, hoping to god you were quiet enough so Spencer couldn’t hear.

“I actually think you should stay right where you are. Chances are he will stake us out, and if he sees you…” Wade trailed off, not wanting to say what he was afraid of, but you knew. If he saw you, if he knew the truth… none of you would make it out alive.

“Is there any indicator that he knows who I am? That I’m alive?”

“As far as we’re concerned, he believes that Lindsey Grimes died in prison.”

You flinched when he said her name, the person that you once were so long ago. You had laid her to rest when you joined the BAU, convinced there was no way she could come back to haunt you.

“(Y/N)... we won’t let him hurt you,” your former boss assured, his voice sounded confident enough to make you calm down a little bit.

“Call me if anything happens.”

“I will. I need you to take care of yourself, okay? Be cautious, but don’t be suspicious. I’ll talk to you soon.”

He ended the call, allowing you to set your phone down and shut your eyes. All of this had seemed like one continuous nightmare, your brain unable to believe any part of this was real. You had to trust Wade and your former team, though. They kept you safe all those years ago, you were sure they could do it again. They had too.

There was so much more at stake, now. You weren’t some 22 year old agent begging to make a name for yourself, all alone in the world and willing to take on any project that came your way. You had a family, somebody you loved. You couldn’t let Spencer get hurt, you would die before you’d let Zack near him.

A part of you wondered if you should tell him, let him in on that part of your life. Maybe he could help. Maybe they all could…

But if something happened to any of them, you would never forgive yourself. You had to protect them first.

∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗

Two days had gone by without another word. Somehow, you were working a case that kept you in DC, which made you even more nervous. You were hoping that if you got out of the city, you and the whole team would be much safer. If Zack really was in DC, you were better off as far away as possible.

But you couldn’t control where the BAU was needed. And besides, two days without a word was good, right? If you were in danger, if something was wrong, they would tell you. At least that’s what you spent the last 48 hours trying to convince yourself.

You had almost pushed it out of your mind, able to do your job without distraction. That was until you received a text from Wade that made your heart stop.

‘We need to meet, now. I’ll text you coordinates. Be there in 10.’

You looked around at your team, carefully chipping away at your current case, no idea of the impending doom you faced. You looked around for Hotch, needing to at least explain to him why you needed to leave.

Once securing his approval, you snuck out of the office, texting Spencer that you were making an emergency coffee run and would be back soon. He responded with a quick, ‘Ok, love you!’ that made you feel nauseous as you drove away from the team and to the location Wade provided.

When you arrived at the small park, you found a bench not too far from your car and sat down, eagerly awaiting your fate. You looked around for Wade, unsure if you would even recognize him after four years.

After a few minutes of waiting, you started to feel uneasy. He was late. Wade was never late, especially to things he planned.

Something was wrong about this. You looked around nervously, not another soul in sight. You started to slowly stand up from the bench, hoping to make a quick path to your car and get out of here before anyone noticed.

But it was too late. You felt a strong hand grip your shoulder as you began to stand up, fingers digging into your flesh as they pushed you back down onto the bench.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

You turned towards the hidden man, confirming your suspicions. You could tell it was him, just by his touch. It was rough, not an ounce of kindness seeped through him.

“Zack…” you whispered, refusing to look him in the face.

“Lindsey… oh, that’s not right, is it?” He chuckled, walking around the bench and taking a seat next to you.

“How did you find me, Zack? You’ve been out less than a week…”

“Oh, (Y/N),” he smiled, turning towards you and cupping a cold hand on your face. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“How long have you known?”

“Well, I’ll be honest, you had me fooled for quite some time. Most of the evidence could’ve come from anyone… but one day, my lawyer was going over something with me, and there it was. So small, I should’ve missed it. Hell, I probably had, a hundred times. But that day… that day I was thinking about you. Because that was the day they told me you’d died.”

He looked up at you, a hint of real pain shimmering in his evil eyes. It felt genuine, a part of you so badly wanting to believe there was still a piece of humanity in him. But you knew how capable he was of faking emotion, how he could break you down with just a small glance…

“My lawyer looked at me and said, ‘They know about Buffalo.’ And that’s when I knew. Because you, my sweet (Y/N)... you were the only person that knew about that.”

“What do you want, Zack?”

“Well, I’m feeling exceptionally generous today, so I’d like to give you some options.” He smiled devilishly at you, any semblance of humanity you thought he had drained in that moment.

“You can come with me. We can chat for a bit, you can own up to every lie you ever told from that beautiful place of yours. And then, I’ll kill you of course.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, making you flinch as he touched you. “If that doesn’t sound good, I can kill every single member of your little team one by one until you give in. And I’ll start with that pretty little boy of yours… what’s his name, Spencer?”

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right now,” you snapped, the thought of him anywhere near Spencer making you shake.

“Do you think I don’t have people on my side, (Y/N)? If you hurt me, there are fifty men ready to finish this job.”

You wanted so desperately to not believe him, to think you could end this all with one bullet in his head. But you knew the power he had over people, the influx of his followers willing to give their life to him. He was right. If you touched him, you’d be facing an army of unknowns trying to harm all of you.

There was no choice. You had to protect your team. You had to protect Spencer.

“I’ll go with you. Just promise you won’t hurt them.”

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