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itsapeterthing · 3 years

Text

Milestone || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: a journey through some of the biggest milestones in yours and bucky’s relationship from the day you first met to sharing a home of your own

a/n: in this we’re gonna pretend that bucky didn’t get dusted! also reader has powers similar to those of wanda’s. reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.4k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request || taglist

The First Time You Met

Running down the hallway of the airport, you watched as Peter was swept off of his feet and into the air by none other than Falcon, leaving the man you recognized as the Winter Soldier in your midst. Your shoes squeaking against the floor as you stopped short, you threw your arms into the air, stopping the man from moving.

Snapping his attention towards you, he furrowed his eyebrows and you could feel him fighting against your magic. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried your hardest to keep him contained but with only so much experience, he broke through it in a minute, coming for you straight after.

“Shit.” You cursed to yourself, watching as he strode over to you.

Clasping your hands together before pulling them apart, you created a baton of sorts in just enough time to hold it in front of yourself as Bucky cornered you into a wall. Pushing him back with the beam, you grunted, trying your hardest to keep the magic from dying out.

“You’re not very good at this.” He commented, attempting to pull the magical beam from your hands.

“I’m...” You grunted. “.... new.”

Using all of your force, you shoved him back. Taking the first opportunity you saw, you began shooting blasts of magic at him while he stumbled backwards. Attempting to dodge the blasts, he moved forward, putting his hands in the air.

“Look,” He said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Watching as he stumbled backwards, closer to a ledge, you halted the blasts, tilting your head sideways.

“Lucky me.”

As soon as the words fell from your mouth, you used the rest of your force, swinging your arms backwards and then pushing forward to shove him through the railing and over the edge, his eyes wide as he fell backwards. When he fell, he took the Falcon with him.

Glancing up above, you saw Peter, shooting a web to hold the two men to the ground. Feeling the energy in your palms, you floated down to the floor they were held to, standing above them.

“Look guys, I would love to keep this up but I’ve only got one job here today and I’ve gotta impress Mr. Stark, so I’m really sorry-” You watched as the drone took Peter’s web and pulled him through the window cutting him short, Peter screaming as it did.

Turning back to the men, you pulled the hood of your cloak over your head.

“Don’t worry about the drone thing,” You said. “I know when to see myself out.”

Turning to make your way towards the exit of the airport, you heard Bucky call from behind you.

“Hey!” He shouted. “Who are you?”

Bucky didn’t know why he was asking. He could barely even remember facts about himself, never mind keep track of every super human person he came across, but there was something nagging in his mind, begging him to learn more.

Glancing over your shoulder, looking at the Winter Soldier one last time, you smirked.

“Y/n.”

And with that you left the airport.

First Touch

The hatch to the ship opening, you stumbled down the steps, gripping Nebula’s arm to keep your balance. As Steve took hold of Tony, Pepper rushing to his side, you looked up to find the familiar face of Rhodey making his way towards you.

“I chose the wrong day to go see who Dr. Strange was.” You chuckled somberly, trying to make light of the situation.

Grabbing your arm to steady you as you slowly walked down the steps, Rhodey shook his head.

“The fight wasn't much better back here.” He said. “At least we had oxygen though. You’re not looking so good, kid.”

Too afraid to have looked at your deteriorating reflection the past three weeks, you knew he was being too kind.

It had been nearly three weeks since Thanos snapped away a half of the universe’s population, leaving you, Tony and Nebula stranded in space. You had run out of fuel weeks ago and had nearly lost hope of ever returning home as the oxygen supply began dwindling until Captain Marvel had found your ship and brought you all safely back to the Avengers Compound.

Despite being back, three weeks in space had left you exhausted, starving and dehydrated- just to name a few.

Biting back the dizziness you felt, you sighed.

“I’m- I’m fine, Rhodes.” You said, beginning to feel lightheaded. “It’s nothing-”

Missing your footing on the step, you tripped, losing your balance from Rhodey, about to hit the ground until you felt an arm wrap around your torso and the cool touch of metal grasp your hand. Looking up, you were met with the familiar face of the man you had fought two years ago at the airport in Germany, his hair cut shorter since the last time you had seen him, but recognizable nonetheless.

“Bucky Barnes?” You asked, standing up straighter with his assistance.

“Y/n.” He replied, shooting you a gentle smile.

Although you had what many would consider super-human abilities with your magic, due to being discovered after the civil war between the Avengers that had effectively split up the group- you weren't used to being recognized. Hearing your name fall from his lips felt somewhat gratifying.

“You remember my name?” You asked in disbelief

“Hard to forget the name of the woman who kicked my ass.” Bucky chuckled, helping you walk towards the doors of the Compound. “Doesn't happen often.”

For the first time in weeks you allowed yourself to smile as you gazed up at the man holding you steady, making sure you didn’t fall. When his blue eyes met yours, you adverted your gaze, turning your attention towards Natasha who wheeled a wheelchair through the doors of the Compound and towards the two of you.

Moving his flesh hand to rest on your lower back, his vibranium one still in yours, he helped you slowly ease into the chair. When you sat back in the chair, resting your feet on the footrests, you looked up at the super soldier and smiled.

“Not looking for a rematch are you?” You asked, slipping your hand out of his and resting it on your abdomen. “‘Cause I think I’m gonna need a raincheck.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he laughed shaking his head.

“No, I think I’m done with fighting.” He said.

Feeling Natasha pulling back on the wheelchair, about to spin your chair around and towards the doors, you threw him one last smile.

“That makes two of us.”

Just when Bucky was about to turn around and walk away as Nat wheeled you through the doors, the chair stopped and he watched as you glanced over your shoulder.

“And Sarge?” You called.

“Yeah?”

“I like the new arm.”

For the first time in decades, Bucky felt heat rise to his cheeks as he watched you tiredly speak to Natasha until you left his line of sight.

First Kiss

It had taken you nearly a month to recover from your time in space since returning back to Earth. Although you understood that there wasn’t much to be done since Thanos had wiped out half of the universe, you still felt guilty taking up space in the Compound when all you would do was lay in bed, attached to an IV.

The one thing that made your time on bedrest a little more bearable was none other than Bucky Barnes.

Throughout your stay in bed he had consistently visited you. Though at first he was a bit shy, you had proven to be someone he could trust- assuring him that he could never be a bother to you and that you genuinely enjoyed having his company- maybe a bit too much, but you would never tell him that.

Bucky himself was surprised that he had put himself so out there with you after living such a solitary life for nearly the past 80 years, but there was just something about you that drew him to you time and time again. He couldn’t pinpoint it- whether it was your kindness, humor or intelligence- he found both joy and peace in your presence- something he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be in.

So, despite the voice in the back of his head telling him that you didn’t want to see him, he had visited you while you got better in bed, taking care of you in the littlest of ways until he watched the dark circles under your eyes fade away and your ability to walk without his assistance return.

Finally feeling somewhat better, you had insisted to bucky that you were ready to train again and no matter how many times he tried to convince you that you weren’t, he could never say no once you squeezed his hand and pouted up at him.

He was regretting not saying no to you as he now stood across from you in the training room.

“Y/n, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” He said, watching you sway in your spot despite your feet being planted to the mat.

“C’mon Barnes,” You taunted, raising your hands. “You scared?”

Just as he was about to open his mouth again, you shot a blast of magic towards him, Bucky dodging it just as it whooshed past his head.

“I wasn’t even ready!” Bucky exclaimed.

Shrugging your shoulders you formed another beam made of magic, holding either ends of it with your hands as Bucky came towards you.

Trying to plant your feet to the ground, feeling another hit of dizziness wash over you, you pushed him back with the beam, but before you could do anything more, his leg swept under yours, making you lose your balance.

Before you fell to the ground, however, the magic in your hands diminished as you gripped your hands into Bucky’s shirt bringing him down with you.

Flipping over before you fell, you landed on top of the super soldier, your hands planted firmly on his chest. With his hands above his head that was inches away from yours, you both stared at each other- you finally noticing just how much you liked the scruff that coated his jawline and him admiring the color of your eyes and how he swore he could lose himself in them if only he had the chance.

Opening your mouth, you felt the thumping of Bucky’s heart against your fingertips that were resting on his chest as he gazed up at you.

“Your heart is beating really fast.” You whispered, out of breath despite you barely having trained.

“Yeah, it does that when I see you.”

You could barely believe what you were hearing until you felt Bucky’s hands come up and cup your face, glancing down at your lips before back to your eyes, asking wordlessly for your approval.

Unable to form a coherent sentence, you eagerly nodded back at him.

Before you could even process it, you felt Bucky’s lips meeting yours as he pulled you into a kiss, his hands moving from cupping your face to wrapping around your body, pulling you tight against him. All you could remember thinking was that despite his tough exterior, his lips were soft and you could lose yourself in the comfort of having his arms around you all day if he let you.

Pulling away first, a beaming smile spread across Bucky’s face as he rubbed circles against your back.

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” He teased. “You could’ve just asked.”

First “I Love You”

Sitting on the edge of the rooftop, your legs swinging in the air, you offered the bag of popcorn in your hand to your boyfriend who was sat beside you. Taking his eyes off of the view in front of him, he grabbed a fistful of the salty treat from the bag, popping it in his mouth.

“Did you have stuff like this back in the olden times?” You asked, laying your head on his shoulder.

“What?” He asked despite his mouth being full. “You mean fireworks? How old do you think I am?”

Laughing at how he mocked offense over your question, you sat up straight, pecking his cheek.

“One hundred doesn’t sound much better, babe.”

Rolling his eyes, knowing that you loved him anyway, he brushed off the remaining salt from his fingertips, wrapping his vibranium arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.

Just as he pressed a gentle kiss against your temple, he jumped in his spot as he heard the loud sound of the first firework shooting up into the air over the water before “popping” and bursting into an array of color.

“Look!” You exclaimed, pointing towards the display. “It’s starting!”

Although he took a quick glance at the firework display, his attention was purely focused on you. He couldn’t help but admire the way the colorful lights reflected on your skin or how you had a hint of an open smile on your face watching as the fireworks burst midair. No show could compare to looking at you.

He couldn't help but feel his heart race in his chest, breath caught in his throat as he admired your beauty- even when you were still in your suit from watching over the parade with him earlier that evening. He was convinced there wasn’t a single thing about you that he wasn’t completely enamored with and you only gave him more reasons to love you every single day.

Before he even realized what he was saying, admiring you in complete bliss and utter awe, the words slipped out of his mouth.

“I love you.”

He thought you wouldn’t be able to hear, the sound of another firework popping ringing in his ear, but when you turned towards him, your eyes wide and mouth agape, he knew you had.

“Did you just say that you love me?” You asked, fireworks continuing to burst behind you.

Not one to lie- especially not to you- he nodded his head.

“Yeah.”

A smile beginning to form on your face, you grabbed the strap on his jacket, pulling him closer to you.

“I love you too.”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his, the sound of the finale of the display ringing behind you as the fireworks burst one after another in air, every color imaginable washing over your joined figures sitting on the edge of the rooftop on that cool summer night, almost as if it were taking the feeling shared between the two of you and bringing it to life for the world to see.

First Home

“Okay!” You nodded, pointing to the corner of your living room. “That one can go over there. Thank you so much for your help, Steve.”

“I helped Buck move into his first apartment, Y/n.” Steve said wiping his hands on his pants. “I wouldn’t miss stuff like this for anything.”

Smiling at Steve’s comment, you felt Bucky’s vibranium hand land on your lower back, pulling you closer. Leaning into his touch, you wrapped your arm around him in return, staring up at your boyfriend.

“Yeah and the first time he was about a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter.” Bucky chuckled. “This is easy for him.”

Watching Natasha set down the last box on top of a pile of the others in the kitchen, you excused yourself from your boyfriend and his best friend, making your way into the other room.

When you had left the two of them’s earshot, Bucky watching as you left, Steve rested his hand on Bucky's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“You know,” Steve said. “I’m happy for you, Buck. I think this is gonna be good for you.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s comment- despite how cheesy it was- because he knew it was true.

When Bucky’s memory had finally been cleared, a part of him had always feared that even though he had been given a new chance at life, he would never have a normal one. Although he knew “normal” was a strong term for the life you two shared together given that he was a century old super soldier and you had magical abilities- you had given him a chance at a peaceful life full of love and contentment which was all he could ever dream of asking for.

The idea of finding love and having a family was something that he worried was left eighty years in the past, but you proved to him that life didn’t end for him when he fell from that train- if anything it brought him the beginning he had always hoped for.

“Sure you won’t miss me too bad, pal?” Bucky asked.

Taking his hand back from Bucky’s shoulder, Steve laughed shoving his hand in his pockets.

“No, I think I’m used to it by now.” Steve chuckled. “It’s just like you to be able to find a woman with shared life experience even when half the world disappears.”

Shaking his head at his friend’s joke, he shoved him playfully.

“C’mon, ya’know this is different.” Bucky said. “I think this is the last one for me.”

Without missing a beat, Steve smiled.

“I know.”

Hearing the sound of you and Natasha’s footsteps stepping back into the room, Bucky kept his mouth shut, feeling your hand run over his shoulder as you stood beside him.

“Don’t forget about me now that you have your own place, okay Y/n?” Nat said crossing her arms.

“Don’t worry.” You told her. “I’ll come visit every day.”

“Well, not every day-” Bucky interjected.

“No. I meant what I said. Every day, Nat. You’ll wish you never said anything.”

Once the laughter that had erupted in the room settled, Steve and Nat said their goodbyes to you and your boyfriend, you both waving them off as you shut the door behind them. When the door was shut and you and Bucky were left in your new apartment alone together, you rushed over to your bag by the door, pulling a neatly wrapped gift out of it.

“What’s this?” Bucky asked as you handed him the present.

“Just a little housewarming gift.” You smiled.

Gazing at your smiling face, a smile finding its way onto his, he looked down at the present in his hands, carefully tearing the paper off of the gift to reveal a framed photo of the two of you.

A framed photo of the two of you fighting in an airport three years ago on the day you first met.

“So, Tony had put a camera in Peter’s suit back before we went and fought you guys.” You explained. “And I thought it had to be gone since Peter was... you know... but it turned out that Tony still had the footage so I was able to find some from that day at the airport and in it there was this quick little shot of us fighting and I just had to have it, Buck.”

Flipping the frame around at you, he raised his eyebrows.

“A photo of us fighting?”

“Yes!” You told him. “Do you like it?”

Despite the fact that it was a photo of the two of you fighting- a fight that he had gotten his ass kicked in no less- he loved it more than anything else you could have possibly given him because it was the day he met you. It was the day his life changed and he didn’t even know it in the moment.

Although your story was far from “normal” it was your story and that’s what mattered the most to him.

“I love it, doll.” He said, pulling you into his embrace. “This is a crazy story to tell our kids though, huh?”

“All of them are.” You laughed into his chest. “But I wouldn't have it any other way, Buck. I love you.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, a photograph of the day your story first began in his hand, he smiled.

“I love you too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes blurb #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes fluff

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reidsnose · 3 years

Text

cosmically connected

overview: spencer has a sudden realization after having a conversation with you

genre: F L U F F

a/n: i just think this one is super cute hehe also it takes place like at the end of the work day and half the team has already gone home lmao

masterlist

"you really don't believe in soulmates?" Garcia pressed on.

"I'm a man of science! and science says no" Reid retorted.

"actually, science man, science says yes," you butted in, as you stopped packing up your things, pushing yourself off your desk in your spinnie chair to be nearer to them.

Reid turned in his chair to see the newcomer, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you smiled at him.

"is that so?" he teased, cocking an eyebrow.

you loved when you had a bit of attitude with each other. a cocky side of Spencer wasn't a common occurrence, so when it appeared you felt your cheeks grow red.

"oh! y/n you told me about this the other day! i said you sounded just like boy genius remember!" Garcia giggled, shaking her hands in excitement.

"yeah i remember." you laughed.

"can you tell me!" Reid feigned exasperation as he grew inpatient.

"relax! I'm about to!" you chuckled before continuing. "basically, when the big bang, or whatever caused the creation of the universe happened, there was all sorts of molecules and space dust that was together at one point that broke apart. do you agree?"

"yes." he answered cautiously.

"and in the whole universe is made of those particles?"

"mhm."

"im gonna stop calling them particles because i hate that word so im saying space dust. but in that case, humans are made of said space dust?"

"hmm... yeah thats correct."

"so two people could be made of the same space dust that was once whole?"

"i-yeah i guess you could say that."

"in that case, these two are cosmically connected then. bound together from the beginning by the beginning. in other words:" you wiggled your fingers as some sort of tiny 'ta-da' for dramatic effect, "soulmates!"

Spencer's mouth opened. and then closed. and then opened again, but then closed back up.

"he's speechless! you left the resident genius speechless! and you proved him wrong!" Garcia chirped, flashing and award winning smile to you.

you looked at Spencer, watching the wheels turn in his head. never in your life had you met a person quite like him. you loved watching him just exist, everything he did brought a blush to your cheeks. your felt embarrassed to crush so hard on a coworker, but you were convinced he didn't feel the same so it didn't really matter. you enjoyed adoring him from afar if it meant you could at least be his friend.

"i cant believe it." he stated simply, looking into your eyes and feeling as though he'd been electrocuted. in a good way.

you giggled looking down for a moment, afraid to keep eye contact for too long.

"what do you say braniac? did i convince you?" you asked, looking back up to meet his gaze.

the way you looked at him, Spencer was sure he would melt. you gave him a sly smile as you awaited a response, and he felt his heart rate quicken. every moment the two of you had ever shared together flashed through his mind and he was hit with a sudden realization.

"soulmates are real." he confirmed, cracking a goofy smile.

but he didn't come to that conclusion because of your scientific explanation.

it was because in that moment, he was sure he had found his soulmate. you.

"yes!" you exclaimed and interrupted his thoughts, spinning around in your chair and tapping excitedly on his desk.

"science said soulmates! science said soulmates!" Garcia said in a sing song voice, pushing you around the bullpen in her office chair.

Spencer couldn't help but laugh as he watched the scene unfold before him.

"when are you going to tell her?" morgan asked, clapping the younger boy lightly on the shoulder.

"i dont know. never? and maybe not even then." he responded much too quickly, feeling embarrassed at his crush.

"come on man! you're a profiler you gotta know shes into you!"

"except for the part where she isnt."

"i cant wait to say i told you so."

"youll be waiting a while."

"ah but not forever, pretty boy. not forever!" morgan laughed before walking out of the bullpen with garcia.

Reid scoffed lightly and rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips at the idea of you liking him back.

"aw man!" you cursed at you phone, after standing up from your desk with your bag in your hand.

"whats wrong?" he inquired, hands gripping his satchel as he walked through the now nearly empty bullpen to your desk.

"my friends had to cancel plans," you sighed, setting your phone down.

"oh im sorry. is there anything i can do?" he asked politely, making your heart flutter as you walked towards the elevators.

"no not really, i just need to figure out what to do with all the cookies i baked them." you joked, trying to bring light to your slowly dimming mood.

"i can help you eat them. we could watch a movie, or i could read to you." he offered, cheeks glowing a soft red under the streetlight.

"i think that sounds perfect," you smiled, a sudden flush filling your chest. "you wanna just ride with me?" you offered, opening your car door.

"yeah sure." he agreed, smiling softly.

"so," you began as you pulled out of the parking lot.

"so," he chuckled.

"do you really believe in soulmates now?" you asked, curious on how you were able to convince him so quickly.

his heart thumped wildly in his chest, "yes. i think ive met mine."

you felt your face fall but only for a second, forcing yourself to be happy for him, "aww, whats her name."

"y/n." he answered, nearly causing you to crash the car.

you swerved to the edge of the road and pulled over.

"what?" you questioned, breathless from the sudden news.

"i said her name name is y/n." he said nervously.

"im so glad you said that because im positive mine is named spencer." you smiled, feeling a sort of warmth spread through your body that you had never felt before.

he smiled a wide, goofy grin before placing a soft kiss to your lips which you gladly returned.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer #reid #bau #cm #morgan #derek morgan #agent morgan #garcia #penelope garcia #soulmates

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fernweh-writes · 3 years

Note

Hey... ehhh... me again...👀

Like, I just got a real bad sunburn because I was with my BFF in her pool for like 5h without sunprotection, and the sunburn I got because Of it is like for real straight up Painfull as shit so I thought how would the slasher react to their S/O getting a really bad sunburn and how would they help her??

So yeah sorry if I should annoy you with my requests👉👈

This is a very cute idea but also please wear sunscreen. Those UV rays are no joke bestie. If you got a green thumb, or even don’t, aloe plants are also great investments. Please stay safe luv!

-Fern

Slashers x S/O With A Sunburn

Michael Myers

Michael doesn’t get sun burnt all that often. He keeps all of his skin covered when he is outside and the rest of his time is spent indoors. Although he does remember getting sunburns when he was younger and remembers that they were not fun. So he does his best to help, but doesn’t really know how.

It’s Michael and of course he’s always curious, especially about pain. Sorry y/n, he is going to poke your sunburn to see how you’ll react.

However, he does bring you a lot of water to make sure you stay hydrated. He may not know how to treat a sunburn but he does know being in the sun that long can cause dehydration.

Michael would also be amused by how red you get if you’re pale. He is also grossed out by your skin peeling when you start to heal. You look like a shedding reptile and he is not a fan.

Bo Sinclair

Literally will not shut up about how you should know to wear sunscreen or avoid being in the sun for that long. Simultaneously calls sunscreen “bitch spray” though.

Bo is more than willing to help you rub aloe on the places you can’t reach though. We all know he’s perverted and loves to make dirty jokes so it’s perfect for him. “You know, you didn’t need an excuse for me to touch ya darlin’, you coulda just asked.”

Picks at you when the cold gel makes you hiss and flinch away. Bo would also be the one who wouldn’t use enough aloe so him touching your skin feels like hell.

Would 100% try to sneak his hands from your back further down to your ass. If he’s gonna spend time helping you he expects to be paid with a handful of ass.

Vincent Sinclair

Honestly, Vincent has probably forgotten what a sunburn feels like. He rarely ever leaves the house, or even the basement, so he hasn’t been outside long enough to get burnt.

Pities you and how miserable you look squirming around trying to keep your clothes from touching you. Would let you take the sheet off of the bed and just wrap it around you.

He’s the closest thing Ambrose has to a doctor and is the most capable of helping you. Makes sure to keep aloe on your skin and constantly reminds you to drink water.

Don’t get me wrong, Vincent really does pity you but when you hop in the shower and holler he can’t help but laugh to himself. You knew better than to just hop right in like that.

Thomas Hewitt

Wouldn’t be much help with the healing part but he does take over your chores so that you can rest and heal. A sunburn that bad definitely brings some exhaustion along with it.

Luda Mae knows plenty of home remedies and is very familiar with all sorts of ailments the Texas heat inflicts. She’ll have you feeling better in no time.

Hoyt would definitely try and smack your sunburn. Death glares from Tommy and threats from Luda Mae are the only things saving you. He knows Thomas would kill him so he does his best to not.

Thomas would feel bad that he can’t help you out much. Would also be embarrassed to find you wearing little to no clothing since clothes are very uncomfortable. He would freak out and be very flustered.

Brahms Heelshire

Watches you suffer.

If you had followed the rules and not left the house y/n, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place now would it? But no, you just had to neglect the rules AND the meticulous schedule he had so carefully crafted. How rude.

After watching you for a little bit though Brahms begins to feel bad for you. You look so sad and miserable trying so hard to get comfortable and failing. He watches you try and fail to sleep much that night and lets you rest for a little bit but that’s the most you’re going to get from him.

He definitely isn’t going to complain if you decide to not wear clothes around your room. It’s a better view for him to watch through the walls and he is definitely going to enjoy the show. And you sleep on top of the covers? Maybe he should let you get sunburnt more often.

Billy Loomis

You want him to rub aloe on your back? Oh no worries, he’ll do your whole body for you. No really y/n, he insists, please let him rub his hands all over you.

He really does feel bad for you, he just does a bad job of showing it. Billy won’t do much unless you specifically ask him to. But he does make sure you stay hydrated after being out in the sun.

He will turn the shower on for you and make sure that the water is anything but hot. Also makes sure the water pressure isn’t turned up so the water cannot attack your burned skin.

Refers to your peeling as shedding and is very grossed out by it. Don’t shed on his furniture, or his clothes, or his anything. Keep your skin to yourself please.

Stu Macher

Goes out and buys any and every aloe product he can find. He doesn’t want to see you in pain.

That being said he does seem to enjoy poking your sunburn. If you ask, he couldn’t tell you why. Maybe he just enjoys seeing you in mild pain, who knows.

Is more than okay with rubbing aloe on your back but he puts on way to much no it’s going to take forever to dry. His genius idea is for you to sit in front of a fan but then you just freeze. RIP y/n, you can’t win.

Stays by your side and fetches anything you need so that you don’t have to move after you finally found a way to sit or lay that is comfortable and doesn’t hurt.

Jesse Cromeans

He wouldn’t let you get burnt in the first place. Jesse watches you any time you’re outside and constantly reminds you to put on sunscreen. If he can’t be with you, you’ll receive constant reminders to reapply sunscreen when it’s time.

Also invests in really good sunscreen that won’t come off in the water. That way, you can swim in peace and not worry about getting burnt while in the water.

If you do happen to get burnt, don’t worry he buys top of the line aloe products and helps you apply it all over. You also won’t have to worry about the sheets rubbing and scratching you since he once again buys only the best of the best.

Makes sure you drink plenty of water as well. He can’t have you getting dehydrated and passing out on him. Not like he wouldn’t pay for one of those IV bags even if you did.

Asa Emory

It would take you getting burnt once for him to become over protective. He’ll constantly remind you to wear sunscreen but overall just tries to keep you out of the sun.

Don’t make him have to lock you in that hotel so that you can’t get sunburnt. Asa won’t hesitate to do so if he feels that it is necessary. After all, he has to keep his most prized piece of his collection in good condition.

This man is a sadist. He enjoys using your sunburn to inflict more pain upon you. Don’t think he won’t degrade you for “not knowing how to take care of yourself.”

Honestly it just furthers his belief that you need him to protect you and keep you safe. You’re pathetic, you can’t even stop yourself from getting sunburnt. What would you ever do without him to keep you safe?

479 notes · View notes

hopelesshunny · 3 years

Text

the love languages part ii: physical touch (f.w.)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred has always felt the need to touch y/n and after a drunken night he realizes he can't sleep without her.

warnings: very, very light profanity, drinking/underage drinking, kissing, bed sharing.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: my second instalment is here - i did in fact say i would wait until monday but i was really excited to write this one!! i am so grateful for all the love i have received on this series so far, i cannot thank you guys enough. i still feel like i have a ways to go in improving my writing - but as always my ask is open if you have comments, questions, concerns, luv or just wanna chat:)

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part i // part iii // part iv

For as long as Y/N had known Fred he had always been touchy. Fred’s need to constantly touch her was never unwelcomed, she relished in the way he’d wrap an arm around her shoulders when he’d walk her to class or how he’d lean into her when he laughed uncontrollably. However, she had always assumed that he was like this with everyone he was friends with, that he just needed to touch people in some way in order to feel close to them. This was very true but Y/N never knew that it was her touch that he craved the most, that as soon as he saw her, he longed to feel the soft skin of her cheek, the way her shoulders shook when she laughed or the rise and fall of her chest while he laid on her stomach in the common room, gentle sighs leaving her mouth every so often.

Fred couldn’t count on two hands the amount of times he almost told Y/N his feelings for her, the words sat on his tongue so often that he was starting to believe that they felt more comfortable in his mouth which is why they never launched themselves into the air. He didn’t know why he couldn’t force the confession out, there was always just a cloud of doubt and fear that swarmed his mind whenever the thought presented itself. But alas, here he was sitting across from her watching her flip her hair over her shoulder and let out a light laugh as she found whatever George was saying quite amusing.

“Y/N! You have to come, you literally can’t miss a party like this!” George practically shouted, a shocked look on his face.

“I’m so behind on my studies.” Y/N started, resting her chin on her hands. “I’ll be practically chained to the library all weekend as is, I can’t go to a party.”

“Y-You’re not coming tonight?” Fred questioned, his eyes hopeful as if he had heard the conversation wrong.

“Sorry Freddie.” She pouted. “You can tell me all about it at breakfast tomorrow.” At that Fred reached across the table to run his finger across her knuckles, relishing in the way her skin felt under his calloused fingertip, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how they would feel against his lips. However, he was pulled out of his daydream by the sound of George making gagging noises to the side of him as Y/N giggled.

“In that case I’ll have to drink a little extra.” He threw a wink her way. “To make sure I don’t bore you back to sleep tomorrow morning.”

“You never bore me, Trouble.” She smiled before saying her goodbyes to the rest of the table and making her way to the library. The nickname brought a gentle smile to his face, it was the first thing she’d ever called him. During her first year Y/N had been studying in the common room when the twins busteled in, laughing and hollering about another successful prank. When she asked what they were so excited about, the two boys were more than happy to explain, Fred wildly acting out the look on Snape’s face before George asked her name and introduced himself in response. Before Fred even had the chance to open his mouth to follow suit she stopped him.

“You sound like trouble, that’s what I’ll call you.”

George laughed at his twins new-found nickname but it made Fred’s heart swell - the fact that she had specifically given him a special name, the smile on her face when she said it and the way she never left their side since that day, produced a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Now, here he was, years later, with the same girl, same nickname, same smile and the same butterflies.

Fred kept his promise to Y/N, he was drunk, very, very drunk. He stumbled through the Gryffindor common room, his feet feeling like they were trying to carry him off in different directions until he finally found an armchair to ground himself with. Plopping himself down into the chair he looked out into the crowd of people, some laughing others whispering, couples hanging off each other, it made him miss Y/N. If she was here she’d be sitting next to him, his arm slung around her shoulder as she giggled over the way he slurred his words and she’d always made sure he got to bed safely before finding her way to her own room. Fred groaned as George sat in the chair across from him, pushing a glass of water towards him, causing his twin to chuckle at his annoyed state.

“At least you’ll have something funny to tell Y/N in the morning.” He laughed. “Tell her all about how your drunk ass could barely walk straight.” Fred leaned his head back on his neck.

“I should go see her.” He spoke quietly, just loud enough to convince himself of the idea but hopefully not loud enough for George to hear. He knew that his drunken state failed him however, when his brother quirked an eyebrow at him.

“And do what? Spill your guts?” George chuckled. “Either by finally telling her you’re bloody in love with her or literally?” This earned another groan from Fred as he shot daggers at him.

“That’s it.” Fred started, chugging the glass of water that was placed in front of him. “I’m going.”

“Best of luck mate.” George spoke as he watched Fred stumble his way through the crowd.

“Where’s he going?” Ron asked, suddenly appearing by his brother's side.

“On a death mission.” George responded.

Fred let out a sigh of relief when he finally made his way out of the common room and began the trek towards her dorm room. But his mind was running rampant, what if George was right? What if he was just better off going to bed? Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him, she was probably tired from studying all night and the last thing she wanted was him keeping her up. But despite his doubts his feet still carried him towards her, the walk was sobering, which he would need if he planned on getting a coherent sentence out when he finally made his way to her.

“Y/N?” He called softly when he opened her room door, trying his very best to keep quiet to not wake her roommates. He recognized her frame immediately, bundled under bed sheets, her hair messy and lips slightly parted. He stood over her, watching the way her chest rose and fell as soft breathes left her mouth. “Y/N.” He spoke again, shoving his hands in his pockets, fearing her reaction to his sudden visit. Her eyes shot open but when they found his, her face softened, a small smile forming.

“You scared me, Trouble.” She laughed lightly. “Are you okay?” She asked, the concern that laced her voice made him have to restrain from kissing every square inch of her face.

“I’m okay, just a little drunk.” He hiccuped, his response earning a bright smile from her as she scooted to the side and patted the bed, signially for him to sit next to her. He graciously accepted her offer, his hand immediately finding her knee, needing to touch her. She leaned into his touch as he slurred on about how Ron tried to flirt with Hermione but failed miserably and how red Harry turned when George dared him to kiss Ginny. Neither of them could remember falling asleep, they were too caught up in each other's whispered stories and soft giggles.

When Fred woke the next morning, his head pounding, his legs feeling as if they had carried him across the entire country, he looked down to find his best friend fast asleep on his chest. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around his middle with his hand tangled in her hair as she shifted slightly on top of him. He felt like he should panic and apologize for last night’s antics but she looked so peaceful and he was so close to her that he couldn’t bring himself to worry about barging into her room at who knows what time.

“Mornin’ Trouble.” She spoke, her voice groggy and flooded with sleep. “How are you feeling?” She asked genuinely, pulling herself from his embrace to stretch her arms above her head, making him curse himself for ever moving and waking her.

“I’ve been much better.” He groaned, sliding his hands down his face. “Guess I don’t have to fill you in on last night's events at breakfast anymore.”

“No, you did a sufficient job of that last night.” She giggled. “But we can still go to breakfast, you need to eat something.” Y/N pulled him out of her bed, still fully clothed in what he was wearing the night before.

He grumbled his way through breakfast as George and Ron cracked jokes about how drunk and lovesick he was, Fred throwing warning looks their way as Y/N laughed seeming unbothered by the way they were pulling her into they’re jokes, taking it all as a way to poke fun at Fred. But his head was still swimming, the feeling of her weight on top of him and her hands pressed against his chest, all he wanted was to be back in that position again. He couldn’t get it out of his head for the rest of the day and no matter how many times he attempted to distract himself from her that night as he lied in bed his mind kept travelling back to Y/N. He lay awake staring at the ceiling thinking about how empty his arms felt without her in them - she was addicting, he had always known that, since the moment he met her he had not been able to pull himself away from her. But now he was in too deep, he needed to be there with her.

So, here he was, in his pyjamas, on his way to her dorm room once again, all shame and guilt left long behind, just needing to be near her. Fred padded into her room, his hands rooted in his pockets once again, fully expecting to have to wake her just as he did the night before. But she was wide awake, sitting on her bed, a novel clasped in her fingers, a smile forming on her face when he came into her line of vision.

“Did you miss me?” She teased, as he ran a hand through his hair, rocking on his heels.

“Can’t sleep.” He mumbled. “Was wondering if you were still up.” He said, offering her a grin.

“Well then Trouble, you’re in luck.” She smirked, moving to allow space for him to lie next to her. Fred laid his head in her lap as she turned her attention back to the book in her hand while the other snaked its way into his hair. All the trouble sleeping that had been previously plaguing him melted away with her nails lightly scratching his scalp.

Over the course of the next week Fred and Y/N fell into this routine, he would lay away in his bed before eventually giving into the knowledge that he could not sleep without her any longer before he would make his way to her room, crawl into bed beside her and fall into the soundest sleep that has ever graced him. In the beginning, he was apprehensive, worried that she would reject him at some point and tell him that she wanted to sleep alone. But she never did, every night she shot him a warm smile and opened her arms to him. As the week went on his worries morphed themselves into something new however, he was no longer concerned about her rejecting his company but that she would instead reject his feelings for her. That she would eventually realize that he was in love with her and tell him that she never felt that way about him and was just trying to be a good friend.

“I don’t think I can sleep without you anymore.” Fred spoke into the darkness of the room, his voice audibly shaking, the silence that filled the space causing his stomach to turn.

“Mhmm.” Y/N started, tightening her grasp on him. “I can’t complain, you’re a great pillow.” He let out a light laugh, rubbing small circles in her back.

“It’s true.” He spoke, more seriously. “I haven’t been able to sleep at all lately, but as soon as I get into your bed, I’m out.” She sighed. “They must have better beds in the girls dorms.” He added, which earned a giggle from her.

“I don’t know about the quality of the beds, maybe it’s who's in it.” She spoke, her voice quiet as she bit her lip now regretting her sudden burst of confidence. Fred was silent for a moment before he spoke, a deep breath filling his lungs before he had the nerve to confess to her.

“I always thought that the reason I always had to touch you was because I liked to feel close to people. But it’s different with you.” He shifted to look at her. “I need to touch you, need to feel your skin. Fuck Y/N, I just want to hold your hand in front of everybody and kiss you in between classes and fall asleep next to you every night.” He searched her face looking for any sense of emotion but all he could find was her typical soft smile. “It’s just that I-I-” He started.

“I love you too Fred.” She cut him off, placing her palm against his cheek, he turned into her touch despite the shock that was lacing his features.

“You what?” He said, a giggle falling from her mouth as she clasped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to save him some pride.

“The first night you came to my room, after you left the party, you kept saying you loved me in your sleep.” He groaned at her confession. “I was worried it was just drunk babbles but-”

“But I do love you.” He finished. “I’ve loved you for years.”

“I love you too, Trouble.” She giggled, placing a long awaited kiss to his lips.

taglist (join here!!)

@onlyfreds @fandomhideout @lilypad-55449 @youngblood199456 @thanxxskz

#fred #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley series #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fluff #hp fic #hp

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years

Note

Most of your fics absolutely destroyed me emotionally so, on my own risk, may I request #13 “You shouldn’t be this easy to carry" with Qui-Gon and padawan Obi-Wan? Thank you!

Ohhh I’m happy to write this one! Thank you! (Always pleased to hear I’ve emotionally wrecked innocent people lol)

From this various prompts list.

Qui-Gon descended the ramp of his ship with something less than his usual grace, his expression was rather sour. Other than that, he looked his usual self, untidy but comfortable and serene.

He waved to the attendant heading towards the ship, and bowed to a small mechanic droid that squeaked with excitement, ran in circles around him, and then darted off after the attendant.

Qui-Gon chuckled. He paused to take a deep breath, tasting the metallic scent of Coruscant on the air, but also the warm and familiar notes of the Temple, of home. It was good to be back. Tedious diplomatic assignments that ran well overtime were nothing worth dwelling on, especially when it was done alone.

“Master Jinn!” a warm voice called.

He turned his head and saw Shaak Ti walking towards him, a smile on her lovely face with its striking colors.

“Knight Ti,” he greeted her. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” she answered. “I’m just about to depart to Alderaan; it’s a royal wedding and I’m the token Jedi invitee,” she informed him, but there was no offense in her voice. Alderaan was well known to be genuinely welcoming, and had been more than courteous in their dealings with the Order for centuries on end.

“Enjoy it,” Qui-Gon advised her. “Weddings are rarely something you’d like to miss.”

“I will,” she promised. “Oh, is your Padawan around? I was hoping to catch him when he returned, he forgot to sign off on his departure notice and was scheduled for three shifts in the crèche, which he obviously missed.”

Qui-Gon’s head tilted to one side, and he frowned.

It was obvious that Shaak Ti believed that Obi-Wan had accompanied him on his mission, which had in fact been a solo assignment. The twenty-one-year-old Padawan had remained behind for class rotations.

And Obi-Wan had never missed... well, anything. He was notoriously early for everything, beyond punctual. It was almost annoying.

Perhaps he’d finally slipped into a belated teenage fit of laziness, or he’d fallen so behind on class work that he’d forgotten about the crèche. Both would be extremely out of character, but one instance of this in nearly nine years of training could perhaps be excused.

Shaak Ti was waiting for an answer.

“I’ll talk to him,” he promised, revealing nothing. “Thank you for letting me know. I had no idea.”

She waved it off. “These things happen. You have a good student on your hands; he’s easily forgiven.”

Qui-Gon smiled.

The door to their quarters opened for him with a casual wave of the hand. Jedi did not lock their doors often; privacy was an understood thing, something not casually breached. No Jedi would enter another’s rooms without first asking permission.

He wasn’t sure what he expected.

Obi-Wan in the common area, reading.

Or Obi-Wan out and about, somewhere off with some of his more trouble making friends. (Quinlan Vos.)

He was not expecting to find Obi-Wan huddled in the corner of their kitchenette, half-hidden in his cloak, knees drawn up under his chin, crying.

Obi-Wan saw him enter and flinched away, shuddering.

Qui-Gon stared.

The entire scene was so unexpected, so wrong, that for a full five seconds he simply stood there, unable to process it. Obi-Wan had buried his face in his knees and was attempting to stifle his tears, seemingly by holding his breath, which was only making him shake harder.

Qui-Gon jolted out of his paralysis and stepped nearer, dropping onto one knee, sensing that looming over his Padawan was not going to help.

“Padawan?” he asked cautiously.

Obi-Wan looked up reluctantly. His face was a sickly grey; his cheeks were bright red and his blue eyes were feverish. They darted around, seeming to fix on nothing.

“Obi-Wan,” the Master tried again, warily reaching out a hand and resting it on top of one of Obi-Wan’s, clenched around his knee.

Obi-Wan took a rattling breath, more tears spilling down his cheeks. “...What... day is it...?” he gasped.

Qui-Gon’s chest tightened with something close to terror. What in all the galaxy was going on here?

“It’s the 29th,” he said gently. “Taungsday. I returned a day late from my solo mission. Do you remember that?”

Obi-Wan’s tears had increased throughout the brief speech. “Y-yes.”

“All right,” said Qui-Gon, struggling to remain as calm and patient as possible. “All right. Can you tell me what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, his expression crumbling. Suddenly he very much resembled the boy Qui-Gon had met on Bandomeer, uncertain and frightened, although even then he had not cried. This was different.

“Are you sure?” Qui-Gon pressed.

Obi-Wan nodded, strangling a loud sob by clapping one hand over his mouth. He said something, but of course it was impossible to understand behind his clamped fingers.

“What?” asked his Master.

“...so...stupid,” Obi-Wan burst out angrily through his tears. “I just... don’t feel well.”

“Don’t feel well?” Qui-Gon stared at his apprentice in confusion. “You’re sick? Obi-Wan, why didn’t you just go to the Halls?”

Obi-Wan shuddered. More tears slid down over his flushed cheeks. “I...I...I fell,” he said, sounding deeply uncertain. “I was working, and it was late, and I fell. I think I fell. I can’t walk. I can barely move. I don’t know how long it’s been—”

Qui-Gon was already moving, alarm ringing in his head like sirens. In two seconds he had Obi-Wan in his arms, cradled like a child, his head resting under Qui-Gon’s chin.

“You shouldn’t be this easy to carry,” he said tensely. “You haven’t had anything to eat or drink since you fell?”

“Some... some water,” Obi-Wan murmured. His skin was blazing hot against Qui-Gon’s, a sick and feverish heat. He had stopped crying — his tears seemed to have stemmed from a combination of confusion and shame, not pain — but he seemed on the verge of passing out. “I... I got some water... don’t remember when...”

“Stay awake,” Qui-Gon ordered. He was striding down the hallways, ignoring the few bystanders who watched them pass with bewilderment and concern. He did send a grateful nod to one young woman who raised her comm in her hand at him, asking a silent question, and at his gesture raised it to her lips and murmured ‘Tell the Healers that Master Jinn is bringing in his Padawan. Have someone ready.’

Obi-Wan murmured something vague.

“Stay awake,” insisted Qui-Gon. “Don’t fall asleep.”

Obi-Wan moaned but nodded, forcing his eyes to stay open. “I...I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” The words came out harsh and insincere in Qui-Gon’s urgency, and he realized it, because he dropped a swift kiss to the top of the fevered head in apology. Obi-Wan relaxed ever so slightly.

They arrived in the Halls of Healing and were immediately received by a Healer and his apprentice, who had Obi-Wan safely tucked in a bed and monitored in less than two minutes. Obi-Wan had closed his eyes against the bright light and seemed in danger of falling asleep again.

“Stay awake just a little longer, Padawan Kenobi,” the Healer instructed kindly. “I’m fairly sure of your diagnosis but I have to be more certain before I can administer treatment. Then you can sleep.”

“Yes, Healer,” rasped the young man.

Qui-Gon watched from the wall, his hands tucked deep in his sleeves to hide how they trembled. The shock of the last quarter hour was setting in, and he scrambled to keep his wits about him, worried about what this diagnosis might be. He still remembered Obi-Wan’s confusion about the day, his bewildered tears, and that memory was not going to be going away anytime soon.

He had been far too light in his arms.

Just how long had Obi-Wan been trapped in their rooms, unable to call for help and too confused to figure out a way around that? How long had he gone without eating and sleeping?

He found out.

An hour later, Obi-Wan was fast asleep, hooked up to an IV and blissfully pain-free due to a dose of pills he had managed to swallow. The Healer turned to Qui-Gon with a weary smile.

“You’re all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I’ve just returned from a mission, but I wasn’t hurt.”

“That’s good to know. I was asking about shock, however,” the Healer said gently. “I know this can’t have been a pleasant homecoming.”

Qui-Gon’s throat tightened, but he said nothing.

The Healer seemed to understand. “Obi-Wan has contracted a strain of the flu,” he explained, moving past the brief surge of emotion. “As you know, most strains of the flu are easily combated these days and many species have evolved or inoculated to the point where it’s hardly a concern. But sometimes the flu is stronger. In this case, it’s clear that it’s job was made easy. I don’t think Padawan Kenobi was eating or sleeping properly before the sickness began to set in. It would explain the severity of his malnutrition, and his confusion.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes flickered to the bed where Obi-Wan was sleeping, the fever still burning in his cheeks.

“...How long?” he asked.

“A few days at most,” the Healer said. “But I suspect it’s a habit that’s related to stress and overwork. Does Obi-Wan struggle with stress or insomnia?”

The Master hesitated a moment, opening his mouth to deny it, and then stopping to think better of it.

“...Maybe,” he admitted. The hesitation stung. Shouldn’t he know? “He’s very private with his habits when we’re in Temple. He prefers to study alone in his room, and we usually only manage to share one meal a day during his busier semesters, if that.”

The Healer nodded. He didn’t look or sound at all accusatory when he said, “That’s understandable. I’m going to suggest keeping a closer eye on that. Don’t force him out of his comfort zone, at least not right away, but make sure he understands that three square meals — or better yet, a light meal or snack every two or three hours — is expected of him. As is sleep.”

Qui-Gon nodded, his throat tightening again to the point of pain.

“Rest easy, Master Jinn,” said the Healer, briefly laying a supportive hand on the taller Jedi’s shoulder. “He’ll pull through this. The illness, and everything else. I believe it’s nothing more than a bad habit formed from good intentions. There are crueler demons out there.”

“Yes, I know,” said Qui-Gon. And he did know. One didn’t reach Jedi Mastery without learning the galaxy for what it was.

But he didn’t think he would ever quite move past the shock of today, of carrying his adult apprentice in his arms, sick to the point of tears and helplessness, and then discovering that he could possibly have prevented this if he had paid a little more attention to Obi-Wan’s work habits.

Well. They would, as the Healer said, overcome this.

Qui-Gon drew up a chair to the side of the bed, resolving to wait until Obi-Wan woke, and slowly reached out and set his hand next to his Padawan’s. After a moment, Obi-Wan stirred, and even in his sleep he gave a contented sigh and shifted his hand, his fingers searching blindly for his Master’s hand. Qui-Gon took it and held it tightly.

They had overcome so many things in nearly a decade together.

They could handle this.

And besides, Qui-Gon told himself, even after Obi-Wan was Knighted, he would always be here to watch his back.

He would never abandon Obi-Wan.

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let-me-luve-you · 3 years

Text

Cancer Battle

Tom Holland x Sister (with the whole Holland clan)

Summary: The reader is diagnosed with cancer, but decides to keep it from her brothers.

Warnings: angst, cancer treatment, cancer diagnosis, brothers being rude, somewhat of a fluff ending

A/N: I did research on this. I hope I did the correct research. So I apologize if I’m wrong.

MASTERLIST

This has been the toughest two months of your life. Right when you were due to go over to America with your brothers to visit Tom, you noticed swelling in your neck. So did your mum. She set you up a doctors appointment, and two days later, you found out you had Hodgkin Lymphoma.

After talking with your doctor, you found you were in the early stages. It was still treatable and your chances of beating the cancer were very high. That helped you relax a little, but you were still in shock at hearing the words, “you have cancer.”

You wanted to start treatment right away so you told your brothers to go without you. They weren’t happy with you since you wouldn’t give them the real reason as to why you were staying behind. Every Wednesday morning for the next month, you would go with your mum or dad to the doctors office to do your antibody therapy treatment. You really didn’t want to do chemo or radiation unless it got worse, so you decided this was the next best option.

After four weeks of treatment, all of your brothers came home. Tom was disappointed you didn’t come see him, but he knew you probably had a good reason. He decided to come over to your parents house to hangout with you today. Except today wasn’t a good day. You were sick due to the side effects of the treatment. To those who didn’t know about your treatment, they would just think you had the flu. So when you walked back into your room from the bathroom, you groaned when you saw Tom sitting on the end of your bed.

“Good to see you too, Y/N.” Tom said with an eye roll.

“Hi Tom. Sorry. You might want to leave, I’m sick.” You said trying to keep your distance but you were wanting to lie down so bad.

“Mum told me. Can I get you anything?” He asked sweetly.

“I’m okay for now. Dad went to the store this morning.” You replied and motioned with your finger for him to move. He understood and moved toward your door as you went to lie down. You sighed, content when your body hit the mattress.

“I’m going to go downstairs. Text me if you need anything.” You smiled at him. “Get better soon.”

The next few days, you started feeling better. This is how it was every week. Stuck in bed on Thursday and Friday. Moving around more on Saturday and fully back to your normal self on Sunday. Then you would repeat the process again.

This Wednesday though, you weren’t feeling good. It felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. You had a fever and you could tell you had lost at least twenty pounds since your diagnosis. You got up earlier than normal to talk to your mum. When you walked into the living room, you found all four brothers.

“Hey Y/N. You okay?” Sam asked.

Ignoring his question, you looked around the room. “Where’s mum and dad?”

“Dad has a meeting at ten and mum ran to the store really quick. Said she would be back soon.” Paddy said not looking up from his phone. You nodded and turned to go back to your room to lay down until you had to go to your appointment.

“It’s a good thing you're up though. I have a press tour coming up and we are going to Bali. The three of them are going and I wanted to see if you wanted to come. You didn’t get to go last time so I thought you would enjoy it.” Tom said.

“I would but uh..” You looked around trying to think of an excuse as to why you can’t go. “I’m still getting over this sickness. Wouldn’t be good for me to go.”

“Well good thing it isn’t until next month then.” Harry said with a laugh before he turned serious. “Why are you always bailing on us? You missed the last Bali trip. You skipped last minute to go to America. Now you’re trying to get out of going to Bali again. What’s up with that?”

“I just have a lot going on. It’s not that I don’t want to, I just can’t.” You said.

“Harry has a point though Y/N. It’s like you don’t like us or something. You never go out with us when we are in town either and you won’t let us post photos of you.” Paddy said.

You stood shocked. You didn’t know how to respond, but it didn’t matter since it didn’t seem that your brothers were done.

“Can you tell us if we did something to you so we can fix it?” Tom said trying to be the nice brother like always.

“Come on mate. We didn’t do anything and she knows it. She just hates us.” Harry said with a snarl.

“Must be embarrassed by us. I don’t know why. People love us.” Paddy said. Sam agreed with Paddy and Harry. Tom just didn’t know what to do so he just stayed quiet. He wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, but he did feel rejected by you lately.

“I love you guys and I would never be embarrassed of you. I just have a lot going on.” You said. You were getting worked up and it was making it harder to breathe. You turned and started to leave the room. “Tell mum to come to my room when she gets home.” You started to walk up the stairs and ignored the hateful comments your brothers were whispering about you.

An hour later. Your mum came into the room and saw you laying there asleep. She went to push your hair out of your face and felt how hot you were. She immediately started to panic and tried to wake you up. Thankfully you opened your eyes halfway and saw your mum.

“Mum, somethings not right. I don’t feel good.” You whispered.

“Get up honey. We are going to the doctor.” Nikki said in a rush. She went to help you stand when you fell on the ground. Nikki was worried because you couldn’t hold yourself up. “DOM!” She yelled. “DOM HURRY UP! COME HERE!”

Tom thought he heard his mum call for him and he heard the worry in her voice so he sprinted to where he heard her trying to talk to Y/N. He was shocked when he saw you on the floor.

“Tom I need your help. We have to get her to the hospital now. Help me get her to the car.” Nikki said. Tom stayed staring at your almost lifeless body “TOM!” Nikki snapped to get his attention. Tom immediately went into protective brother mode and ran to you and easily picked you up bridal style and carried you down to Nikki’s car. He laid you in the backseat and then he joined you by putting your head into his lap. Nikki ran to the driver's seat and rushed to the hospital.

“Mum, what’s wrong with her?” He asked.

“I’m not sure.” Nikki answered honestly. If it hadn't been for the swollen glands, Nikki would have thought you were healthy as a horse. Now with the treatments, it always pained her to see her only daughter struggling with the illness. Once they got to the emergency room, Nikki started telling the ER doctor everything. Tom paled when he heard the word cancer. He looked up at his mum to see if what she said was true. When the doctors took you in the back to run test, Nikki finally turned to her oldest and saw him shaking.

“Cancer?” He whispered. If Nikki hadn’t been standing so close, she wouldn’t have heard him. She gently wrapped an arm around Tom and guided him to sit in a chair. Tom stayed latched to his mum as he cried for his little sister. “Wha- how- when? When did she find out?” Tom asked many minutes later once he stopped crying.

“Before the America trip.” Nikki said. “She’s been doing treatments once a week since. The treatments make her sick. That’s why you found her like she was last Thursday.”

“I had no idea.” Tom said more to himself. “That’s why she didn’t want to go to Bali.”

“Yeah. She wants to stay home until the cancer’s gone. She has a high survival rate, Tom. She didn’t want any of you to worry. That’s why she didn’t tell you.”

As Tom went to say something a doctor interrupted. “Mrs. Holland, Y/N is in a room now. You can go sit with her while we wait for the results. Since Dr. Hammon is the one treating her, she will be here to overlook her during her stay.” Nikki nodded and grabbed Tom’s hand. They followed the doctor to Y/n's room where she looked so tiny on her bed. She had an IV in and was sleeping soundly.

“We gave her some medicine to bring her fever down. She should wake up soon.”

“Thank you doctor.” Nikki said as he walked away. She turned to Tom, “I’m going to go call your father. Sit with her please.”

“Of course.” Tom said before grabbing your hand and sitting in the chair next to your bed. Tom grabbed his phone with his other hand. He quickly added Harry, Sam, and Paddy to a group text.

T: Hospital. Room 135. Waiting on the results for Y/N. We need to talk.

H: WTF?! Is she okay? Is that where you went. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.

T: Yeah. Had to help mum. Just hurry. She should have everyone here for her.

S: Called into work and got the day off. Will be there soon.

P: Harry and I are on our way too. Be there shortly.

By the time all the brothers arrived, Dom was walking into the room as well. Nikki had already spoken with Dr. Hammon and got the news of why Y/N reacted that way. Nikki decided now was the time to tell everyone the severity of it.

“Okay guys. Y/N wanted to keep this a secret, but I no longer can. She has Hodgkin Lymphoma. Her and I noticed swelling in her neck before she was going to the states so I took her to the doctor. She was diagnosed a couple days later. That’s why she didn’t go with you boys on the trip. She’s been undergoing treatment every week to help kill the cancer.” Nikki said looking at all of her sons. “I just talked with the doctor. The bad news is she doesn’t think the antibody therapy is working. She thinks it would be best to try chemotherapy next so the cancer doesn’t spread. The good news is, the cancer hasn’t spread.”

Dom visibly relaxed at hearing that news. He was thankful you were as okay as you could be. “Did she say why she reacted this way. Why did she almost pass out?” Dom asked.

“She said her body was working in overdrive to kill the cancer cells. Her fever got too high. Now that her fever is down, she’ll be back to her old self.”

“Old self?” Tom scoffed. “Mum she’s been sick more times than she’s been feeling okay. There’s no old self in that.”

“This is her new normal for a bit. Until she defeats the cancer, this is her old self.” Nikki responded.

You groaned and tried to open your eyes. Nikki and Dom rushed to one side as Tom rushed to your other. Tom ran his hand over your head. You turned and slowly opened your eyes and met Tom’s brown ones.

“What happened? Where am I?” You asked, confused.

“Your fever got too high. Me and mum rushed you here. You’re okay now.” Tom said. You turned to see your mum next to you with your dad.

“They know sweety.” She said. You closed your eyes for a second and turned to look at Tom again.

“I’m sorry for keeping this from you.” You said.

“Don’t be. I’m just glad you’re okay now. And I’ll be here every step of the way to help you fight.” He kissed your forehead. The rest of your brothers came up to you.

“I’m sorry Y/N/N for saying you hated us.” Harry said.

“I’m sorry too.” Sam said.

“I’m sorry as well.” Paddy said.

“It’s okay you guys. I’m sorry for not telling you. Just didn’t want you to worry. You guys have a lot going on in your life. Didn’t need to add this to the list of things you were stressing over.”

“We will always worry about you, healthy or not. You’re my baby sister. I never want you to think you have to go through something like this alone.” Tom said.

“I’ll sit with you at treatments.” Harry said.

“I’ll hangout with you when you don’t feel well at home.” Paddy said.

“I’ll make all of your favorites and I’ll make you soup.” Sam said.

You smiled at your brothers and thanked them. You were glad you had such an amazing support group to back you in this fight.

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #brother!tom holland #brother!tom holland x sister!reader #tom holland sister #tom holland x sister #tom holland x sister!reader #tom holland x holland!reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #holland!sister #holland!reader #tom holland rpf #y/n holland #tom holland angst #tom holland one shot #tom holland au

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

Text

Prove It

MASTERLIST

This was an anon request of Spencer getting mad at being teased and being motivated enough to prove he’s not vanilla. This took forever from the time it was first requested for me to write and post it, so I’m so sorry to the anon who requested it. It feels like it’s been FOREVER since I’ve posted a smut too, so enjoy some smutty Spencer to start your week. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut, rough sex)

Word Count: 4,246

“I will never understand it.”

“Understand what?” you asked.

You sat down in one of the chairs in the jet, across from coworker and teammate Derek Morgan.

You and the team you were a part of, the Behavioral Analysis Unit—BAU for short—of the FBI had just solved another case and were on the way home.

You’d seen plenty of sickos before, so another one didn’t seem to surprise you. Of course, it was disgusting and aggravating, horrifying and awful, but you never pretended to understand unsubs in the first place. So you were quite curious about what Morgan was thinking out loud about.

Spencer Reid plopped down in the chair next to you with his cup of coffee.

How the man managed to live off coffee and actually go to sleep was a mystery to you. At this point it would benefit him to just have his coffee injected into him through IV, that’s how much he consumed.

“This S&M stuff,” Morgan waved his hand, “It’s insane.”

The case they’d just recently closed had involved a guy who had taken his violent sexual desires a step too far and found himself turned on by actually murdering women. Whether it was by choking or gagging, somehow he’d discovered he got a sexual release from killing his female partners.

What started as auto erotic asphyxiation—something that was incredibly dangerous to begin with—had turned to something more sinister and even more deadly.

“When done right, it’s actually not as bad as some of these unsubs make us believe,” Spencer said.

“I’m sure you know all about it, don’t you kid?” Morgan replied, sarcastically.

“Anyway,” he continued, before Spencer could cut in again, “I’m not judging people who do it, it just seems like even when it’s done right, it’s too dangerous to even be exciting. It’d be a mood killer for me.”

“Oh don’t tell me you don’t bring out your dominant side every once and awhile,” you smirked, teasing him.

“Hey, I’m all for some good rough sex. I’m not as vanilla as pretty boy here, but I’m not about to emotionally and physically scar Savannah.”

“Hey! What’s that’s supposed to mean?!” Spencer protested.

Savannah was Morgan’s wife, now of three years. They had a son together, Hank. Being a parent according to Morgan, you didn’t get much “mommy and daddy time”, but even then, it didn’t stop him from shamelessly sharing details about his sex life. You got used to it; it was just a Derek thing anyway.

“Sure, I’ve done some tying up and spanking, but that’s mild compared to some practices in BDSM. I once asked Reid about it and unfortunately learned more than I ever wanted to about it.”

“Excuse me,” Spencer broke in, “What’s the vanilla remark supposed to mean?”

Both yours and Derek’s heads turned to see Spencer’s brows furrowed.

“Kid, vanilla ice cream is spicier than you,” Morgan teased.

“Oh come on, that’s not true!” Spencer retorted, exasperated.

“I’m sorry Reid, I just can’t imagine you being kinky. I mean do you just spout facts during sex or what?”

You held back a snicker although you heard the rest of the team chuckling.

“No, I don’t,” Spencer flushed.

You averted your eyes from his gaze.

You and Spencer had been dating for a little while, the team none the wiser to your relationship. You couldn’t quite defend him without giving it away.

It wasn’t really a secret per se, you just mutually decided not to say anything until it became more serious. You had only slept together a few times anyway, so it wasn’t like you were familiar with his sexual proclivities.

“You’re more vanilla than Vanilla Ice,” Morgan joked, making you choke on your sip of water, laughing.

“How would you know anyway?” Spencer crossed his arms, his face now a deep red, “I could be kinkier than you know.”

“Dude, when’s the last time you even slept with a girl?” Morgan asked with a raised brow, “Wasn’t it that bartender Austin from a case 11 years ago?”

Spencer pressed his lips together tightly. He wasn’t going to say anything and you knew it because it would give away yours and his personal business.

“That’s what I thought. Vanilla,” Derek laughed, standing to refill his tumbler with more whiskey, “Don’t worry Pretty Ricky, not everyone has to be an animal in bed.”

He patted Spencer’s shoulder as he walked by to head to the back of the jet—and the whiskey decanter.

You could tell by Spencer’s pursed lips that he was annoyed.

You promised yourself that when the jet landed, you would apologize.

•

You had been wrong.

Spencer wasn’t annoyed.

He was pissed.

“Spencer, I’m sorry,” you repeated for the hundredth time.

Once the jet had landed, everyone went their separate ways, so no one was the wiser when you’d climbed into Spencer’s car. You had spent more time at his place lately than your own, so you were heading back to his apartment with him.

The entire drive was filled with tense silence. His jaw stayed clenched all the way home.

“Spence, please talk to me. If I hurt your feelings, that wasn’t my intention.”

You followed him into his apartment, watching as he sat down his go bag and satchel by the door. You sat your own things near his, as well.

You didn’t miss how tense he was, indicating his anger.

“Spence-” you began, but got cut off by his sharp tone.

“Go into the bedroom, take off all your clothes and get on the bed,” he snapped.

You were taken back, unsure if you’d heard him right the first time.

“What?”

“I said, go into the bedroom, take off all your clothes and get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself. And don’t make me do it myself cause you will regret it.”

You stood frozen in place for a second, your mouth opening and closing. By the look on his face, you could tell he was serious.

“O-Okay,” you stammered, walking backwards to the bedroom.

You had no idea what he had planned, but deep down, you could feel the tingle of excitement beginning to work its way to the surface. Maybe some rough sex would ease his anger.

You were out of your shirt and pants before you reached the bed. You pulled off your bra, letting it fall from your fingertips and then rid your underwear before climbing onto the bed like you were asked to do, laying back.

It was at least a good ten minutes before Spencer came into the room, with something in each hand.

“What’s that?”

He didn’t answer you.

He sat what appeared to be a glass of ice on the nightstand and grabbed one of your wrists, starting to tie it to the bedpost with what you now realized was one of his ties.

You watched as he tied the opposite one before you spoke.

“Spence, I-”

“Quiet. I don’t want to hear another word from you unless I say to speak,” he growled, climbing onto the bed, hovering over you.

His face lingered above yours, his lips not far from your own. He didn’t kiss you yet, but you could feel his warm breath fanning over your face, the anticipation of his lips finally being on yours making you anxious.

His nose nudged yours gently as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes lidded, although they occasionally flicked up toward yours. He knew how much you wanted him to kiss you and he was using that to his advantage.

Finally, it came, feather light. It was like kissing a cloud, the faint touch not nearly enough to satiate your needs. You tried to lean upwards to meet his lips again, taking what you wanted, what you needed, but he pulled out of your reach, a wicked smirk on his face.

“Oh so this is how it’s going to be?” you mock pouted.

“My bed, my rules,” he answered.

The anticipation of this kiss made your heart race and your breath hitch. If he was willing enough to deprive you this easily and this early on, what else was he capable of?

When his lips finally met yours, it was in a surprisingly gentle manner, considering you were currently tied to his bedposts. His mouth glided along with yours, the intensity picking up rather quickly.

His hunger and anger seemed to meld into one as he kissed you roughly, pulling back enough to capture your lower lip between his, his teeth softly scraping over it. A small, satisfied sigh emitted from you, against his lips.

Your mouth parted as you continued to enjoy the feel of his mouth on yours, his tongue being both graceful and teasing at the same time, it moving swiftly over your bottom lip.

You were already struggling with your restraints, wanting to touch him as he kissed you. Normally, your touch was everywhere on him when you kissed. From his face to his shoulders and chest and in his curls, you ravished being able to touch him. But you didn’t have that luxury right now and it was absolutely killing you.

He pulled away, lips hovering over your jaw as he kissed it just slightly, ready to move on to other areas.

“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll have more than enough proof that I’m anything but vanilla,” he whispered huskily, placing a kiss against your throat.

Your thighs clamped inadvertently as you suddenly became even more turned on than you had been previously. He reached over you, towards the ice, grabbing a cube.

You watched him intently, gasping sharply when the shock of cold touched your skin, just along your collarbone.

“You gonna be a good girl and do what I say?” he asked, sliding the ice cube along your chest.

You nodded eagerly, biting down on your lip as he moved the ice over the swell of your breast and across your nipple making them tighten, both from the cold and your arousal. His lips followed the trail of ice over your breasts, tongue moving out to encircle your nipple and flick it. He repeated it on the opposite side and you gave a moan of approval at his explorations.

A trail of water was left behind on your skin as he continued on, gliding the ice down the middle of your chest towards your stomach. You felt goosebumps prickle your skin at the continuous icy cold sensation.

“You’re so hot, you’re making the ice melt quickly,” he purred.

His touch left you as he reached back towards the nightstand to grab another cube. Apparently he’d been right, as the first cube had melted completely.

Once the coolness touched your skin again you found yourself gasping. As tantalizing as this teasing was, you were extremely turned on by it. You could feel the heat within your body, your core already starting to pulsate with arousal.

“I really hate that I can’t touch you,” you groaned, tugging on your restraints.

“But that’s what makes it fun, sweetheart,” he grinned, placing a kiss on your stomach.

The ice cube moved down one of your sides, over your hip, where he gave it a playful squeeze. Then the cold hit the top of your thighs, his other hand gliding to the top of the opposite one.

You were desperate at the point and automatically widened the space between your legs. If anything, you were going to let him get a good view of just how wet you were.

His eyes flickered downwards then back up towards your face, a satisfied smirk on his lips. You squirmed, anxious for him to do anything.

“Problem, love?” he cooed.

You glared, arching your hips in an attempt to get some sort of contact.

He chuckled, spreading your legs further. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the ice moving over your outer lips definitely wasn’t it.

You hissed at the sudden cold, but you didn’t hate it at all. Not like you hated these fucking restraints. You cursed when he pressed it against your clit.

“Fuck, that feels good,” you moaned.

He hummed, looking up at you through his lashes. You groaned in frustration, throwing your head back against the pillow, tugging at your bound wrists again.

You wanted to push his head or his hands to your throbbing core; maybe both at this rate.

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered.

“Okay,” he relented, sitting back on his heels, “You’ve been a good girl so far.”

He reached over you, pulling the knotted ties loose from around your wrists. It was like sweet freedom to you.

Before you could even touch him, he’d taken a hold of you, rolling you over so you were straddling his stomach.

“Ooh, I’m in control? I like,” you grinned, leaning down to kiss him.

You didn’t quite make it to his lips.

“Think again.”

He grabbed the back of your thighs, roughly pulling you up to sit on his face. This, you hadn’t suspected.

“Oh god,” you moaned lowly as his tongue slid up your outer lips.

His hands held your thighs tightly and he wasted no time diving right in. His tongue flicked your clit and you had to grab a hold of the headboard just to make sure you didn’t collapse on top of him.

Of course oral sex had been a part of your sex life with Spencer prior to this, but never in this way. He was usually more timid about it. But right now, he went for it in a very enthusiastic manner.

“Fuck, Spence.”

You groaned, his lips circling your clit to suck on it briefly before releasing it with a tiny pop of his mouth. His tongue flicked over it again, alternating in speed and pressure.

You had thought it couldn’t get any better until you felt a finger slide into you. You could’ve sworn you almost lost your mind at that point. His finger slowly pumped in and out of you, matching the now slower speed of his tongue that seemed to be licking everywhere but your clit.

“Dammit Spencer,” you groaned, slightly grinding against his mouth for some friction.

You jerked a bit, a surprised squeal coming from you when his hand came down on your ass. It wasn’t a bad reaction though, it had just excited you even more.

“Did you just spank me?!” you asked incredulously.

He hummed, sending a delicious vibration against your clit as his hand came down again on your ass making you moan loudly.

You had no idea there was this side to him.

“Fuck, Spencer, yes baby,” you whined, your hips moving back and forth over his face as his fingers and tongue drove you crazy.

The faster his fingers went, the harder his tongue moved. You were gripping the headboard so tight, your knuckles were white.

“Ah!” you squealed, at an additional spank.

It wasn’t hard enough to be too rough and painful, just hard enough to be incredibly sexy, sending a charge directly to your currently, extremely stimulated clit.

It was also incredibly appealing to you to feel the slight scratch of his facial hair against your nether regions as he ravished you.

You could feel your entire body tensing, preparing for the rush of adrenaline and ecstasy. Apparently, Spencer could too.

He worked you until you came shattering apart above him. His name mixed with a loud moan and curses sprinkled in.

When the high had ebbed a bit, he moved you back to sit on his stomach, a wolfish grin on his face. You still felt a bit dazed since there was still a bit of buzz left tingling within you.

You noticed then that your boyfriend was way overdressed.

“It’s time to do something about these,” you mumbled, unbuttoning his dress shirt, “You’ve got too many clothes on.”

He allowed you to pull his shirt off, but his hand grabbed yours just as they reached for his belt.

“I am going to fuck you bent over my desk and only bent over my desk.”

He gave you no time to react as he’d already lifted you in his arms and stood from the bed, heading to the living room.

“Spencer, what? I-”

The words died on your lips as he entered the living room and his desk came into view. Normally, it was stacked neatly with his books, files, paperwork that he needed to complete, pens, pencils, a couple of coffee mugs, the works. But now, it was completely clear, showing off its deep, dark brown, glossy desktop.

Heat pooled in your stomach when you realized he’d planned ahead for this. He’d imagined bending you over his desk, having his way with you. You swallowed back a moan, already eager for him to be buried inside of you.

Instead of immediately pushing you over the edge of the desk, he sat you on top of it, facing him.

You bit your lip, quite literally looking up through your lashes at him. His tongue moved over his lips, his hunger for you apparent as his hands traced every inch of you.

From your breasts, down your stomach, to your thighs and around towards your bottom, squeezing it gently, his hands traveled every part of you before capturing your mouth in another kiss.

It was no innocent kiss. It was fiery and filled with the mutual hunger for one another. He was still kissing you when he slid you off the desktop, your feet touching the floor once again.

He turned you and had you bent over the edge of his desk in a matter of seconds. You heard the clink and whir of his belt as he unbuckled it, the sound alone sending a charge through you.

You shifted impatiently, much to his notice. He smirked, running a hand between your legs teasingly, as he pushed his suit pants out of the way with the other hand.

He wasted no time on gentle and loving movements. He entered you roughly and quite honestly, when you weren’t expecting it.

You whimpered. The feeling of your most intimate parts stretching just enough to accommodate him was one of the best feelings in the world to you.

By this point, you’d lost the ability to be quiet. He’d already brought you to one earth shattering orgasm and that was after the tantalizing ice foreplay that had turned you on beyond belief.

Your constant moans filled the room as your hands gripped the edges of the desk.

Your hips were tight in his grip as he thrust into you fast and hard, your own body bouncing off his in the opposite direction. He, for one, was much louder than he normally was. Grunts, groans, mumbled curses and pants came from behind you as he had his way with you.

His lips hovered over your neck, his appraising moans ringing in your ears.

“Fucking shit, fuuuck, Y/N,” he groaned before attaching his lips to your neck.

He sucked harshly, hard enough to know that hickies would be present for the next few days.

You inhaled sharply, feeling the slight sting of his teeth bearing down into your shoulder, but coupled with your current pleasure, it was actually hot.

Your back arched as he focused on what he’d learned—quite quickly, you might add—was one of your absolute sweet spots, his hips aiding in thrusting deeply within you.

Spencer’s hand snaked up your spine, tangling in your hair, his fingers wrapping around a few strands. It surprised you when he pulled on it, firm enough to pull your head to the side. You moaned at the sensation, ready for him to do anything at this point. You were so turned on, you were a moaning, whimpering mess underneath him.

“Still. Think. I’m. Vanilla?”

Each of his words were clipped, growled into your ear and enunciated with a forceful thrust.

“No,” you rasped, quickly losing control of yourself and becoming delirious from the ecstasy he was providing you with.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he grunted, halting his movements completely.

You about sobbed in agony, wanting the feel of him back. Your hips automatically moved backwards to get some more friction, but Spencer held them still.

“Tell me,” he groaned, the slight strain in his voice indicating he was struggling with keeping still, himself.

You cursed, craving the delicious sensation of him deep within you again especially since you were on the brink of shattering like broken glass.

“Who’s not vanilla?” Spencer taunted.

He began moving once again, his motions slow and teasing. He slid in and out of you with long, lackadaisical thrusts although he made sure each move was deep enough so you could feel every inch of him within you.

“Dammit Spencer, please,” you mewled, encircling your hips in small movements.

His low groan that came from above you was telling enough that he was trying and failing to keep his cool.

“Answer me,” he murmured huskily, his lips traveling up your back, hands reaching forward to massage your breasts in his hands.

“Answer me,” he repeated, “And I’ll fuck you like you deserved to be fucked.”

Your mouth dropped, a haggard moan escaping your throat. You weren’t used to hearing Spencer dirty talk and you’d realized that you instantly loved it.

His facial hair scratched your cheek as his mouth moved in the vicinity of it, sucking on your jaw.

“Be a good girl and answer me and I promise I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll see stars, baby girl,” his low whisper came, one hand gliding between your legs, finger ghosting your clit.

“I’ll make you cum harder than you even imagined. Until you’re dripping all over my cock. I wanna fuck my girl, good, Spencer purred.

“Oh my god,” you cried, the overstimulation of his words and his touch finally getting you to lose absolute control of your conscious mind.

“You, Spencer, you,” you moaned.

The only sounds that filled his living room were the mixed moans and the sound of your bodies moving together as he fulfilled his promise and resumed his earlier pace though more erratic this time.

Your inadvertent clenching around him with every move was making him lose control quickly.

“Fuck, fuuuuck,” you whined, clenching the edges of the desk so hard you knew your hands would be sore later.

In the back of your mind, a small part of you registered that you most likely sounded akin to a pornstar right now, though you didn’t spend much time on the thought. The fire in your veins was igniting the growing pressure in your stomach, like a furnace growing too hot.

It took less than a few moves before you went tumbling over the cliff of ecstasy. Your eyes screwed shut, your vision going completely white behind your closed eyes as you managed out a satisfied, bliss filled cry.

It was like lightning had struck your body except the electricity had come straight from the pit of your belly. Spencer had been right, it was the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced.

It was the body shaking, breathtaking, best kind of high ever, type of intense.

His own had soon followed as you’d tumbled down the rabbit hole of your own delirium. His hands gripped your sides and his body shuddered behind yours.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he groaned repeatedly, still moving with you, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of both of your orgasms.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck as you arched back into him, reaching behind him to grip his hair as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

It took a few moments before both of you stilled, your breathing hard, heart beating wildly.

When your senses had somewhat turned to normal and the rushing of your blood in your ears had calmed down, you noticed your legs shaking—a definite sign of a good fucking.

You felt his breath on your neck, his breathlessness matching your own. Your body felt slick against his from all of the exertion, but it had been totally worth it.

Spencer pushed your hair to one side of your neck, burying his face into your neck sweetly before leaving a gentle kiss there.

“My god, Spencer,” you half laughed, trying to focus the tiny bit of energy you had left on attempting to stand.

Disconnecting himself from you, he turned you to face him. He lifted you back on to the desktop to sit, not caring that your thighs were currently slick with the product of his own orgasm. Your quivering legs were thankful for the momentary reprieve though.

“I know,” he smirked, “Didn’t know I had it in me, huh?”

“Definitely not,” you smirked, lifting your face up towards his.

Your lips met his lazily. You spent a few minutes enjoying one other, mouths parting and meeting over and over, enjoying the post coital consequential kisses before getting cleaned up.

His hands splayed over the tops of your thighs, stroking gently. He may have been rough with you earlier, but you knew his gentle touch was him wordlessly assuring himself you were okay.

You were actually more than okay—you had definitely been well fucked.

“Spencer?” you mumbled against his lips.

“Hmm?”

He pulled away from you, his eyes opening, his dreamy, currently hazy, hazel eyes meeting yours.

“Remind me to never listen to Morgan ever again.”

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#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid gifs #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid gif #dr spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid smut #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds gif #criminal minds smut #Dr Reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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fatiguing-thoughts · 3 years

Text

"Victoria's Game IV" - Embry Call x Reader

Summary: Part four to "Victoria's Game." Read Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four here Final Installment babes

T/W: mentions of blood

I jerked awake, dripping in sweat as my phone vibrated on my nightstand.

I felt Embry's weight on me and listened to the complete and utter silence surrounding us. I let out a sigh of relief before looking at my phone screen.

Alice.

I began to panic as I saw her name light up the screen, knowing her call would not be with good news. I swallowed hard before picking the device up and placing it up to my ear as my hand shook.

"(Y/N), (Y/N)! We're on the way. Call Sam and tell everyone to get there. She's coming and she won't be coming alone. Who's with you now?" Her frantic voice pierced my ears.

All the air escaped my lungs as full panic set in. Was my nightmare as much of a premonition as I was suddenly fearing?

"Embry!" I sobbed, shaking him awake.

He quickly jumped up, a worried look on his face.

"What? What's wrong?" His eyes were almost bulging out of his skull as he waited for me to answer.

"They're coming, Alice called. They'll be here any minute to help but you have to help Jake and Quil." My voice was shaky as the uncertainty took over my mind.

Was I sending him to his death?

Would I be the cause of everyone's death?

Wouldn't it just make more sense to just lose me than everyone else?

Embry didn't say much, he just looked deep into my eyes before pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

"I love you." He whispered before jumping out the window.

The nightmare flashed through my memories yet again, the panic setting in further.

But then I remembered the Third Wife.

I quickly ran downstairs into the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the drawer.

I began to hear the thumps of large paws, snarling, and barking coming from outside. I knew they were approaching and that my time was limited.

So I waited by the back door, where I knew the guys waited. I watched through the glass as they began looking around, hoping to see the blood-sucking demons arrive.

A minute in, I saw blurry movement in the treeline before Jacob and Quil took one down. Embry handled another. But then, another six arrived, the boys were outnumbered.

"Shit." I mutter to myself. "Where are the Cullens?"

I bit my lip as I saw two of them jumping on Quil. A whimper escaped his lips as he was trying to buck them off his back. He was beginning to struggle as Jacob and Embry were busy trying to destroy the leeches charging them.

Quil grew louder and I knew I had to act before it was too late. I quickly slid open the back door as I dragged the blade across my skin.

A drop of blood hit the ground, causing every single vampire to focus their attention on me, giving the guys the time to get themselves together; giving them time to destroy some of these leeches.

I winced as I felt the warm liquid drip down my arm, a burning sensation where the blade once was.

I watched as Embry ripped the head off of the one who was closest to the door, Quil and Jacob each getting another. They were finally even, furthering the fight into their favor.

One almost made their way to me before Emmett appeared from the treeline, disposing of them accordingly. Rosalie and Alice following suit.

Sam and Jared showed up, Leah and Seth trailing not too far behind. I watched as the fight unfolded before me, in shock as there were more vampires that showed up than I had realized.

But where was Victoria?

I looked all around, trying to spot the fiery red hair. I became painfully aware of my bleeding arm, causing me to hold the wound in an effort to stop the bleeding. I backed up further into my house, realizing how far out I had come. I then tripped over a rock, falling on my ass.

I winced in pain as I became painfully aware of my surroundings once again. My eyes squeezed shut as I tried to pick myself up, but something kicked me back down.

"Hello." Her silky voice taunted, a sick smile on her face as she loomed above me.

I was at a loss for words, it had felt as if my chest caved in on itself. My legs became jelly and I couldn't move. My eyes couldn't bring themselves to tear away from her burning gaze. Those blood red eyes that have been haunting me for what felt like years, but was a mere few weeks.

"What's wrong, cat got your tongue?" She cocked her head to the side, her smile softening as her ice cold hand grabbed my ankle.

"I-I" I couldn't get the words out.

"I'll make this quick." She promises, before she squeezed my ankle.

I felt a sharp pain as I felt it crack. I found myself screaming in pain.

But as soon as it happened, she had let go of me. Rosalie had grabbed her off of me, throwing her into the air. Adrenaline was helping with the pain.

I watched as I was writhing on the ground. I watched as Embry caught her midair, wrapping his jaws around her.

As they fell to the ground with a thud, Jake pinned her down as Embry ripped off her head. The sight before me wasn't one I had ever seen in person, only one I had imagined in my nightmares.

I had never seen the pack or the Cullens actually fight. I had only listened to them talk about it, imagined it for myself. But it was something Embry said he never wanted me to see, he would always get mad at Quil for telling me about them. He wanted me separate from this world.

He did his best.

Carlisle's touch brought me out of my thoughts, even startling me a bit.

"I'll fix this up for you. You'll be okay." He promised with kind eyes.

I noticed as Emmett, Rosalie, and Alice piled up the remains before Emmett threw his zippo on it. Instant flames soared, engulfing the pile into absolute nothingness.

The pack had phased back, running over to me from the treeline where clothes were stashed.

"(Y/N)..." Embry whispered, his eyes filled with worry and guilt as he crouched down to my level.

"Em, I'm fine." I insisted as I met his gaze.

We all stood there in silence as the pain in my ankle grew once again, causing me to wince.

"Embry, bring her to my home. I'll work on her ankle there." Carlisle broke the silence.

Embry only nodded before scooping me up into his arms.

Everyone else silently decided it was best to give space, but I sent a thankful glance and smile as best as I could as I grit my teeth from pain before they could leave.

Embry made his way over to my car, surely ready to drive me to the Cullens.

"Embry." I murmured.

No answer from him. He simply placed me in the car and put my seatbelt on for me with a pained look on his face. I winced in pain as my foot hit the side of the door and he almost looked as if he was going to throw up.

"Embry, please." I begged. "Please don't ignore me. I'm safe, you kept me safe."

"Your ankle is purple and the size of a grapefruit. I did not keep you safe." He says before shutting my car door and making his way to the driver's side.

"I think we both know a broken ankle is a happy ending for what this could have been." I reach over, rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb.

"I know, I just wish it wasn't. I'm glad a broken ankle is the worst of it, but what if... what if it wasn't? How was I supposed to live with myself after that? I couldn't. I- I thought I was going to lose it when I saw her by you." He chokes. "I almost thought I was going to lose you."

"You'll never lose me, Em." I whispered, leaning my head on his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head.

"Thank you for saving me." I gave his arm a slight squeeze. "But I'm in a lot of pain and if you could start driving to Carlisle's I would greatly appreciate that." I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Shit, sorry. Yeah, let's go get you checked out." He worriedly chuckled as he began driving down the dark road. _____________________________________ Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

#embry call #embry call x reader #embry call imagine #embry call imagines #embry call fanfic #embry call fanfiction #sam uley #jared cameron #paul lahote #jacob black #quil ateara #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #twilight #twilight wolf pack #wolf pack x reader #twilight x reader #twilight imagine

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jenlikesdarylfanfic · 3 years

Text

Fever Dream

I’m reposting this story from last year so I can finally create a master list that no one will read.

Summary: Daryl takes care of reader. Based on my experience with Covid 19.

Pairing: Daryl x reader

Note: It's my first fic ever. My grammar and this story probably suck. But I'm writing fan fiction for therapeutic purposes so it stays.

—————————————————————————————

“Stay away, Daryl. I could get you sick.”

“Ya ain’t gettin me sick, girl.”

“You don’t know that. I’m staying in the guest room for now. Leave me be.”

Guest room. That was something she never even heard of growing up. That and play dates. God, what kind of place was Alexandria?

Daryl knew y/n was right. Denise told him so. Whatever this flu was, he couldn’t afford to get sick and spread it to others. He saw what happened at the prison. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take care of y/n, though. He’d wait on her hand and foot until she got better.

Y/n asked Denise for a couple of surgical masks for her and Daryl to wear whenever he came into the room to bring her food or supplies. He felt silly wearing it but it was the only way he could be with his girl.

“Thanks babe. But I can’t eat anything, I’m too nauseous.” She sounded pained laying on her left side for some relief.

“Y/n, you haven’t eaten all day. You need to eat…or at least drink.”

“I don’t wanna,” she whined like a little kid.

Eventually she would take a sip here, a bite there, but not enough to sustain herself. Denise told Daryl that y/n could get dehydrated and he had to find a way to get fluids into her, else she might need an IV, which were few and far between. Water made her sick. ‘Too heavy,’ she said. In the real world he could get her a jello or even one of those Italian ice things. Things he never got to enjoy growing up. At least they could still make soup, but she wouldn’t touch it.

The next day he saw y/n he had a surprise for her, something she might actually eat. “Carol made these.”

“What?”

“Popsicles.”

“Huh?”

“Well we still have working freezers so Carol mixed some water with those lemon juice packets you found and froze it in the ice cube tray.” He handed her one on a stick and she smiled.

“I never thought I’d see a popsicle again.” She started to lick it and thought aloud, “I’m so glad we have Carol, at least I know she will take care of you when I’m gone.”

His expression changed from relief to anger, “Don’t you dare talk like that, y/n. You’re not going anywhere.”

She immediately regretted what she said. “I’m sorry, Daryl. I didn’t mean that this flu would kill me. I just meant in the future if something happened to me.” She looked down. He lifted her chin up to look at him. He just stared at her and said, “What I wouldn’t do right now to kiss you.” She smiled, relieved that he wasn’t upset with her.

That night, however, she took a turn for the worse. He heard a noise that woke him up but he couldn’t place it in his stupor. Sounded like banging and a door opening. He shot up and ran downstairs. He saw y/n outside in just her nightgown looking awful. “Y/n, what is it? Are you OK?”

She sounded out of it. “I’m so hot, I’m so hot, I can’t.”

He started to rub her back.

“No, don’t touch me, I’m so hot.” She started to cry. He ran and got a washcloth with cold water. He hated seeing her like this. He felt so damn helpless.

“Here.” They sat down on the porch steps and he placed the cloth on her forehead. “Just breathe, OK? Try to calm down.” It was chilly outside so he knew she’d feel better soon, but she just needed to calm down first. He knelt down in front of her. “Breathe, y/n. Just like me. In and out.” Eventually she calmed down and cooled off. He took his seat next to her. He started to rub her back again and this time she was thankful for his touch. She missed him too, and would’ve given anything to kiss him right then and there. She leaned on his shoulder, desperate to be close to him.

“When this is over, I’m gonna be all over you like white on rice.” They both laughed.

“I can’t wait, baby girl. God I can’t wait.” He brought her back in the house and back to bed.

Y/n woke up again a few hours later in another panic, so hot she couldn’t think straight. This time she called out for Daryl. “I’m right here, what’s wrong?”

“I’m so hot, I’m so hot. What do I do? Oh my god oh my god.” He grabbed her hand and lead her into the bathroom. He took her nightgown off and ran the cold water. She got in and let the cold water wash over her. She was crying again. Daryl took his clothes off and jumped in. He hugged her, disregarding her warnings about getting him sick. She cried into his chest but eventually cooled off. After her shower, he helped dry her off and get dressed again. He handed her another Tylenol to take for the fever. She went back to bed, and this time slept through the night.

The next morning y/n woke up feeling a little better and had another popsicle. “Thanks, babe. Sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to drive you crazy.”

“You could never drive me crazy. I just want you to be alright.”

“I wish my mom was here to take care of me. You know, as much as I hated my mom, she always took care of me. My dad too. You know one time I had such a bad migraine and I could only get comfortable laying in my parents bed? They left me there for the night and slept in my bed and on the couch.” She smiled at the memory. Normally she’d feel guilty telling Daryl a good memory, trying not to upset him because he didn’t have a shred of that growing up. But she stopped being sorry some time ago when she had enough of Daryl making her feel like the bad guy. He was taking it out on her too much that she just stopped talking all together about her past. But he realized that he can’t blame y/n for his problems and that he actually didn’t mind hearing her stories.

Y/n ate a little more that day, with her nausea letting up a bit. The day after that her fever disappeared. Daryl took her back to Denise for a check up.

“Fever’s down, all better.” With that y/n grabbed Daryl’s shirt and kissed him, with such fervor he almost toppled over onto her. She pulled away and Daryl looked like he had been slapped silly.

“Let’s go home, baby,” she said. “Looks like I have to take care of you now.” They ran out of the infirmary like 2 kids cutting class to make out under the bleachers.

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fan fiction #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #twd #daryl fanfiction

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justcallmenikki7 · 3 years

Text

BTS Reaction To: Feeling Unworthy To Being His S/O

Hyung!Line & Mafia!Au summary: a rookie makes a comment about you being his wife, and it is not a positive one warnings: mafia!au, mentions of killing and drugs, insecure reader and hoseok in his part, crying from reader and yoongi, soft!yoongi, mentions of depression and depressed reader in namjoons part, soft!bts, fluffff, mentions of abusive family (reader being abused in the mentions mentally), scared hoseok, bts being soft for you and only you, rude rookies/newbie, comments about hating self and body. Mainly anything that has to deal with anxiety, depression, and self hate. This is a different type of mafia reaction I feel like w.c.: 2.3k notes: namjoons part was pretty personal to me and so it may hit home to some. Btw, I know it has taken me a while to post, but ive been trying to find my touch still, but please be patient with me!! School is starting up again next week, so I will be busy with it and with work too. Good news is that I finally found my writing self again!

Kim Seokjin

Am I being dramatic?

That was the first question that popped through your head when the newbie made the comment about your ability to have authority over him and group of others. Saying how you have no skill to be in your position, which is standing right next to your husband, Kim Seokjin, the deadliest mafia boss in the world.

From the beginning of your relationship with Seokjin, you have always felt inferior and unsure of yourself, especially lately when you guys got married. You took the position of being the ‘second in command’ even though his right-hand man, Kim Namjoon, is his go to. If anything, ever happened to Seokjin, he made sure you were the one to take over his business with the help of Namjoon. Before the marriage, Seokjin obviously asked you to which you agreed immediately – thinking that everyone in Seokjin’s gang was going to want this since they knew that you were his fiancée (at the time) and understand why you were getting the position. When Namjoon was told this, you began to apologize because you believe that he deserves the title because of how long Namjoon has been by your husband’s side. But those worries shut away when Namjoon smiled at you as he pulled you into a hug, congratulating you. In the back of your mind, you still believe that Namjoon deserves your position, but the constant reassurance from both Namjoon and Seokjin’s five other close friends, you felt confident. You knew a lot of the ins and outs of the job, thanks to being with Seokjin for almost seven years now, but sometimes you felt as if you did not deserve the position.

The one thing that fueled that thought was the newbie’s comment.

“No offense, noona, but you don’t necessarily have the skill for this job. It is more of, you know, a man’s job.”

In a way, you believed that he was right. You believed that you did not have any power in this position, having no say, thinking that all of the members will believe you are just joking by ordering them around. This comment took a mental toll on you, causing you to lock yourself in your shared bedroom with your husband, hiding underneath the comfort of your blanks, staring blankly at the wall. This is where your husband found you, a concerned look on his face as he sped walked to your side.

“Sweetheart, what is wrong?” He asked in a calm, comforting voice, an action that had you crying.

The first that went through Seokjin’s head was to comfort you but the second one was to find the bastard or bitch that hurt you and to kill them.

“I don’t deserve the position in your gang, Jin. I’m not fit for it, or even to be your wife. Namjoon deserved the title of your secondhand man. The newbie is right, this is a man’s job—” you were cut off by your husbands hand covering your mouth.

“Who told you this.”

“The newbie, Soojin.” You said, not realizing that you were signing the document of his termination. It only clicked when Seokjin stood up, a dark look on his face as he made his way to your guys closet, grabbing his favorite gun.

Knowing that there was no way of stopping your husband from killing the newbie as he gave you a kiss on your lips, rubbing his nose against yours in sentimental way that always brings a smile to your face. “I’ll be back later, sweetheart.”

Min Yoongi:

Yoongi could see the stressed out look on your face as you made your way into his office. He wanted to comment on it, wanting to know what is wrong with his usual ball of sunshine girlfriend, but he did not. Allowing you to push his chair back so you can climb into his lap, seeking the comfort of his presence and the touch of his skin, he did not mention the tears welling up in your eyes or the wobble of your lip, a tale tell sign of you about to cry. Holding you closely as you silently cried, he massaged your scalp, a comforting form of affection that you love, he wanted to ask you what is wrong, but he only kissed the crown of your head, silently telling you that it is okay to cry.

“Am I worthy to be your girlfriend?” you asked silently, voiced kind of muffled by his undershirt. Fidgeting with his flannel, you braced yourself for the about to come anger from your boyfriend.

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Yoongi gritted out, holding you closer, if possible, to help calm down his anger.

“A question that someone made me think…” not wanting to say names because you did not want to be the reason for someone’s possible death. You knew in the back of your mind that Yoongi will make you say the name of the person who has been causing you distress for the past four days, but you did not want to seem weak and allow them to win in this mental game.

“What made you think this?”

Not being able to lie and play around, you began to ramble. “I don’t know their name since they started a few days ago, but they pointed out that I am just in your way. I am not worthy to be your girlfriend because I am weak, which I am. I am not made to be your girlfriend—”

“Now that is a load of bullshit, Jagi. You are my girlfriend, the love of my life. I love you because you make me feel human and feel so fucking loved. You made me see that there is good in this life – happiness even. You are my home. I do not care that you are not, in your words, ‘weak’ because you choose, along with my authority, to not get in the middle of this gang life. I do whatever I can to protect, and if that means hiding you from danger, then I will. But you are worthy, so worthy. I still question how I am even worthy to be your boyfriend and have the ability to love you and you love me.”

At the end of his speech, both you and Yoongi are in tears. The one thing that both you and Yoongi share is the insecurity of not being loved. But what the most beautiful thing that came out of this relationship is the ability to love yourselves and love each other. So, this topic is what makes you guys emotional – scared even. Scared that you both will lose each other and scared that you guys are not enough. It had been rocky in the beginning but seeing how far you both have came and grew is what made it worth it.

The anger and the want to kill whoever made you think this is what fueled the deadly thoughts in Yoongi’s head. You knew this because you can read Yoongi like a book. Looking down at you, silently asking you if he can feed his hunger, you nodded your head. Yoongi knows that you hate violence, but looking from his perspective, you would do the same thing.

Jung Hoseok

Jung Hoseok is a very observant person, has been since the day he was born. This is what makes him a dangerous person, especially in the mafia world because of how he can easily tell when someone is becoming a traitor or is lying to him.

That is why it is hard to lie to him because of how easily he can pick up your lies. You rarely lied to him, but when you did, he knows that something is wrong. So, for the past few weeks, he can tell that you have became more distant from him, mainly more unsure of yourself. He does not like pestering you about things, opting for you to come to him when you are comfortable enough. Being a person who hates conflict – mainly confrontation – he understands how hard it is for you due to your anxiety.

But he could not take it anymore. Hoseok misses you so much. How can you miss someone when they are right there in front of you?

That is why you are now cornered in his office, both hands beside your head, body pressed against the wall. You could see the conflict in your boyfriend’s eyes, a look that is rarely there because he is always sure of himself. Sure about the situation. But right now, the mafia boss is anything but sure.

“What did I do to make you not love me anymore?”

Looking at him confusedly, “what?”

“You’re distant. You don’t kiss me good morning anymore or even let me hold you at night. What did I do, Jagi?”

“Hope, I’m so sorry. I did not mean for this, for you to feel like this. I’ve been distancing myself because of how I realized that maybe I’m not exactly the type of girlfriend you need, especially in this lifestyle. I’m not strong, or athletic, or just what you need. I realized this when one of your dealers pointed it out when—”

“Why are you listening to what other’s say, Jagi? You do not need their approval for your choices on who you are with. If we are happy, then we are happy. We, you, do not need to make others happy. Making yourself happy is what is important. You are allowing someone who does not even know you decide on your happiness, especially someone who does not even know how to spell.”

“Wait, Jungsoo does not know how to spell?” You asked, going off topic, something that you do not realize a lot, a trait of yours that Hoseok loves about you. He knows that when you do this during serious conversations is when you grasp the situation and what he said.

Chuckling, “yeah, he is a lost cause. Fortunately, Yoongi will be able to test the new drugs he made on him.” Slapping his chest at that, you knew that he was going to get rid of him. “But Jagi, I am serious. I know you have a hard time with listening to people’s opinions, especially when it involves you. But what I have been saying from the moment I realized that I loved you, I do not care whether you are what this peasant considers to be ‘fit’ for my position in the mafia world. I love you for you.”

Grabbing him by his collar, you pull him down to you, smiling like a little schoolgirl, you kissed him.

Kim Namjoon

Namjoon wanted to kill the rookie right then and there. But he could not because of how they are at an important meeting with two other gangs. When the rookie made the underlying comment towards you about your appearance, Namjoon could see the light in your eyes diminish slowly. Shoulders slacking and your body caving in on itself, the sight of seeing your happiness disappear in an instant by an opinion (which is completely false and impossible to be found in any way true), is what made Namjoon feel as if he had not accomplished anything.

You struggle greatly with loving yourself and being happy with yourself. You know that you need to, but from the very first day you were born, your parents made you believe that you are unwanted and not even close to being beautiful. Having an older sister that you were compared to with everything and anything, you were always the one losing while she was winning. Nothing that you did was ever good enough. This had turned you into believing that you were not even good enough. You depend on people’s approval for everything – even if you do not even know them because of the abuse and lies (that you feel as if they are true), you believe that what people think of you is what makes you worthy.

But when you met Namjoon, things started to change. He began to show you how beautiful you are, how worthy and loved you are. It has been a very painful process, but you have gotten better. Yes, you get into a depression and deep rut that takes you forever to get out of. But, with the help from your boyfriend, you get out of it. Even if it means him having to literally drag you out of bed and into the bathroom to brush your teeth and help brush your hair, it helps.

It is just that you never know what a trigger to you will be. As of right now, with the rookies comment repeating in your head.

Realizing the train of thought you began to get, Namjoon pulled out his pistol and shot the rookie right in the head. Grabbing your hand, he excused the both of you and took you into the bathroom.

“Breath, baby, breath.” He cooed, hugging you close to him, kissing the top of your head. “You are so strong, baby. So strong, so beautiful, so perfect.” He whispered in your ear, rubbing circles on your lower back. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“But I allowed—”

“No, no. Let’s not go there, okay? It’s okay to fall sometimes, but remember that we always have to pick ourselves up from where we left off. We can do this, you can do this. You are so strong, my queen. So strong and so beautiful. I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” you promised back, sniffling. “Please don’t give up on me. I’m trying my hardest.” You begged, grasping his suit jacket tightly in your hands, scared that he will leave you.

“Never.”

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chiliiscereal · 3 years

Text

I hate you

Daryl’s adopted daughter

Chapter 1

Summary: Diana is a girl on the run in the apocalypse. Her past chases her no matter where she goes. One day, by chance, she meets Daryl Dixon. Thinking she’s a walker, he shoots her and brings her back to their camp. Shane strikes a deal with her: she has to stay for two weeks before she can decide if she wants to stay. But Diana is determined to keep her past in the past, and never make the same mistake again

Season 1 - I’m not sure yet

—————

Diana sat in a circle with her family. Blood dripped down her neck from her lips.

Everything was red.

Red

How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly?

Her eyes never left the blond man she once knew. She watched him as her fury and fear grew louder and louder, echoing off her skull.

That was, until Negan stepped out of the van. He walked about the circle, until his eyes landed on her.

"Fancy seein' you again, Darlin'."

————————

Rick stumbled into the street, a hospital gown draping his skin. He knew there was something wrong. There was something off. Maybe it was intuition...

Or maybe it was the woman, chopped in half, chomping her teeth to get at his ankles.

He rubbed his eyes, the sun glaring right into his vision. It had been a week and a half since the start, and a day since his IV ran dry. It had been even longer since he last saw the sun.

Where was everyone?

Why hadn't he waken up to nurses and doctors?

Or his family's familiar faces?

He spotted bodies. Bodies walking. Maybe three.

He couldn't understand... he couldn't understand any of it...

The light off a gun reflected into his eyes. He blocked it and moved to see where it was coming from.

The revolver was placed in the holster on the side of a walker. The man... or whatever he was now... shuffled toward Rick.

He was deathly pale.

"Sir," Rick's voice cracked, "sir, are you okay?" He held his hand out, trying to make it a comforting gesture to someone possibly in need.

Edging closer, the man stared at him with hungry dead eyes. His clothes were torn and draped off his skinny frame, his eyes laid sunken in his face.

"Sir?" He asked again, stumbling back.

The man growled and advanced further.

"Are you-?"

With a blur, the man was down.

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Rick let out a horrified gasp.

On the ground was a little girl, around Carl's age, placing her knife in the mans forehead. Her light blond hair, tucked under her baseball cap, clung to her dirty face. The crunch echoed in Ricks head, reverberating off his skull.

That was the first walker he had ever seen killed.

She quickly wiped her knife on the walkers shirt and snatched his revolver. She opened the back to check how much ammo was left. Satisfied, she clicked it shut and began patting the double dead man down.

"W-why did you do that?" Rick found his voice again.

She leaped back, her bright blue eyes finding his.

Quickly, she pulled herself up and began to dash away. If Rick hadn't lunged out and caught the back of her shirt she would have disappeared as soon as she apparated into his line of sight.

"No. You can't leave yet." He spun her around to face him. It was evident how terrified she was. Especially with her eyes as wide as dinner plates and hands clawing at his arm. "Why did you kill that man?"

She glared at him and wriggled harder. "Man?" She gasped, "that... that wasn't a man!" Her hands fought to unclamp Ricks grip. "That's a Walker! He would have eaten you if I hadn't stopped him!" She grunted with effort. "Didn't even see you. You already look dead."

"What do you mean by dead?" Rick questioned, holding tighter.

"Gone. Deceased. vamosed. Perished." With each word she struggled. "Now let me go!"

Rick was about to question again, when he felt the stitches on his side rip. With a grunt, he let her go and fell to the ground. His hand cupped his side.

"Please.." he stopped to breathe heavily as the girl watched him warily. "I don't know what's happening. I woke up in the- in the hospital." He glanced down at his side to eye the bleeding. "The sun will be setting soon... and I need help."

The girl glanced at the lowering sun. Tapping her foot, she glowered at the ground. "How can I trust you." It wasn't a question. It was as if she was challenging him to be wrong.

Rick attempted to stand, only to find himself back in the ground. "I was a cop. My job was to protect the people. ALL people. And I like to think I did a good job of that."

She stuck the revolver in her holster (which was clearly stolen based on how big it was). "Prove it."

"I don't have my badge or my hat. That's at my house. But I'm officer Rick Grimes. I've been on the force for seven years. My partner was Shane Walsh. I was in my car when we got a call about a run away car. I was shot in action and hospitalized." His eyes seemed to beg her to help him.

Diana tried to fight the raging war in her head.

She knew better.

She knew to trust no one.

Her father and mother both betrayed her trust.

Why trust again?

But... she could tell when people were lying. All people have tells. Her fathers tell was him avoiding eye contact. He always looked at the ground. For her mother, she always played with her wedding ring.

But this Cop... sheriff... man... was not lying.

He looked her dead in the eye.

"Fine. Come with me." She hadn't known that she was gripping her new revolver until she released it. "I have a place in the sewers. I know... in most movies that's where walkers would be. But how would someone get down there in the first place? You'd have to move the lid." She walked over to Rick and slung his arm over her shoulder to help him stand in any way. "And most walkers," she grunted "are pretty stupid."

"Thank you...for helping me." Rick stated gratefully.

"I have some house rules, you know."

"Name them." He said confidently as they shuffled down the street.

"One: you're gone when you can walk."

"You don't want someone to watch your back?" Rick was surprised. Usually, kids jumped at the chance for safety. The ones he has worked with in cases of violence had immediately decided he was trustworthy.

"the worlds changed. You can't trust people." He noted the grim expression on her face. He wanted to ask why, but he figured it was better to stay silent.

"I'd argue about that, but I'll hear out your other rules." He wrapped his arm around his side again, fingering the broken stitches.

"Two: you do as I say or you die."

"Yes ma'am."

Rick couldn't help but like her spunk. She was serious, but it wasn't much of a threat coming from an eleven year old girl.

"3: ..." she started only to trail off.

"...3?"

She cleared her throat and resituated Ricks arm. "You repay my kindness if we ever cross paths again. I don't care how."

"Was already planning on it." He grinned. He could feel the conversation beginning to die, so he started it back up again. "What's your name, kid?"

She hesitated, eyes staying on the road. "Diana." She spoke softly. "My mother named me after the Roman goddess of the night."

Rick smiled. "Pretty name."

Diana's thoughts drifted to her mother. Her mother with her honey brown hair and warm chocolate eyes. She stopped her thoughts there. "Well... what about you, officer friendly? You got a name?"

Rick laughed. "My names Rick Grimes. I ain't named after the moon goddess, but I think it has a nice ring to it. Don't you?"

She forced down a smile. "Pretty name."

He chuckled. "Well, Diana, I am glad I ran into you."

~~~~~

They arrived at the sewer lid.

"Here we are. I've been camped out here since early yesterday morning." She slipped under Ricks arm and got down to lift the lid. With a couple tries, and an offer from Rick for assistance, she lifted the lid.

She stood up and dusted off her hands. "I'll go down first and scope out the area. Need to make sure it's still clear. Then I'll help you down."

She began her descent.

Rick watched the top of her light haired head fade into the darkness with each step. He briefly thought she would try and make a run for it. Escape through the sewers.

He immediately dismissed it. Why would she waste daylight by helping him? The sound of her footsteps hitting the water at the bottom and echoing as she walked down the tunnels set him on edge.

Especially when they began to fade.

He sat patiently for over ten minutes, watching the sunlight tick by. He looked down into the darkness, listening for any sound. There was nothing... not even a whisper.

Maybe she did leave.

"Alright, Sheriff, get down here! It's clear!" Her voice reverberated loudly from the tunnels so suddenly, that Rick stumbled back.

"I don't have all day! Unless you wanted to be walker chow, get down here!"

Rick chuckled as he began to shuffle his way down the tunnel.

"Any day now, Deputy Fossil!" She shouted.

"Hold your horses, kid." He slowly lowered himself into the dark. He looked down to see where his feet were going to land, spotting the flashlight that Diana held. Her light hazel eyes reflected impatience.

"Nice place." He said, clearly biting back his truth.

"Don't be fake." She said as she kicked at the water. "It smells like a pig ate dirty gym socks, farted, and died."

"I was trying to spare your feelings."

"Don't bother. I'm leaving this place as soon as you're ready."

Rick finally landed on the bottom of the sewer. "You got a place you're headed to?"

Diana shook her head. "No. Just a place I never want to see again."

Rick stopped moving to look at her. "Troubled home life?"

She thought about it and shrugged. "I guess you could call it troubled home life. It was home once. But this apocalypse changes people."

"I'm sorry kid."

"Don't be. That's just life."

Rick opened his mouth to say more, but Diana beat him to it.

"Alright, lets move." She motioned for him to follow.

The place she had holed up in was dryer than most spaces. There were a couple of dirty blankets placed on the ground and a first aid kit. Some batteries were sprinkled on top.

"You can sit there. I can stitch you back up." Diana pointed at the wall. Their part of the sewer was a dead end so they wouldn't be surprised.

"Thank you."

Diana hadn't stitched wounds before, but she did well enough.

Rick tried starting a conversation again but she told him she needed silence to focus.

~~~~

"Are you sure you want to travel by yourself?"

Diana nodded as she packed her things. "Very sure. You're nice and all, but you don't want to travel with me."

The Georgia sun had risen already and they both were preparing for departure in the street

"Do you have any family to find?" Rick questioned.

"I already know where they are. And they don't want me either." The girl looked down, avoiding eye contact.

"If we ever meet again, you better give me more details." Rick narrowed his eyes and pointed at her. "I deserve to know more about the little girl who saved me."

"Once a cop always a cop I guess." Diana said slyly. She looked back at him. "What about you? Any family?"

She eyed a walker down the street but decided it was too far away to pursue.

"I got a son and a wife. My son's your age actually. 11." Rick looked through the neighborhoods. "I don't know where they are, but I'll protect them. They need me."

Diana squinted in the direction he was looking at, seeing nothing. "You'll find them, chief." She patted his shoulder, having to reach up very high.

"It was nice to meet you, Diana." Rick said, a little sad that they were parting. Possibly that he would no longer have company. Maybe that he didn't have enough time to get to know her well. "I don't know if I'll see you again, but you helped me without anything to gain."

Diana scoffed. "I'm not a good kid."

"You're right."

Diana looked up, confused.

"You're one of the best."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Go. You have people to find."

"From the looks of thangs, so do you."

"I don't have people."

"You'll find them. Just a matter of where and when." He stuck his hand out for her to shake.

She placed a brown bag in his hand instead. "It's for the road. There's batteries, water, a flashlight, food, bandages, antibiotics, and one more thing..." she unbuckled her holster and handed it to him, along with the revolver. "You need these more than I do."

Rick tried to push it back to the little girl. "No I can't take this. You need it."

"No, you do. You're gonna help people, Rick. You're gonna help so many. You gotta find your people." She pushed it back to him. "I'm gonna be fine. I spotted a gun down the road that I'm gonna check out later."

Rick gave her a solemn look before accepting it. "If you can, head to Atlanta. The CDC is near there and there's bound to be survivors."

"I don't need survivors."she rolled her eyes.

"They may need you, kid. Ever think about that?"

She stayed silent for a moment. "Stay safe, sherif fun sponge." She shook his hand, even though he hadn't offered it yet. "I hope we meet again."

"We will." He smiled. "I don't know how or when, but we will. I have a debt to pay."

She wanted to return the smile but couldn't. "I hope you find them."

"You to."

With that, they went separate ways.

Next fifty chapters posted on noandisaidno on wattpad!

#for you #bookish #disney #digital art #small artist #tik tok #tik tok art #wattpad #fanfic #percy jackson #twd imagine #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd negan #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x daughter!reader

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thesunshinebunny · 3 years

Text

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part IV)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter Summary: Talk doesn´t seem to be like a good attack plan and now reader has to run for their life and avoid being caught by the Jaegerists.

Words Count: 6.1k

Silence reigned in the room. Only our breaths could be heard, some agitated, others calm, as well as footsteps fading at the end of the corridor. I could feel my heart pounding hard on my chest, inwardly wishing that no one could hear it. From the distance that each one was, I doubted it was physically possible; But let's face it, in a world full of humans turned into Titans, whose possessors can regenerate their body parts, listening to the beat of a heart shouldn’t be a difficult task.

"I wanted to speak with you"

Eren's lifeless eyes weren't focused on anyone in particular, I could notice his face even darker than it had been in recent days and a look much duller. My hand on the table was very close to his, threatened with blood staining from the crimson pool that was forming on the beautiful white tablecloth.

On my left side, the little girl was shaking up and down, not looking at anyone or anything at all. She also had her hands on the table, as did everyone. I directed my gaze towards the other companions at the table, the three were reversed in a conversation that I had no intention of being part of. The only thing that interested me was to give a little security to this poor girl.

I made a little movement with my elbow and shoulder toward her, trying to get her attention, but it didn't make her turn around. I tried again, this time launching a breathless and very low 'hey', taking advantage of the voices at medium volume to lighten mine. That did work. The girl had turned her eyes to me, she was still extremely scared and it showed in her eyes and all over her face. I was very sorry to see her like this.

I gave her a slight smile, curling the tip of my lip upward, and nodded. Her gaze locked with mine for a few seconds and I could see how she was calming down, even a little, but it was there. It was a stressful situation for everyone, I didn't even want to imagine what she must feel, and if my possibilities were within bringing her some calm, I would. I made a little "s'ok" with my lips without speaking, not even whispering.

"Are you paying attention?" My gaze turned to the source of the problem again. Eren had his eyes fixed hard on my face. I thought I might have gone unnoticed, but I was wrong.

I adjusted my posture on the chair, now staring forward, but with my eyes fixed on those intense but haggard gray-green eyes. I took my gaze away from his for a second to see the girl next to me, who was again trembling with fear, and I reached my hand towards hers, returning my gaze to it’s previous position. Eren clenched his fist at this movement and furrowed his brow even more, sending me a silent and mental warning. I ignored his threat and grabbed the girl's hand, at no point taking my eyes off his and accentuating my head up high.

"Keep your hands on the table Mikasa"

His gaze now turned to his childhood friends, standing myself alone at the side of the table, failing incredibly to calm a twelve-year-old girl. And as if there was nothing that could make the situation worse and make the moment much more stressful, they had to touch on sensitive issues, issues that were like putting a finger on the sore.

"Armin, you keep going to see Annie, do you really do it of your own free will?" Was it really necessary? There was nothing, or so it seemed, that could give any indication that Annie was about to wake up, and the fact that Armin wanted to go see her didn’t seem bad at all, or at least that’s what I thought; Indeed, it clearly showed Armin's sentimental attraction to her.

Yes, Annie was an important key to the investigation of the titans, but that was four years ago, now we were just sitting back in the chair and hoping that, by some miracle, the glass that surrounded Annie and left her in a reverie state will unfreeze. That Armin came to see her didn’t change anything in the plans of the militancy, much less the legion.

"Since you inherited the memories, a part of you is now Berthold"

Ah, that’s where the shots came from. It was difficult to understand the powers and responsibilities that came with being a titan shifter. We weren’t only talking about the short life that the owners unfortunately had to endure, but also the memories of their predecessors, memories that could haunt their current owner.

Likewise, blaming Armin for Berthold's memories wasn't going to fix things. Armin was still Armin, the sweet and calm boy, willing to fight if necessary, but always opting for the least violent solution, the most civilized one. He tried it on Annie and he tried it on Berthold, failing both times.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to blame Armin for having the memories of one of our enemies in his mind, memories that I never wish to obtain or see. As far as I knew, Grisha's memories, while they had been an impact towards the general knowledge of the world, hadn’t shaped Eren ... had they?

Nor was it fair to see how the same boy who had so supported his childhood friend in the years as a recruit, was internally unbalanced by the stubbornness of that friend. See how fear invaded his gaze and he was petrified to such putrid revelations.

"Eren ..." I tried to stop him, God, I swear I tried to stop him.

I tried to use the word my comrades wanted to use so badly, the words Armin wanted to use, but they weren't enough. In a thousandth of seconds, horrific ideas flashed through my mind, wishing none of them would come true. If the conversation went this way, it could end not just a friendship of years, but the sanity of all of us. I wasn't important in this trio, I was an add-on, and I couldn't allow Eren to continue destroying relationships and people wherever he stepped.

But I wasn't quick enough to stop him with words. When he finished defenestrating Armin, he turned his attention to Mikasa. Of all the people, the one who I was most afraid was her, the person who would collapse the most if he detached himself from her half-brother.

"You too Mikasa"

My eyes went wide as I heard the truths of the Ackerman clan. Created and genetically engineered to protect and follow orders, without conscience, without free will. Mikasa was devastated and I could see in her eyes how images of her childhood passed through her mind, images and memories that now seemed like a lie, a sham.

"In short ... a clan created to protect others who have no conscience of their own"

"Eren, stop" Armin was just as scared as I was, praying to any God who had been watching us that so much evil stop at once, that those words would stop coming out of that damn viperine tongue. Eren was vomiting word after word, without measuring the consequences, without measuring the damage it could cause to Mikasa's mind.

"In other words, slaves"

The situation was getting out of hand. Nothing we could say or do right now was going to help. The conversation that Armin wanted with all his might to take place was going overboard. If the others could be present with us, they would see clearly like me how the faith in his friend was dissipating with the seconds in the blond's gaze.

"At last I understand why I hated to see a slave who carried out all orders without question"

His eyes were filled with hatred, resentment, anger, contempt, and a thousand other degenerative feelings. His intention was very clear the moment he entered the room: to hurt; and he was succeeding.

He’d done me a lot of damage in the last year, such damage that it reached the darkest and inner corridors of my mind and it was impossible for me to move forward on a gray and dubious course, and now he was willing to continue doing more damage, this time to his closest friends, those people that I never thought, that never crossed my mind, he could destroy internally. He was annihilating their willpower and their desire to fight, and he’s doing so by colossal steps.

"Eren that's enough!" Armin and I shouted in unison. We didn’t necessary have to say a word or look at each other to know that the next words were going to be disastrous.

"Mikasa, I have always hated you"

That was the breaking point. Mikasa's eyes filled with tears and they didn't last for a second on her lids, they were already being spilled onto her cheeks. She was completely devastated and I couldn't blame her. The person who had given her a home after the brutal murder of her parents, the person to whom she was so devoted and would give her life, was turning his back on her, as well as killing sentimentally.

"You damn bastard!"

Armin jumped on the table with the intention of reaching the dark-haired man, but he didn’t get very far, being pulled from the chest to the hard wood of the furniture by Mikasa herself. And that only made the situation worse and agreed with Eren. It was as if fate was laughing at us for trying to pull the strings of our paths, strings that handled us like puppets and over which we had no control.

Mikasa let go of Armin's hand when she realized the act she just did, horrified with herself, and he now had the opportunity to pounce on Eren, throwing a punch in the middle of his face and throwing him to the floor. With that, the table flew backwards and in a reflex action, I also threw myself back, letting the chair fall to one side and avoiding any blow that the table could give me.

Unconsciously I lunged towards the girl next to me, preventing at all times that the table hit her or that some of the two men who were fighting each other to ended up bumping into her. I pushed her away from any crossing point and hid her behind my back, using my body as a shield against any impact that could shoot towards our position. Mikasa had also run to the left side of the wine cabinet, contemplating the scene before hers with complete sadness.

Eren's fist slammed into Armin's face, throwing him straight into the cabinet, knocking a few wines against his back and knocking a couple of ceramic plates to the floor. My instincts screamed I needed to help Armin, even knowing that he could regenerate in a matter of seconds, that the cuts and bruises weren't going to last long, but that wasn't why I wanted to help him.

It wasn’t the pain and physical blows that worried me, but the psychological anger and damage that this was entailing.

"Jaeger-san!"

Two followers slammed into the room, pointing their rifles directly at Armin and Mikasa's heads. They were unaware of my presence, paying more attention to the boy beaten from head to toe and the girl crying like a river.

I took a step forward and reaffirmed my theory, my presence wasn’t being recognized. I took another step, and another, and another, until I was right next to the fallen table and turned around, making sure the girl was still where I left her, that she was safe and sound. I gestured with my finger to my lips for her to be quiet and to stay still and turned to the scene in front of me. Eren kept beating poor Armin, who was unable to defend himself properly. He was right, in a hand-to-hand fight, Armin would be the worst off, even myself, but that didn't mean I couldn't manage to come out victorious.

Next to me, the chair Eren was sitting at a few seconds ago was still in the same place where he felt. With great care and tranquility, I bent down to grasp the back legs of it, without taking my eyes off Eren or the pseudo-guards who still had with their rifles at a shooting position, raised it to the height of my head and then smashed it against the two armed men in the stomach area. I hurriedly kicked each of them to the face, preventing them from having a chance to get up quickly, just as I slung the rifles from their shoulders with the same leg and pushed them away under a window. Without wasting time, I turned around to find Eren realizing the events that were happening next to him, and I wedged a blow in the middle of his face, in the same way Armin had done.

The blow hadn't been quite strong since he didn't fall to the ground, but it was enough to throw him off balance and make him leave Armin alone. The blonde fell to the floor, exhausted and sore from the multiple punchs to the face he had suffered, and I continued to give a new blow to the stomach height to the brunette in front of me. One of his knees fell to the ground, giving me the opportunity to grab his arm and twist him from behind, immobilizing him. I put my other arm over his armpit, preventing him from moving his arms and his upper body.

“That’s enought you fucking bastard. Mikasa..."

My face was on the crook of Eren's neck, preventing me from seeing clearly ahead, but my partial gaze sought out those tear-filled gray eyes to signal her to help me. My voice was already a signal for help even if I wasn't yelling. I could see how those eyes were full of conflicts, a battle was being fought inside her mind and she seemed to not be able to reason what she saw.

"MIKASA!"

This time I did yell, asking with all my will Mikasa could come to her senses, that she could help me with the lost cause Eren was now. I wasn’t going to be able to control him for much longer, I didn’t have the necessary strength and that was why I was trying to reach her. But the fear in my eyes was reflected when I saw that she wasn’t moving, that she was simply watching with tears in her eyes, eyes that would surely be cloudy and couldn’t see clearly. My fear was reflected when I saw that no one was going to be able to help me.

Eren hit his head against mine, right on the septum of my nose. My head jerked back involuntarily and my arms lost support on his. He grabbed my left hand, holding it high, much higher than my head, uncovering my stomach and his knee hitting it’s pit, not just once, but twice. His leg hit my knee, yanking it back and knocking me off what little balance I had left.

His grip on my hand released and I fell hard on my knees and hands onto the wooden floor. My stomach was spasming and I regurgitated bile, struggling to take in some air that I was deprived of in a matter of milliseconds. I coughed all I could until my stomach settled back, but I was unable to get back to my feet. I felt two pairs of hands grab my arms and I stood up abruptly, grabbing my hair even and looking up as the turquoise eyes set at my point of view.

"Why do you always have to be in the middle? Why can you never stay quiet in a corner without sticking your nose in someone else's butt? " Without my noticing, his fist slammed into my nose, hitting the septum back and most likely breaking it. My head cocked to the side and I could see drops of blood falling to the ground and a stream spreading from under my nostrils to my chin. "It was frustrating to see how in all the missions you were there, being a useless without importance"

Useless? I was the one who treated his wounds in training, tying his head when he hit the stone floor in his practice with the movement equipment. I was the one who put cold water on his ankle when he bent it while running through the lush forest on a rainy day. I was the one who pushed him to the side when he was going to hit a stone face down for not looking where he was going. I was one of those who saved him when he was captured by Reiner and Berthold. I was the one who pulled him out of the middle of an onslaught of titans when he first activated the coordinate, even with a wounded and bleeding shoulder.

I was the one who slapped him to make him stop crying inside the cave when Rod Reiss was transforming, claiming this wasn’t the time for his tantrums and that if he wanted to make a change in this whole twisted story, he better put down the crocodile tears for when he was in the quiet of his bed.

It was me who warned him of dozens of Marleyan soldiers when he shed from his titan back at Libero.

“And yet you continued to stick to me like a lap dog to the leg of it’s owner. Yet another slave. Makes me gag just looking at your face"

I turned my face to him, fixing my eyes on his, conveying all the hatred and contempt he was making me feel. I felt my heart shrink at such crude words, but my duel had started several weeks ago and they didn’t achieve the same effect as with Mikasa. What he did was get me to give him a contemptuous half smile and laugh in his face. His eyes darkened when he saw my reaction. Whether he expected it or not was no longer important to me. He gave a slight nod to the men behind me and I noticed how my arms were gathered around my back and tightened so that I couldn't move. One of them walked away from me and went straight towards Mikasa and Armin, pointing his rifle at their heads.

"Take them, the brat who killed Sasha too"

I wasn’t going to allow it.

My two comrades were pushed into the corridor outside while I glared at them waiting for my turn to go out with the man behind me. The girl was completely scared and she had walked to the door of her own will, perhaps avoiding being further hurt. The moment Eren was about to leave, I slapped my head against the man's face repeatedly until his grip weakened and I was able to move freely again. I turned to him, kneeing him in the face and stomach. When I managed to reduce him to the ground, making him roll into a ball and couldn't move without causing him pain when he breathed, I wanted to turn towards the door with the sole intention of getting the poor girl out of the conflict. My hand was halfway searching for her when Eren grabbed it and yanked me back violently, slamming me against the table.

I lost my balance for a second and as an involuntary act I grabbed the tablecloth, but that didn’t do much, making me fall to the floor in the same way. Eren lunged at me, his body falling completely on top of mine and pinning me to the ground. His legs were positioned at each place of my torso and his fist hit my face not once, not twice, but three times, noticing how the cheek bone began to burn. I lifted my knee to the side of his ribs, my nails finding the skin of his face, and pushed him toward the table, hitting his back against the hard wood and tangling with the tablecloth.

I got up to run, but his leg hit my ankle causing me to fall on my face and hands. When I wanted to turn around again I felt his weight against mine, his legs now better placed on my knees and both hands holding my neck. He squeezed, I felt like the air was beginning to thin, my vision was turning white and I could feel my face redden. I tried to hit him in the face, but I wasn't strong enough to make him stop. I reached the same hand towards my side visualizing one of the chairs thrown by the fight with Armin but Eren was faster and his knee was now pressing against my inner arm.

I was running out of air and at any moment I was going to lose consciousness. In a desperate attempt I turned my eyes around me as best I could and found a bottle of wine broken in half lying a few inches from us, though too far away for me to just reach out. My fingers couldn't even touch the surface of the glass and on my last attempt before I fainted, I pushed myself towards the bottle, grabbed it by the spout, and pulled it towards Eren's face, driving the broken surface onto his cheek and eye.

Eren grunted in pain and released his hands from my neck, giving me a chance to push him back with both legs and barely get up to run. With cloudy vision and an incredible urge to cough thanks to the pressure on my cervicals and thyroids, I could not make out the whereabouts of the Marleyan girl and ran out the door to the corridor. As I passed the threshold slamming the door wide, rifle bullets were aimed at me, miraculously failing to hit my body. I shrunk my body as much as I could without stopping my feet and looked towards the end of the corridor, finding the second man who was with Armin and Mikasa shooting at me from behind them.

I was about to fall to the ground when Mikasa slammed her shoulder against his, causing him to stagger backward and she struggled to get the rifle out of his hands. In those few seconds of advantage, Armin stepped between the line of fire and me in case any bullets were fired and yelled from his position.

"Go!" I don’t know if it was due to lack of air that I couldn’t react at all quickly and when seeing my indecision to run to where the two of them were or go through the back window, Armin again shouted angrier and more determined "Just go!"

Behind me was a window with broken glass, I assumed due to the bullet holes of the rifle, with a simple blow with my elbow I could break a large part of the glass and jump to the side of the street, but not before giving one last look at Armin and Mikasa, who were still battling the man and Eren coming out of the room half healed and with smoke coming from his wounds.

I fell onto the cobbled street and started running towards the main avenue. My legs were on fire and my lungs were about to collapse, every step I took was a stronger pain in my throat. I wanted to stop and cough to regain normality in my breathing, but I heard behind me the footsteps of people running and yelling to stop me. They were chasing me and if I kept on foot I wasn't going to get very far. I put my fingers to my mouth and whistled as best I could, calling out to Phillip from afar. I had left my horse right at the front door of the restaurant, on the other side of the avenue, so I ran in that direction in order to find him early.

The so-called Jaegerists kept firing behind me, a bullet struck my leg and hit the stone on the ground and ricocheted to the left side against a house. Multiple bullets continued to brush my body, some passing very close to my face and others aimed directly at my legs. In the distance I could see Phillip riding towards me, getting closer and closer. When he came to my side, without stopping, I grabbed his leash and jumped on his back, leaving half my body hanging from lack of strength. I grabbed his neck and motioned for him to turn around and head straight for the avenue.

Phillip was always a fast horse, I thanked the universe for entrusting me to this horse from the first recon mission. He was always there for me, a loyal, strong and very audacious horse, banking me on every expedition and whatever madness crossed my mind to save my companions or myself. I always thanked him for his swiftness and now more than ever I was thanking him in a shaking voice as he continued galloping through the crowd, heading toward the wall’s gate.

Having left the Jaegerists at a considerable distance, I positioned myself correctly on his back, grabbing onto the leash and leaning forward to stroke his head for his great work. I gave myself the freedom to cough and clear my throat of any discomfort, but multiple blows and a firm rumbling behind us made me realize that nothing was over yet, as they were still chasing me, now with their own horses. There weren't many, maybe five or six people and a coach from what I could make out from the hollow of my shoulder, but they were armed and that was what made them dangerous.

I told Phillip to keep riding, to go even faster, to get to the gate as soon as possible. With the riding, the saddle hit my legs and crotch, annoying and hurting me at the same time, but I had to hold it and keep going; we had to get to the gate and fast, very fast. We were a few blocks away when I saw the gate in the distance, wide open and with their respective guards on either side of the threshold.

"Close the door!" I screamed as loudly as I could, feeling my vocal cords tear in the attempt and made my throat hurt even more. The guards turned their heads towards my figure, but none deigned to do what I asked them, they just stared at me stupidly.

"CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!" I coughed as I let out such a scream hoping it was clear enough in the message. Seeing me continue to gallop towards the gate and now hearing the bullets being fired, the guards ran towards the internal mechanism and began to close it, giving me enough time to pass through it without being crushed.

The gate ended up closing when Phillip had already traveled about ten meters outside the wall, leaving the Jaegerists on the other side.

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I dipped my head into the clear water of the river. The cold of the current massaged my battered muscles and cleaned the still bleeding wounds. It was already the third time that I’d put my head in the water and I could notice how little by little the pain was dissipating, but knew that the next day I would have a remotely swollen face and a septum to treat.

We had gotten quite far from the wall, maybe forty minutes or an hour galloping, and we had stayed by the river so as not to get lost. Phillip took the time to drink plenty of water and eat some of the dry grass that surrounded the river; I owed my partner a big one and if it was necessary to spend the little savings I had on a better chair and care for him, I would give it all… but when things were calmer and we could go home.

I lay on my back on the grass into a star-shaped possition and gazed up at the clear sky except for a few fluffy clouds. If it din’t for the recurring events in the last month, I would have taken the liberty of enjoying this beautiful day and the days before that surely there were, but I was too blind and busy to notice them.

The grass felt soft except for a few small stones scattered unevenly and the small field insects that landed on my arms and face and then flew off. It was relaxing, too relaxing. The heat of the sun's rays hit my skin and gave me a comforting sensation that soaked down to my bones, generating a pleasant interior warmth and tingling; I wanted to sleep, I wanted to rest, my body was forcing me to take a break, and this place, this moment, seemed like the perfect one. I closed my eyes, wishing sleep and tranquility would come as quickly as possible, but a vibration in the floor and Phillip's screaming snapped me out of my trance.

I raised my head, surveying my surroundings, the vibrations getting stronger as if they were getting closer. I looked at Phillip and followed his line of sight, far over the horizon, there was a litter of horses galloping over the stone paths that had been built a couple of years ago between each wall. Green overcoats could be distinguished over the horizon of the clear blue sky.

"Fuck, I was hoping to be calm for a couple more hours, come on Phillip"

I got on the back of my horse for the third time that day and directed it to the opposite side of where the other horses were riding. Being in the middle of an open field, there weren’t many houses where to take refuge, even though they had built a lot of houses between both walls. A little in the distance was a lush forest of tall trees, but not as tall as those of the Forest of Giant Trees, that enormous nature of fifty and eighty meters.

We stopped right at the entrance, hoping we had distanced ourselves from the litter of horses, but when I got off Phillip to rest my legs, I saw the path we had come from, and in the distance the same horses that he had seen on the stone path were approaching. There was no longer any doubt that they were the Jaegerists.

I turned my head towards the forest, from what I could see from the entrance the trees weren’t at a considerable distance from each other and the small dirt roads were too narrow. I didn’t know this forest at all and the mere fact of entering without knowing the terrain through the narrow corridors didn’t give me much confidence. But going around it wasn’t a good option either and I would end up being visualized in a matter of seconds. We were in a dead end, in a maze, and I had to play the few cards I had cleverly. I unbuttoned the coat which was already very badly placed on my shoulders and tied it on the strap.

"Phillip I need you to keep running, go as fast as you can and as far as your legs can reach" I pulled the saddle off his back, dropping it to the ground and tried to hide it inside a nearby bush with my foot. I brought his head closer to mine, resting my forehead on his muzzle and stroking his side one last time before saying goodbye.

"Go!" I smacked him on the back and Phillip ran down the narrow forest paths. As for me, I tried to dispel the footprints the horse had left behind before sending me to run down another path and go as far as I could into the heart of the forest.

I ran, ran and ran, my legs were on the edge, branches and thorns were digging into my skin making it burn every time other scratches were created in the same place. At this fact, I was resigned to the fact my clothes were bleeding and torn, as well as the matted hair and bruises on my body. My foot made contact with a tree root and I fell between the others, right in a hole, hitting my head and shoulder in the fall. I scraped my arm too, and my shirt was now full of dirt and dry leaves; surely my hair was the same. I heard heavy footsteps near me and I rolled into a ball in the hole, hiding behind the tree and seeking its protection.

"Find them, we can't let them escape"

Six people broke up and each one ran in a different direction in search of me. For an instant, my heart skipped a beat and my breath hitched when I saw one of them pass by the side of the tree where I was. At no point did he turn towards my location so I was able to breathe again. Minutes passed until I stopped hearing nearby footsteps, I got up leaning against the bark and kept walking inward, finding myself up a steep hill down.

I let gravity guide me and my feet unconsciously ran downward, avoiding rocks and bushes along the way. As I reached the low surface of the hill I tripped over my feet, losing my balance and colliding with a small tree that was right in the middle of where I was walking. As I stood up and turned it around, I came face to face with a Jaegerist, hooded, rifle in hand.

"Hey! You- "

My reflexes acted on instinct, my leg went straight to his ribs, hitting him squarely in the side of his stomach. I grabbed the rifle with both hands and hit it with the butt on both sides of the face and discarded it to the side when blood began to come out of his mouth. My hand went straight to his head, slamming it against the tree over and over again without stopping until his body fell unconscious on the grass. The interaction lasted no more than fifteen seconds, but it felt like I was about to explode. So many blows received and produced were leaving collateral effects on my body; at any moment I would pass out.

During the three years of training I have gotten used to physical confrontation and body training that lasted more than five hours, not to mention the months we spent annihilating each Titan within the walls. Those missions that lasted all day, if not more, were nothing compared to what my body was going through right now.

I sat next to the body, trying to catch my breath and rest my eyes. I rested my head on the tree and when I opened my eyes I saw a black figure in the middle of a grove a few meters away. He didn’t carry a rifle and seemed to have no intention of running to any specific place, he simply deigned to look around him, at the ground and towards the treetops. I froze to see Eren staring down at the body.

I shrank as much as I could to the left, hiding in the middle of the bushes, body to the ground, without taking my eyes off that figure that was now heading towards the unconscious body of one of his followers. I crawled back until I found a tree wide enough to hide.

"I know you are here"

It was the only thing I heard him say. My blood ran cold and a cold sweat began to form on my forehead. I was scared, very scared, I wasn’t going to deny it, but this wasn’t the time to sit and watch how they corner me little by little until they capture me. If this was the moment, I was going to give everything to get out of here. I stood up resolutely, taking a deep breath, and showed my face to my perpetrator.

"Do you want to pick up where we left off?"

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Love and Medicine ~ 15

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,365ish

Summary: The divorce papers are still an issue. (Grey’s Anatomy 2x05) [Finally! I know. Thank you for being patient with me!]

You grabbed your things and rushed out of the bar. Steve quickly did the same.

“Y/N,” Steve called.

“No. I don’t want to talk about this,” you replied, heading down the street. “Not now. Not with you.”

“Y/N…”

“You didn’t sign the divorce papers. Fine. I get it. End of discussion.”

“Y/N.”

“What?!?” You finally spun around to face him.

“Oh… I usually just say ‘Y/N’ and then you yell at me. I haven’t really thought past that point.” You scowled and shook your head. “I actually didn’t have anything planned.” You hit him with your bag. “Hey!” He rubbed his arm. “What is with that?” You did it a few more times. “Hey stop it. Ow.”

“Seriously?! Seriously?! You know what, just leave me alone.”

Steve reached for you. “Y/N—“

“Stop it! I said leave me alone! I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

You stormed off, heading to find your car so that you could go back home. You were pissed at Steve and, mostly, yourself. How could you let yourself believe that he would be so willing to sign those divorce papers to be with you?

~~~

All you interns had just finished rounds and Gamora had you all in the hallway for assignments. Before she could call them out, Peggy interrupted.

“Has anyone seen Dr. Rogers this morning?” She wondered.

“His name is on the OR board,” Gamora answered. “He should be here somewhere.”

“Thank you.” Peggy swiftly walked off.

“Quill, Lang, you’re in the pit today. Val, there’s a cardiac patient waiting up for you on 2. Barton, they need help in peds. Romanoff, keep an eye on the Longs. And L/N, you’re with Rogers. I don’t want any problems. Go.”

Everyone hurried away while you stayed put. “Rogers?” You whispered. “Uh, I guess, which one?”

“Steve.”

“Uh, I don’t think—“

“Hey, life is short. Times are hard. The road is long with many a winding turn,” Gamora sassed. “He actually asked for you. Take it up with him.” Gamora walked away.

“Shit.”

“Shit? Oh no,” Tony showed up beside you. “It’s only morning. What’s wrong already?”

“Steve didn’t sign the divorce papers.”

“Oh,” Tony grimaced.

“And now he’s asked for me to be on his service today.”

“Well, maybe he will sign them. He just has to think about it.”

“But I don’t want him to think about it. I want it… I want…”

“You want to be the obvious choice. I get it.”

“Yeah… how’s trying to get Pepper going?”

“I think I almost have her. I’ve been in on all her surgeries that I can be. Fury and Hill are even making it work.”

“Wow. I wish I had everyone on my side. But… I don’t and it doesn’t matter anymore. It has to be his choice, not mine, not me pleading or begging. It needs to be all him.”

“Wise,” Tony nodded. “I still think he’ll choose you.”

“We will see… we will see…”

~~~

“Y/N,” Steve greeted when you found him.

“Your wife is looking for you,” you responded.

“Oh, my gosh,” he sighed. “This is hard for me, Y/N.”

“Well, let me make it easy then. I’m not gonna be that woman. The one who breaks up a marriage or begs you to want me. You can sign the papers or you cannot. The choice is yours. Either way, when it comes to this relationship, I’m out.” Steve’s eyes widened and he went to speak but you quickly cut him off. “Nope. We aren’t getting into it anymore. Now, where’s this patient I’m supposed to be helping with.”

Steve pointed behind him. “Down there. But, Y/N—“

“No.” You walked away, Steve following.

“Y/N—“

“No.”

Finally letting it go, Steve sighed and followed you into the patient’s room. There was a young woman on the bed.

“Good morning,” Steve greeted.

“Morning Dr. Rogers,” she responded.

“This is Dr. L/N.”

“Hello,” you greeted. “Can you tell us about your pain?”

“I’ve had a twinge in my back for a little while,” the young woman explained. “I thought it would go away, but then last night my legs went numb. And this morning my back… the pain is just too much.”

“Miss Yang, we’re going to put you on a PCA pump,” Steve said, “give you some morphine which should help control the pain.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, but there is a bigger problem here. I’ve just take a look at your MRI—“

“Cris!” A man exclaimed, him and a woman rushing into the room and to the young woman’s bedside. “Why didn’t you call us before coming down here?”

“I’m sorry,” Cris said. She turned to look at you and Steve. “These are my parents.”

“What’s going on?”

“I was just about to explain that Cris’s MRI has shown that she has myxopapillary ependymoma,” Steve answered. “It’s a tumor in her spinal canal. But the good news is that we can operate. You have a 95% chance of fully if we get you into surgery as soon as possible. We can’t wait another moment. With a tumor this aggressive even waiting another day puts you at risk of permanent paralysis.”

“Father?” Cris questioned, looking to the man.

Mr. Yang shook his head. “No,” he said. “No surgery.”

“Mr. Yang, without surgery Cris will be paralyzed, probably within the next 24 hours,” Steve said.

“There will be no surgery today. We’re taking her home.”

“Cris needs the surgery,” you pressed.

“And she can have it at another time.”

“Look,” Steve tried again, “Mr. Yang—“

“We are taking our daughter home.”

Steve looked at Cris. “Cris, you are over 18. You don’t need your father’s consent.”

“I am Hmong, and my father is the elder,” Cris explained. “He says I go home, I go home.”

You could tell that Steve was holding back from a harsh reply. He gave Mr. Yang a nod before leaving the room, you following after him.

“Hmong? Let’s find out what that means,” Steve said.

“Do I continue to process her discharge?” You wondered.

“Yeah we have to. It’s insane, but we have to. It reminds me of this case I had one time and this woman came to the office and—“

“Look, do you need me for anything else work related?”

Steve looked around the hallway before pulling you into an on-call room with him.

“Look, I was married for 11 years,” Steve began. “Peggy is my family. That is 11 Thanksgivings, 11 birthdays and 11 Christmases. And in one day, I’m supposed to sign a piece of paper and end my family? A person doesn’t do that. Not without a little hesitation. I’m entitled to a little uncertainty here! At least a moment to understand the magnitude to what it means to cut somebody out of my life. I’m entitled to at least one moment of painful doubt. And a little understanding from you would be nice.”

“I am not fighting you on this,” you responded, opening the door. “Not anymore.”

You stormed away. Leaving both you and Steve in an confused state of anger.

~~~

Bruce was walking down the hall when he noticed Peggy.

“Dr. Rogers,” he greeted. “Still here, I see.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” she responded with a smile. “Have you seen the other Dr. Rogers by chance?”

“I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

“Thanks,” Peggy walked off and Natasha walked up.

“So, um, thanks for, uh, being there,” she said softly.

“No thanks needed,” Bruce responded.

“Okay.”

“So where are we?”

“Uh, the north-east corner of a medical center.” Bruce glared at her. “Oh, I’m, I’m getting back on my feet.”

“Fine.”

“That doesn’t mean that—“

“Natasha.”

“It’s my first day back, I’ve… I’ve got—“

“I’m not waiting forever.” The lights flickered, causing the two of them to glance up. “And, apparently, I’m not the only one.”

“Dr. Banner!” Nurse Vision jogged up. “There’s a problem with the elevator!”

“And?”

“Dr. Quill and Dr. Barton are stuck in it with your GSW patient that they were bringing up to the OR.”

“I should have fought harder for the pit,” Natasha grumbled.

~~~

“Lightning hit a sub station,” Maria Hill told Fury as they walked down the hall with Peggy. “We’re running on back up generators.” The medical center had lost its power. “One of them is down.”

Fury stopped, causing the others to do so as well. He rested his hands on his hips, annoyed.

“Breathe, Nick,” Peggy guided. “Breathe.”

“Don’t tell me to breathe, damn it!” He exclaimed. “The only direct means of transporting from the ER to the OR isn’t working. I’ll breathe if I wanna breathe.”

Fury huffed before making his way to the elevators. Gamora and Banner were there, watching some men pry open an elevator.

“How bad is it?” Fury asked.

“Two interns and a GSW to the chest,” Bruce explained.

Fury closed his eyes and put his hand to his forehead.

“Good air in,” Peggy coaxed, doing it herself. “Bad air out.”

Fury gave her a look before turning his attention back on the elevator. “Come on people! Get those doors open!”

The men working on the elevator doors, finally get the door partially open. Revealing that the elevator car was caught between floors. Peter and Clint were in there with their GSW patient.

“It’s jammed,” one of the workers said. “It won’t open anymore. This is as wide as it will go.”

“What did you two do?” Gamora asked the interns in the elevator, kneeling down to see them better.

“Nothing!” They both exclaimed.

“How’s the patient?” Bruce asked, getting down beside Gamora.

“He’s not looking so good,” Clint answered.

~~~

“Why do the lights keep flickering?” Cris asked.

“Something about a backup generator,” you answered, finishing up hooking the morphine up to her IV. “This pump will provide you with a morphine drip and should stop your pain.”

“I told you, I don’t need it. I’m going home.”

“You realize you’ll have to sign an AMA form stating that you’re leaving against medical advice.”

“Fine,” she nodded.

“I know this is new and confusing. I actually called a social worker, they’re willing to come down and talk to you—“

“Spare me the cultural divide, love. I grew up from the street down here. I play in a band. I get it. My father doesn’t. He says no, it’s no.”

“We’re talking about your ability to ever walk again.”

“That’s what you're talking about. I’m talking about my family. Have you ever even heard of the Hmong people?” You shook your head. “Our religion has got rules that are way old and way set in stone and way spiritual and you don’t mess with them.” She sighed. “You don’t anger the ancestors. Even if you pierce your tongue and play in a band.”

“What are the rules exactly?”

~~~

“Rogers!” Gamora shouted as she headed towards Steve. “You’re wife is looking for you.”

“I know,” he responded.

“Are you actively avoiding her?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

Gamora scoffed, shaking her head as she walked away. “You’ve got to deal with your problems before they all blow up in this medical center!”

“Steve,” you called, coming up beside him.

“Yes?” He replied, turning to look at you.

“You need to talk to Cris’s father. I’d do it myself but I guess having testicles is a requirement.”

Steve sighed. “Did you try social services?”

“They can’t help us. Mr. Yang believes that Cris is missing something that she needs for surgery.”

“Missing something? Missing what?”

“One of her souls. We don’t need someone from social services. We need a shaman.”

~~~

Peter and Clint were still stuck in the elevator with their patient, Tommy. The patient was getting delirious, trying to sit up and pull out the tubes and wires.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Peter asked, trying to stop him.

“I have to get home,” Tommy said.

“Tom, you’re in the hospital.”

He sat up. “Need to get home.” Clint and Peter quickly worked to restrain him. “No. Need to get home.”

Dr. Banner, hearing the commotion, peered through the small opening of the elevator doors. “What’s his blood pressure?” The attending asked.

“It’s not reading,” Clint informed. “He’s too agitated.”

“How’s his pulse?”

“Thready but it’s still there,” Peter answered.

“Do you have any instruments?”

“Uh, we have…” Peter quickly looked around. “Uh, just a code box and some gloves.”

“You didn’t bring an open chest tray?”

“No. We thought—“

“You don’t have time for excuses. Barton, blood pressure.”

“I’ve taken it 3 times,” Clint replied.

“And?”

“I can’t hear systolic over 50.” Clint looked down at Tommy, who is really pale and wheezing. “He’s gonna die.” Both interns look at each other, scared.

“Intubate him,” Bruce ordered. “I’ll be right back.” He went to push himself up off the floor.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To get an instrument tray. You guys are going to have to open up his chest.”

Clint and Peter looked back at each, minds going a mile a minute as Banner stood up. Gamora was behind him, having heard the whole thing.

“Are you sure about having them open his chest?” Gamora asked.

“No,” he answered before he hurried away.

~~~

Chief Fury and Dr. Hill were walking down the hall together.

“This is incogitable,” Fury said. “There’s not enough power to move those elevators?”

“They’re doing what they can to replace the back up generator now,” Hill responded. “Fire department is standing by.”

“All critical patients?”

“Moved to the south wing.”

“Incoming trauma?”

“Re-routed to the other medical centers.”

“That damn back-up generator should’ve been replaced last year.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So why didn’t it happen? Dr. Hill, you know everything. Tell me whose ass I need to kick.”

“That would be your ass, Chief. You didn’t authorize the replacement generator to save money for the new MRI machine.”

Not wanting to show weakness, Fury walked away. Grumbling under his breath as he went.

~~~

It didn’t take long for Bruce to return to the elevator with the things the interns would need.

“This isn’t gonna be too sterile,” Bruce said as he got down to hand them the tools, “but we can still try. Prep and drape the patient.”

“On it,” Clint responded, quickly getting to work.

Peter stood there for a moment, nervously staring at Tommy. Eventually, he snapped out of it, shakily helping.

“Okay…” Peter breathed out once they were finished. “We’re really going to do this.”

Clint just looked at him, both interns feeling completely unprepared, as he kept squeezing air into the patient. Bruce stuck his hand back through with a pair of scissors and a scalpel in it. He hands them towards Peter, looking at him expectedly.

“Take these,” the attending said. Peter just looked at them, remaining still. “Quill, take the scalpel.” Peter just continued to stand frozen.

“Come on, Peter!” Clint exclaimed. “Take the damn scalpel!”

Dr. Banner looked at Peter, completely confused as to way the intern wasn’t moving. Bruce shook his hand to signal for Peter to take the instruments. But the intern looked away.

“Ventilate!” Clint demanded, annoyed at Peter as he shoved what he was holding into Peter’s hands. “I got it.” Clint swiped the instruments from Dr. Banner. He shot Peter an angry look. “Okay,” Clint looked to Dr. Banner. “What do I do?”

“Make a large anterior, lateral, mid-auxiliary incision in the 5th intercostal space,” Bruce directed.

“How—how large?”

“As long as possible. You need to get 2 hands in there. It needs to be long and deep. Use the scissors if you have to.” Peter then made eye contact with Bruce. “Quill, hold a light up for Barton while you’re ventilating. You can do that, right?”

Peter nodded, grabbing a flashlight from Banner. Clint took a deep breath. He was about to cut when Bruce startled him.

“Barton, be sure you don’t cut into the lobe of the heart,” Bruce warned.

“Uh… how—“ Clint paused to clear his throat. “How can I be sure of that?”

“You just have to be sure.”

“We’ll, uh, we’re definitely not in Kansas anymore,” Clint tried to joke before cutting into Pete’s chest.

~~~

You walked up to Cris’ room. Steve was standing outside, watching the patient and her father interact.

“Is the shaman here yet?” You asked.

“He’s late,” Steve replied. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “We need to get her into surgery right now.”

Before you really thought about it, you put a comforting hand on Steve’s arm. “It will work out.”

Steve looked down at your hand and then at you. You two stared at each other, lost in the others eyes. It was too long before you realized that you two were too close for your liking and that your hand was still on his arm.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back.

“Y/N, please just—“

You shook your head. “I’ll see how far our shaman’s out.” And you hurried away.

~~~

Bruce hadn’t moved from his viewpoint of inside the elevator. It had been a while now since Clint had cut into Tommy, but Bruce couldn’t see exactly what was going on.

“Barton, how are you doing down there?” He asked.

“Bruce,” Maria Hill said before Clint could answer. “The fire department’s here. They can get the doors open.”

“No!” Bruce turned to look at the crowd behind him. “Nobody moves. Nobody works not he elevator. I have an open chest and a very nervous intern in there. Keep them back until I give the word.” Dr. Hill nodded, motioning everyone back, before Bruce focused back on inside the elevator. “Clint.”

“I didn’t cut the heart or the lungs,” Clint answered, clearly surprised. “Dr. Banner, I didn’t cut the heart or the lungs!”

“Good, good. Very good. Now check for injuries and do a pericardiotomy.”

“Uh, I’ll need some lap pads, forceps, Metzenbaums and Satinksy clamps then.”

Bruce gave a light smile and a nod. “Yes, you will.”

Clint was quickly given the supplies and got to work.

“Okay… I’ve removed the small clot from the pericardium,” Clint informed Dr. Banner. “No obvious cardiac injuries.”

“Any change in the vitals?” Bruce wondered.

“BP’s still too low to register on the monitor,” Peter spoke up.

“We need to cross clamp the aorta.”

Clint grabbed the clamp from a tray next to him and put it through the opening.

“Stick your hand in and bluntly dissect down until you feel two tube-like structures,” Bruce guided. “The esophagus will be more medical and anterior.”

Clint stuck both his bands in the open chest. “Ah, I feel one tube that is easily collapsible and the other I store muscular, spongy. I can also feel the spine, just underneath it.”

“Yes, you’re touching the aorta.”

The intern grinned. “I’m touching the aorta.”

“Wrap the index finger of your left hand around it and apply a Satinsky clamp with your right hand.”

Clint put in the clamp. “Got it… Wait, I… I think I can localize the bleeding. I… Well… I think it’s coming from the inferior vena cava.”

“Can you find the lesion?”

“Yeah. Yeah… I think I can feel, ah—it’s too far in to repair.”

“Can you tell me how big it is?”

“Small, maybe… like, smaller than a dime.”

“Okay then Barton, I want you to take your finger and plug the hole.”

Clint nodded and did as directed. “I think I can feel his heart… it’s… it’s starting to fill more. It’s beating a little stronger.”

“Excellent. Keep your finger there.”

“Okay. Now what?”

“That’s it.”

“Really?” Bruce turned to lay on his back in relief. “I just stand here with my finger plugging the hole?”

“Yes. Until we can get you out of that elevator and into the OR.” Bruce lifted his head and looked at Dr. Hill. “Tell the fire department to get them out of there.”

“On it,” Hill responded.

Bruce rolled back over and looked at Clint. “Barton.”

“Yes, sir?” The intern replied.

“You just flew solo.”

~~~

“Okay, Cris. We’re going to shut off the PCA pump now,” you began explaining, “which means you will be in a lot of pain for the duration of the—“

“The healing ritual,” Cris interrupted.

“Are you going to be okay with that?”

“Yeah. I can’t find my soul if I’m medicated. No pain, no gain, right?”

“Just, tell me this… you believe in it all too, right? You’re not just doing this for your father.”

“I know it sounds like a load of crap but… just watch the ritual. You’ll see.”

“See what?”

“The moment it happens.” You nodded as the shaman came in with Cris’ family. She looked at them. “I’m ready.”

To give them some room, you and Steve watched and waiting from outside the room.

“How long do you think it takes to retrieve a lost soul?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know,” you replied.

You and Steve carefully watched the healing ritual. And you did see what Cris was talking about. The moment it happened. You didn’t have to believe in it, but you did find a new found respect for her beliefs.

~~~

During Cris’ surgery, you and Steve worked in tandem. You felt weighed down the whole time though. Peggy stood watch in the gallery, smiling down at Steve. He looked up every so often, always looking at his wife. You noticed each time.

You had already finished scrubbing out of surgery by the time Steve started himself. You were outside the scrub room, pacing. You couldn’t do this, this whole pretending to not care thing. It was too hard. You burst into the scrub room, Steve immediately looking at you.

“I lied,” you said. “I’m not out of this relationship. I’m in. I’m so in, it’s humiliating because here I am, going to beg—“

“Y/N,” Steve interrupted quietly.

“Just shut up. You say Y/N and I yell, remember?”

“Yeah.” He leaned away the sink, listening.

“Okay, here it is,” you took a deep breath. “Your choice. It’s simple.” You started to get emotional. Damn it, you loved this man too much. “Her or me. And I’m sure she’s really great. But, Steve… I love you… in a really, really big, “pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window”… unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me. Choose me. Love me.”

Steve was staring at you lovingly. He moved to touch you, but you pulled away.

“I’ll be at Happy’s tonight,” you continued. “So if you decide to sign the papers, meet me there.”

Then you walked out. Steve, distressed now, sighed. What was he going to do?

~~~

“Do you think he’ll show?” You asked, doing a tequila shot.

“He’ll show,” Happy said.

The door opened. You turned to the door hopefully, but it’s just Tony walking in. He came over, took off his suit coat and sat next to you at the bar.

“I got your message,” Tony said, motioning for Happy to get him a drink. “You gave him a choice, brave.” He nodded. “But he’s not stupid, though love does make you stupid sometimes. He’ll chose you.” Happy handed him a drink. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure?” You questioned. “I… I literally told him that I loved him. I’ve… I’ve never done that before.”

“He loves you too. He’s just an idiot.”

~~~

Steve was sitting in a doctor’s lounge at the hospital, fidgeting with a pen. The divorce papers were in a manila envelope on the table in front of him. Gamora entered the room, dressed up.

“How’s your patient?” Gamora asked as she put some things away. “The one who got her soul back?”

“She’s gonna be fine,” Steve responded. He looked up at took Gamora in. “Look at you. I’ve never seen you dressed up.”

“Yeah, well, I’m suppose to have a date tonight.”

“Yeah? Anyone I know?”

“Like I’d tell you.” Gamora noticed the pen in Steve’s hand and the envelope on the table. “You haven’t signed those divorce papers yet, have you?”

Steve shook his head. “Gamora.” He looked at her, pleading. “Tell me what to do.”

“Not a chance.”

“Why does this have to be so hard?”

“It’s not hard. It’s painful, but it’s not hard. You know what to do already. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be in this much pain.”

“I guess you’re right.” Steve sighed. “I shouldn’t keep you. Good luck on your date.”

~~~

Natasha found Bruce in the stairwell, as he went to find an on-call room.

“Hey,” Natasha stopped him, “I… So…” She sighed. “Here’s where we are. I work too much. I’m competitive. I’m always right. And I snore.”

Bruce looked at her confused. “What?”

“I’m trying here.”

Still looking confused, Bruce took a moment to think it out. “Oh! Ohhhh…”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“Okay. We’re a couple. Whatever. DOn’t make a big deal about it.”

She began walking away. Natasha quickly paused though and turned around. She hurried to Bruce, kissed him, and hurried down the stairs.

~~~

Peggy found Steve in the doctor’s lounge.

“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking, well, everywhere for you.”

“Well, you found me,” Steve responded.

“So?” She glanced down at the envelope. “Are you going to sign those divorce papers or not?”

~~~

You were still waiting at the bar. Tony was there, but so was Pepper. So as he flirted with her, he kept an eye on you. Val, Clint, and Scott had joined you.

“He’s not going to come,” you sighed. “You all don’t think he’s coming.”

“He might come,” Val said.

“Yeah, you never know,” Scott agreed.

“He’s definitely coming,” Clint said. Val quickly kicked him from under the bar. “Ow. What? Do you want her doing tequila shots all night? I’ll be the one cleaning up the vomit. Besides, I feel good. I touched a heart today.”

The bell on the door went off again. They all turned to look, but it wasn’t Steve. You sighed and turned back to Happy.

“Pour me another one.”

next chapter >

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andromedasstarship · 3 years

Note

i could not choose between 77-80 so i overbearingly ask u to use each of them with spencer reid if u wish 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

80. “Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner.” + 77- “If you want to leave, we can leave.”

send a prompt + character from this list!

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings - stress?? mostly fluff

a/n - tysm kenna for requesting this i love you and i loved writing this. i also went overboard on this one bye! ive also never posted something this long in an ask reply before so if this looks weird BYE!

Your car had long gone cold, but you still couldn’t find the energy to pull yourself out yet. It was futile to try and wrestle your emotions into a tightly sealed box; as soon as you crossed the threshold of the town-home you shared with Spencer, you knew he’d be able to read you like a book. Damn genius profiler skills.

Taking a quick look at the time you knew you had to suck it up and go inside; you were pushing how ‘late’ you could be without him worrying something had happened on your commute home. With a deep sigh, you grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and exited the car; taking your sweet time with locking the car behind you and digging your house keys out of the bottom of your bag.

To put it simply, it had been a difficult year. It was the final year of your Phd. program and while- all things considered- you had had an amazing time, the past few months had been both physically and mentally draining. What was once your lifelong passion had suddenly started to feel like a chore; a chore you felt you weren’t even good at anymore. Almost every day was spent either in your own classes or teaching undergrads. Almost every night was spent on the final edits of your thesis or grading work from your students. The few moments of freedom you found were spent doing the boring parts of adult life: housekeeping, getting your car fixed, calling elderly family members, etc.

Neither of you had formerly addressed it, but you knew it was taking a toll on your relationship. Spencer being busy was a constant, but it was normally balanced out by your typical 9-5 schedule. But recently, even on the nights he was home you’d be too wrapped up in your own work to even sit down and eat dinner with him. By the time you crawled into bed he’d be long asleep and in the mornings you’d been leaving for work earlier and earlier in order to get research time in at the university library. It felt like the two of you hadn’t even been awake in the same room for weeks, let alone do anything relationship-y.

Tonight was supposed to change that. Kind of. His team was having a fancy dinner to celebrate some major milestone that you couldn’t remember. It’d been on the books for months, but kept getting pushed back by surprise cases. It felt like everyone held their breath this week, waiting for a case to pop up, but instead everyone was left pleasantly surprised when no such thing happened. It was going to be a great night: classic Rossi pasta dish, all partners and kids invited. Even though the two of you wouldn’t be alone, it’d still be a perfectly good excuse to get out, put on some nice outfits and have a fun evening with friends.

Spencer had been particularly excited. The past week, you felt as if it was the only thing he ever talked about. Not that the two of you were having extensive conversations. He kept talking about how great it would be to get out of the house and how much he was looking forward to having a totally work free evening. His excitement warmed your heart.

Which is why you were taking so long to find your keys. Today had been one of the hardest day you’d experienced in a long time. The thesis meeting you had with your advisor- that you’d been staying up late every night editing for- had gone horribly; it was as if everything you prepared was wrong. Almost every student in the class you taught scored poorly on the latest assessment- on a unit you considered yourself an expert on-, something you viewed as a failure of your ability to convey the info. And to top it all off, even though you felt as if you’d spent hours upon hours working yourself to the bone the past week- in order to clear space for tonight-, you still felt as if you had piles of work to catch up on.

You knew the stress and tension of the day would read clear on your body as soon as Spencer got a look at you. And with how excited he’d been, you absolutely didn’t want to ruin the dinner. You’d hate for him to feel as if you were being selfish or that you couldn’t even prioritize him in your schedule.

You took one last deep breath, before going to put the key into the doorknob. Just as you touched the handle, the door swung open from the other side.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, one hand clutching your chest as you nearly jumped out of your skin. In front of you was Spencer, smiling down at you with that irresistible grin of his.

“Did I scare you? Sorry. I thought I heard you car pull up earlier and when you didn’t come in I thought maybe something was wrong so I wanted to come check-”

You quickly cut him off- even though you did find his worrying a bit endearing- by pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“A good song came on just as I pulled in, couldn’t just get out.” You lied, adding a small laugh for effect. It was an on brand situation for you, something certainly believable. If Spencer had any doubts, he didn’t question you, simply moved out of the doorframe so you could step in.

Inside the house, you set your bag down by the front door like you always did. While kicking your shoes off, you pulled your jacket off, smiling when Spencer had his hands already open to hang it on the rack. You knew he had that ridiculous memory- and you had a pretty set routine-, but it still made your heart swell every time he anticipated your next move and went the extra mile to be helpful.

“So, how was your day?" Spencer asked, as the two of you made your way to the kitchen area. “What’d Professor Addams have to say in your meeting?”

You clenched at the handle of the fridge, grinding your teeth before pulling the door open. When you turned to look at Spencer, you saw he made himself comfortable on one of the countertop stools.

“Went well. They gave me some uh, um, some comprehensive revisions.” You said flatly, turning back to face the fridge; missing the skeptical look Spencer was throwing you.

“That’s good?” He said slowly, before adding, “well how was class? You just wrapped up the last unit didn’t you?” You both knew he knew the answer, but was just attempting to further the conversation. Had it been any other day you would’ve found it endearing, but today just wasn’t that day.

You slammed the fridge door shut, just hard enough to be cause for concern. “I thought tonight was absolutely no shop talk. Huh? Why don’t we just start that rule now.” You said, a slight edge to your voice. It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault.

“Are you okay-”

“Yes! I just don’t-”

“If there’s something wrong, you know you can tell-”

“There’s nothing wrong-”

“Do you need to stay-”

“Stop!” You exclaimed, bringing an end to the constant cutting each other off. “Everything is fine. Okay?” You said, unable to maintain eye contact.

Spencer slowly nodded, though you could tell he didn’t believe an ounce of what you had just said. Luckily for you, he seemed to let it go, falling back in his seat.

“I’m gonna go shower and get ready and then we can leave, alright?” You asked rhetorically. When he just nodded again, you very quickly walked up to him and pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

---

The ride to Rossi’s was silent, something that normally wouldn’t have bothered either of you had it not been for the borderline argument you had in the kitchen. As you pulled up a few cars down from the house, you caught Spencer staring at you from the passenger seat, a slightly concerned look on his face.

“Stop doing that.” You huffed out, but there was no real bite in your voice.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked gently, reaching out to push a piece of your hair away from your face. God that was sweet.

You quickly nodded and threw a very forced smile his way, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m fine. I promise, come on.” You said, killing the engine and pushing open your car door.

Before you could fully open the door, Spencer’s arm shot out across your body and pulled the door back shut with a bang.

“Spencer!” You yelped, startled by his sudden movement. You turned and gave him a bewildered look.

“You always look over my head when you lie.” Spencer stated.

“Oh I do not-” You started, but letting the sentence fall flat as soon as you realized you currently were looking over his head.

“Your favorite song came on the radio, twice, on the drive here and you didn’t react at all either times.” He said. When you still didn’t say anything he continued. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me.”

The look he was giving you was making you feel all sorts of guilty. Of course he cared, that’s why you loved him so much. You just didn’t want to ruin something that’d been in the works for so long, all because you had a bad day.

“Spencer,” you started, giving him a very pointed look and making sure to hold eye contact, “I’m fine. Can we just go in?”

Spencer shook his head, externally searching your face for more clues while also internally thinking back to any clues from your kitchen fight. “We aren’t going anywhere, until you talk to me.” He urged.

It probably wasn’t the best move on his part, seeing as you both were incredibly stubborn. The two of you were unrelenting, both staring blankly at the other; hoping the other one would break first. After nearly 5 minutes of silence, it became very clear that neither of you were standing down anytime soon.

Spencer reached his hand out again, gently cupping your cheek; internally you cursed your body’s natural reaction to lean into his touch. “What’s going on?” He asked, voice much softer than earlier.

You were internally screaming over how caring he was. Damn him! You cursed yourself for not being able to just play the role of perfect partner for one night.

“I’m exhausted.” You said, voice quiet. “My meeting went horrible day. I absolutely failed at teaching my students the last unit. I’ve been bringing so much work back to the house I haven’t even been able to give you a second of attention. And now we have this dinner that you’ve been looking forward to for months and I don’t want to ruin-”

This time, it was Spencer that quickly cut off your rambles with a kiss.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, as if it were the most simple thing ever

You gave him a shocked look. “Spencer, you’ve been talking about this dinner for weeks. I, I can’t ask you to put this off, you and the team rarely get time to-”

“If you want to leave, we can leave.” He said. His voice was so sincere it made the whole thing that much more difficult. He was too good.

“Spencer, no.” You said, putting special emphasis on the ‘no’. “We haven’t even walked in the door, there’s nothing to leave yet. I’m not going to ruin the dinner we’ve all been planning on for months. I’ll be fine for a couple hours.”

He didn’t answer, instead pulled his phone out and quickly started to type out a text.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Rossi, I’m gonna tell him you aren’t feeling well and we can’t come anymore.”

“We’re outside his house! It’s not a big deal-!

“Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner!” Spencer cut you off, giving you a very pointed look. You weren’t sure your heart could take the swelling much longer.

“Spencer, you’ve been planning-”

“I don’t want to hear it-”

“You’ve wanted to get out of the house for so long!” You stressed, giving him a ‘duh’ look.

“We can go do something else!” He replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Just us, no pressure to be ‘on’ in front of anyone else.” That did sound good- No!

“I’m not gonna be the one who keeps their boyfriend away from his friends-”

“I see them every day. Every day. One dinner means nothing.” Spencer said confidently, clasping your hand tightly between his.

You contemplated for what seemed like hours; though it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.” Spencer said, giving you a very mock serious look; you couldn’t help but laugh at that. “There you are.” He said, smiling to match yours.

You turned the car on, clicking your seatbelt back into place. “So, where to pretty boy?” You asked.

“Well, I heard of this new ice cream place that just opened up. Their ‘claim to fame’ is they make over 50 flavors in store every single day. Did you know on average it takes nearly three hours from start to finish to make a single batch of ice cream? Or that when ice cream-”

You shook your head in amusement, chancing a couple glances in his direction as you were driving. You loved his excited ramblings and animated hand motions as he further explained the history of ice cream; as well as all the random facts about the place he was directing you to. As you got closer to your new destination, all you could think about was how lucky you were to, to be loved by someone who always knew just what to say.

---

permanent tags - @sunflowersandotherthings

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #'stori writes #kenna #'stori answers #spencer reid/you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid/gn!reader

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wavesmp3 · 3 years

Text

[ksw] clouds

sunwoo x reader

wc. 5k warnings: medical inaccuracies, death, illness, hospitals, overall just a pretty heavy piece genre can only be described as an absolute mess inspired mainly by san junipero but also slightly by charlie kaufman and wong kar wai

a/n: this is supposed to be told nonlinearly but like the creation of it was very messy so i have no clue if it actually worked, so good luck trying to make this piece make sense of this :)

act iii. scene iii.

Sunwoo sits and watches the sun shift from pink and blue to an impossible shade of green. And it’s then he knows that without a doubt Clara has ruined the color green for him. Because instead of marveling at the color of the sky, Sunwoo is reminded of the doors in her apartment building.

“Thought I might find you here.” The voice of a stranger who Sunwoo loved once upon a time says behind him. He tries like hell not to turn around. Not to lean back towards the voice and wait for your hand on his shoulder or your shin knocking familiarly against his back. He focuses on the waves crashing below instead. The roar of the water beneath him is deafening, but only if you let it be. He does, and he almost forgets that you’re behind him.

“Where’d you go?” You ask, now sitting next to him, tugging at the long grass.

“I’m right here.”

“And what about in there?” You bring a finger up and poke at the side of his forehead.

He turns to you, facing you in full. He takes in your features like it’s the first time all over again. And, oh, he wishes he knew before how many firsts you already had together. This is just another. This is just the first time he’s seen you in the past six months and remembered the thousands of times he’s seen your face before.

He studied your cheeks. The one he now recalls running the back of his palm over after you left for the Cloud.

He memorizes, for the millionth time, your eyes. He used to swear they were darker than they are, but then he saw them in the sun. He was dying back then; then he saw your eyes and you saved him. Just like that.

Mr. Choi was right of course. As he always must be. You and him are like an old married couple. Not like. You are. Almost were.

“I had lunch with Mr. Choi today.” He tells you.

You squint at him. “I know. It’s Thursday.” You pull out a piece of the grass. “What’d he make?”

“Ramen.”

“Was it good?”

“It was okay.”

“Too spicy?”

Suwnoo answers with a sigh, looking away from you and back towards the water. The deafening waves crash against the cliffside. “I know you looked at your file.” He finally says. You stop pulling at the grass. You still. “Mr. Choi told me.”

After he says it, there’s a silence that isn’t actually silent at all. The waves rage below his feet. The seagulls are there too, beneath, above, somewhere, everywhere. And then, of course, there’s you and Sunwoo, trying to be silent over the static in your heads and the machines you’re hooked up to in a universe far far away.

“Did he tell you about my file?”

He looks at you again. “No.”

“Oh.” You look away, brows furrowed, lick your lips, and then turn back to him. “So why are you upset?”

“After he told me, I went and I…”

“You didn’t.”

“I looked at mine.”

There’s another silence, except that this time it really is quiet. Sunwoo read once whilst in a rabbit hole of medical research that true silence only happens in a vacuum, where there is no medium for sound waves to travel through. This must be that. This place, the files, Mr. Choi and Mr. Chan, Clara and her apartment building full of green doors--it’s a vacuum. And they stick people in it then call it the Cloud. They call it extra time. But it isn’t. It’s nothing and he’s stuck in the middle of it. So Sunwo stares at you, straight through the vacuum of time and space you’re both lost in, waits for you to say something, and then waits for himself to hear it.

“You looked?” You finally say, voice folding in on itself.

“Yes.” Sunwoo’s own voice is barely there. You must be reading his lips which you’ve always been good at anyways.

“So you know now?”

“I always knew, and now, I remember.”

act i. scene iv.

There’s been an accident.

That’s what they say when the sun falls out of the sky and the world starts spinning in the wrong direction. It’s how they show up at Sunwoo’s door painted in shades of blue and red, with authority in their arms and hands on their hips. How they prepare him for the looming moment where they rip past his skin, blood, bone to shoot a gun straight at his heart. I’m so sorry for your loss, they say leaving him with a bullet lodged somewhere between his left and right atrium.

And those are the four words that play over and over and over in Sunwoo’s head as he gets to the hospital. Those are the words that crawl inside his open chest and turn him blue and black with infection. There’s been an accident, he remembers, staring at the extraordinary measures taken to keep your heart beating and lungs beating. This is it. Except that the accident isn’t that you’re dying, but that you’re dying. It’s always supposed to have been him. He’s supposed to be the one stuffed with tubes and hooked up to monitors, the one whose life is hanging on by a thread, and you’re supposed to be the one that saves him. It all feels like a play that’s gone horribly wrong because everyone switched parts after intermission without telling him. At what point did you steal the role of dying protagonist from him?

We did everything we could, a stranger in a white coat says. Except that it’s not some stranger, it’s your colleague and co-worker because this is the hospital you work at and the hospital Sunwoo met you in. There was too much damage to the brain, they explain as the image of their tear-stricken face goes from your friend during intern year to the doctor who operated on you as your brain went dead.

“We have two options, right?” Sunwoo is far too familiar with surgery and all this. He knows from his hospital days what’s supposed to happen next. But apparently, things have changed since then.

“Actually, there’s a third option.”

Sunwoo doesn’t waste a second. He jumps out of the chair stained red from his bleeding heart and asks: “What is it?”

“We can upload them.”

act iii. scene ii.

In fifty days of living in the cloud, Sunwoo has learned all about the people that he shares a building with. There’s Mr. Chan who lives behind a vomit green on the same floor as him and who hasn’t left his room since last January. There’s also Mr. Choi, who lives behind the emerald door and invites Suwoo over for lunch every Thursday. Clara lives upstairs, where the walls are painted in various shades of green--olive, seaweed, moss, hunter, shamrock, sage, and others that Sunwoo tries not to think too deeply about. He’s only met Clara once in the past fifty days and has no particular wish to see her again. He hadn’t expected her to be a kid. Cancer, you told him after their introduction in the lobby, poor girl was only seven. As said before, Sunwoo tries not to think about it.

And then of course there’s you behind the forest green door who has been slowly showing him all the good places. There’s the beach where you spent the day making seashell necklaces. The cafe which serves its tea too sweet for him, but sweet enough to be considered your favorite. Sunwoo just gets the chocolate bread. You took him downtown. To a club. The tallest building. And to midtown where the amusement park is.

But his favorite place you’ve taken him so far is the cliffside above the beach, where the waves crash against the rocks in a way that can only be described as violent. That day you and him laid in the grass and stared at the clouds with your heads dangling just over the edge and water spraying the backs of your necks. That day you turned to him and told him you’re sorry. For what, he asked. I’m so sorry you’re sick, you said, but it’s nice to have you around here. I think in a sense, we’ve both been waiting for this. Then, you smiled and stole all of the blood from his body. So yeah, that day, that place--it’s his favorite.

Today, you take him on a hike up a mountain.

“Do you believe in an afterlife?” You ask him after having spent thirty minutes silently staring at the view from the best peak.

“One after this?”

“Yeah. I guess. Although, I’m not so convinced this counts.”

“I don’t know.” Sunwoo shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Do you think we’d be able to be with our loved ones in it?”

His chest lurches. “If there is one, yes.”

“Do you think it’ll be different than this?”

Sunwoo turns to you finally. “Why are you asking about this?”

You shake your head. “Nevermind. It’s a stupid question.”

He turns back towards the view. From here, he can make out Clara’s building. He thinks about her, about Mr. Choi and Mr. Chan, who he recently found out were once married but who haven’t spoken since Mr. Chan read his file in January, and he thinks about you and about him.

“I think,” Sunwoo says, loud enough so that you can hear after wandering a little bit away from him, “that whatever the afterlife is, if it does exist, it’ll be worth it.”

You turn to him, but don’t make any move to come near him again. “And if it doesn’t exist?”

“Then life will have been worth it.”

The corner of your lip lifts. “I like that.”

Sunwoo only nods at the sentiment, and after a long while, he builds enough courage to ask, “you’ve been here a really long time, haven’t you?”

“Time doesn't work as linearly in the cloud as it does in the real world. Sometimes it feels like I got here and then you arrived the very next day.” You turn back towards the view and exhale heavily.

“But yes. I’ve been here for an eternity.”

act ii. scene i.

Before he actually sees you, Sunwoo feels you. Not you, in particular, but something in the distance, a presence in the corner of the room and a pair of eyes watching him from somewhere far away.

The scariest part is how much the feeling doesn’t actually scare him.

Two days after that, he starts to see you in the flesh. He tells himself that his mind is playing tricks on him, that the person he saw in the produce aisle wasn’t actually you at all and was just a stranger with the same hair.

He doesn’t go straight home from the store that day. Instead, he stops by the hospital and checks in on you, but even that doesn’t do anything about the fact that he sees a shadow of you behind the bed.

The day after that, you speak to him. Standing in the middle of his kitchen in broad daylight, you speak, you say hello, and the first thing Sunwoo thinks is that he’s dead.

You aren’t, you reply. You’re a zombie, he reasons, here for my brain. I’m not. A ghost. No. Are you, here Sunwoo falters, fear flooding out of his body to make room for the briefest blotch of hope that’s crushed almost immediately by you saying: I’m not alive, Sunwoo. You saw me in the hospital yesterday.

“So then,” he swallows, “what are you?”

I’m here. You look at him, stare at his face and without a sliver of doubt say, I’m here for you.

Sunwoo knows it’s impossible. You can’t be here. You can’t. And yet, you are.

Three years ago Sunwoo was told he had three months left to live, and he still remembers how impossibly you saved him from the brink of death. He remembers how impossible things happen all the time, and how impossibly possible it is that this is one of them. He steps towards you, touches your face, and feels the real, impossible thing against his hand.

“You’re here.”

On the fifth day of your haunting, Sunwoo finally has the sense to ask why.

Why what?

“Why are you here?”

I’m here for you.

“Stop saying that.”

But I am, you tell him. You asked, and that’s the answer. I’m a doctor, Sunwoo. I’m here for you.

Then, finally, he hears what you’ve been saying for the past five days. You’re here for him.

And the thing about doctors is that they’re there for you when you need them.

“I’m sick.”

Yes, you answer quietly, although it wasn’t a question.

“Again.”

I’m so sorry.

“You’re a hallucination, aren’t you?” Sunwoo’s shocked by how sad that makes him, how disappointing it is. “I’ve been hallucinating.”

Find me in the Cloud, Sunwoo. There’s something I want to say.

You’re gone by the time he gets to the hospital.

act iii. scene i.

Sunwoo stares at the hall of green doors, eyes darting from door to door in an attempt to stare down the shades until they confess which one of them is tea green.

“Clara, the landlord, likes colors.” A voice says from behind him. “Every couple of months she repaints all of the doors in different shades of the same one. Before the green, it was yellow.”

Sunwoo turns around to face you. When your eyes find him, they go blank for the smallest of moments. You give him a look that goes right through him, turning him inside out like you’ve seen the underside of his skin. It irks him.

“I’m Sunwoo. I’m new.”

You gulp. “You’re here.” He doesn’t know what to make of the statement. Do all people in the cloud act like this? “Why?”

Sunwoo nods, maybe you’re not so weird as much as you just have a weird way of posing questions. “I was told I’m sick.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, frowning like you actually might feel back for him.

“Have you been here a while then?” You nod. “Can I ask how long?” You shake your head. Sunwoo doesn’t think too much about it. Instead, he returns your earlier question “Why are you here?”

“Brain dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

You ignore it and point to a door down the hall. “I’m forest green. You?”

“Tea green. But I can’t find-”

You tap the door in front of him. “This one, genius.”

“Oh.” He laughs awkwardly. “Thanks.”

Your mouth parts as if to say something, and your face goes blank again. He feels his skin turning itself inside out because of it. “Have you read your file yet?”

He shakes his head. “I just got here.”

You inhale, softening, and mutter an ‘okay’. You continue down the hall towards your door. Sunwoo is stuck in place. “I can show you around here, if you like. Take you to all the cool places.”

Sunwoo takes you up on it.

A forest green door slams shut down the hallway.

act i. scene ii.

“Thank you for taking me out of the hospital.” Sunwoo says, exhaling. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a park like this.”

And it’s true, he really can’t. He’s been sick for so long now, and has been through a multitude of treatment plans and too many surgeries. When you’re sick and have 9 surgeons turn you down after asking them to save your life, you forget the joy of being outside and feeling the sun on your skin. You were the first doctor to agree to the surgery. You’re the only doctor to have ever treated Sunwoo like he wasn’t dying, like he was actually going to live.

“You don’t have to thank me. This is good for me too.” You say, head resting against the park bench and eyes closed.

Sunwoo inhales, taking in the park with all his senses. A visceral sort of thing you learn to do as often as possible when you’ve been as close to death as frequently as he has. He feels the wood beneath his body and the grass beneath his feet. He feels the light on his skin and the wind pushing against his arms and nose. He listens to the kids screaming at the playground at the bottom of the hill and to the dogs barking within the dog park beside it. He takes all this in, relishes in it for the last time as a dying person.

You sigh. “One more surgery.”

“And then I’ll be done with this sickness.”

You smile. He pretends not to see. “And then you’ll be done.”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“Don’t do that.”

“No. Seriously.”

You smile again, this time at him. Sunwoo doesn’t have to pretend not to see. “I haven’t finished saving it yet.”

He leans back against the bench and closes his eyes. “But you will.”

You tap on your coffee cup. “Honestly though, you did more work than me.” Sunwoo frowns while you take a sip. “The other nine doctors you called are good doctors, and they made the same judgement call I would have made for any other patient. No sane doctor would have agreed to treat you. But you were the reason I said yes. You had such faith that you were going to live and so much faith that I could do it that I believed you. I might be the one doing the technical saving, but you, Sunwoo, you’re the one who convinced me to do it. You saved yourself.”

He stares at you. The light hits your eyes like it’s finding a way to break through them. In truth, before Sunwoo got sick, he didn’t think he was scared of death, but he is. He’s terrified of it. Sunwoo realized it two weeks after his diagnosis and the day after he was wrongly told he only had three more months left to live. But now, for the first time since he was diagnosed, he doesn't feel so afraid of it. Despite how far he’s come and how close he is to beating this fucking illness, while staring at the light woven through your eyes, Sunwoo thinks he could live with himself if he dropped dead tonight.

That thought alone, is almost as terrifying as death used to be.

act iii. scene v.

“I saw your ghost, you know.” It’s the first thing Sunwoo has said to you in over two weeks. “It wasn’t actually you though, was it?” You don’t even bother looking up from your cup of tea. Through the silence, Sunwoo orders a coffee.

“I didn’t know that.” The coffee turns lukewarm. “It wasn’t me.” You push an uneaten half of chocolate bread towards him. “It’s in your brain this time. Symptoms can include hallucinations.”

“Think you can still save me?” You can’t. If you know that much, you know he’s out of medical miracles, and that this time, he really won’t survive it. But it’s a joke. And you laugh at it.

“Definitely not. I never really liked neurosurgery.”

And all at once, he’s painfully aware of your friend somewhere in the real world that does like it but watched anyways as your brain died before her, split wide open.

“Anyways, how do you know all of this?” But what Sunwoo really wants to say is brains are killer. Literally. Figuratively.

“I’ve known since we...“ you hesitate, mouth stuck halfway through a word he can’t place. “After last time, I read your chart and looked at your scans.” Sunwoo nods. He expected as much. He doesn’t ask how you got them. “I’m sorry you're sick again.” You say to him quietly. “I’m sorry you’re dying.”

“I’m sorry you’re dead.” As soon as the words have left his mouth, he regrets them. Because you aren’t. And he knows you too well to think you’d look past the technicality.

You scoff, shake your head slightly, and with a spiteful smile say, “Can I say it?”

Sunwoo only sighs. “Let’s start over instead.”

You nod. He pushes the chocolate bread back.

act iii. scene iv.

Mr. Choi was the one to recommend that Sunwoo give you and himself space. It’s been a month since you and him last spoke, since that moment hovering above the waves after he read his file and after he found out you read yours. He misses you, and has been for so long now. Mr. Choi was wrong. Sunwoo’s standing outside your forest green door to prove it.

You open the door before he can knock. There’s no shock in your voice when you say his name, like you’ve been waiting for this day, expecting it.

He looks behind you, at your apartment in Clara’s building that looks just like your apartment in the real world. The same one he cleaned out after you died, still filled with things he gave to your family or donated or took back to his place. He wants to crumble just looking at it again. “Can I come in?”

“It’s only been a month.”

And he knows what you mean by it. Three months is the recommended time off after reading one’s file. To reacclimate, they say, to process. But the insinuation that Sunwoo was supposed to go three months without seeing you makes him feel sick. The insinuation that after a year of being without you in the real world he was supposed to be without you here too, enrages him. Then he remembers how long you’ve been here, and how long you’ve been doing this and feels slightly murderous.

All he says is: “It’s been a lot longer than that for you.”

Your lip twitches. You lock and unlock the open forest green door five times before saying, “Are you sure?”

He nods. You let him in.

Sunwoo used to imagine what it would be like to meet you again in the Cloud one day. He imagined tears and hugs and kisses. He imagined i love you’s and i hate you’s and i miss you. He imagined the scenario more times than can possibly be considered healthy. But he imagined something. He was waiting for the day. Waiting for this day. But this moment, sitting at your round wood table while you boil water for tea, is nothing like the million different ways he imagined seeing you again.

And as you set down two mismatched mugs and take the seat across from him, he doesn’t even try to create one of them. “How long has it been since you read your file?”

You watch the steam rise from your tea for a long moment, then stand, grab the sugar and pour a spoonful of it into your tea. You take another spoonful and look at him expectantly. “Want some?” He nods, and you pour the sugar into his. You stir the tea then taste, then cringe, then add more sugar and then ask if he wants it. He refuses. You stir again. Sunwoo watches the whirlpool and waits the eternity it takes you to say: “I read it on my first day.”

You put the sugar away, satisfied with the tea’s sweetness while Sunwoo marvels at how long you’ve known and how silently you’ve been carrying the knowledge of you and him since he came. And that knowledge is what makes him finally remember one of the reasons he came. “Is there something you want to tell me?” You look up at him when he asks it, exhaling like you’ve been wanting to bring it up for so long now, which Sunwoo guesses isn’t as much of a simile as he thinks it is.

“Yes, actually. I…” you hesitate, flicking the mug as if the right words will come hopping out of the tea. Sunwoo watches for it. “I’ve just been here for a long time now, Sunwoo.”

“Two years isn’t that long.”

“Time doesn’t work the same here as it does down there.” You tell him tiredly. “It’s been decades.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“In the beginning, I didn’t mind the waiting. I knew you were on your way, but I just,” you hesitate, “I didn’t think it’d take so long for you to come back to me.”

Sunwoo covers your hand with his. “I’m sorry.” You twist your palm into it, squeeze, then pull your hand away. Sunwoo swallows. “I came as fast as I could.”

“I know. I waited.”

“Do you regret it?” Sunwoo’s terrified of what the answer might be.

You don’t give it. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then?”

“I’ve been here for so long, and,” your head drops, voice breaking under the weight it carries, “it’s been so lonely.”

“But I’m here now.” Sunwoo says, leaning forward against the table. “You aren’t alone anymore.”

“I know you’re here. I know, and I thought that would fix it, but it didn’t. Seeing you in the hall that day was so bittersweet, because you were here but that also meant you were somewhere else dying. Because you were here and I still felt lonely.” You stop, chugg the remaining bits of your tea, and then wipe your cheeks. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

“No.” But it’s a lie. He does get it. He knows all about loneliness and the way it creeps inside, so slyly. The way it starts small and then grows, feeding on negligence, until it's too big for your body. He knows how it sits inside you, for all its enormity, and spills into everything. He knows how it lingers. How it has nothing to do with people or lack of them and everything to do with grief. Sunwoo knows all about loneliness. The day he read his file he felt a dam of it burst open within him.

“I’m saying that in the real world I saved you, and now it’s your turn to save me.” You gulp. “I’m saying that I want you to unplug me.”

It takes a moment for Sunwoo to even register what you’ve said, but when he does remember the life support that’s keeping your body alive somewhere in a universe far away, he doesn’t say anything. He just stands and walks out of your apartment.

act i. scene iii.

“Doctor, please present.” The attending announces, stepping into Sunwoo’s room for rounds.

“Mr. Kim,” a resident starts, flipping open his chart, “was diagnosed 14 months ago and has gone through several different treatment plans. When he came to us, the illness had spread and was deemed inoperable and untreatable by several other physicians. Our treatment plan was aggressive and grueling but ultimately, effective. Sunwoo is 20 days post op from his third and final surgery. The surgery went extremely well with no complications and his vitals were excellent. He has been a model patient all throughout recovery, and according to our latest scans, he is also now illness free…”

Sunwoo doesn’t even bother listening to the rest.

“So, now that I’m no longer a patient, if I ask you out on a date, will you actually say yes?”

“Well,” you say, signing his discharge papers, “only one way to know.”

“What is it?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Ask me again.”

He does.

You say yes.

act iii. scene v. take ii.

“I saw your ghost.” The first thing Sunwoo says after the last failed attempt.

You look up from your tea. “It wasn’t me.”

“I know.” Sunwoo orders another coffee. “But the hallucination was how I knew I was sick again. It made me feel like you were trying to warn me, like you were up here somewhere caring from a distance. Right after I pieced it all together you told me to find you here and that there was something you wanted to say.” The coffee turns lukewarm again. Sunwoo can’t bring himself to say it. You sigh and push the same piece of chocolate bread back towards him. This time, he takes a bite from it. And with a mouthful of chocolate bread, he cries, “I just got you back, and now you want to leave all over again.”

You frown. “I didn’t want to leave the first time, and it’s different now.”

“How?”

“I want to go. Isn’t that worth something?”

“And what about what I want?”

“Oh, Sunwoo,” you say, “I’m sorry you’re sick. The hallucination was you and your head, but for what it’s worth, I have been up here caring from a distance. I still…” you don’t need to say the words. He knows. He never had to doubt it. “I never stopped.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked of me.” Sunwoo tells you. He made the decision last week but today, right now, with your confession still falling through the air, is the first time he’s had the stomach to swallow it. “And I’ll do it. I will. I just need some time. You’ve had so long and in comparison I’ve had nothing.”

“Okay.” You say simply.

“How long can you give me?”

You smile. “You know I’d give you an eternity if you asked for it.”

“I’m scared.” Sunwoo confesses then. “I know it’s what you want, but selfishly, I don’t want to let you again. I don’t know if I’m a big enough person to do it.”

“I do.” You say to him, leaning forward against the table and looking straight through him. “I know because I was your doctor. I have cut inside your body, seen all your organs, and during surgery two, I held your heart in my hands. I felt it beating. So I know exactly how big it is, and I know it’s big enough for this”

Sunwoo feels the heart you worked so hard to repair bursting inside of him.

“God. Why’d you have to read your file so soon?”

You laugh. “I missed you. I couldn’t help it.”

And just like that, you’ve stolen the entire concept of fear from him.

“I’m ready.”

“What?”

He looks at you and feels the loneliness slither away.

“Ask me again.”

#sunwoo x reader #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo fanfic #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo angst #mine #*clouds

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