hi grecy! i can't stop thinking about work rn, it's so hard to separate and not think about all day (especially when i'm trying to sleep soon) so i've come to bug you
i have a hc/fic idea: spencer learning to love physical affection bc reader/s.o.'s main love language is physical touch. like maybe at first he's hesitant and not the one initiating the touching, deciding that it's best if she seeks him out because he has no clue how to. but eventually he's so touchy. like she can't pass by him without spencer grabbing her by the waist for a spinning kiss or holding hands while walking or thighs touching on the couch. i am also a firm believer that spencer's favorite cuddle position is with his head in her lap and their legs going in the same direction (if that makes sense). and he would love to get his hair played with and just eat up all the attention.
okay sorry for this ramble but i need something else to think about instead of work stress
hiii Rosie!!
ok ok bare with me this one is going to be a wild ride.
PS: THANK YOU FOR THE DISTRACTION I really needed it.
The minute Spencer saw her walk into the BAU he knew she would be someone that he wanted around for a long time which is why he kicked himself for delivering his classic line the moment she walked up to introduce herself. "The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss." great job idiot now she'll think you are a weird nerd. As time went on it was clear to Spencer that this was one person that he always wanted to be around. Her laugh was a gravitational force that pulled him and he couldn't believe that she never rolled her eyes, or made a face when he was talking about something that interested him.
He longed to have her in his arms, longed for the moment she ran his hands through his hair, he would even settle for having their pinkies intertwined during the debriefing of cases. But he knew that if he didn't like touch from other people, she might not either. Being the gentleman he is he silently longed for the day that she approached him with whatever ounce of physical touch she would give him.
Even if by some weird happenstance, a rupture in time, a glitch his eidetic memory failed he would forever remember the first time he felt her caring touch. It was after a long, tiring case involving children. One whose lifestyle hit a little too close to home for Spencer, luckily it all resulted in a happy ending for the family but it took a toll on the team, especially on Spencer. Y/N could see the distraught, tired look on his eyes the minute they got on the plane so without a second thought she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the sofa. " sit now" she commanded and Spencer being too wonderstruck by her touch did as he was told. He never expected her to sit next to him but when she did he longed to just lay his head on her lap, even for just a millisecond. "want to talk about it?" she kindly asked, "no, im fine just tired" he replied. Spencer didn't know better but if he did he would've sworn that she whispered, "my sweet baby boy" Spencer could tell she was holding back from saying what she wanted to say so urging her with a nod she took a deep breath and said as she patted her lap, "come on, if anyone needs the sleep its you" So Spencer laid his head on her lap and fell asleep to the soothing rhythm of her breathing and her hand playing with his hair.
After that day, rough case or not that became a routine for them. And it quickly let to them realizing that they just couldn't be apart. Every secret knee bump on the debrief room, thigh touching, or pinky intertwining was a silent I love you that they each hoped the other reciprocated. So, when Y/Nr walked into Penelope's kitchen one December afternoon and was greeted by a Spencer Reid wall blocked her way she couldn't help but blush by noticing the mistletoe Penny has strategically placed there. "Well here I thought my chocolate thunder would be kissing me today, yet its the Reids being more annoyingly cute" Confusion crossed both their faces, "the Reids?" they asked in unison. "Well, my sweets if you couldn't realize it by now the team has a bet going on for when you two finally get together so please kiss already." Penelope said laughing.
"...so the Reids?" she asked blushing
"shush future Mrs. Reid let me kiss you" Spencer said grabbing the sides of her head with both his hands and pulling her to him, adding after, "I knew I would marry you the minute I saw you, Im just glad I can kiss and hold you in public now and knowing you won't pull away."
AN: ok idk if this is what you had in mind or not but this is what my brain came up with... now why cant I write my hw as fast as this.
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Kaeya had always been an efficient and hard-working individual (he had to be to support Diluc in the background as his brother rose thru the ranks after all).
He has so much free time because he completes all his work way ahead of schedule. And if he still has enough time, he adds more to the workload in secret.
And once all of that was done and over with, he makes time for everyone. He has to. He feels as if every moment has to be given to someone else.
No one knows how he does it. No one has to know.
Every mission has a dozen strategies in line, and every battle plan is made with efficiency in mind. His perfect record will not be tarnished. He can't risk it (even if it baffles others that he would willingly activate a ruin guard just to prevent a failed mission. Jean disagrees with his methods, but Kaeya can say that the results say otherwise)
He needs to be quick.
Efficient.
Perfect.
And so he comes and goes like the wind.
Kaeya values time because he knew every second counted. He can't just stand there as if he were frozen. Time could run out in an instant.
Kaeya had only been late once his entire life.
He'd rather he never be late ever again.
It took one day of being of being imperfect for everything to fall apart. On that tragic day...had he gotten there on time... then maybe...
.
.
.
" Come on, let's get moving, traveler. We're not frozen in place after all. " Kaeya teasingly says. He stiffles a giggle at the traveler's exhasperated sigh.
"Yeah yeah, we've heard enough of you calling us a slacker. Can't you be a bit more patient?" Paimon whines at him.
Kaeya snorts, but acquiesces, hiding the shaking of his hands at the thought of being idle.
He imagines hearing a clock ticking.
Kaeya knows that that is his own problem. He tries his hardest to relax as he waits for the traveler to finish whatever they're making on the alchemy table because, seriously, it is supposed to be a relaxing day. There's nothing major going on, and his schedule is once again empty as intended. What's the hurry?
Kaeya taps his foot on the ground as he waits. He wishes he could take his own damn advice when he tells others to relax.
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“what does geralt get from that friendship…”
another post examining the weight of geralt and dandelion’s friendship… because i don’t think people recognize how painful and debilitating loneliness can become.
the witcher as a deconstruction of the genre takes fantasy tropes to their most logical ends—it asks us to consider what The Lone Swordsman feels, looks into the humanity in a Cold-Blooded Killer. and it turns out he’s not cold-blooded at all.
that despite some superhuman abilities, he laments and worries and curses himself, just like any other worker of any other profession. just as the farmer is scorched by the sun, the washerwoman’s back aches, and the scholar goes half-blind studying, a witcher deals with all of the pains and annoyances and dangers of his job in a mundanely human way.
but the farmer, the washerwoman, and the scholar have something the witcher does not have—they’ll always be seen as human and part of their society. at the end of the day after enduring all of their labor, they have their wife to caress, festivities to attend, and taverns to frequent. but for a witcher? after the killing is over, what does he have? no one and nothing. not even a thank you. he is met with fear and hatred everywhere he goes, baseless bigotry and dislike.
I did my job. I quickly learned how. I’d ride up to village enclosures or town pickets and wait. If they spat, cursed and threw stones, I rode away. If someone came out to give me a commission, I’d carry it out.
so he faces not just loneliness, but being deliberately ostracized and cast out from society. geralt can’t even find a polite word in most settlements, much less a friend.
‘(…) Tell me, where should I go? And for what? At least here some people have gathered with whom I have something to talk about. People who don’t break off their conversations when I approach. People who, though they may not like me, say it to my face, and don’t throw stones from behind a fence. (…)’
this kind of loneliness is not a mere inconvenience. it’s completely altering to your self-perception and ability to see the positive in the world.
each day is not lived, but endured.
day in, and day out—forced to the most difficult and lowest labor in order to survive, and knowing that were you to die, no one would search for your body, few would miss you, hell, they might even spit “good riddance”.
in this situation, to find a friend, is not only friendship, but a rescue.
without dandelion, geralt may have drowned—drowned in solitude, amidst a sea of strangeness.
‘(…) And I’m alone, completely alone, endlessly alone among the strange and hostile elements. Solitude amid a sea of strangeness. Don’t you dream of that?’
No, I don’t, he thought. I have it every day.
because dandelion is not only a bright soul, characteristic rippling laughter and the strum of a lute, but someone who will intently listen to geralt, someone who mutually enjoys his company.
‘(…) you almost jumped out of your pants with joy to have a companion. Until then, you only had your horse for company.’
someone who doesn’t see him as strange and at the fringes of society at all, but as an utterly normal man.
and doesn’t impose demeaning, sappy sympathy onto him, but sobering and realistic “quit your bullshit” which ridicules the very thought that he should internalize societal hatred.
Do you know what your problem is, Geralt? You think you’re different. (…) [You don’t understand that] for people who think clear-headedly you’re the most normal man under the sun, and they all wish that everybody was so normal. What of it that you have quicker reflexes than most and vertical pupils in sunlight? That you can see in the dark like a cat? That you know a few spells? Big deal.
dandelion isn’t “willing” to accept geralt for himself—he already has accepted him. and to him, it’s no difficulty, it’s nothing worth discussing, because he sees no abnormality and no strangeness in him.
while others “prefer the company of lepers to witchers,” dandelion has already offered geralt to share his room and board. not out of sympathetic pity, not out of fetishizing curiosity. because… they’re friends.
and what else does this friendship save him from?
not only from others, but from himself.
worse than enduring others’ apathy and hatred is one’s own thoughts—the darkness and negativity which builds from witnessing and experiencing such behavior.
dandelion’s ability to counter and dispel geralt’s pessimism and self-flagellating tendencies—again, not out of pity, but out of friendship—is undeniably invaluable. someone to rescue you from your darkest thoughts, when you begin to spiral.
and in this darkness, all you can do is cry. you cry, beg for someone to help you, please—
Help! Why doesn't anyone help me? Alone, weak, helpless – I can't move, can't force a sound from my constricted throat. Why does no one come to help me? I'm terrified!
to be alone, the saga reminds us, is worse than a death sentence. to be alone is to “perish; stabbed, beaten or kicked to death, defiled, like a toy passed from hand to hand.” to be alone is to suffer, and to be with someone is to save them from that suffering.
'(…) I wouldn't like anything bad to happen to you. I like you too much, owe you too much-'
'You've said that already. What do you owe me, Yennefer?'
The sorceress turned her head away, did not say anything for a while.
'You travelled with him,' she said finally. 'Thanks to you he was not alone. You were a friend to him. You were with him.'
it is true that geralt has saved dandelion countless times, helped him, gotten him out of some scrape… but to ask what did geralt get in return? are you kidding me?
did you ever consider that it is dandelion who saved geralt?
by being with him. by being by his side. by being his friend.
indeed, dandelion has rescued geralt, countless times, from the yawning jaws of endless loneliness. he’s helped him, chased away the danger of geralt’s own rumination. and he’s gotten him out of scrapes, his own insecurities and bitter helplessness.
so what does dandelion give geralt? what does geralt get from their friendship?
an amusing question. what one gets from friendship is the friendship itself. and that is more than enough.
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