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incendiobrock · 3 years

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The Witches Forest

Request: heyy idk if u do requests but if u aree then can you do one where the reader is a witch and is dating colby so she goes on one of the haunted trips w them and does some reading idkk you can end it however you like <33 tyy!

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! I loosely based this imagine off the witches forest video on the Sam and Colby channel but instead of the witch from the video giving the reading it was y/n, and instead of Colby getting lost in the forest it was y/n. Hope you enjoy! Also this was loosely inspired by an imagine I read by @annab-nana you can read it here!

Warnings: sexual joke (I think that’s it)

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It was a typical day with the trap boys. Your boyfriend Colby had finally convinced you to go on a haunted trip with them. The only reason you had agreed was because he had promised you, and Corey, that there wouldn’t be any seances. You would all be going to just spend the night there, not summon anything.

In fact, Sam was planning on doing a cleansing ritual that he had done some research on. So, you agreed. You were always super worried about the boys and the trouble that they would find themselves in, especially with demonic entities and spirits.

One of the other reasons you had agreed to do the video with them was because you knew that the fans have been begging for you to make an appearance. Colby got tweets and comments daily about his “witchy girlfriend” joining in on a haunted overnight video. All the fans knew that you were super into crystals, and tarot cards, and different herbs, and just about anything that you believed would help protect you and connect you to the world of spirituality.

So here you were, sitting in front of the camera, Colby right by your side, his ring clad hand holding onto your thigh, as the rest of the guys surrounded the table. “Okay, who’s ready for the reading?” You questioned, looking around the table. Everyone nodded and agreed to begin. You passed the tarot deck to each of the boys, instructing them to shuffle the deck while thinking of their intention for the trip to The Witches Forest. Everyone did as told and passed the deck back to you, you were the last to shuffle.

“Alright, so I’m going to pick the top three cards and then we can go over what they each mean for us, and for the trip we are about to go on.” You stated, gently flipping over the top three cards, The Tower, The Nine of Swords, and the card of Death.

You felt the room tense as they all read the cards chosen. “It’s not bad.” You said, trying to calm everyone’s nerves. “Uh- I don’t know about you but a card that says death seems pretty bad to me.” Corey said, laughing out of fear.

“Yeah babe, what does that mean besides ‘we are going to die?’” Colby air quoted the last part. “Will you guys just give me a minute to explain it?” You laughed at your boyfriends face as his eyebrows remained scrunched on his forehead, looking desperately at you for answers. You went on to explain that death could signify the “death” of an era and the beginning of something new. The Nine of Swords means that their own thoughts can weigh them down, or cause a feeling of darkness, and The Tower means danger, chaos, but also liberation.

“See, so nothing is necessarily bad. It actually seems like this might be good for you guys, especially since we are planning on doing the fire ritual too. That way you can begin a new journey and have a nice cleansed path before the next moon cycle begins.” You stated, leaning your head on Colby’s shoulder and cuddling into his side. He placed a short kiss onto your forehead taking hold of your hand, “Alright so let’s get on the road we don’t want it to get too dark before we set up the tent, plus it’s about an hour drive.” Colby said to the group, still holding your hand as you both stood up to go get into the car.

About an hour later you had all arrived at the forest. Colby had parked the car a little off the dirt path in a small clearing between the trees. You were happy to get out of the car to stretch after having to sit between Jake and Corey in the backseat. You brought along a small backpack of stuff like a water, first aid kit, a flashlight, and most importantly some crystals that offer protection. You took out the small ziploc with the crystal and began to give one to each of the boys, telling them to keep their crystal in their pockets for protection.

Sam had asked you to explain to the camera what all you had brought so you showed him the black tourmaline, amethyst, and the obsidian, saying that they each offered protection and grounding properties. “Alright, now that we got our protection rocks let’s go pitch the tent we will be staying in all night.” Sam said, shutting off the camera. You all stood around trying to help as Colby did most of the work putting the tent together. You were impressed with his skills, never knowing that he could set up a tent with little to no instruction.

“Dang brother, those Cub Scout skills are really showing right now.” Jake joked, sticking the last spoke into the dirt. “Thanks brother, you know I’m skilled with these hands.” Colby responded, sending a wink in your direction. Your cheeks heated up as a small laugh escaped from your mouth. Leave it to Colby to make a sexual joke that makes the guys cringe.

After a little exploring all together, and almost losing the location of the tent, you had all decided it was time to start the fire ritual. You were glued closely to Colby’s side, hearing a lot of motion within the trees. “Once we get the fire going maybe we will feel better, the light and heat should scare off any animals that are near.” Sam said grabbing the fire bucket that he had brought for this ritual.

Colby lit the fire and you all sat around in camping chairs. “We should’ve brought s’mores bro.” Corey said, trying to alleviate some of his fear. You agreed with him because you knew you felt the same fear as him at the moment. Sam explained what was going to happen with the fire ritual and passed out the objects that everyone was going to be throwing into the fire, in hopes to release any possible spirits that were attached to them. As soon as you guys started to watch the stuff burn Colby flew back, falling with his camping chair.

“Did you guys see that! Right there! Right behind Jake! Sam? Did you see it, it was like a shadow and it moved super fast right behind Jake’s head.” Colby yelled, standing quickly off the ground and shining a flashlight in that direction. “I saw that too!” You said, abandoning your camping chair as well. Colby took hold of the camera and began walking away from the fire and towards the trail. “Colby! Wait for us bro you can’t go alone!” Sam yelled out, chasing after him. “I have to go, I know I saw something I need to see where it’s going before it gets away, I wanna capture it on camera!” Colby said.

“Someone has to stay by the fire we can’t all leave! Jake you stay here with Corey and we will go investigate.” Sam instructed, but Jake hesitated wanting to go too. Corey ended up agreeing on staying by the fire so you three could keep up with Colby who was still walking quickly away from the group. You thanked Corey, worried that your boyfriend would get too far ahead of everyone. You began to jog to the path, already extremely behind the others because of the sudden panic.

You turned onto the dirt path and didn’t see any of the three boys, but could barely make out their voices in the distance. You began to jog down the path, heading to the left. You had felt like you were getting closer to them but their voices still remained faint and incoherent. You knew that Sam had yelled for everyone to stay on the path in order to avoid getting lost so you kept jogging further and further into the forest, away from the fire where Corey sat.

You slowed to a walk, shining your flashlight all around, hearing tons of branches snapping and rustling. You suddenly felt very alert, almost as if something was watching you. You felt the panic really set in as it became harder and harder for you to catch your breath. “Colby!” You yelled. “Colby! Sam! Jake! Corey!” You knew you had made a mistake going this far down the path. “Hello?! Can anyone hear me!” You heard a scream off in the distance making your eyes basically bulge out of your head. You turned sharply towards the direction of the noise, shining your flashlight out in front of your face. Your hands were trembling, shaking the light violently. Not only was it freezing out, but you were terrified of what was out there.

You began running back the opposite direction of the trail, your breath almost nonexistent at this point, but you were determined to make it back to the tent. You heaved, feet stomping away at the dirt path beneath. After what felt like a century, you saw the distant glow of the fire. You ran, the victory of reuniting with the boys fueling your return. The fire was now in clear sight as well as the figures of the four boys you were so anxious to see. The noise of you approaching causing them all to turn and look at you.

You practically leapt into Colby’s arms, tears pouring down your face as you wrapped tightly around his torso. His hand found its way straight to your hair, pulling you as close as he could to his body, swaying you side to side. “Oh my god, baby. Where were you? I was so worried! I thought I had lost you.” He said quietly, running his fingers through your hair trying to soothe your crying. “I-I was running after you a-and then I got lost. I heard a s-scream, I’m so scared.” You sobbed, never wanting Colby to let go of you.

“We looked all over, we were calling your name like crazy but Jake said we should come and wait by the fire incase you came back. We didn’t want to keep moving further away from you on accident.” Sam said, standing closely near you and Colby.

“Can we please go? I don’t think I want to be here anymore.” You pleaded, looking into Colby’s eyes as his delicate fingers helped to wipe away your tears. “Yes, of course. I love you, I’m so glad you’re safe. Let’s head to the back up plan, the cabin.” Colby said, directing the last sentence to the boys. You nodded gratefully, making your way into Colby’s car while Jake, Corey, and Sam packed up the mess.

The night was getting foggier as you pulled into the driveway of Jenna’s cabin. You felt relief rush over you, knowing that you wouldn’t have to spend another second in the Witches Forest. You all got out of the car and huddled by the front door, rain beginning to pour down. Sam took off his backpack digging through it to find the spare key Jenna had lent him. “Uh, Colby did I give you the key earlier?” Sam asked. Colby let go of your hand and patted his pockets down, “No I don’t think I have it. Is it in your pockets?” He responded, recapturing your hand in his, knowing that you were still shaken up about getting lost. Sam flipped his jean pockets inside out, no key to be found. He began pulling everything out of his backpack, searching deep into the bag for the key.

“Let’s go back into the car maybe I left it in there.” Sam said, heading straight back to Colby’s car. You all got back in as the rain continued to pour, Sam searching every inch of the vehicle. “I can’t believe you lost the key Sam, first Y/n goes missing and now this?” Jake says from the backseat, obviously frustrated. “It’s not all my fault okay? You think I meant to lose the key?” Sam snapped back, the tension in the car rising.

After a lot of searching, the key was no where to be found. Much to your dismay, you had to go back to the tent in the depths of the forest. You all huddle into the blue tent, slipping into your sleeping bags. It was only a few more hours until daylight, a few more hours before the suffering would end.

“I’m not going to let anything hurt you. I lost you once tonight and it was the scariest moment of my life. It’s not going to happen again, I promise.” Colby vowed, pulling you into his chest. You smiled at his kind words, despite how scared you were he always knew how to make you feel safe. “Thank you Colby, I love you so much.” You responded, nuzzling further into his chest. “I love you, to new beginnings.” He chuckled, referencing the tarot reading from earlier. “To new beginnings.” You agreed, sealing the deal with a kiss on the lips.

#colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock imagines #Sam and Colby #jake webber #Corey Scherer

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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claimed || alpha!Andy Barber x reader

summary: an interrogation with an alpha is no place to have an unexpected heat.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut (dub con; the reader goes into heat and can’t think clearly enough to say no), a/b/o dynamics, loss of virginity, mentions of misogyny/discrimination against omegas, vague noncon and violence references, kinda housewife kink, possessiveness, breeding kink, praise, overstimulation, knotting, slight bondage (reader is handcuffed), slight pain kink, implied/subtle age gap, pregnancy mention at the end, kinda soft!dark andy but he's really not that dark

"This would be a lot easier for both of us if you started telling the truth."

You chewed your lip, looking away from the man across from you; it was impossible to keep eye contact when his gaze bore into you like that, when he gave you that stern, dominating look.

Andy Barber was so obviously an alpha, he was one of those types that just reeked of it. Figuratively— with the way he towered over you, his masculine body and strong features— but also literally considering his scent was filling the room now: pine, cinnamon, sage, and something a little bit sweet that made your mouth water.

It made sense for an alpha like him to have a high-powered, high-pressure career like this; he probably got a real kick out of squeezing information out of scared betas who couldn’t stand up to him.

And that was the role you were going to play now, because he was wrong: it would not be easier if you told the truth. If he knew what you really were, you’d be doomed.

You’d been hiding successfully as a beta for a long time by now, and you weren’t about to give it up now, even if it would likely have the charges against you dismissed. Omegas lived sheltered, oppressed lives; sought constantly by alphas, they had their pick of the finest since omegas were so rare, but until mated they were extremely vulnerable— and afterwards they were usually made to be subservient housewives, constantly bearing children as a consequence of their extreme fertility.

Maybe some omegas were okay with that, plenty probably loved that lifestyle since it was sort of the instinctual habit of an omega by nature, but not you. Never you. You wanted a life, a real life, your own life as more than an alpha’s mate. Thankfully you’d found the right mix of suppressants and perfumes to hide your scent, the right work schedule so you could always be home for your rare heats, and voila: to the rest of the world, you were a beta.

Being a beta meant being unnoticed, unacknowledged, never pursued and never courted. And that was exactly how you wanted it.

If Andy Barber knew that the man you’d stabbed was an alpha trying to force himself on you, there was a chance he would understand that it was self-defense and let you go. Then again, a lot of alphas seemed to think that being forced to mate was just par for the course for an omega; surely Andy wouldn’t be one of those types, as a man of the law, right?

“I can’t,” you finally answered.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he assured, some of his anger shifting to a soothing tone. It really did calm you down; he must have been using his ‘alpha voice’ on you, and the fact that it worked should’ve been a red flag but you didn’t notice. “Let’s start from the beginning. You said you were at home but no one has confirmed your alibi. You said you didn’t know the victim but you obviously reacted when I showed you his picture. And, you said you weren’t there at the time of the murder but we found your DNA on the body.”

A little smile pulled at the corner of your lips, exactly not the reaction Andy had been expecting. “You’re lying,” you whispered.

He tensed up as you called his bluff. The DNA found at the scene was in the process of being analysed, sure, but it would be weeks until the results came back. “How can you be so sure?” he pressed.

“Because I. Wasn’t. There,” you hissed, glaring back at him; he shook his head solemnly..

“No, that’s not it. I can tell when you’re lying, too, you know,” he warned. “Tell me how you know I don’t have your DNA at the scene?”

“Because… because…” you breathed, blinking a few times as the room started to get warmer. Your head was spinning, your thighs clenched together— and when Andy reached out to rest his hand on yours and ask if you were alright, his touch sent it all into overdrive.

No, no, it wasn't your time yet. It shouldn't have come for a few more days, and you’d arranged to be bailed out tomorrow so you’d go into your cycle safely at home and not in jail. But now it was beginning and you had no way to stop it. Had the smell of an alpha really been enough to start your heat early?

Andy watched you start to pant and sweat with a furrowed brow, unsure what he was witnessing because he’d never had the opportunity to see it before. His ex-wife had been a beta, he'd never even met an omega before— they were quite rare after all.

But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in instinct; his body told him everything he needed to know about what he was seeing. “Omega,” he growled lowly, watching your whole body erupt into shivers at the timbre of his voice.

As far as alphas go, Andy was relatively level-headed, not as preoccupied with instinctual desires to dominate, to claim, to impregnate. A lot of alphas viewed mating with a beta as settling, although it was the much more likely outcome, statistically speaking. Andy, though, never really saw it that way, even knowing how much harder it would be to have a child with a beta. Their fertility was significantly weaker, both the males and the females, and Jacob was the product of years of trying; in all their marriage him and Laurie had never used any contraceptives and she only got pregnant the once.

But an omega? Especially a young one like you? He could knock you up right now, if he wanted. That power was intoxicating. It was exactly what he never knew he needed so badly.

“I don’t need the results of your DNA to know what you are,” he explained firmly. “I can’t believe I didn’t know before— you must have tried really hard to keep it a secret, little one. You must be so afraid of who you are… and who I am, for that matter. It must scare you to imagine what I could do to you.”

You whimpered, the noise tugging his heart in conflicting directions; to comfort you, or to make you do it again.

“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think,” he assured. “Not if I can help it…”

Honestly, he wasn’t so sure he would be able to help it; he felt his own sanity slipping as he watched you writhe and cry, instinct overtaking logic in the both of you.

"Alpha, please," you shuddered, the title making his cock harden instantly, uncomfortably filling the trousers of his suit.

"You smell so good," he purred, taking his jacket off as he stood up to cool off a bit. "I can smell your heat, Omega. I bet everyone in the building can—” he glanced to the locked door— “but I'm the only one here."

"Need you," you whined, tugging on the handcuffs that kept you bound to the table.

"Stand up, bend over," he commanded, and he'd barely finished speaking when you'd already done it, bent at the hips with your forearms resting on the table as you waited for him. "Good girl."

He rolled up his sleeves and took his place behind you, caging his body in with yours, nuzzling into your neck to get a deep breath of your scent.

"Fuck, so sweet," he groaned. "Waited so long for this. To feel an Omega on my cock. Never thought it would really happen. Has an Alpha ever taken you before?"

"No, I never… no."

"Not just unclaimed but a virgin. Christ, am I dreaming?"

But he was too far gone to take any more time to appreciate his luck— he needed you now, and he was taking you all for himself.

If he wasn't so overcome with need he wouldn't have thought to tear your clothes off, but now he didn't even think to question the idea, shedding you of your clothes like they were made of paper until you were completely exposed to him, your wet core vulnerable while another wave of your sweet scent filled the room.

"Look at all this," he grinned, kneeling down to lap at your folds and taste your slick. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your channel craving to be filled. "All for me, Omega?"

"Yours, it's all yours…"

"Doesn't it feel good to be claimed, little one? To be owned?"

"S-so good," you agreed. "Want your knot, Alpha. Want your mark."

A growl echoed in his chest when you said that, and he craved nothing more than to bite your neck and bond you to him for life.

But, it would be better if he saved that for a little later.

He stood up again and gave your ass a quick slap— nothing too rough, just enough to make you yelp all cute and whiny— before grabbing your hips to pull them back into his. You gasped and pushed back onto him, shamelessly rubbing yourself against the thick outline of his cock.

"Gonna make a mess on me with all that slick, Omega," he growled, but it was by no means discouragement.

"Want it in me, please," you sobbed. Unable to resist your begging anymore, he hastily opened his belt and fly, sighing with relief when he wrapped his hand around his cock and pulled it out. Your whole body visibly quaked when he swiped the swollen head through your folds, coating himself in your plentiful arousal.

Without any further warning, he pushed his cock in with a loud moan, a cry tearing from your throat as he tore into your body. "Shh," he soothed as his fingers rubbed your spine, "that's my girl, that's my pretty Omega."

But pain wasn't really your issue; it hurt, yes, but what made you cry was that you were already on the edge, about to come from hardly anything. When he thrusted once, you lost it and your legs quivered as a new wave of slick started to dribble down them.

"Are you coming?" he asked darkly.

You could only nod, biting your lip to try to keep from moaning too loudly.

"Oh my god…" he groaned, amazed at how sensitive you were. Clearly he wasn't the only one realizing how powerful and incredible it could be when an alpha and omega mated.

He started to really pound into you then, each brutal thrust knocking you forward.

"Feels good when you come for me, Omega. Do it again."

You couldn't help yourself; his voice had complete control over your body, his words a command you were helpless to resist. With a broken whimper you came again, walls squeezing his cock in a weak and stuttered rhythm.

"It's better than they say it is. Even better than I imagined. So fucking good," he sighed. It felt so right, that was the thing. It felt like your body was made to be claimed and owned by him.

"Want your knot," you whined, "please, Alpha—"

"If I give you my knot, you're mine. My Omega. You will never allow another Alpha to touch you. You will not speak to another Alpha, look at another Alpha, even Betas are off-limits. When I bite you, you'll be bonded to me and become my wife, you'll never disobey me or leave me. When I knot you, you'll give me a child. Is all of that perfectly clear?"

It was everything you'd wanted to avoid just an hour ago. Now it was your greatest dream come true. "Yes, Alpha. Yours, Alpha."

"Want to be bred, Omega? Bred by your Alpha?"

"Please!" you sobbed.

"Then keep coming and I'll let you have it soon," he promised. "I'll give you all my come like you need so badly."

You whimpered as your walls seemed to try to suck him in deeper, gripping him so tight that it made his head spin. Orgasm after orgasm washed over you, too many and too numb to count, each part of you slowly stripped away and replaced with pure, all-consuming pleasure.

The base of his cock began to swell and you mewled proudly— that is, until, it just kept growing and you couldn't imagine taking anymore.

"P-pull it out," you begged instead.

"I told you that you would take my knot, was I not clear?"

But you hadn't realized how big it would get, how far it would stretch you— and it was still going. "It hurts, Alpha, please!"

"You'll get used to it, gonna keep it in you all night and give it to you every day so you'll have plenty of practice. Take my fucking knot while I come inside you and breed your cunt."

When his knot finally grew to its full potential, streams of hot come began to fill you, deeper than you had ever imagined possible. It was overwhelming, apparently unending, and one final orgasm rocked your body as you milked his cock for all it was worth.

He wrapped his arms around your body, holding you close and soothing you as you shivered and cried, his kisses trailing up your shoulder to your neck where, finally, he sunk his teeth into your skin and left his mark on you.

Your walls quivered around him at the feeling of being claimed, mated for life. In that moment you didn't notice or care that it was to a man you barely knew; he was your Alpha now, that was all that mattered.

He kissed and licked over the sensitive bitemark, whispering praises your ringing ears couldn't quite process yet.

At least you were getting bailed out a day early.

Andy kept his promise about exactly how owned you would be. For the first few months you didn't even leave the house, he was too busy filling you with his cock every day. Although he was happy to claim you anywhere he happened to find you— the shower where he hopped in randomly, the kitchen where he bent you over the counter, the living room where he pinned you onto the couch— his favorite place was the bed. It was rougher and more animalistic in the other places, but in bed he was possessive in an entirely different way.

"My wife, my sweet little wife," he whispered in your ear as he slowly thrust all the way into you, making your back arch until your chest pushed against his. "My Omega. All mine."

"Yours," you agreed.

The protectiveness increased tenfold when your scent changed during pregnancy, even more when you started showing; he was obsessed with the way you looked full of his baby.

As for you, omega life was better than you'd expected. At times you felt smothered by him, but simultaneously you felt worshipped and loved like you never thought you could deserve. He certainly spoiled you, though he expected your unwavering loyalty in return.

That part was easy, though. Love, not fear, kept you in check when other alphas had a wandering eye. They knew you were mated, the bitemark scar (which Andy never, ever let you cover) and ring (which Andy never, ever let you take off) were sign enough along with the change in your scent to them. Occasionally one would shoot his shot and get unilaterally rejected by you before getting his ass kicked by your husband. If only they knew what you'd done to the last alpha that tried to creep on you; how you met Andy in the first place.

In the end, maybe it wasn't so bad to fall into your instincts, your natural role in society. Andy sure made it pretty enjoyable with the way he brought you to the height of pleasure over and over every night. "Mine," he promised you in deep whispers, "from the moment I saw you."

#andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #alpha!andy barber x omega!reader #I'll add tags when I get home later

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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Amethyst you so much

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.

Warnings: pure fluff, weed mention, hurt/comfort, grief and mourning

Word Count: 6.4K

Read on Ao3

Late nights at the office had become his thing since Gideon left.

He couldn’t bring himself to go home some nights without a game of chess, a cup of coffee, and the ambiance of the post case staff working. He would’ve had no idea about what goes on after they close a case if he didn’t stay behind most nights.

The phone rings almost every 10 minutes, and it’s always answered by the sweetest voice. The fax machine never turns off, and the most beautiful girl in the world is always running around placing papers in different places.

He’s been smitten with her since she started here, 2 years ago. Never seeing much of her since she was switched to the night shift, always wanting to just watch her from afar, never speaking to her unless he needed to.

“Yes, again we are so sorry for the door,” he can hear her voice from the back corner of the room. “Agent Morgan will be paying for that out of his paycheck, don’t worry, Mr. Kennings. We’ll be sure to remember your hotel when we’re in the area again. The FBI has a very generous budget for overnight cases. Of course, you have a good night too.”

She hung the phone up harshly and let out a deep sigh. He turned around to see her face in her arms, resting against the desk. She looked done, completely fed up. He would be too.

She looked up then, noticing that he was making eye contact with her. She awkwardly smiled and waved at him, “sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Spencer replied. “We asked for the key, I should have stopped him from kicking it in.”

She laughed then, walking over to his desk so she didn’t have to yell across the room. She sat on the corner of his desk lightly, “why do you stay every night?”

“Oh, um,” he wasn’t prepared for this. She had never talked to him before. She was barely able to even look at him when she used to place papers on his desk 2 years ago, now she was on his desk.

“I don’t like to bring the work home with me, it’s better to destress here before I go to my apartment,” he answered, half honestly.

She nodded slightly, “I get it. Luckily I go home in the mornings so the sun helps me feel better.”

“Going home in the dark isn’t fun,” she lightly smiled up at her.

“Do you want a coffee or anything?” She asked softly, “seeing as I am still your assistant as long as you’re here?”

He laughed lightly, “I would, but I’d like to join you in the staff room for it?”

“Okay,” she stood, straightening out her shirt as he stood as well.

He held the doors open for her, letting her walk out first, still smiling as she waited in the hall for him. Never being anything less than 1 foot from him for some reason, and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Do you like your job?” He asked lightly.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “It’s like customer service on crack. Have you ever had to explain to someone why you can’t pay for the cracked foundation after Agent Morgan’s ransacked a place?”

“I honestly never thought of who has to deal with the aftermath,” he awkwardly admitted to her. “I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t stop laughing as they entered the kitchen, “it’s fine. I never have to apologize on your behalf, it’s everyone else who seems to be reckless. Sometimes I feel like it would be better if I came along to babysit.”

“That would be helpful,” he smiled softly as she entered the staff room.

He watched as she took a new coffee filter out of the cupboard. Emptying the coffee pot with ease, rinsing everything before adding the water and scooping in the grounds. He was mesmerized by how fast she was able to do it, then again it was sort of her job.

“What mug would you like?” She turned to him with a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Um, the purple one, if it’s there?”

“You really like purple, huh?” She teased him, standing on her tippy-toes to reach the mug for him.

She placed it on the counter before grabbing a white mug, it had a bumblebee on it, “bee happy” written along the top. It was perfect for her.

“Purple is a stress-reducing colour,” she explained. “When I was a kid my parents painted my room purple so that I’d sleep better.”

“I’ve always been drawn to it.”

She leaned against the counter while the coffee pot started to percolate, “Probably because of your anxiety, coffee doesn’t help that.”

“It’s in my DNA to be like this,” he tried to joke, knowing he succeeded when her smile crept back onto her face.

He was on a mission to keep seeing it.

“For someone who spends a lot of time with dead bodies, creepy places and bad people, you sure are a mousy little thing aren’t you?” She teased him.

“I also love Halloween, go figure.” He’s not sure where the confidence came from, being able to make light-hearted jokes like this was only easy with the team.

Which she technically was a part of. He’s seen her almost every single day for 3 years, slowly being able to get comfortable enough for this very moment.

“What else are you into, outside of here?” She asked honestly, making his heart swell as no one else had ever asked him before.

“Lots of things,” he sighed. “I love to read, I’ll read anything. But mostly I enjoy far-off worlds. Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Sherlock mostly.”

“No supernatural?” She gasped. “Sacrilege, honestly. What kind of nerd are you if you don't support supperwholock?”

“That's the show with the monster hunting brothers right?” He tried to recall it to his mind.

She nodded with a pressed-lipped smile, “it’s bad but in a way where I can’t stop watching every Thursday, they just introduced an angel who is pretty gay. Star Trek is cool too, I guess, I was raised by Trekkies.”

“My mom was into Doctor Who.”

“Mamma’s boy,” she teased him slightly, returning her focus to the coffee as she poured the now finished brew into their mugs. “She was nice when she came in that one time, I made her a very sweet coffee just like yours.”

He reached for the sugar then, poring a generous amount into his mug with a grin, “how much do you like?”

“the same amount,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “I hate the taste of coffee, but it keeps me awake.”

He poured the sugar into her mug as she places a spoon in each. Allowing him to stir his own before picking it up finally. Holding the warm ceramic in his hands, it was almost as warm as the feeling in his chest when he looked at her.

He’s felt it for a long time. He’s been caught staring at her by Derek, JJ even tried to get him to give her his number. Which she already had for when she calls him into work in the middle of the night. They knew he had a crush, he did too. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

“Come to my desk, I want to show you something?” She asked softly, avoiding eye contact as she walked towards the door.

He followed, like a lost puppy, all the way back to her desk. It was always neat, he always looked at it when he made his way up the stairs to the briefing room. He could even see it from where he sat at the table sometimes. Always wanting to see her leave in the mornings.

She had a collection of rocks that always changed, he loved the blue one the most but it wasn’t there currently. She had all new ones since the last time he looked.

“Here,” she hands him one. It’s brown and gold, the colours moving and shifting as he turns it with his fingers. The gold running through it like a beautiful wave.

“what’s this for?”

“It’s a Tiger’s eye, for good luck and happiness,” she smiled. “Keep it at your desk and maybe it’ll be easier for you to relax when you come back?”

The butterflies in his chest were swirling then as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting him to take it, wanting him to feel better. Caring for him.

“Thank you,” he barely whispers, clearing his throat softly. “It’s very nice of you.”

“You’re always nice to me, so,” she shrugged.

They sat down then, he dragged his chair from his desk over to hers. Sitting in close as she explained all the meanings to her rocks. He listened carefully, getting to examine each one as she spoke.

“This one is Jade, it’s for balancing emotions and allowing compassion so I don’t scream at everyone on the phone,” she laughed as she placed one in his hands. Her fingers brushing his palm softly.

It was a beautiful green stone with a thin white line running through it, separating into 3 directions as he flipped it over, “it’s beautiful.”

“I know some people don’t believe in this stuff,” she started to get embarrassed as she placed them all back on the shelf. “But I’ve always thought; if the moon, which is just a rock, can control the water, and humans are 70% water, then who’s to tell me the moon cycles don’t control my emotions and these smaller rocks can’t help problem areas?”

“You’re not wrong,” he shook his head softly as he thought her words over. “People depended on the stars and planets for guidance originally, as well as rocks and herbs for healing, just because it’s outdated doesn’t mean it doesn’t work?”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “No one has ever agreed with me that easily.”

“Anytime you want to talk, I’ll just be over there,” he pointed at his desk. “And I’m a phone call away?” He swallowed sharply at his boldness, trying to stay calm as he awaited her answer.

“I do have your number,” she smiled, reaching out to place her hand on his. “But you should go home, I’m sure you’re chilled out now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, staring at her hand as they touched. He lightly wrapped his hand around hers, holding it slightly, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after,” she whispered, tilting her head as she smiled at him.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Penelope was always dragging him out. She would take him shopping, to dinner, to the movies. She was like his big sister, dedicated to making sure he wasn’t always cooped up or trying to retreat into a fantasy life.

She kept him busy.

She had 4 bags in her hands as they walked down the street, peering into the store windows to see what else she could possibly be interested in taking home for someone. That’s when they passed the natural health store.

He stopped in his tracks, seeing all the different rocks on the wall accompanies by little cards that described how they could help. He opened the door and rushed inside before Penelope even noticed he stopped following her.

“Good afternoon!” The shop owner called out to him. “How can I assist you today?”

“Um, the girl I like has a rock collection,” he says softly, knowing Penelope is behind him listening. “Crystals more specifically, I’d like to get her some?”

“Well, you came to the right place,” the man beams, escorting him to the wall of rocks. “What is she like?”

“Wonderful,” the words are carried out of his mouth on a sigh as he thinks about her. “She’s confident and nice, and caring. She’s always positive and just so lovely.”

“I’ve got you,” the man starts picking rocks off the wall and placing them in his hands.

Spencer follows him to the desk where he lays down a handful of rocks, Penelope is shockingly quiet as she stands beside him, staring at the collection. She’ll be full of questions later, all of which he is terrified of.

“This is a rose quartz, pretty basic love, beauty, anti-depression stone,” he pushes the pink and a green rock towards him. “Serpentine is for new adventures, observation and insight. I have a feeling you’re up for an adventure with her?”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, “I like that one. It would be better to get her some rare ones, some that have to do with friendship, new beginnings, or opportunities?” He tried to explain his feelings as best as he could. Not knowing if he sounded dumb for a change.

The man smiled wide, “here,” he dipped below the counter and dug out a box. “Chrysocolla is literally for new beginnings, love and opportunity.”

He hands Spencer a vitreous, raw blue stone with small green marks running all through it, it’s beautiful like her. “This is perfect.”

“I’ll throw in a Kiwi Jasper as well, it’s for being by someone's side, support and trust. As well as a Ruby in Zoisite it symbolizes finding the joy in life with someone,” he hands Spencer two equally beautiful stones, prepping a bag and wrappings for all of them.

Spencer lays out the 5 stones he picked out, watching him wrap them with care before placing them in a bag. He rings everything up, Spencer pays and before he’s even out the door Penelope is pouncing on him for answers.

“Who?!”

He can't help but blush and stutter, trying to brush past her and continue walking down the street. “You can’t hide forever Spencer, who is she?”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“You literally said so?” She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Come on? I won't tell anyone!”

“Y/N.”

The gears are turning in Penelope's head as she tries to place a face to the name, knowing she’s seen her somewhere, “From the office?”

He nods softly, “the one Derek bullies me for staring at?” He clues her in more as they walk.

“He also bullies her for staring at you,” she adds with a smile. “She’s going to love those, when are you going to give them to her?”

“I was thinking about just leaving one on her desk every day? Maybe with a note for why I picked it?” He really wants to woo her, she’s too special to just flirt with.

“She’s going to love that.”

—

Sure enough, he walked into work every day for the next week, placing a rock on a sticky note on her desk. He was never around when she was able to see it, only knowing she got it when he'd arrive at work the next morning with a note reading 'thank you ♥︎ ' on top of his files.

He thinks about her all weekend, planning how he'll give her the last rock as he takes the elevator up that morning. Only to see her sitting at her desk, phone pressed to her ear as she tried to talk someone out of suing the FBI, she looked absolutely miserable. Just a casual Monday morning for her, almost at the end of her shift.

He rushed over to his desk, putting all his stuff down to dig one of the rocks from his satchel. Picking the Kiwi Jasper for today, he grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote her a little note.

“Always here if you need to talk, -Spencer ♥︎”

He walked over to her desk, she was still talking so she didn’t notice him until he was right there, she looked up at him with a thankful smile.

“Yes sir,” she answered the person talking to her. “Can I call you back after I speak to the chief? thanks.” She hung up on him, turning all her attention to Spencer.

“I know you know it's been me leaving these, but I brought you in another one,” he says softly, placing the rock in her hand and sticking the note to the shelf where it would end up.

“oh my gosh, Spencer?” She placed her free hand on her heart as she looked at the rock.

“You looked upset?”

She stands and pulls him into a hug, he can feel all the eyes on him as he holds her back, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as she squeezes him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled back, awkwardly smiling at him as she also noticed everyone staring.

“Always,” he smiled back, hand still resting on her arm. “Um, I have a case I need to get to.”

“Of course, good luck,” she smiled.

He pulls the tiger's eye out of his shirt pocket, showing her that he still had it, “kinda hard not to have good luck with this.”

She bit back a smile, her eyes gleaming as she took a deep breath through her nose. Releasing the same feelings he was keeping inside, allowing both their butterflies to swarm out together.

—

He loved when they had cases in Virginia. Being able to stay in the bullpen and work was relaxing, it was easier to think where he felt safe.

He was working on the geo profile all alone, a huge map stretched across a clear case board as he laid a yardstick across it. Drawing a thick red line with marker over it, in his own little world as he worked away.

He doesn’t realize she’s standing there too until she’s lightly pressing her hand on his back.

“Hey,” she whispers softly. “It’s 10 pm, thought you’d like a coffee?” She places the purple mug on his desk with her purse, turning her attention back to what he’s doing.

“Thank you, I’m almost done here,” he says softly, finishing the red triangle he was making on the map.

“I’ve always found it fascinating how you do this,” she complimented him. “You’re so careful.”

“Like baking, it’s an exact science,” he smiled softly.

It made her giggle slightly, placing her hand back on his back as she moved in closer to look. He wanted her to stay there forever, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. He tried his best to steady his hand as he finished the line.

Putting the yardstick back down and turning to her, she doesn’t move her hand, instead, softly moving to rest on his arm as she stands close to him. “How are you?”

He feels nervous for some reason, it’s not like she hasn’t been this close to him before. It’s just that she’s close and she smells wonderful and he wonders if her lips would be a better wake-up call than the coffee she brought.

He realizes he’s staring at her lips when he licks his own, “I’m good,” he furrows his brow and clears his throat with a nod.

She smirks at him, “how come you’re the only one still here? Hotch said it could wait till tomorrow?”

“I was waiting for you,” he admits, “but I got carried away setting this up, I never heard you come in?”

“Cause I didn’t,” she scrunches her nose slightly as she straightens her stance. “I saw you working hard and went right to get you a coffee.”

“You’re wonderful,” he blushes as the words slip out, trying his best to keep eye contact when all he wants to do is kiss her.

She pats his arm slightly as she backs up a little, grabbing her bag from where she set it on his desk. “I’m going to set up for the night, come talk to me before you leave?”

“Of course,” he says as she walks away, letting out a small sigh as he realizes just how badly he wants her.

He never gets to talk to her before he leaves, she’s on the phone when hotch comes storming in. Saying something about another body and making Reid leave with him. He’s busy for 3 days straight, thinking about her with every free thought he’s able to squeeze in.

He carries the rock from her in his pocket everywhere he goes; in his pants beside his keys, in his bag with his books, in his breast pocket, over his heart, behind a bulletproof vest. Feeling it press against his chest, a part of her keeping him safe where ever he went.

They finish the case with minimal damage, Spencer specifically making sure that Derek leaves all the doors on the hinges for Y/N’s sake, cleaning up any messes they make so she won’t have to hear about it over the phone. They all notice that he’s doing it for her, quietly appreciating the fact that Spencer is happy for a change, that there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes again.

He arrives back at Quantico 30 minutes before her shift starts. Everyone else is packing up for the day while he sits at his desk, reading to occupy the time before she comes in.

Only she doesn’t.

30 minutes pass and she’s nowhere to be seen, it’s only 9:02 by the time he starts to panic. Wondering if she’s okay, hoping she’s just in the elevator or grabbing a coffee that’s actually good, somewhere outside of the office.

“Reid,” he hears Hotch calling him from his office door. “She just called in, her grandmother passed away last night so she won't be in.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brow, looking at him with confusion. “How did you know?”

“Penelope,” he smiles. “She’s still here too, and she knows where Y/N lives.”

“It wouldn’t be weird to go see if she’s okay?”

Hotch just smiles at him again, “go see her, Reid.”

Getting her address from Penelope felt a little weird, but she writes it on a sticky note for him and he’s out the door before she can even pry into what he’s going to say. Which is good, because he doesn’t know yet.

It’s late, but he stops by the little rock store on his way to her house. Seeing the lights still on and the same man from before behind the counter.

“Welcome back,” he’s overly cheerful for it being so late. “How did she like them?”

“She likes the ones I’ve given her so far,” he smiles, looking over the wall himself this time for the right one.

Scanning past every emotion and affirmation known to man as he looked around, picking out a beautiful pink Rhodonite for healing grief, supposedly acting as a hug from emotional troubles. And a Rainbow Moonstone for inner peace, harmony and strength.

“She’s lost someone recently?” He asks as Spencer places them on the counter.

“Her grandmother,” he says softly. “These are good, right?”

“They’ll be perfect, we also have amethyst bracelets, they’re good for healing and drawing in positive energy,” he points towards the small display of bracelets. Small purple stones separated with small gold beads.

He picks up 2 of them, placing them on the counter as well.

“Is she still just a crush?”

Spencer laughs lightly, “unfortunately.”

“She might be more after this,” he smirks, ringing him up. “I’ll give you a 2 for one deal on everything, I have a feeling you’ll be in a lot.”

Spencer thanks him as he pays, picking out a small purple bag for the rocks and bracelet. Placing one on his own wrist before leaving. Also picking up some cookie dough ice cream and a card at the corner store just beside her apartment. Remembering all the times Penelope, JJ or Emily has mentioned it being the best ice cream for crying.

He takes a very deep breath before knocking on her door, hoping to every god out there that she doesn’t find this incredibly inappropriate and weird.

“Spencer?” He hears her voice before she even opens the door, looking out the peephole at him.

She whips the door open, eyes puffy and swollen as she looks at him in shock. She’s in a big sweater and shorts, tears dripping down her cheeks as she shakes her head at him.

“I thought you could use some cheering up?” He awkwardly smiles, holding the ice cream up for her to see.

She wraps her arms around his middle, burying her face against his coat. Still crying as she holds him, he holds her with his free hand, shushing her as he presses his cheek to her head.

She pulls back with a sniffle, “come in,” she offers with an arm out, ushering him inside the small room as she closes the door.

He takes his shoes off, handing her the ice cream so he can take off his coat and satchel too. “This isn’t weird right?”

“Not at all,” she laughs slightly through the awkwardness. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you care this much.”

“I brought something for you,” he says as he struggles to dig everything out of his pocket.

He hands her the card and the little purple bag, seeing the overwhelming glance grow on her face. Her eyes grew wide as he mouth opened, speechless.

She opened the card first, reading the passage about grief that was already provided. Dealing with grief was something Spencer knew too well, adding something a little special to the bottom of the card.

“To live in hearts we left behind is not to die,” -Thomas Campbell. As long as you remember her, with a smile on your face and love in your heart, she will always be with you ♥︎ Spencer

She wipes her tears with her forearm, placing the card on the counter beside the ice cream before she opens the bag. She pulls out the bracelet first, absolute shock on her face.

“Spencer?” Is all she can say, in a high squeak as she shakes her head at him.

“I didn’t want you to be sad,” he says softly, stepping into her space and placing a hand on her arm. “I love seeing you smile, and I thought this could help.

He takes the bracelet from her grasp and places it over her hand. Resting it on her wrist softly, straightening it out against her sweater as she notices the matching on over his shirt sleeve.

“Oh this is so cute,” she swoons. “thank you, really Spencer.”

“And there are some rocks for grief healing in there too, one is supposedly like an emotional hug which should heal the grief and sorrow, and the other is more for inner peace and harmony,” he rambles away, not wanting her to miss anything.

She pours the rocks from the bag, into her hand, looking them over silently with a smile, “they’ll look great on my desk.”

“The purple looks nice on you too,” he compliments her, watching her eyes drift up to him.

She places the rocks on the counter before wrapping her arms around him once more. This time he’s able to actually hold her back, tight as possible as he rubs his hand over her back.

She smells like home, clean laundry and happiness. She’s soft and warm, he holds her perfectly against his chest, like she was a missing puzzle piece that someone finally found under the table, she fits into his life like she was supposed to be there.

She kisses his cheek softly before she pulls back, causing him to pull her into a real kiss on impulse. Connecting their lips as she sighs into the contact, melting into his grasp as she kisses him back.

Her lips are soft, fitting between his own gently as she breathes him in. Her hands reach up to grip his cheeks, kissing him again and again, placing pecks to his lips and cheeks with her eyes closed as he giggles.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his lips, “for everything.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers back, kissing her one last time before she pulls away.

“I was actually about to smoke some weed on the fire escape and probably cry some more,” she laughs lightly. “would you like to join me?”

“I’ll stick with a bowl of ice cream,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Nice one,” she laughs as she opens the ice cream.

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t even get the reference you made,” she laughs lightly, “to get high you smoke a bowl, so…”

It makes him smile, “I'm a comedian part-time.”

He makes her laugh again, loving the sound of her giggle replacing the tears. “Why aren’t you this funny at work?”

He thinks about it for a little, watching her scoop the ice cream into two bowls, “it’s a little hard to make jokes when people's lives are on the line, I know everyone else does but I get too focused.”

“They probably wouldn’t appreciate your jokes even if you did make them,” she says as she handed him a bowl with a spoon. “They’re kind of mean to you, in a family way but it still sucks sometimes to overhear.”

She walks into the living area then, grabbing a few blankets and opening the window to the fire escape. Crawling out to sit on the ledge, waiting for him.

“I don’t mind it,” he says as he finally sits down beside her.

She places the blanket over their laps, both of them sitting criss-cross applesauce as they ate.

“Do you like your job?” She asks him, just like he once asked her.

“Most of the time,” he nodded as he got brain freeze. The cold air, the cold ice cream, everything that was catching up to him as he scrunched his face up at the feeling.

She laughs at him only a bit before she’s also attacked by the brain freeze, holding the vein in her neck as she chokes out another laugh, trying to warm up the blood going to her head so the pain would stop.

They’re both just a mess of giggles together, unable to say any words as they let it all out. She leans her head on his shoulder lightly as they calm down to just soft chuckles. He presses his cheek against her head.

“Thank you, Spencer,” it sounds like she’s crying a bit. “My grandma was a lovely woman, she’d be glad I’m laughing right now.”

He reached out a hand for her to hold over the blanket. She interlocked their fingers softly, both cold from holding their ice cream bowls.

“If she was anything like you, I’m sure she was the most wonderful woman,” he says softly, not intending to make her cry but having a feeling he might.

“Would you be interested in holding me on the couch while I cry?” She asked softly, tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

—

He’s late for work the next morning.

Waking up to the smell of coffee, opening his eyes to a strange view. He’s on a couch he doesn’t recognize in a room he doesn’t know too well.

Then he remembers, they ended up cuddled up on the couch. He wakes up to the memory of her on his chest, crying softly as they listened to some music, he ran his hand over her back while she went through it all, blessed to have his support.

He fell asleep under her at some point, waking up alone with a blanket laid over him. He sat up to see her in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a travel mug.

“Good, you’re awake,” she smiles at him. “Coffee is ready, I uh, I have this button-up shirt from a guy friend, if you wanted to wear that to work today? So they don’t think you stayed here?”

“That’s smart,” he replies as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Getting up, he uses the bathroom, changes and takes that coffee from her. He’s not expecting her to kiss him on the lips at the door, but she sends him off to work like an old housewife.

He doesn’t want to pull away from her, keeping her pressed against him as he leans in for 4 more kisses before she finally pushes him out into the hallway with a laugh, “get to work!”

“Fine,” he sighs, “are you going to be in tonight?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “funeral is in West Virginia next week, so I’ll be in until then.”

“I’ll see you later?”

She nods slightly with a soft smile, “you’ll be seeing a lot of me soon, Spencer.”

“Good,” he winks at her before heading down the hallway and towards the street entrance.

He sighs as he walks outside, resting his back against the apartment complex door, taking a moment to think about everything that just happened, the night of company and the wonderful send-off.

It was something he could get used to.

He rushes into the briefing room when he arrives at Quantico, sitting down with his coffee and pretending he wasn’t late. Listening carefully to JJ’s presentation of the case as he flips through everything he missed already.

“Wheels up in 30,” he heard Hotch say as he zoned back in. “Nice of you to join us, Reid.”

“I know that travel mug from somewhere,” Derek said as he stared at Spencer, who was taking a sip to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hmm?” He played dumb.

“That’s Y/N’s. She washes it every morning when she leaves to go home, I see her do it every morning,” his eyes open wide. “Holy shit.”

“Isn’t that the same tie and slacks from yesterday?” Emily teased him as well.

“Her grandma died, I brought her ice cream and slept on the couch okay?” He all but yelled, flailing his arms slightly so they’d all back off.

Derek reached his fist out for him to pound it, “good man.”

Then Penelope noticed the bracelet, “did she get you that?”

He sunk his hand into his pocket then, “no.”

“What?” Emily and JJ asked in unison, straining their necks to try and get a good look at what she was talking about.

He nervously held his arm out for them, showing them the purple bracelet resting over the sleeve of his shirt. “I got one for her too, it’s for healing and peace. It’s what she needs right now.”

“Oh, so you love her,” Derek smiles as he teases him. Making everyone else in the room swoon slightly.

“Okay and?”

“Oh my god!” Most of them shout at him, embarrassing him to no end. He was so glad she wasn’t at work this morning or else she would be able to hear this from her desk.

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi pries, asking what everyone else was thinking.

He scrunches his face, pushing his glasses up slightly as he clears his throat, “a few times.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” JJ kept the questions coming.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “Kinda weird to walk into her apartment while she cries to say ‘hey sorry about the death in your family, want to date me?’”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees, shrugging lightly. “At least she knows you like her now, it’s been what? 2 years?”

“2 years, 3 months, 17 days and 43 minutes,” he confirms with a small nod and pressed lips.

“Gross,” Derek teases him.

“The plane is leaving in 10 minutes,” Hotch cut into their fun.

Making them all gather their things and continue the interrogation in the elevator, and eventually on the plane, and in the police precinct. Even Penelope called him in the middle of everything to bug him about her.

The questions were never-ending, everyone wanted to know how they even started talking, who made the first move, how he plans to ask her out. They were relentless, he almost regretted admitting to anything.

They bug him all throughout the day, all the way until they’re arriving back at the BAU late that same night. He almost doesn’t want to go back to the bullpen and see her with all of them, knowing they were going to follow and say something.

She’s waiting in the hall when the elevator doors open, a pressed-lipped smile on her face, “bad news.”

“Another one?” Hotch sighs, “have Garcia send us the info. Be at the table in 10.” He pushes his way out of the elevator, passed them all as they stare at Y/N.

“Hi?” She awkwardly waves at them all, showing off the bracelet on her wrist.

“See ya, Spence,” JJ and Emily say as they matt his shoulder, dragging Derek and Rossi towards the bullpen doors.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for them softly, stepping into her space.

She wraps him up in a quick hug, keeping one arm around his waist as she guides him towards the bullpen, “it’s fine, they’re going to have to get used to us being together.”

“Together?” He repeats her words.

“I only cry on my boyfriend's shoulders, if you're up for the title?” She teases him softly, pinching his side as they walk towards the doors.

“Can I frame “Dr. Spencer Reid, Y/N’s boyfriend” beside my Ph.D.’s?” He keeps his hand on her shoulder, holding each other slightly as they walk towards her desk. He felt like one of those kids who wouldn’t let go of their girlfriend's hand in the school hallway, attached to her at the hip.

“I’ll make one for you while you’re gone,” she laughs lightly.

They stop at her desk where he sees all rocks he got her collecting on the shelf, as well as a cup of coffee and his favourite kind of donut.

“Thought you deserved something nice too,” she says as she nudges his side.

He kisses her on the cheek as a thank you, “you’re welcome,” she smiles to herself. A feeling of pride growing in both their chests.

“See you later?” He asks as he picks up the coffee and donut, walking away slowly as she smiles at him.

“Come home to me safely, Doctor Reid,” her voice is just loud enough for everyone in the briefing room, where everyone is waiting at the window, watching them, deciding to put on a show in return.

He stops on the steps to look at her softly, “I’d fight a thousand unsubs to come home to you.”

“I’ll leave the light on,” she blows a kiss at him, making him blush a deep red.

He waves, making his way up the steps and into the briefing room. A smile on his face, heart thumping in his chest, all the support in the world swarming around him as everyone patted him on the back.

That tiger’s eye really did bring him good luck and happiness, and her name was Y/N.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #one shot #fluff

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skzsauce01 · 3 years

Text

Clementia

Anniversary Request Special

Description: You’d always had a special place in your heart for Lee Minho even though he gives you countless reasons to hate him. How long will your patience last?

Warning: alcohol, sexual assault

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x Minho

“Y/N—”

“Go away, Minho.”

“Y/N, look at me.”

“I said no!”

“Well I said I’m sorry.”

You snap around to face him. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Lee Minho. You screwed up. You. Screwed. Up. I gave you one request, and you couldn’t even do that.”

“I had my reasons!” he protests.

“Yeah? Well let’s hear them.”

He emits a few noises but can't come up with anything. His face flushes red, but not as red as yours.

“There’s no excuse for breaking someone’s heart ever. Remember that.” You turn on your heels and begin walking away until he says something even more repulsive.

“Why do you care so much? She’s not even your real sister!” he calls after you.

You pause, unable to comprehend how such words could ever enter your ears. You then slowly walk back to him as he stiffens with every step you take.

“Not my real sister?” Your voice is soft, but it is effective.

“I mean—”

“You’re saying the girls at Epsilon Phi aren’t sisters?” Your voice begins to rise. “We’re more sisters than you and I were ever friends, Lee Minho! We love each other more than biological families do, but of course you wouldn’t know how that feels, would you? All you have in your chest is a cold, hard piece of coal!”

You turn away and break off into a run this time. Tears stream down your face from being insulted and betrayed by someone you held with high esteem.

You like Lee Minho. Of course, you’d never admit that. To the world, he is just some kid of your mom’s friend who annoyed you to no end, but through the arguments and time spent trying to prove each other wrong, your feelings grew bit by bit. When he had a relationship with your very own Little, you held in your feelings and wished them both the best. After all, you love both of them, and their happiness together was good enough for you.

That is, until Minho broke things off as nothing but a fling.

Minho has always been a huge flirt, but he’d promised to take her seriously this time. You made him swear it, and you emphasized how much your Little meant to you. Now, because you’re his family friend, your Little won’t even speak to you. Minho had ruined your and her relationship, and evidently yours and his too.

He didn’t used to be like this, all manipulative and amorous. You remember he used to follow you at the heel, caring about nothing more than sticking gum in your hair. It wasn’t until senior year of high school did he start hanging out with random girls and trying daredevilish things. You missed the old Minho, but you thought you’d accept him for all his changes since you did, after all, like him.

Until this moment, that is.

What he did was too much. What he said was too much. You know he is becoming toxic, and if he is going to continue down this path, even your love isn’t going to bring him back to your heart.

Minho watches your waning back then slams his fist against a nearby tree with a curse. You didn’t give him enough time to explain, not that he would have been able to in front of you.

You’d forgive him though, right? You have to. When he messed up before this, Minho could be sure you would. But now, he isn’t so certain. He has never seen you so angry and disappointed before, and he did that to you. Him. Minho lets out another string of curses and trudges back to his room.

He tries making it up to you the very next morning. He shows up to your 8 AM class with a cup of coffee and slides it onto your desk before sitting down himself.

You don’t even look at him. You just take the cup and slam it down in front of him, causing its contents to spill and burn your fingers. He quickly takes your hand in his and begins wiping it with his sleeve, but you recoil your arm and take out your own napkin.

The next place he tries is at your neighboring frat party. He knows you would be there, so he wears his tightest black jeans and a loose button-up. This trick has worked with other girls, so he hopes it would on you.

He takes the dance floor with his powerful dance moves and charisma. He can see you deliberately turned away from him and chatting with someone else, so he dances towards you. The cheering circle that has formed around him moves as well, engulfing you into the crowd.

You finally turn to make sure you don’t bump into anyone. Minho takes this chance to shoot you a wink which draws the crowd’s attention to you. They cheer and push you towards him despite your protests.

Minho takes your arm and leads you in the dance. You used to like dancing with him; your and his flow matches perfectly, and the two of you could revive a dying party just by dancing together. Today though, you just aren’t having it.

Minho puts a hand on your shoulder and scoops his hips low earning a cheer from the crowd. You can hear them calling your name, anticipating your response. You look down at Minho and immediately recognize his choice of clothing.

I wonder who’s going to have her heart broken tomorrow, you think with a dry laugh. Minho flinches, recognizing that sound. You take his falter as a chance to fling his arm off of you before walking away.

A chorus of oohs fills the room, and the crowd splits like the Red Sea for you.

You hear your name from his lips again. “Y/N!” It is more strained now than it was last night. Desperate. Defeated.

You gave him some thought after hearing the sincerity in his tone, but you are glad you did not turn around that night when you see him in class with some other girl on his lap. Whatever. He’s dead to you now, so why should you care what he’s doing?

Minho watches as you walk farther and farther from him. He pushes the girl off and continues to stare with narrowed eyes at you as you greet your new seat neighbors.

This isn’t how he predicted you would react. Truthfully, he kind of knew this attempt wouldn’t work. For one, it hadn’t worked once since he first tried it in high school. He thought hanging out with other girls would make him more attractive, more desirable by competition. At least, that’s what some then-college kids told him. Once he started, he just found himself unable to stop. It was a self-feeding cycle, really. Holding onto other girls and charming them numbs the void in his chest, but you ignore him whenever he acts like this which only further widens the gap.

What is he to do though? This is the only life he knows, and so, it is the life he leads. Not all love stories can end happily.

And his sure doesn’t seem like it is going to.

Sirens wail in the background. With the amount of girls he’s fooled around with, he kind of had it coming. Minho stares at his wrists, not daring to think, but one thought keeps recurring in his mind: you. He is going to disappoint you yet again. You already hate him, and now you are going to see him handcuffed too.

The cold wind makes him shiver when you, his emergency contact, open the door and step into the station. Your eyes immediately find him, and you make your way over.

“Y/—”

“Are you hurt?” you ask plainly.

Despite your icy tone, those three simple words fill him with a warmth he hasn’t known for a long time.

“I’m okay.” His hands reach forward, wanting to grab yours and keep you with him, but you’ve already walked away to announce your arrival to an officer.

“Miss L/Y Y/N?” a young official greets a little too enthusiastically. She looks familiar, you note.

“Yes, I am she.”

The officer looks pleased by your annoyed attitude towards the defendant. “Mister Lee is here tonight because of an accusation by Miss Choi of assault,” she informs you coyly.

You look at him. “Minho,” you said with a chilled voice. “Is it true?”

“No! Y/N, I wouldn’t—”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“Excuse me?” the officer sputters.

“I believe him,” you repeat. “He’s been going out with more people than I have fingers, but he never laid a finger on them.”

“But Y/N, that doesn’t mean he can’t start now,” the officer protests. “You’re his contact, but you hate him now. Surely, he’s changed”

“First of all, it’s Miss L/N to you, Officer” —you read her name tag and pieces begin to fall together from her eagerness to convict Minho to the inkling you felt the moment you saw her— “Yoo. And secondly, is it not against the law for you to be working on a case where your cousin’s the accuser?”

“How did you—!”

“Nothing escapes us Epsilon Phi sisters, even news from other sororities. Besides, Minho never plays with the same girl twice. As expected, this report is filed for an incident two months ago. You, Officer Yoo, knew I was his contact and waited for us to get into yet another fight before having your cousin put in the accusation, didn’t you?”

She scoffs in your face. “That’s a bold accusation from yourself towards law enforcement.”

“Where is the accuser right now? Shouldn’t she be here for interrogation as well?”

“Well she—” the officer looks increasingly flustered. “She needs rest after having to relive the memories of what happened. We’ll call her in tomorrow. Anyway, Mr. Lee Minho, I can hear your testimony now in room #3.”

Minho stands obediently.

“Wait. I request someone else interrogate him,” you object.

“We’re busy right now,” Officer Yoo huffs. “We can’t just let you choose who does the job.”

You cross your arms. “Sure. Interrogate him and have the entire case be nulled after I file a conflict of interest.”

Officer Yoo grits her teeth but returns to her station to call for another officer.

In the meantime, you turn to Minho. “Don’t answer anything you don’t want to, especially if they start leading you on with questions. It’s in your rights to remain silent, alright?”

Minho nods numbly at your words, still confused as to why you are so nice to him. Before he can figure it out though, an older man appears from the back and takes him to an interrogation room.

“Mr. Lee Minho?”

“Yes.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Chief Jeon. I’m just going to ask you a few questions today; is that alright?”

“Yes.”

The chief nods and pulls out some papers. “Would you mind describing what happened with Miss Choi?”

“Well I was with—” he gestures towards the papers with his accuser’s name on it— “and we were hitting it off. She bought me a couple of drinks and at some point leaned in to kiss me. I realized something at that point, and I stopped her. She got angry, saying how she spent all that cash on alcohol for me, and threatened to accuse me of assault if I didn’t do what she said, but I knew I couldn’t do it.”

“Because of what you realized?” the chief repeats.

“... Yes.”

“And what was it you realized?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“According to the law, no, but if it can help you with your case, you might want to.”

Minho fidgets with his cuffs. “They can’t hear me from outside, right?”

“No. They most certainly cannot.”

And so, Minho tells him.

Minho turns around while the metal bars clang shut behind him. The chief thinks he has a pretty good chance, but due to the gravity of the accusation, they still decided to keep Minho in holding to give the accuser more time to make her case.

You stare at him from the other side, arms crossed. Minho takes the fact that you’re still here at two in the morning as a good sign for him.

“Thanks for being here,” he tries to start a conversation.

“I didn’t really have a choice.” So cold.

“I’ll change my emergency contact.”

“Please do.”

He winces. “Look… Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for insulting your sisterhood and for hurting your Little. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

He looks at you with those doe-like eyes of his. For once, you don’t feel anything while looking back at them.

“That’s not why I’m mad anymore. In fact, I’m not even mad,” you tell him. “My Little told me what really happened. She told me that she was actually the one who dumped you after you adamantly refused to kiss her. I asked some other girls you’ve seen and they all said the same thing. That’s why I was so confident with the officer earlier. I guess I owe you an apology for getting angry when you weren’t at fault.”

“Then”—he holds out a hand sheepishly— “truce?”

You look at it but keep your arms crossed. “Taking a step back from you has made me see things I wasn’t able to before, Minho, and that’s made me realize how much you’ve changed. You were my friend, my rival— someone who never failed to get on my nerves but also someone I couldn’t go without. But now” —you drop your arms and shake your head— “I can’t even recognize you anymore.”

You take a step back to leave. You’ve done this many times before, like when he stuck a plastic spider down your shirt or when he called you stupid in front of your crush in fifth grade, but something about this time feels different. Something about this time tells him you aren’t turning back around once you left.

A sudden despair grips Minho and he runs into the bars. “Wait!”

You pause, offering him one last second.

“Your Little,” he gasps, “did she tell you why I wouldn’t kiss her?”

You nod. “The others I asked did too. They said you were thinking about some other girl while you were with them.”

“Not ‘some other’ girl. One other girl.”

“I know.” You begin to walk again.

“Then why are you leaving?” He reaches a hand out, trying to grab any part of you. “Stay with me. Please, Y/N, stay.”

You don’t pause a second time. Out of desperation, he cries out, “Y/N, I love you!”

That makes you stop midstep. He holds his breath as you put one foot back then the other next to it to face him. You are so beautiful when you look at him. He melts under your gaze as you focus on him and only him. He’ll cherish you this time when you give him another chance. He’ll quit this playboy lifestyle. He won’t take advantage of your patience anymore. He’ll give you all that his heart has to offer. He’ll make sure you’re the only one in his eyes. He’ll love you. He loves you.

“Minho.” You relax your shoulders and straighten your back. You tilt your head just slightly forward and erase the edge off your tone. “I loved you.”

#lee minho #lee know #stray kids #stray kids fic #minho fic #lee know fic #stray kids imagine #lee know imagine #minho imagine #stray kids angst #lee know angst #skz #enemies to lovers #fem reader #2nd anniversary special #20210815

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

lose you [three] // leigh shaw

summary: just when you think Leigh is finally listening to you and giving you space, she happens to do the opposite

warning/s: mentions of loss and implications of death/grief

author's note: so this is the final part! this was fun to write ngl – i hope you like the conclusion! :)

part one | part two | masterlist | wattpad

"I think the colours look great like this, don't you?" I asked Jules, pointing to the screen of her laptop

She hummed in agreement as she sipped her smoothie.

"Or maybe this...," I said, preoccupied with trying out something different. "Okay, hold on, let me see."

We were both sat in this smoothie place a few stores down from her workplace, working on some more promotional material for another set of classes she was setting up.

"You know, we could easily do this at the studio," Jules commented in a knowing tone. "Or even at my house."

I glanced at her before looking back to the screen. "It's better this way."

She knew what I meant, so I knew I didn't need to elaborate. Ever since Leigh had finally gotten the hint and left me alone for the week, I'd been keeping away from her as much as I could, still trying to figure out what I was feeling. This also meant not going to her workplace or her house in case I bumped into her.

"So, you're not gonna tell me what happened between you and my sister?" Jules asked curiously, for the millionth time, leaning forward.

I scrunched my nose as I shook my head. "Not this time, Jules, sorry."

An exasperated sigh escaped her lips. "Leigh won't say anything either, so that's no fun..."

Not knowing how to respond, I simply kept quiet and continued to play around with the colour palette of the designs I'd put together. Jules watched over me, inputting her ideas every now and then and explaining her 'vision', before our time was interrupted with her phone ringing.

"Hello," she answered it casually, before continuing to speak to whoever. "...No, I've got one... no need! I'll pick one up for you."

I gave her a sideways glance as she looked the other way quickly, as if hiding something.

Her voice lowered as she continued to speak to whoever. "Yes, we're here..." She sighed. "She's fine, Leigh."

I rolled my eyes as I looked back to the laptop, trying to distract myself.

"Okay, I'll see you soon, bye," Jules mumbled before hanging up and looking back to me.

It was quiet for a moment, neither of us speaking as I clicked away on her trackpad. Figuring she wouldn't speak, I chose to.

"Was that Leigh?"

Looking down at her smoothie awkwardly, Jules nodded. "Er, yeah."

I shot her a look. "You know you can have a normal conversation with her. She is your sister after all."

Jules ran a hand through her hair. "Yes, I know, I just... I don't want to make you feel awkward."

"It's fine," I reassured her with a small smile, before looking to the screen. Unable to stop myself, I asked, "How is she?"

A pause, then: "She's good."

I nodded nonchalantly, though I was glad to hear. I wasn't heartless – I still cared about her. But my stubbornness, as Taylor liked to constantly point out, was keeping me from hearing Leigh out. Her words still rang clear in my ears, the implication louder than the words themselves. And then that made me angry all over again and I found myself in a constant cycle of needing space from Leigh and wanting to hear her out.

Trying to ignore my conflicting thoughts for the girl who wasn't even present, I continued to work on Jules' designs before she had to get back to work and so did I.

"Are you okay to come over tonight to finish those off?" she asked as I packed away my things.

I hesitated, chewing on my lip. The whole point was to avoid going to her house.

"I'll make sure Leigh isn't there," Jules promised, noticing my silence, before adding with a playful smile, "Or is that new promotion of yours too time-consuming for you to spend time with me?"

"You know that's not true," I told her with a suppressed laugh, before relaxing my shoulders and nodding slowly. "I... I guess I can come around for a little while."

"Only a few hours," she promised me.

I nodded. "Okay, sure. I guess I'll see you tonight, Jules."

She grinned. "Awesome! See you tonight."

—

I probably should have figured out that Jules was lying to me. I'd known her long enough to tell when she was playing me, but I must have been so distracted by everything that I failed to realise what she was doing until it was too late.

When I got to the Shaw residence that evening after dinner, Jules answered and let me in, promising that her sister and mum were out on a girls night so wouldn't bother us. That was the first major hint – Leigh hated spending 'girls night' with her mum.

Then, when I set my bag down in the living room, waiting for Jules to join me, I heard the front door slam shut.

Spinning around and staring into that direction of the house, I called after her. "Jules? You still here?"

Instead of Jules, Leigh stepped in the doorway, dressed in a jumper and joggers, hair messy but small smile on her lips. That's when I realised I'd been tricked.

"I'm out of here," I said instantly, grabbing my bag to go.

"No, please stay," she said pleadingly, taking a step forward, but stopping when she saw how much I didn't want to be near her right now.

"I can't believe you'd resort to such childish methods of trickery," I admitted with disbelief. "And just when I thought you were finally listening to me and giving me space."

She pressed her lips together firmly as I spoke, before saying, "You wouldn't have come if I'd called, Y/N. It was the only way to get you here."

"Of course I wouldn't have!" I said with frustration, hand on my bag strap tightening. "I didn't want to see you!"

"I know you didn't, that's why I left you tons of messages!" she exclaimed, before rolling her eyes bitterly. "Your stupid, love-struck assistant is clearly terrible at delivering said messages."

"You mean the assistant with the boyfriend?" I retorted with a glare.

Her eyebrows creased together with confusion. "She has a boyfriend?"

I groaned loudly before moving forward to leave. "I'm going."

Leigh's bitchiness dispersed as she realised what was happening. "Wait, Y/N– just wait!"

Ignoring her, I continued my approach to the door and pushed past her without sparing her a glance. I was afraid that if I did, I would say something I'd regret.

"Please!" she called after me. And I was a mere few centimetres from the door before she shouted, "I love you!"

I widened my eyes with surprise, wondering if I'd heard that right. Stopping in place, I turned around slowly and saw Leigh standing in the living room doorway with teary eyes and a quivering lip.

"I'm in love with you," she repeated, confirming my hearing. Green eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she continued, "I was stupid how I acted and I– I've treated you so horribly and you always put up with it. But not this time."

She paused, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as she raised a shaky hand to move her hair from her eyes.

Swallowing hard, she said, "I p–push people away and I've pushed so many friends away, but y-you never left. You stayed this whole time a–and I've already lost so much, but I can't take losing you. I c–can't lose you, Y/N."

Forgetting my anger for a moment, I felt my heart ache in my chest as Leigh broke down before me. I'd seen her at her worst before, but this was different. She was choosing to be vulnerable and that never came easy to her.

"Leigh, I'm not going anywhere," I said gently, frown on my lips. "We're in a fight right now and I'm angry, yeah, but I would never leave you. Not for good."

"You say that!" she snapped, clenching her fists as more tears streamed down her cheeks. "You say that, but then blocked calls and wanting space turns into leaving because you can't take it anymore. You can't take me anymore. And I can't take it, I can't take pushing you away. I can't lose you."

She clenched her jaw, eyes piercing through me with sadness and guilt and anger all at once.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she said, her voice softer and very unlike herself. "The kiss it– it scared me because I wanted to do it for a long time, but you're my best friend and best friends don't do that. So, I tried to forget about it, but I ended up blaming you in the process and it's not you who's at fault here, it's me. And because of that, you're going to hate me and leave and I'm going to be a–alone again and I can't do that again, n–not again, n–not–"

I drew closer to her and pulled her in for a hug, unable to take her hysterics any longer. It hurt too much, seeing her pour her truth out in such a volatile way that had clearly been building up for a while.

She cried as I held her close, pressing a kiss to her hair and rubbing her back slowly. I never meant for it to get like this. I didn't know that she was going through all of this turmoil and now I felt bad, even if she'd hate that I did.

"I'm not going anywhere, Leigh," I promised her, my own tears burning the lids of my eyes. "I swear. you're not going to lose me and I could never hate you. Don't even think that for one minute..."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I led her to the bench by the front door and held her close, not caring that her tears were soaking my shirt or that she was clinging so tightly that I would never be able to pry her off, not unless she let go by choice.

I wasn't sure how long we sat there, but her cries eventually turned into sniffles and her head found it's way onto my shoulder. My arms wrapped around her torso, still rubbing circles onto her back, and hers clung around my shoulders tightly.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered guiltily into my neck, her warm breath tickling the skin and sending shivers down my spine.

I swallowed hard. "I know you are. I forgive you, Leigh."

She didn't say anything and I wondered why she was unable to let go and meet my eyes. Maybe it was easier to talk when we weren't looking at each other.

"I would never leave you, you know," I told her quietly, letting her know again. I'd let her know forever if it meant she'd believe me. "You can be such a bitch sometimes, but I put up with it because I love you, too."

She sighed. "But not like I love you."

I tried not to smile. "You're kidding, right? Of course like you love me. Why do you think I got so upset at your stupid date the other week?"

Finally pulling away from my neck, she faced me with confused eyes. "You said it was because I didn't reply to your messages."

I rolled my eyes. "It was because I thought that you didn't care about kissing me. I was scared that you didn't like me like that. That you thought you'd made a mistake."

Her eyes flickered between mine, as if trying to understand what I was saying. Realisation passed through them as she stroked my neck with her finger, arms still laced around my shoulders.

"So, the kiss. You didn't– you don't hate me?"

I shook my head, squeezing her waist gently. "I don't. And if you'd given me a chance, I would've kissed you back. Properly. Like–" I sucked up a nervous breath. "Like you deserve."

She didn't say anything for a moment, eyes merely reading mine intimidatingly. For once, a rare instance between us, I couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"Now's your chance," she finally spoke, before capturing my bottom lip between hers in an instant.

Unlike last time, I got over my surprise quite quickly and closed my eyes, pulling her closer by the waist and returning the kiss. Her lips were soft and salty and addictive, and when she rested her hand on my chest to gently push me away after a moment, I immediately chased her lips down again, refusing to let her go so quickly. Not when I'd waited so long for this moment.

She gasped as I swiped my tongue across her bottom lip, asking for entry. Using that as opportunity, I slipped my tongue between her lips and met hers in the middle, revelling in the taste that was Leigh Shaw. It didn't go beyond that and that was okay, as I was too busy focusing on how perfect she fit next to me, my one hand on her waist and the other on the back of her neck.

Finally pulling apart for air, she rested her forehead against mine and I opened my eyes to be submerged in pools of green. Licking her lips, she breathed out slowly.

"I don't want to lose you," she admitted in a whisper.

Pushing her hair behind her ear, I rested my hand on her jaw and caressed it. "You won't. I told you. I'm not leaving you. Not now. Not ever. I promise."

She closed her eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

I realised she was probably thinking back to her late husband and I didn't blame her. She'd suffered through so much and I couldn't imagine the fears she had.

"I'll keep it for as long as I can," I told her, kissing her forehead. "But know for sure that you won't be getting rid of me that easily."

She cracked a small smile through her teary eyes, nodding slightly. "I'll try to be less of a bitch."

"Hey, be as bitchy as you want," I told her playfully. "I'm not going anywhere, remember?"

She let out a small snort through her nose, barely a laugh, but it was music to my ears and it brought a smile to my lips. Finally opening her eyes, she looked to me with adoration and it made my heart beat a little faster.

"I love you," she said with the utmost sincerity.

I wiped away a stray tear of hers with the pad of my thumb and met her gaze. "I love you, too, Leigh."

Glassy eyes watched mine, content for the first time in a long time, before she pulled me in for a hug, tucking her head into my neck like it was her favourite spot in the world. I knew the feeling of her there was definitely mine.

"What do you want to do now?" I asked quietly, not wanting to break the peace we'd created.

"I'm really tired," she admitted, lips brushing my neck as she spoke.

I pressed a kiss to the side of her head, mumbling into her hair, "Let's get you to sleep then."

She hummed in agreement and I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd closed her eyes already.

"I want you to stay," she added. "To sleep with me."

Pausing, I tried not to laugh, which she realised and nudged me in the gut lightly.

"Not like that, idiot," she said, definitely giving me an eye roll even though I couldn't see her. "I mean, yes, eventually like that. If you want. But not now. Now, I just want you next to me."

Smile of adoration on my lips, I squeezed her gently. "Hmm, I'm not sure. I've got work in the morning. Early start."

She pulled away from me suddenly, frown on her lips and eyes flickering between mine disappointedly. I sighed, raising my hand and stroking her cheek.

"I'm kidding," I told her with a knowing look. "I mean, I do have work, but I'll stay if you want me to."

"Jerk," she mumbled, before standing up and pulling me up with her. "You're staying."

I kept ahold of her hand and intertwined our fingers, tugging her closer to me. She still seemed disgruntled from my joke, so I kissed her cheek, lingering for a second longer than usual, before smiling.

"Come on, grumpy pants."

She narrowed her eyes at me childishly, but continued to lead me upstairs and to her bedroom. As we walked, I remembered something.

"So, does Jules know about us? Since she helped you to trick me tonight?"

Leigh didn't bother flicking on the lights to her room when we entered, instead closing the door behind us and letting the streetlights from outside her window guide us to her bed.

"She knows we argued," she answered delicately. "I didn't know how to tell her about how I felt when I–" She sighed. "When I didn't even know how to tell you."

I nodded, not bothering to ask her about if she wanted to tell her tomorrow, or tell her mum tomorrow. Or if she wanted to wait and tell them later when we were settled into our relationship. I trusted her to talk to me when she was ready and there was no rush anyway.

"Jules is out with a friend tonight and my mum is working late," she explained their absence. "And you've slept over before so this is no different."

"True," I agreed.

A yawn escaped Leigh's lips and I couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked when she stretched her arms and scrunched her face tiredly. When she finished, she opened her eyes and saw my expression.

"What's got you all smiley?" she asked with a quirked brow.

I shook my head dismissively as she grabbed some pyjama pants from her drawer. "You're too cute is all."

Groaning loudly, she said, "God, Y/N, don't do that. Don't be all couple-y already. Especially not when it's–"

"What?" I cut her off with amusement, as she threw the pants in my face. "Complimenting you?"

"Exactly," she said like it was obvious, before waving her hand with irritation. "Just take your pants off so we can go to sleep."

I chuckled. "Eager much?"

She groaned again, but I saw a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. As I changed out of my jeans, she got under the duvet and got comfortable. I joined her soon enough, just about pulling the duvet on top of me before she grabbed my arm and forced me to roll over and spoon her from behind.

I stifled a laugh as she entwined our hands, resting them on her waist, and sighed contently.

"So, guess I can't be little spoon tonight then?" I teased, making her kick me with her foot.

"My bed, my choice," she muttered, voice heavy with fatigue.

Settling in behind her, I put my leg between hers comfortably and pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck where my head lay.

"I don't mind being the big spoon," I reassured her, though I knew it wouldn't make a difference. If Leigh wanted to be cuddled, that was the end of it.

It went quiet as I appreciated how pleasant it felt with her in my arms, her body pressed closely to mine and her self radiating a comforting warmth only she seemed to possess. I could definitely get used to this.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

She stopped, breathing out slowly. "Thanks for staying."

"Well, you asked so nicely and–"

"No," she cut me off quietly. "Thanks."

It took me a second to realise that she wasn't talking about just now. I smiled to myself.

"Always, Leigh."

#leigh shaw #leigh shaw x you #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw imagine #sorry for your loss #sorry for your loss imagine #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine

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lxngbottom · 3 years

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Cramps. | N.L. (+ D.T & S.F.)

in which the reader is having a really bad period, so her three best friends come and check up on her.

warnings: pain, periods, bleeding, swearing, we know how it is.

i’m on my period rn, & these three boys are my fav characters so this is mostly to comfort me (and idk if you guys can even relate, but my periods get THIS bad) (edit: this was NOT supposed to be this long but oh well i love these three)

gryffindor reader! (but anyone can read obv)

—

somehow, you had managed to make it through the previous school day. but, the whole time your stomach felt like it was completely turning on you, and with every step you took, the bleeding was so heavy. you couldn’t even remember the last time you went through so many pads and tampons in one day.

on top of that, you were an absolute emotional wreck. and, that became apparent to neville when seamus laughed over tripping over your shoe lace, and you looked up at your three best friends with tears in your eyes.

“merlin, y/n! i was only messing with you! what’s wrong?” seamus furrowed his eyebrows at you, only for you to bend down and groan in pain as you attempted to tie your loose shoe laces.

“i can’t do it!” you whined, a tear finally escaping your tired eyes. you stood up, and sniffled, not noticing the genuine concerned looks plastered across the three boys’s faces.

and then, if things couldn’t get any worse, you felt someone tap your shoulder. you turned around to meet a terrified looking ron and harry, staring down at your legs,

“y-y-y/n... blood! t-t-there’s blood running down your legs!”

you looked down, and sure enough, there was a bunch of it. you automatically began to cry, and the sobbing only got worse as you realized that this was happening in front of not one, not two, but five boys.

“nev—neville... p-please give me your jacket...” you choked out, rushing as the blood seeped between your thighs. he did so quickly, tossing it to you, and your tied it around your waist before running into the nearest bathroom.

“why would you point that out?” dean asked ron, eyeing him,

“what?! would it be better for her to stay like that the rest of the day?” the ginger snapped back, still not putting two and two together. ron wasn’t exactly wrong, but his execution was awful.

the boys sighed, deciding that maybe waiting outside the bathroom would do you some good. but, unfortunately, as 15 minutes passed, you never came out.

“m-m-maybe someone should go and get hermione. or lavendar. or one of the parvati twins?” neville suggested, scratching the back of his neck. seamus shrugged, honestly clueless on how to handle the whole situation.

luckily, a saving grace skipped by, grabbing the attention of all of the boys,

“ginny!” ron called out, and she stopped in her tracks, “thank merlin you’re here!”

the look on her face was questionable as harry, ron, neville, dean, and seamus all stared at her.

“w-what?”

dean spoke up first, more than concerned, “y/n went in there. she—she had—blood running down her legs. and, she started crying...”

that’s all it took for ginny to nod her head, “okay. you guys go ahead. i’ll take care of her!”

they did so reluctantly, more so your three best friends. as ron and harry wanted to be away from the whole scenario as soon as possible.

and, that was the last they heard from you yesterday. today, they waited for you to come down from the girl’s dorm, but you never came.

they waited for you in the great hall, but again, you never came.

little did they know, you were curled up in a ball on your bed, sobbing from the excruciating pain that filled your whole body. this cycle was hitting you like a truck, and you’d wished that somehow you had been more prepared for it.

hermione had left you reluctantly that morning, never seeing a fellow girl having such a bad period before. you had cried all night, and you and her both had barely gotten any sleep. so that’s why when neville saw hermione drifting off to sleep during a shared class, he was absolutely baffled.

as that same class ended, the three boys caught up with hermione,

“hey, granger! where’s y/n?” seamus asked, and she rubbed her eyes.

“she—um—“ a yawn interrupted her response, “she’s in our dorm. she doesn’t feel well.”

neville’s mouth went agape, and he finally put two and two together.

“i wouldn’t go and see her, though. you guys embarrassed her yesterday. she told me all about ronald, and ginny, and seamus. she’s really upset, and... she’s just in a lot of pain. so, just let her be for a while.”

and with that, she left the three boys. they gave each other weird looks, mentally questioning each other.

you on the other hand at this time, were crying as you changed out your bed sheets for the second time that day. it wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable experience to have to explain to a house elf why you needed a bunch of new clean sheets.

dinner soon came, and even then, the boys expected to see you sitting with them, eating and laughing. but, you still hadn’t left that dorm.

so, neville packed some extra food, and the three made a journey to gryffindor tower, just to see if they could break the rules to make sure you weren’t dying. (of course, all three of them were convinced that you were on your death bed.)

they slipped past the prefect, climbing up the stairs to your dorm.

dean was just about to knock when they all heard your voice,

“stop, hermione! please! i don’t care that i missed my classes! i’ve been puking all day, bled on my bed, almost shit my pants four times, so, i really don’t care about snape and what he said about me! piss off!”

seamus’s lips curled, and the sound he let out could only be described as pure disgust. but, neville nudged him,

“she can’t help it. don’t be like that...” he whispered, still not sure if you were alright with visitors at the moment.

“well, i’m sorry! but, dean, neville, and seamus are all worried about you! they—“

that’s when they heard a blood curdling scream, and it sounded exactly like you. it made them jump,

“I WANT TO KILL MYSELF! FUCK!”

“don’t say that! it’s only for a few days, y/n! i told you i would help you with anything you needed!”

“then you can start by fucking off! go away!”

the boys looked at each other,

“maybe—“

“yeah—“

“later.”

they all mutually agreed, and ran down the stairs before hermione had the chance to see them.

they settled in the common room, deciding to do their homework until they knew it was a safe call to go and see you. they all worried about you tremendously, as they had never heard you talk to a fellow friend like that. you simple weren’t that type of person in their eyes. you had always been patient with people, so it was a wonder to them how you loved them so much.

they spotted ginny, walking up to the girl’s dormitories with a glass of ice cream in hand. they naturally assumed it was for you. and truth be told, when ginny entered with a sweet smile on her face, holding the cold treat, you realized you had never been more happy to see a weasley before.

as pathetic as it sounded, you cried to ginny while eating the chocolate ice cream. you sobbed to her about all the events of that day, and the day before. your crush on neville and how you believed he didn’t feel the same, the way that seamus chewed too loudly, and how hermione was too uptight sometimes. she simply listened, knowing that’s all she could really do.

finally, the three boys saw ginny coming down the the glass now empty, and they ran up to her,

“is she okay?”

“what’s happening?”

“can we go and see her?”

she chuckled and shook her head them, “she’s fine, you guys. calm down. i’m not so sure if she’ll want to see you guys, but you guys can sure try.”

they all three looked at each other, slightly terrified.

but, they sucked it up and made their way up again. of course, seamus couldn’t hold back from making a snide comment,

“i swear, if i get a book thrown at my head and end up in the hospital wing with a concussion, i’m blanking it on neville.”

“why me?!” neville scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air,

“because! you fancy her and are the most worried about her! she’s just on her period! is it really that big of a deal?”

before neville could answer, dean cut in, “yes, seamus. it is a big deal. maybe not to us, but to her it is. try bleeding out of your dick for a week while your inside are ripping apart!”

if you would’ve been present, you definitely wouldn’t hugged dean for that one.

they finally arrived, and they argued for a moment over who would be the once to knock on the door. it felt like they were stepping into a death trap. finally, neville agreed to do it.

he did so gently,

“what?” you asked, “who is it?”

dean and seamus eyed each other, definitely panicking.

“erm—it’s... us...”

you groaned, and looked down at your state. you were only in your bra and underwear, trash bucket in your lap, nausea getting the best of you... again.

but, you figured seeing your three best friends would bring you some comfort. this wasn’t their fault, and you didn’t want to take it out on them anymore.

“um... you can come in, but warning! i’m—“

before you could warn them, the door flew open,

“naked...” you breathed out, looking down at the trash can.

they all went wide eyed, and neville covered dean and seamus’s eyes with his hands, and closed his own.

“close the door, you gits!”

neville did so with his foot, still covering everyone’s eyes. you let out a small chuckle at the fact, and shook your head.

“you guys can look, you know. you act like we haven’t been best friends since first year.”

“b-b-but you’re—naked!” dean responded, through neville still keeping his own hand over the boy’s face.

you pursed your lips as you felt vomit climbing it’s way up your throat, “who—“

that’s when they heard it. the violent sound of puking. neville thanked merlin that his eyes were closed, because he probably would’ve puked too.

“who cares?” you breathed out, wiping the slobber from your chin. that’s when seamus took neville’s hand away from his eyes, and realized how you looked.

you looked unrecognizable almost. you looked exhausted, pale, and like you had just been hit by twenty cars at one time. your eyes were all puffy and red from crying, and your hair was definitely not put together like it usually was. makeup was smeared all down your face, makeup from the day before that you simply didn’t have the motivation to get up and wash off. but, seamus couldn’t help but notice your bra and underwear.

“you—“ he chuckled, “you have teddy bears on your undergarments, y/n?”

you clenched your jaw, and tightened your grasp around the trash can, narrowing your eyes at him. his eyes widened,

“kidding! i was only kidding! they suit you well!”

finally, dean shoved neville’s hand off as well, and neville opened his eyes back up reluctantly. neville and dean took in your state, much less of a laughing matter to them, as they were more of the calm friends.

“merlin, y/n... are you alright?” neville asked, approaching you slowly. you shook your head,

“i’m dying...”

the three boys gasped, and you looked at them funny, “i’m kidding... but i feel like i might...”

that settled their nerves a bit, the theory of you dying slowly fading away. you spit in the trash can, and set it back down on the floor. of course, seamus being the curious cat he is, looked in the trash can.

“don’t look at my vomit, finnigan! don’t you have any manners?”

he jumped back, and nodded his head.

“what are you guys doing here, anyway?” you asked, laying down fully on the bed, stomach and legs exposed.

“well—we know—you—you sorta—“

neville sighed at dean’s awkwardness about the whole situation, “we know you’re on your period. and, we know that you’re in a lot of pain. and, we just wanted to come and check up on you.” he glanced at the other two boys, “right?”

“yeah, definitely!”

“totally!”

you giggled at seamus and dean, “oh, what gentlemen. how could i ever thank you?”

seamus couldn’t hold it in. the comment just slipped from his lips,

“well, seeing you in your bra and underwear is thanks enough in my book!” he joked, nudging dean.

surprisingly, the only one who laughed beside seamus... was you. this surprised the boys, as you were sure that would earn seamus that book to his temple, or at least a smack to the face. but, it didn’t.

“see? i told you guys she’s fine! she’s laughing like she always does!”

neville seemed to look over at you for reassurance, just to make sure that seamus hadn’t crossed a boundary with one of his crude jokes. it was something that seamus had done quite a few times, without even realizing it, but it was simply because he didn’t know how to put a filter on. you knew at the end of the day that seamus wasn’t trying to disrespect you. plus, it was something you had go get used to, being one of his best friends and all.

at one point, the boys had eased into the floor, getting things for you if you needed it. seamus even asked why exactly girls even got periods, and you explained it to him in full detail.

“so... like—the inside of your uterus is actually tearing? i thought dean was joking about that!”

you shook your head, “unfortunately, it’s not a joke, finnigan. it’s very real...”

“well, is it this bad for all girls?”

“no, actually. some girls only bleed for a couple of days, and it’s very light. they can go without cramps, puking... lucky bitches!”

that’s when the boys fell silent, even seamus himself. until he raised an eyebrow,

“is it bad that i’m kinda curious? you know—to see how it feels to... bleed... down—there...”

dean furrowed his eyebrows, but neville nodded his head in agreement.

“well, boys... i can’t make you bleed out your dick for seven days straight... but, i can punch you guys in the stomach with full force and show you how cramps feel!”

collectively, they all disagreed, which caused you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“but—it can’t be that bad, right? i mean, everyone can get a stomach ache...” dean questioned, but unsure of what he had just said.

“let me put it to you like this, thomas. imagine the weasley twins sneaking a muggle laxative into your morning pumpkin juice...” you started, “but that stomach pain for a whole week.”

dean put his head down, finally understanding. no wonder you had talked about almost shitting your pants.

that’s when the door swung open, revealing a surprised hermione,

“y/n! where are your clothes?! boys are in here! and plus, they’re not even supposed to be in here, anyway!” she snapped, immediately storming over to your closet, and pulling out a random shirt, throwing it at you.

“but, it’s too hot! and, any tightness hurts!”

“i don’t care! i couldn’t imagine sitting around with ronald and harry with my—lady parts hanging out!”

you chuckled at her hidden shaming, quite used to it by now. “oh, whatever, granger! it’s the same difference as a bathing suit! lighten up!”

seamus and dean snickered at the look on her face, and the way she stormed out.

“she’s right, y/n. not about—you know, we don’t care... but, just—seamus will be talking about it for the rest of his natural life if you keep your clothes off any longer.” neville stated, standing up and taking his sweater off. he passed it to you, making sure not to touch you in anyway that would make you uncomfortable.

you smiled at the kind gesture. sure, it was a sweater, and you probably should choose the lighter t-shirt that hermione had snagged out for you. but, it was neville’s sweater, so, how could you refuse?

you slipped it on over your head, and pulled your hair through the hole. it was quite comfortable, and you were just the right amount of warm and cool. so, it worked out in the end. “thank you, longbottom. that was sweet.”

his face turned red at the small grin etched upon your face, but he shook it off and sat back down on the floor.

you all began talking again, not even noticing when seamus had gotten bored and ancy, and started snooping in your drawers. but, his eyes went wide at the sight of something in your drawer. he picked it up, and stared at it for a moment.

“uh... y/n...” he started, voice a bit shaky, “what’s this?”

he held it up, and you, dean, and neville all looked over.

“that’s a tampon, finnigan. i use it when i’m on my period so the blood doesn’t leak out.”

he took a beat of silence as he connected the dots, and his eyes seemed to widen even more,

“and... you have to put this where exactly?”

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville x reader #neville longbottom smut #dean thomas #dean x reader #dean thomas imagine #dean thomas smut #seamus finnigan #seamus finnigan imagine #seamus x reader #seamus finnigan smut

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spectral-musette · 3 years

Text

She touched his face, fingertips light along his temple, nails delicately scraping through the short beard on his cheeks, lingering on the cleft in his chin before resting on his mouth.

“I thought…” she began, but then choked on a soft sob as the tears began to run down her cheeks.

“I thought you would be angry,” he said instead, nuzzling his cheek against her hand and then kissing the palm.

“I am furious,” she assured him, tenderly. “I am incandescent with rage.” Her lips were against his, her breath uneven in his mouth.

Directly following the Deception arc (Clone Wars Season 4 episodes 15-18), Obi-Wan asks for Satine's forgiveness for letting her believe he was dead.

Just over 2000 words, M in AO3-style rating, probably part of a longer work if I can ever finish it and think of a title.

. . . . . . . . . .

Obi-Wan had not protested very much when Padme offered him the use of her family’s lakeside retreat in the aftermath of the attempted abduction of the Chancellor on Naboo. He had, however, expected a slightly more modest structure than the sprawling villa he’d found upon his arrival. Despite the droids on staff, the place seemed empty, hollow, as though it still echoed with the voices and laughter of a happy family. So fresh from his undercover work, he wasn’t sure isolation was the best remedy for his rumpled spirits after the ordeal, but arrangements had been made, and he supposed he could make the best of it for a few days.

In some ways, he was eager to leave Naboo. The memory of Qui-Gon’s death still cut like a keen-edged blade here. But perhaps that meant he should stay, to meditate on his old grief.

Painful as that prospect was, at least it sounded more surmountable than returning to a Temple that had been mourning him.

He’d have to, eventually. Anakin’s (justified) expression of betrayal and Ahsoka’s wounded demeanor still stung, and he didn’t look forward to repeating these painful scenes with other dear friends, with Luminara, or with Quinlan. But until the GAR red tape was untangled (at least a few days), he was still officially dead, and granted all the freedom of a wandering ghost.

He felt a little like the ghost of his old self after a quick swim as he climbed out of the lake onto the patio by the house. He sat heavily on the flagstones, still warm from the sun even as the stars were coming out. The constellations of Naboo seemed startlingly familiar considering the few times he’d seen them. The span of nearly 15 years felt short tonight. Perhaps it was the mere stubble of hair on his skull, shorter even than a padawan’s. Perhaps it was the ache of his old Master’s absence. He tried to ground himself in the present; as he toweled off his wet limbs, the ugly burn scars from his duel with Count Dooku shone pale in the moonlight, and his face still hurt from the dreadful biotech that had transformed him into the Mandalorian marksman.

It was always Mandalorians, wasn’t it? Proof that the Force possessed a sense of dramatic irony that the brethren of the woman to whom he’d lost his heart seemed to continually haunt him.

The guilt of it weighed like a stone on his chest. The mission had dragged on far too long for Satine not to have heard news of his apparent death. He had hoped it might all be resolved before… Well, it had been an unlikely hope, anyway. Padme almost certainly told her immediately.

There hadn’t been anything for it. To ask for permission to tell Satine the truth before the charade would’ve been tantamount to confessing his feelings for her. Had there only been the censure of the Council involved it might’ve been one thing, but any careless word to the Chancellor’s staff could’ve proven disastrous for Satine and the gossamer-fine line she walked to keep peace and authority on Mandalore. He’d been keeping her safe even as he wounded her.

Just like the old days, pulling her out of harm's way, or shielding her with his body.

Only this wasn’t an accidentally scraped knee or bruised arm. Perhaps it was vain of him to assume, but he knew how deeply she cared for him, how intense her feelings ran…

He’d tried composing a message to her so many times. Even still in the guise of Rako Hardeen, when he caught a moment’s rest, he’d gone over it in his mind, lulling himself into an uneasy sleep as he tried to find the words to ask her forgiveness.

In the end, a forthright Forgive me, was the best he could muster, hastily sent to her private channel as soon as he’d gotten access to a comm unit at the conclusion of the charade. If you’ll listen, I’ll try to explain, but nothing will excuse what I’ve put you through. Know that I am so very sorry.

She hadn’t replied. He checked the comm unit again as he pulled his undertunic over his head, the rough linen soaking up the last of the lake water on his back, seeing only his own message, stark and insufficient.

He didn’t blame her, truly.

He’d slept since sending it, through the afternoon, reveling a little in the luxury of resting when he felt tired, regardless of the local daytime cycles. And he dreamed in disjointed flashes, mostly of her… her grief, her melancholy, her ire… of the glint of tears on her dark gold eyelashes, the quaver of anger in her beloved voice.

He wasn’t sure if he ought to just sleep again, now that night was here. Weary as he was, he felt he could sleep for days.

He heard the door from the house to the patio open. He didn’t look immediately, as it seemed likely to be one of Padme’s droid caretakers, there to ask if he required food or clean linens. But there was no whirring of servos, and the footsteps on the flagstones sounded too soft. He caught a whiff of an achingly familiar floral scent just as he turned.

She must’ve been too much in his thoughts already, his mind too clouded with guilt and regret and weariness to clearly sense her presence.

But Satine stood, silhouetted by the dim illumination of the house, resplendent in the scarlet gown she’d worn the night they’d met in secret on Coruscant, though her hair was loose about her shoulders, pale and shimmering in the moonlight. For a moment she was utterly still, then she merely raised a hand to her mouth, stifling a soft gasp.

He scrambled to his feet, keenly aware that this was not the state in which he wished to appear before his lady. His trousers were still sopping, his undertunic open to the navel, and his hair had barely grown in longer than the stubble on his jaw. But her eyes were only on his, and shining with tears. She took a few steps towards him, then swayed a little. He lunged to catch her around the waist; the last thing she needed on top of all the rest of the suffering he’d caused her was bruised knees. She twined her arms around his neck, and his knees gave a slow surrender too, such that the pair of them sank to the flagstones, wrapped in each other’s arms.

She touched his face, fingertips light along his temple, nails delicately scraping through the short beard on his cheeks, lingering on the cleft in his chin before resting on his mouth.

“I thought…” she began, but then choked on a soft sob as the tears began to run down her cheeks.

“I thought you would be angry,” he said instead, nuzzling his cheek against her hand and then kissing the palm.

“I am furious,” she assured him, tenderly. “I am incandescent with rage.” Her lips were against his, her breath uneven in his mouth.

He tasted it in her kiss, a fleeting note of bitterness and sorrow amid the heady sweetness of her relief and joy, the fire of her desire.

“I am so very sorry,” he repeated, abject.

“Oh, I hope so,” she replied, breathless.

As usual, Satine had the last word, as neither of them could speak for some time after that.

. . . . . . . . . .

She lay on her side, half propped up on her elbow, her head against the pillow and her hair spread across it in a tangle of pale spun gold. The bedclothes were pooled around her waist, and he deeply felt the intimacy and vulnerability they shared in that moment. He thought this image of her would be vivid in his mind for the rest of his days, however long that might be: the pale morning light on her bare skin, her flushed cheeks, the glint of unshed tears in her eyes, the soft swell of her breasts with her sharp, uneven breaths as she tried not to cry again.

Finished with his abridged account of the awful ordeal, he reached out to run the backs of his fingers along her arm.

“Say something,” he begged.

She sat up a little more, her hair falling across her face as she wrapped her arms around herself and turned away from him.

“It might be… easier to accept, if you’d done it for the sake of someone … worthy of all this pain. To protect Anakin or Ahsoka or Padme or…”

“Satine, I can’t decline a mission to protect the Chancellor simply because I dislike the man.”

“It isn’t a matter of dislike. There’s something… so… wicked about him. Manipulative and scheming. Don’t say it’s because he tried to put troops on Mandalore, and don’t you dare say it’s because he’s a politician.” She turned back to him, her gaze challenging.

“No,” he agreed prudently. “I won’t say that. I don’t disagree with you. He’s been a mentor to Anakin and to Padme for as long as I’ve known him, but I can’t help thinking it’s always been somehow for his own benefit. He steered Padme to get himself elected in the first place, and his grip on the office has been white-knuckled since. I can’t very well blame him for the war, but despite his lipservice towards peaceful resolution, the GAR keeps swelling its ranks.”

“I’ll blame him. Unfortunately, there’s no evidence to confirm it aside from my gut feeling.”

He placed a hand on her waist, his thumb tracing around her navel. “I’ve learned to trust your gut feelings. But dislike him, distrust him or not, my duty is to the Republic.”

He started to pull his arm back, but she gripped it by the elbow. He slid his hand to the small of her back, pulling her closer.

“What of your duty to me?” Her voice was quiet, but not without a note of beskar.

“Is it duty?” he asked. “I thought it was love.”

“Perhaps it’s very Mandalorian of me,” she said, “that we hold our most sacred duties to be to those we love.”

“Satine, I cannot put my devotion to you above the will of the Council or the good of the Republic. Not while I serve the Jedi Order.”

He almost expected her to pull away in anger or distress, but she shifted closer, pressing her face against his shoulder. “I know that. I’ve always known that. But it hasn’t hurt like this before.”

“Not since I left?” he suggested, burying his face in her hair and holding her tightly.

“No. Not even then. It wasn’t losing you, it was letting you go. This was… like I had died too.”

The guilt of it made his stomach turn. “I am so sorry, Satine. If there had been time to find another way… to spare you this…”

“The worst of it is that you knew how it would hurt me,” she accused. “And you still did it.”

“I knew,” he confirmed, regretful. “The Chancellor insisted on knowing everyone who was privy to the plan, and I had no time to even find the opportunity to disobey. I thought… the risk of revealing that you should be told…”

She let out a breath, hot against his skin.

“I think I’d have much rather run that risk than think you were dead.”

“If I’d had time to think it through, perhaps I’d have decided differently. But everything was snap decisions, and my instinct was to protect you.”

“And I can’t even be angry at you for that.”

“Of course you can be angry,” he soothed.

“Oh, what good does it do?” she demanded, lifting her head, fair brow furrowed. “Just wasting time quarreling when we have so little time together anyway.”

“Then you forgive me?” he asked humbly, kissing her forehead.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, stroking his cheek. “I know that I still want you, though.”

“Then I am yours,” he promised, kissing her fingertips.

“At least it’s not an offense that’s very likely to be repeated,” she reflected, shaking her head a little.

“Not very,” he agreed.

“I feel like I ought to extract some promise… some penance. But I expect you’ve punished yourself enough.”

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. “The thing itself was terrible too. Not that I’m suggesting that what I went through can compare to-”

“Hush, darling,” she scolded. “It can be terrible on its own.”

“Sometimes I thought my death might end up not being a lie after all,” he said softly.

“Do you want to tell me?” she asked, her fingertips light across his brow.

He shook his head. No, he didn’t want to see how it would pain her, to think of him in danger, forced to behave as an utter villain. “Not now. Not more than I already have.”

She kissed him then, deep and ardent. “Then forget, for a while,” she said, breathless, her lips still brushing his. “Let me forget again. Make me forget.”

She hitched her leg around him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he shifted onto her, into the blissful oblivion where she was the center of the universe and the Force sang in resonance with their love.

#Obi Wan/Satine #obitine #Star Wars fic #Clone Wars fic #I wrote a thing #long post #Obi Wan Kenobi #Satine Kryze #guys I am so bad at titles #I have been trying to write something about this for ages

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pi-creates · 3 years

Text

I hope people don’t mind – but I have a theory… one that’s been mulling around in my head for ages but didn’t really know if people would be interested in hearing it. I shared my thoughts with a few people and they seemed supportive of me sharing my theory further, so here we go.

Basically, I feel like something that the fandom deems as crucial to Violet’s character might actually be a misclassification. The short version of this post is that I theorise that Violet doesn’t have excessive abandonment issues (at least not to a significantly greater extent than any of the other characters), and what she is actually displaying is signs of survivor’s guilt.

From a behavioural view point, there’s a lot of overlap between both issues – withdrawing from others, fixating on other’s and their actions, being irrational at times as a defence mechanism, and applying unrealistic expectation on oneself and others. But the difference is the reasons behind those behaviours.

Someone with abandonment issues assumes that everyone will inevitably leave them. It leaves them insecure and assuming that they are somehow at fault for other’s leaving them. The thing is, this form of dependence on others tends to lead people to constantly be seeking approval, and they reel their neck in when they feel like someone is not going to agree with them. Basically, they become people pleasers who need constant reassurance that you aren’t planning on leaving them – but at the same time they keep things shallow, because they don’t feel like they can expose anything that the other person might leave them for. Then if things are on the rocks, they sabotage, if you push someone away before they reject you, then it doesn’t hurt as bad if they decide to leave. It’s a self-destructive cycle that centres around the person being anxious and not having trust in others to accept them as they are.

And while parts of that fits Violet, other parts don’t. I don’t feel like Violet comes across as insecure in what she offers to others or being afraid to have a contrary opinion. In fact, she seems quite confident in her skills and choices. There isn’t any hesitance to bring up tough questions or to speak her mind when she doesn’t like something. She takes on a leadership role and makes decisions that she knows the bulk of the group don’t agree with at that point. It doesn’t come across as someone who is afraid that those people she’s disagreeing with will leave her. Basically, I don’t feel like she acts out of fear that people will leave her – she does express not liking that people leave and believes that certain levels of loss are inevitable, but it feels like cynicism rather than fear.

A big example of this is her asking Clementine in the first card game “Out of all of us here, which one is going to die first?”… to me, that doesn’t read as someone afraid of loss, it reads as someone who views loss casually and also doesn’t feel compelled to sugar-coat the morbidity of such thoughts to a newcomer or old friends.

But if you look at something like survivor’s guilt – it has some similar behavioural patterns, but those behaviours stem more from guilt than fear. They survived a situation when others did not, and I don’t think there’s any denying that everyone who’s still alive in an apocalypse situation has outlived a friend/family member, and potentially also been there when they died. And those thoughts of “Why did I survive when they didn’t?”, “Could that have been different?”, and “Was it my fault?” eats away at them. They start picking apart every detail of an event and questioning if they were responsible, or if someone could have done something to prevent it.

It doesn’t matter if it’s logical or not, they fixate on the idea that they could somehow have changed the events if only they said/did something different, they should have known the outcome and stopped it. It’s irrational, it’s placing the blame on oneself or others for situations that they had no means to avoid or predict. And all of that guilt and stress makes the people irritable, withdrawn, and regretful. They get so stuck in that moment of loss that they don’t move forward. They lose interests they used to have, they feel disconnected, they don’t trust people or the world to be safe or fair, they pull away from others...

And I think this sounds like Violet. It makes more sense with how she talks about her grandmother and the twins – we hear how she processes these events. She tells us what she was doing when someone died (or she believed they died) and how she should have been doing something else – for her grandmother she should have called for help, for the twins she should have been there and not in the greenhouse. And since we hear more about the twins, she goes further and talks about how she also questions the actions made by others – she feels like she could have changed the outcome if she was there instead of Brody or Marlon. When in reality, she couldn’t have known, she can’t change what happened, and it wasn’t her fault that those people died (or were taken).

I feel Violet did lose herself to a degree in those fixations, that’s why she withdraws and seems apathetic about things until after we learn that Minnie is still alive. Some of that guilt is somewhat absolved when it becomes clear that Minnie isn’t dead, it opens up the possibility of fixing her perceived ‘wrongs’ of the past (e.g., out surviving her). She talks about not liking arts and crafts – but she makes you a pin. She suddenly wants to dance with you when we had no indication this was an interest of hers before. She sings a song that she clearly used to hold to high regard when Minnie sang it – though we never hear her sing or hear her talk about her own voice. She’s a different person once the guilty moment is re-framed as something she can fix. Those interests she lost before are suddenly back, or maybe she’s just more open to reevaluate things and move forward with new interests.

And I think this also explains part of Violet’s ire in the captured route – it’s not just that she feels like you chose someone over her, it’s a literal replay of the thing she felt guilty about for years. She’s in Minnie’s shoes, but this time the people at the school know she was taken and not killed at the school – they could have stopped it in the way she wished she could have done with the twins. Then Clem shows up, and she isn’t exhibiting the same crushing guilt that Violet carried for so long when this happened to her friends – and that has to hurt.

Not only does the situation suck, but she’s being confronted with someone who isn’t coping with the “loss” of an important friend in the same way she did. I feel like it would only be logical for Violet to wonder why, and she is also clearly not in a good frame of mind and will come up with some of the worst possible answers.

Is she not as important to the others as Minnie was to her? Is she not worth the same emotional devastation? Was she wrong to feel the way she felt, or is Clem wrong for not feeling that way now?

The situation may be different, but after dealing with the traumatic experience of being captured, seeing Minnie again, and being manipulated into behaving – I don’t think Violet can think clearly enough to realise the differences of the situation. Clem isn’t dealing with the same level of guilt because her method of coping with the tragedy is immediate action… an option that Violet never had. It has nothing to do with Violet not being worth the same devastation as the twins, though I bet it still feels that way to her. So not only does the perceived betrayal sting worse, she also is being told she has the option of protecting Minnie by going along with the Delta – it just feeds into her preexisting guilt that she didn’t save her before, so of course she’s going to act in a way that she believes will make up for it.

And yeah… that’s my theory. Whether you agree or not, I’d be interested in hearing other’s thoughts on this – especially when I’m very aware that the abandonment narrative is seen as near universal amongst the fans. It just happens to not have been my initial stance, and I dunno, maybe an alternate point of view will be interesting to you guys.

#twdg #twdg talk #twdg theory #twdg violet #this is a long one #and i apologise for that

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rhaenyras · 3 years

Text

EXTENDED LIST OF THINGS THAT ARE WRONG WITH CHAPTER 139

ymir the founder fritz, aka the most powerful and compelling plot device that isayama could have ever employed in order to explain the origin of the titans, the inherent slavery of the eldian people, and also everything else wrong in the world, was emptied of all value and purpose when she was revealed to have loved her abuser and oppressor. her life-long struggle to break free from the slave mentality that was pounded into her since childhood turned out to be... totally hollow. the woman's real purpose was to keep loving the man who cut off her tongue, raped her as a child and eventually had her cannibalized by their daughters when she failed to survive a murder attempt on his person. which makes for a very pinpoint parallel with eren, tbh, but he gets a whole paragraph all to himself later. amor vincit omnia should not become a convenient fix-it trope so that stuff can magically make sense in less than 50 pages. not to mention that this makeshift “solution” doesn't account for countless plot holes, that would only make sense if ymir was an abuse survivor looking to get her agency back. and even if i was keen on excusing the sloppy writing, i still wouldn't let the whole romanticisation of rape and trauma thing slide so easily. by giving a young victim like ymir fritz romantic feelings and a blind devotion towards her rapist, isayama is basically conveying a very pitiful and toxic message, one he refuses to even dignify with a realistic explanation for the thousands of readers who couldn't make a sense of it. the way this twisted version of love seems to be universally accepted by all the characters in the last chapter, as they just shrug it off like some sort of inevitable superior force that works in mysterious ways, made me wanna gouge my eyes out and never read another word again

mikasa's arc. mikasa had the potential to be the only character in the entire manga to come out on top when all was said and done. she had openly opposed eren's idea of a genocide. she had left the scarf behind when he voiced his hatred for her. she seemed ready enough to sever the proverbial umbilical cord and move on, live a life with pride, knowing how she could have outgrown her silly, dependent, obsessive old self. she might have started out as a yandere caricature, a passive and annoying side-effect to having eren as the main character, but she could have done so much better later on. she, too, just like ymir fritz, might have broken free, if only isayama liked liberated and strong women. she had the range. she had the potential, the backstory, everything. given the chance, she could have redeemed herself. but did isayama care? nope. he just threw her to the sickos in the fandom and said “here's your little psycho doll. do what you will with her. also, she's the key to understanding the superior force that works in mysterious ways aka love aka all the nonsense i'm actually too lazy to commit to”. and so, mikasa is as inconsequential in the ending as she ever was as eren's ever-present bodyguard, if not more, because now she's even refusing to look ahead and fight. two things that she at least tried to do every so often back when eren was alive. not only she surrendered to her own mental illness, but she even saw it turned into a pretty fantasy that the readers can idealise (again, romanticisation of all the wrong things) and that she'll never be able to escape so long as she lives. what's worse, she doesn't even want to, because in this manga we love downgrading and being stuck in the past, as the worst possible versions of ourselves.

historia's pregnancy. it shouldn't even have happened in the first place, unless it was dictated by historia's explicit desire to have a child precisely when she asked for one and by that one unnamed farmer guy and nobody else. whether that was the case or not remains, to this day, still shrouded in mystery because, again, isayama didn't think of coming clean about any aspect of historia's sudden decision. the notion that she might have been raped or submitted to something she really didn't want simply for the drama of it leads to some pretty terrifying implications. i have already explained countless times how it didn't even make sense for eren to be so adamant about rejecting the 50 year plan on account of not wanting historia to be breeded like cattle, titanised, and eventually devoured by her children, if he was just... gonna let her have her way, she only had to ask him nicely. why ever would historia need eren's permission to have a child? what was she even trying to tell him in chapter 130? why did eren tell her something as pivotal as the genocide plan if the friendship between them wasn't any different from any other in the 104th? why would eren take the risk to meet her in secret and suggest that they do something as radical as fighting the mp's or running away, if all she had to do was just... ask that he let her get pregnant? i suppose that was just a bait for a very specific side of the fandom, at this point, as the extent of the entire cryptic conversation from ch. 130 was never covered, and we were probably just supposed to forget about it. I can only forgive isayama for basically baiting me into shipping erehisu because he still gave historia a decent wrap-up in the ending, she looked in control and happy enough with her new life, which is something i warmly wished for her. she seems to be in a better spot than most of her former comrades, and virtually, she is the true inheritor of eren's original (and later disowned) ideology, as she is the one who will lead eldia into the future as a free nation, whatever that may mean for them now that titan powers are no longer a thing. I'm very proud of her and generally i am happy with how things played out for her and yeah, thinking back on it with a colder mind... i wouldn't have wanted it any other way, ships be damned

wHY WAS LEVI IN A WHEELCHAIR????? like..... scars aside, he was up and about in one panel, and in the next he was disabled... that was just... idk?? weird but i suppose isayama went overboard to provide us with some residual dramatic value here

the genocide being just a red herring. APPARENTLY eren never believed that the genocide was a solid way to achieve freedom. his true intention was to antagonize himself so that his friends would be hailed as heroes, but like... why... he didn't even achieve the complete annihilation of conflict in the world by doing so? his friends might be heroes now, but they're going to spend the rest of their lives fighting for their very lives. if anything, eren sparked new conflicts and made the new order so much worse for the eldians, as they have no choice but to keep fighting, except with the same weapons as anybody else now. he basically doomed his people to a bleak future of war and possibly extinction. he killed 80% of the entire world to cause nothing but a disappointing regretful outcome, and in the end he even disowned everything he ever believed in. in comparison, zeke's euthanasia plan was some genius level shit that would have achieved the same result as eren, except with not nearly as much bloodshed.

the parasite. again, great idea, poor execution. what on earth happened to it? it was the Scientific Shit that made titans happen one moment, and then gone in the next, wrestled to death by a buff war criminal with ptsd... my disappointment is over the roof

eren himself. like, as a whole. oh, what's not to regret about the 180 eren did in the finale? witnessing a mc forsaking every relevant trait that's ever made him who he is, is simply painful on the eyes. isayama basically went and said “remember eren yaeger aka the suicidal blockhead who would sacrifice everything in order to achieve freedom? yes? well forget about him, you've got aaron yogurt now.” …... who even is this man? when he broke down and cried in front of armin, whining like a baby that he wanted mikasa to never move on from him, i legit got second-hand embarassment. I felt actual shame for the way isayama handled his characterisation. like... he is a mass murderer, ok... how can he just... kneel down and cry about his step-sister whom he never did anything to date anyway like it's nothing??? armin is right to be pissed at him but he's pissed for the wrong reasons, sadly. I don't even want to tackle the topic of eren murdering his own mother, as he basically confessed to going through life on autopilot because the founding titan just erased all his feelings, gave him superior knowledge of all things and compelled him to go with the flow of things, aka the exact opposite of what he's been preaching ever since day 1. W HAT on earth man. like i said in point #1, eren's crush on mikasa is actually very frightening too, and it leads us back to that one dark force that overpowered even ymir fritz. eren is in love with a girl who's obsessed, in denial and damaged. and what's worse, mikasa reciprocates his feelings, even though eren always overlooked her or manipulated her. ymir fritz kept misunderstanding all those red flags from the king as love, probably. this is really not a story of breaking the cursed cycle, because it seems to me that everyone has returned full circle in the end.

CONCLUSION: nothing isayama or anyone might have said in interviews or elsewhere could have prepared me for this raging shitfest. the entirety of that last chapter was farfetched to say the least, everything looked half-hearted and rushed, clumsily glued together because the real isayama died and somebody else had to ghostwrite the ending for him. I am sorry if i do sound a bit disillusioned about the whole thing and can't bring myself to be outraged either, but i've been way too invested into this manga for nearly a decade, and now it all blew up in my face, so i guess i no longer give it the power to upset me lol

#sorry for the wait guys. it's not even that great lol i just had to get some things off my chest and then forget about it #i didn't even edit lol. snk doesn't deserve my efforts #snk spoilers #snk #aot spoilers #anti aot #chapter 139 spoilers #aot #snk chapter 139

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allisondraste · 3 years

Text

Death and Other Things That Should Have Been Fatal

Fandom: Mass Effect

Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Word Count: 4715

Summary: A follow up to Cockroaches and Other Things That Just Keep Living, Shepard wakes up after destroying the Reapers and copes with the fallout. Thankfully, she doesn't have to do so alone.

[Click Here for AO3]

“Shepard?”

The voice was little more than static in her ear, jarring her back into excruciating consciousness, head throbbing, extremities numb. Spears of pain coursed through her chest with each and every breath, and she didn’t know whether it was the several broken ribs or the sight of Anderson's lifeless body slouched next to her. She tore her gaze away from the closest thing she’d ever had to a good father figure, eyes fluttering closed as she attempted to focus only on the person speaking to her.

“Garrus?” His was the first name that rolled off her tongue, the only person in the galaxy she wanted that disembodied voice to be.

“No.” Came the stern reply. There was a long pause as any hope for comfort in her final moments came crashing down around her. Then the voice spoke again. “It’s Hackett.”

A jolt of resentment toward the Admiral coursed through her at his introduction. What more could he possibly want from her? Had she not already done enough, sacrificed enough for just a ghost of a chance to stop the reapers. Surely someone else could take it from there. Why did everything fall on her?

Because someone else would have gotten it wrong.

She shook herself out of her head and back to the present. She would have been mortified under normal circumstances, but she couldn’t bring herself to give a damn now. “I apologize sir, I’m— What do you need me to do?”

“The Crucible is docked, but is not activated,” he explained, “We think there’s something that needs to be done on your end. Is there a trigger? Some sort of terminal?”

His words clung to the air around her, and her eyes locked onto the terminal the Illusive Man had used earlier. It was just a few feet in front of her and still so far away. She tried and failed to bring herself to her feet, legs buckling beneath her and sending her plummeting to the floor. Hot tears burned in her eyes as a new array of pain shot through her body, and she groaned in agony.

“Shepard?”

“I’m here, sir,” she growled, forcing herself up onto an elbow and dragging her body to the terminal, vision beginning to blur at the corners.. Not yet , she pleaded with her consciousness as she reached up toward the terminal, hand sweeping clumsily across the haptic display. Not. Yet. “I’m at the terminal but I… I don’t— I can’t find—”

Her vision went dark, supporting arm trembling and giving out as her consciousness faded. Hackett’s voice called out to her repeatedly, further and further away until it was gone entirely.

She awoke to bright, burning light, buzzing in her ears, sensations anyone else would have associated with death. But Shepard had been dead before, and this was nothing like the last time. She’d never forget that dark, quiet empty.

“Shepard,” shouted a voice, both familiar and foreign, “Wake up.”

“What?” Blood dripped into her eyes from a wound she couldn’t feel. “Where am I?”

She scrubbed her face with the back of her hand, blinking until her vision cleared. Her body screamed in protest as she rose to her knees, louder still as she brought herself to her feet and searched for who—or what— had spoken to her.

“The Citadel,” came the reply, “It is my home.”

She snapped her head in the direction of the voice, it’s owner a glowing, translucent entity in the shape of a ghost. Her heart slammed against her aching ribs, and a name rushed to her mouth before she could stop it. “Kaidan?”

The entity examined her for a moment that felt more like an eternity, long enough for her initial relief to fade, consumed by dread as she awaited its answer.

“No,” it stated in a cold, matter-of-fact way Kaidan could never have managed, “I am the Catalyst.”

Rage ignited in her stomach and chest at the sound of him twisted and distorted by a chorus of synthetic echoes, and she growled. “I thought the Citadel was the Catalyst.”

“The Citadel is part of me,” it explained, then paused, tilting its head in examination of her again, “My appearance disturbs you.”

Shepard let out a derisive snort. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“I apologize,” it said, “I chose a form that I believed would help us communicate. You had fond memories of this one.”

“Too fond.” She looked down, unable to meet its vacant eyes. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Is this one more suitable?” It’s voice shifted registers and when she glanced up Thane stood before her.

Hot tears burned in her eyes but she held them back and shook her head. “No.”

“Perhaps you would prefer this?” This time it’s tone was higher pitched, clipped. Mordin.

“No,” she spat through clenched teeth, “I’d prefer if you’d just pick a nightmare and tell me whether you can help me or not. ”

“Very well,” it said, Kaidan once again as it motioned for her to follow after it toward the beam of light before them. “Perhaps we can help each other.”

She limped after it, listening as it spoke, as it explained its creation, it’s function, the purpose for its very existence. It was nothing the Leviathan had not already revealed to her, but spun in a way that painted the Reapers as innocent pawns simply fulfilling their duty, wiping out entire civilizations to ensure galactic balance, to protect organic life from its own chaos.

Bullshit , she thought as flashes of destruction played behind her eyelids with each laborious blink. She remembered the sinking void in her gut as she fled Earth, watching it burn beneath Reaper hands. She thought of Palaven, the harrowed Turian faces as their military and government collapsed, the anger and disbelief that vibrated in Garrus’ voice and beneath his skin. She recalled Thessia, the most advanced civilization in the galaxy reduced to rubble before her eyes and she, helpless to even salvage one artifact, Liara’s anguished sobs as she trembled in her arms.

The Catalyst and its Reapers were responsible for every lost colony in Batarian space that Shepard had shouldered instead. Every single face on the memorial wall at the Citadel, every orphaned child and refugee, every life touched by this goddamn war, and the lives of those in every cycle that came before— it was all their fault. They had corrupted and indoctrinated some of the greatest minds of her time, broken some of the strongest wills. She wondered what had been said to convince Saren and Benezia. What had the Catalyst become to take hold of The Illusive Man?

The echoes of Sovereign’s boasts of supremacy and Harbinger’s threats of annihilation rang out in her ears as clear as the days they’d been spoken. And this entity, this artificial intelligence with the power and capability to stop it all, expected her to believe they were simply creatures bound to a purpose. The Catalyst truly believed she would help it achieve its pinnacle of evolution.

No, just because it was in a shark’s nature to eat her, did not mean she would allow it to do so. Despite the original intent behind their creations, the Reapers were monsters, and they had to be stopped. The galaxy deserved justice. She took one lumbering step toward the trigger on the right, one step closer to settling things once and for all.

“It will happen again,” the Catalyst called after her, “Machines will be rebuilt, and chaos will continue. Organics and synthetics cannot coexist separately.

“That’s…not true,” she grunted, and took another step, “The geth and the quarians have brokered peace.”

“It will not last.”

“You don’t know that,” she shouted, fists clenched at her sides, “The beauty of chaos is that you can’t know that.”

The entity fell silent, briefly considering what she said, then continued. “Perhaps not; however if you choose to destroy the Reapers, the geth will be destroyed as well. The two will not have the opportunity to disprove your hypothesis.”

A pang of guilt pierced her and she halted in her tracks.“All of them?”

“Yes. The Crucible’s beam is powerful but unfocused. It will be unable to distinguish between Reaper technology and other forms of synthetic life.”

Another pang of guilt as realization dawned on her. That meant EDI would die, too. Someone who was every bit a friend and member of her crew as anyone else, someone who had put herself on the line multiple times to protect Shepard, to make certain she could get the job done. EDI, who confessed just before the battle that she finally felt alive. Now, Shepard was forced to weigh her newfound life and the newfound intelligence of the geth race, against the destruction of the Reapers.

What was it Garrus had called it? Ruthless calculus, that brutal math that awaited anyone who spent enough time at war. Shepard had done plenty of those calculations, had made more than her fair share of difficult decisions, and she’d dealt with the consequences, good and bad.

This time, it was different, more final. And she was entirely alone. The future of the galaxy lay upon her weary back, and she was far past the point of compromise.

Shepard wanted the Reapers to pay for what they had done for millennia, wanted to watch them disintegrate in space as the cheers of her fleet rang out over the comms. She wanted to know with certainty that the war was over.

More than anything, however, and most heavy on her mind, she wanted to survive. It was a potent wave of selfishness that overwhelmed her as she thought of her friends back on the Normandy, of the relationships she’d forged and that had forged her. Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing them again, never hearing their voices. She was sick at the possibility that her last moments with those who had carried her through every storm were hurried and spent in a war torn camp on Earth.

Knowing that they were worried and waiting for her to return, remembering Garrus’ desperate plea that she come back alive, it was more than she needed to motivate her to do so. For the first time in her three decades of life, she had something to go home to. She had given so much of herself to save the galaxy, and she had more than earned the right to live in it.

There was no certainty that destroying the Reapers would ensure her survival, but it was the only choice without the certainty that she would die. She was willing to take her chances. She had to. With a trembling arm she raised her pistol, aimed at the glass case guarding the trigger mechanism, and fired.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as the glass shattered and her vision faded to white. “I’m so sorry.”

Shepard had been dead enough times to know that sound always came first, the discomforting beeping of medical equipment and garbled chatter ringing out in the darkness as her nervous system attempted to orient itself. Smell and taste came next, a package deal. This time the antiseptic and the metallic tang of blood barely masked the rank of burnt flesh.

Then the pain set in, dull but constant and everywhere, numbed only slightly by neural blockers and local anesthetic. She did not need to see her injuries to know how serious they were, how fatal they should have been. Yet there she lay, once again waking up from something that would have killed anyone else.

And she was alone. Again.

She began to panic as her eyes opened to the empty, sterile room, setting off the many monitors she was hooked up to. Her heart pounded violently, each breath she took sharp and shallow as she yanked herself free from the dozens of tubes and IVs constraining her. How long had she been out this time? What covert operation for which secret, extremist organization had found and resurrected her for their benefit? How much more could one galaxy ask of her?

There was a hiss of opening doors and an unfamiliar asari entered the room urgently, arms extended out in front of her. In one breath she reassured Shepard that everything was going to be all right and in the next called for a medical restraint, a sedative. She stepped slowly toward Shepard as one would approach a frightened, feral animal, and two more uniformed aliens entered the room. Shepard stood tall, despite the ache in her bones and glared at the three of them.

“Ma’am, I know you must be very disoriented right now, and I am happy to answer any and all of your questions,” the asari said, holding her hands up, “But you are in no shape to be out of bed. I need you to calm down before you hurt yourself further.”

Shepard glanced from the asari to the two salarians on either side of her. They all wore generic attire that was standard for medical professionals across the galaxy, but their uniforms had no indication of their names or who they worked for. She crossed her arms and winced through the pain as she argued. “How about you start by telling me where I am, then I’ll decide if I want to calm down or not.”

Just as she finished speaking the doors opened again, this time to faces she knew, and the subsequent wave of relief that washed over her nearly knocked her back into the bed on it’s own. On the right stood Dr. Michel, who she remembered helping out on several occasions during the Reaper War. A bit sweet on Garrus, if she remembered correctly. On the left, wearing a smirk and a raised eyebrow, was none other than Miranda Lawson.

“Sit down, Shepard,” Miranda asserted in her trademark tone. She flashed the hint of a smile and continued, “The residents aren’t being paid enough for you to harass them.”

Shepard’s eyes flicked over to the three aliens who’d been tending to her just moments before. They were now speaking nervously with the doctor, who muttered something about tests they needed to run followed by some other medical jargon that Shepard couldn’t decipher. She did as her friend directed and eased herself back down onto her bed, offering a sheepish grin as she did so. “I feel like such an ass.”

“Don’t,” Dr. Michel chimed in as she approached the bed, and began to scan Shepard with her omni-tool, “You have been in a coma for almost a month. It was expected that you would be agitated when you awoke, especially considering everything you’ve been through.”

Shepard’s chest swelled with something like gratitude. A month . She’d only been out for a month, and she had woken up in what she could now tell was Huerta Memorial under the care of a physician she trusted and one of her closest friends. This was nothing like the last time she died. She looked up at Miranda and asked,“Had to put me back together again, I see?”

“I only helped this time,” Miranda explained as she worked to reconnect some of the IVs Shepard had ripped out, “Dr. Michel contacted me a few weeks ago for a consultation about your cybernetic augmentation. I was already on the Citadel, so I came in person to oversee the repairs.”

“Is everything working?”

“Mostly,” Miranda shrugged, “Not quite up to specifications, but your injuries are still healing. With time, you should be fine.”

“And hopefully far away from any more life-threatening battles, yes,” remarked Michel, moving to a terminal near the wall and transferring data collected from her omni-tool scans.

Shepard let out a huff, and let herself recline onto the bed, walls crumbling away at the comforting conversation. She took a breath and let her eyes flutter closed for just a minute, and said, “If I can. If the galaxy will let me.”

“The galaxy’s going to have to,” announced an unmistakable voice from the door, and Shepard bolted upright to face it. To face him .

She hadn’t even heard the door open, and yet there stood her turian, with all that easy confidence he’d always carried himself with and a bouquet of indistinguishable gift shop flowers in each hand. Her pulse jumped, a fact the vitals monitor in the corner was quick to inform her and everyone in the room about. She would never live that one down.

“Garrus!”

“Is that cardiac arrest—“ he motioned toward the screen with one of the bouquets— “Or, uh… are you just happy to see me?”

Shepard just rolled her eyes, unable to stop the grin that twitched at the corners of her mouth as he sauntered up to the bedside.

“I wasn’t sure which you’d like better,” Garrus explained, glancing with uncertainty between the flowers in each hand, “So I got both. There’s also some chocolate and a few books of hanar poetry back at the gift shop if you just absolutely hate the flowers. I can run back down and—“

She laughed and shook her head at him. “They’re perfect.”

“Are you sure?” He examined each bouquet again. “You might need the poetry to bore you back into a coma.”

“I thought that anthology was quite beautiful and romantic, myself,” Michel remarked, amused. She approached Shepard again and administered something that relieved the throbbing pain in her head she’d barely noticed in all the commotion. “There, that should keep you comfortable for a time. I will come and check on you in a few hours ”

“I’ll be going as well,” Miranda said, eyeing Shepard and Garrus knowingly. “Call me if you need anything.”

She turned to follow the doctor out of the room but stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and Shepard? I’m glad we got to see each other again “

Shepard nodded. “So am I.”

With that Miranda left the room, the door sliding shut behind her. Shepard turned her gaze up to Garrus who was already looking at her, pale eyes scanning every inch of her face intently. His mandibles twitched and flared in the very specific way they always did when he was agitated or worried. He shook his head, discarded both bundles of flowers onto the nearby bedside table, and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, staring off at the wall in silence.

“Shepard I— I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he said finally, turning to look at her and placing a hand on her leg, “I’d just gone to get some air…I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, reaching for his hand and wondering just how many sleepless hours he’d sat by her bed waiting for her to come to. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, lingering there for several long moments. She brought a hand up to trace the rough ridges of scarring along the right side of his face. His eyes fluttered closed at the touch, and he let out a heavy sigh, as if she’d lifted some invisible weight off of him with just the tips of her fingers.

“You know,” she spoke up, breaking the powerful silence between them, “I think I finally have some scars that’ll give you a run for your credits.”

Garrus laughed, but it was quiet—almost sad— and he pulled back to examine her.

“How bad is it,” she asked, “There aren’t any mirrors in here.”

He laughed again, this time with more enthusiasm. “Hell, Shepard, I don’t know. You always were ugly, so it’s hard for me to say.”

“Okay,” she admitted with a smirk, “I had that one coming.”

The room went quiet again, with the exception of the buzzing and whirring of the equipment around them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though— nothing had ever been uncomfortable with Garrus— but it was heavy with unspoken pain and unasked questions for which Shepard wasn’t sure she wanted answers.

“How’s everyone else,” she ventured.

“Recovering,” he answered with a sigh, “Joker tried to outrun the blast, but even the Normandy wasn’t quick enough. Crash landed on some human colony world. Everyone made it except—“

“EDI,” she said, name bitter on her tongue. She’d hoped the catalyst had been lying about the Crucible’s effect on synthetic life.

“Yes… how did you—“

This time, she was not able to dam up the wave of emotions that crashed into her. Tears rushed to her eyes, shame and remorse tightening her chest like a vice. She was a soldier, and she knew that sacrifices won wars, but that did not make it any easier.

“It’s a long story,” she said with a sniff, looking away from him and attempting to wipe away the tears before he could see them, as if he hadn’t already.

“Well—” Garrus reached out and grabbed her chin, gently, giving it a tug until she brought her gaze back to him. “It’s a good thing I cleared my afternoon schedule, then. Tell me everything.”

And so she did. With a shaky voice, she recounted everything that happened from the time she called the evac for Garrus and Liara to the moment she was struck by the Crucible’s blast. She told him about The Illusive Man, Anderson, the Catalyst who wore Kaidan’s face, and the impossible choice she was given. He listened to every word, offered her his hand, and didn’t complain as her grip grew tighter and tighter with each devastating revelation.

When she was finished, eyes swollen and head throbbing, she looked at him and said, “I fucked up, Garrus. I had a chance to save EDI and the geth, but I just… couldn’t do it. I was so angry and… scared , and—“

“Shepard,” Garrus interrupted her, laughing and shaking his head.

“What?”

“You’re about the only person I know who could save the whole damn galaxy and feel guilty because you didn’t save it better.”

“My life isn’t worth more than EDI’s was, and it definitely isn’t more important than the entire geth race,” Shepard argued.

Garrus blinked back at her a few times, then responded. “It is to me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come, so she clamped it shut and frowned. Her entire argument fell apart in the wake of his blunt confession. How the hell was she supposed to respond to something like that?

“It was selfish,” she finally managed past the lump in her throat, “It was genocide.”

“Maybe,” he answered, firmly, “Maybe not. We have no way of knowing that anything the Catalyst told you was true.”

“Why would it lie?”

“I don’t know, maybe to save it’s own ass?” His words were pointed but not directed to her. “It was clearly trying to get in your head, Shepard, using Alenko like that.”

“But—”

“No,” he snapped, “You made the right call, and no one is going to fault you for it except you.”

“ Garrus …” she began, but trailed off when she noticed him looking down at their intertwined fingers, shaking his head and seeming to struggle with his emotions.

When he spoke up, his voice was hoarse. “You’ll forgive me if I say I don’t think you owe anyone—not EDI, not the geth, not the Alliance, not the rest of the galaxy— any more than you’ve already given.”

He paused for a beat, then added in a lighter tone, “Except me. You owe me a long retirement on your fancy Alliance pension.”

Shepard snorted out a laugh, despite everything, and reached up to take his face in her hands. She pulled him closer to her, just so that she could press a kiss against the side of his mouth.

“I’ll think about it,” she whispered.

Just as they pulled apart, the door opened and they both turned to see who had entered. Dr. Michel stood at the threshold smiling at them apologetically. “I am sorry for the interruption, but—”

“Someone tell Garrus to quit hogging the Commander,” complained an all too familiar voice as he pushed past the doctor and into the room. “The rest of us have been waiting just as long as he has.”

“Joker,” Shepard exclaimed, nearly jumping up out of the bed to greet him.

“The one and only,” he said proudly then held up a small plastic crate to show her, “And I brought you something. Basically had to wrestle the Alliance brass for it when they declared you dead.”

“What—,” she asked as she squinted at the box, noticing movement in the corner, “Is that my hamster?”

He sat the container down carefully on the table next to the flowers Garrus had tossed aside, “It’s not two bouquets of useless flowers or anything, but, well…you know.”

“We can’t all be as romantic as you,” Garrus said sarcastically as he stood up and stepped away from the bed, allowing the other man space to approach Shepard.

“Thank you, Joker,” Shepard said with a nod as she sat up in the bed, “And about EDI, I—“

He cut her off with the shake of his head, clearly not ready to discuss it. “Not your fault, Commander.”

Shepard just nodded, sorry, but not wanting to force the issue. Joker puffed his chest out and saluted her, just as more commotion rang out from the door. She darted her eyes across the room again to see the flood of other people pouring in from the hallway.

Ash was the first to rush to the bedside, throwing appropriate Alliance protocol out the window as she threw her arms unceremoniously around Shepard. The embrace was firm, but not so forceful that it caused her aching body any extra pain, and when Ash pulled away, Shepard could see the tears glistening in her eyes. She stiffened up and saluted just as Joker had done, and said “Ma’am.”

Much to Shepard’s surprise, Ash then approached Garrus and embraced him briefly as well, pulling away and then giving him a pat on the arm.

The others followed suit after that, offering words of gratitude that she had saved the galaxy, and relief that she’d managed to pull through. Tali and Liara had followed Ash’s example and hugged her. The others didn’t but greeted her with enthusiasm all the same. Vega mentioned how “epic” it was when the fleet realized she’d made it to the Citadel and got the arms opened while Traynor and Cortez nodded along. Javik, in his typical fashion stood quietly in the corner but nodded at her with a look of admiration she had yet to see from the Prothean. Dr. Chakwas and the crew from engineering squeezed themselves in the now cramped space as well. Chakwas approached the bed and gave Shepard’s hand a firm squeeze.

Humbling was not a strong enough word to describe the experience of seeing everyone who’d been on the Normandy with her in that final journey to Earth gathered around celebrating her survival. They had all meant so much to her, and only now did she realize that she’d meant the same to them.

She’d grown accustomed to being a sole survivor, watching her own back and carrying on alone with each of her mistakes strapped to her shoulders. She was used to blaming herself with the voices of those she lost, of nightmares and flashbacks and consoling herself back to sleep in the middle of the night. She had trained herself to be numb because she could not bear feeling guilty.

Now, she didn’t have to. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she had people who cared about her, people who she trusted, and they had survived. For the first time, she wasn’t alone with her grief and she didn’t have to be numb. She had friends who would hold her together while she sorted herself out, just as she had done for each and every one of them.

“You okay,” Garrus asked as he approached the bedside again, letting a hand tousle her hair gently before falling to her shoulder.

“Yeah.” She nodded and glanced around the room slowly, taking it all in. “I really actually am.”

#mass effect #mass effect legendary edition #garrus vakarian #femshep #shakarian #angst #hurt/comfort #fanfic #my writing

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goddessjynx · 3 years

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Any parent please answer?

Idk if anyone will see this, but right now I need just anyone to tell me I'm not crazy.

Am I a bad friend for wanting to hang out with my ex-bestie (eb for short) while she has her kids or she's busy and can't hang, so I offer to come over, to help watch, to help clean? Anything just to be there for her, why? Oh because she was on her third child, at this time I literally went over to her house to play dnd with her husband and brother and her sometimes. So I would try and say "hi" or talk, but instead we stayed doing something else or barely said hi. Ok, fine, hormones, got it. It got to the point of she wouldn't want to hang out with me for reasons she stopped telling me decent sounding excuses. Fine, That's fine, I have other friends who I can hang with or find other things to stay inside and not get out of the house to do. I don't need to leave the house, to get away from the suffocating inside the house with a mentally and verbally abusive, controlling husband. That's. Just. Fine.

So you know, time goes on. we find out that the reason she won't hang out with me, but will hang out with the other girl who she hates (Mind you the other chick literally broke into their house, tried to start drama all the time, and be hazardous to her already two children But who am I to judge about the person you rant to me about how you hate them so much?) But the other chick was also pregnant after divorcing her wife. It's honestly such a mess. So "anyways, I get excluded now because I "Don't understand what she's going through" or "I won't have the same experience" or I'm "not a good source of help" Lol, Okay? I still can't help? Be happy for you? Cool. So things go on, and just things have gotten worse on my end. I'm over here with such a mind debilitating baby fever, that I'm having to pull my car over watching children get off the school bus because I'm in such a crying fit that I can't breathe or see straight. So who the hell would I go to about what do I do? My Bestie right? (There's a reason we are eb rn) I tell her, well try, Idk how much she actually listened. But I tell her how I just can't think about anything else right now. I did everything right, and the world keeps slapping me back.

I own a 4 bedroom house. we have two cars, we even have decently everything working out in our favor, But all of a sudden, I'm not good enough for anyone. My own husband two months after getting married said he hasn't found me attractive for the last two years. THAnks. That's a real boost. This didn't start the fights, but that's a whole other set of rants. about a year before my eb got pregnant, around or right before July 4th, I strictly remember, I was in the walmart fucking bathroom. I had felt so sick the weeks beforehand. Like, My menstrual cycle hates me. She's savage af. Not to mention she likes to disappear randomly and appear with just cramps or a whole flood. I never know. But I remember calling my husband in a panic because I don't know what to do while I had to go to the bathroom so bad it hurt, and all I have is half dollar sized clots. Just something my medical brain, and senior year of AP biology says, "Fuck!" I have him figure something out because I'm really needing someone to just hold me in the bathroom I feel so sick to my stomach. I'm dizzy and all these symptoms I tell him to tell the doctor or whoever he calls.. So he calls, they say whatever to him. I don't either remember or he never told me what they said, (this is a normal of hiding information from me, A LOT) They said (What he told me) to just wipe things up and clean up then if it persists in the next 24 hours to go into the hospital. But I will have to see an ob-gyn.

So, Okay. Nothing bad. but they are in charge of everything along those lines. But those were including two words, that I now know were the two words this man didn't want to hear despite, DESPITE all the teasing and jokes about having kids with me when I was younger with him and literally just dating. That was because I had to see a family planning doctor. I was told by HIM that it was nothing, and we will be fine. I just blamed it on my cramps that are horrible and never put thought to it because I had believed that's what he was told. So that's a trauma my brain locked away until recently as I'm going through my divorce right now. But, I was thinking about how shortly after that, I got a call from my eb about how they were all waiting on me because I'm making us late for bringing stuff to the grill out and bonfire later. Fine, mask all the pain and keep fucking going. right?

She seemed genuinely not worried, saying it was probably just a bad cycle. She gets them all the time too. Its whatever. My now bestie's sister has gone through the same thing I described multiple times, enough that she looked at me and was like, "No, You possibly miscarried." even her mom went on about, "they should've never NEVER brushed that off like they did. If they cared then they would've made sure you were ok. My husband denied me from going to the doctor to see anything about it. Even after when I knew my hormones and emotions were just soooo off. But that's in my mind now, when before maybe around the same time my eb came out saying to all of us even her own husband one time saying she's been feeling crummy because she went in and she found out she had miscarried. It was so short after my stuff that she disregarded then took and made attention for herself that upset her own husband because she never told him until she told a bunch of us at a bar. I mean I felt bad for her, but Now thinking back, my gut says it was a ploy to make her husband to feel bad for her and to try for another one. Where as I'm over here waiting patiently because I jumped through Hoops to get where I'm at now.

My husband promised me children. Lots, its a fucking dream to be a mum. I care for everyone else, and their kids, why not have some kind of mini me to show of what I did. That I did good. That I can be useful to this world too. That I'm not just a lump of no good nothing to this world. But first, he needed a better paying job than a gas station.

Did that, he worked at a metal parts production place. But we then gave the fact that we still live in the apartment I got after moving out from high school. We rented a house. It worked, and it was nice. But now he needs a car, but he cant do that until he learns how to drive. 3 years older than me and I taught him how to drive. AND I helped him buy his first car, a truck. Oh but now, we still can't start a family. We are only renting. I have enough good credit that I could get a house alone, but I needed a higher pay. Bam with his income together we got a house.

Bam, I'm hit with baby fever and what not. NOW I get told, we aren't ready for anything like that yet, so wait two years. Alright, I'll wait. I can do that. We were going to go on trips together and do many things together and all of a sudden, the walmart thing happened, and it just got worse from there. It got to a point I got a job paying BETTER than him and I was the laughing stock to him and his buddies. THANKS. But I'm fine, everything is fine. The walmart thing was about two years after, so I mean, it was actually in the time frame and whatnot. Things just kept going on getting worse at home, I just kept listening. For reasons, I had to quit my high paying job, and then everything got absolutely horrible at home. Had to put everything I had control over money wise into his account for he worried it would take too long to find an new job and make money to suffice for bills. It was argument after argument, but I went to my eb explaining things, asking what the hell do I do? Her advice? To just do what he wants. The thing I had to quit about? She basically never cared about it. Everything just went on being a mess. I went on just letting people walk over me because that was the advice I was given.

I voiced my feelings that I have been following lies and how I feel hurt that I'm told dreams and having them be taken away. We never went on trips much. Instead we would buy a crap ton of ammo or new guns that I'm not allowed to use, yet I'm helping fund so you can get them, but when it was my own that I BOUGHT, all of a sudden, my things went missing and he would be out using and letting his buddies use my new guns and using up the ammo I had purchased on my own. I mean, fine, but let me at LEAST take yours out if you're going to use mine without asking. It got to be so annoying that we would be asked when we would get married or when we would have kids. He would be hugging me and smiling all cocky saying "Oh well we haven't stopped trying." every time. He would start that tell people this and I finally had enough. I stopped him and told him to put his money where his mouth was. He always said shit but never actually did it or acted on what he said. He would just lie to everyone. Tell people lies because it sounded nice. Best part? I had bought a ring for him. I proposed to him because he would joke about things like that. So I basically said, "bet" and did it. I have never received a damn ring! He wouldn't even want to look at them with me. Because they were expensive. Not all of them are. I don't care what price it is, but something to say, "Hey, I love you and Don't want the odd peeps at the bar to keep hitting on you so take this with you, its dangerous out there." (Shut up. I'm a nerd) But like.... I just would make notions about, I wanted a ring. He would beg me to pool together money and buy new guns, I mean I"m not against, but I would bring up that I will want a ring. Or even something else would be you know, amazing right now because I'm in a lost place wanting kids still and my eb just announced they were having their third. (which her own family was so upset about it that they ranted to me and my mom, her own brother said that its just another kid that they will end up taking care of instead of her so she can go to the bars again. Yep) So next we talked about getting a gun safe because, before we can have kids, we need to be SAFE. Ight, we bought it. Nice matte black 33 capacity, fire and water proof, best part the front had a reallly pretty engraved waving American flag imprinted on it. It was just so smooth. (Guess who has that right now btw) So oddly enough in the middle of me not being enough for my eb, My cycle kind of returned to being semi regular, and all of a sudden disappeared. Well that whole month beforehand we went from never wanting to touch me unless it was my birthday to every night he was angry after work and took it out on me instead. I mean, whatever. But when it came to me not feeling well, I told him.

Instantly it wasn't mine. I was fooling with other guys. Like instant psycho. His childhood friend came and moved up with us, she saw this for a good few months and had to move out because he was trying to control her as if she were a child. She told me that it was not right for him to be that way and that she will never talk to him for how he treated her. (which was exactly how he was always with me too) I'm not sure if he was trying to get my jealous because his bff was a girl? Idk we worked out like literally sisters. Sooo much in common and she told me, She believes he's never wanted kids. And she watched how I broke down after he told me he wanted nothing to do with me until I took a test. He DEMANDED that I took a test right away. If it was positive, it wasn't his until proven so. And if it was negative he would be fine. this was ridiculous. He wasn't at all happy or excited. Purely upset. I felt so shitty that after the test was negative I told him and he threatened about it happening again he was leaving back to Kansas. He threatened this every damn fight, it got to the point that I gave up, I said leave then. And instantly he shut up. I got him out of gangs, crime, jail, living on the street or with his mum, and being a maaajor drug addict. Yet I'M THE BAD PERSON.

Back to recently when my eb is getting closer to having her kid, I just go through finding out I'm not and my husband is freaking out at me, nonstop yelling at me that I'm not good enough and all this shit. Yes, lil ol me trying to keep the peace in the house is a cunt and a whore. Wow. Name calling, but hitting where it hurts? I told him before, how my mother in an argument said I would be a horrible mother. And that shit sticks. IT STICKS. So what does the smart ass pull out? He repeats it. He says he's glad I'm not pregnant because I'd be a horrible mother in the end.

That. That just kills a person. That kills dreams and the feeling of wanting to keep living. Who the FUCK says that to their partner? Am I wrong for thinking that's not right? Well my eb thought I was. I told her my feelings. How I don't want to be jealous of her, but I am. That she's more beautiful, she's always had guys hitting on her in school inviting her to do things and hang out, I was the nerd in whatever class that got invited only if it was mandatory. She will be having three kids and a loving husband that can never take his hands or eyes from her, where as I have to act like a clown to get my husband to look up from his damn phone. To say something nice. To

be acknowledged while in the house. I've left and came back the next morning because I hung out at my now besties house. He didn't say a word until I came home the next morning and he looked at me like "when the fuck did you leave" No care, no love. I was stuck being a burden. Anything I ever did around the house was in vain. Everything I helped with I got shoved away because I didn't do it right. EVERYTHING I did was not good enough. I would tell him this that is how I felt and he would deny it. One day, I caught him yelling at me saying that what I did wasn't ever good enough. Calle him out right away. Bitch... He tried to change the wording to go around what he said. I HEARD IT. it was so bad I had to have my bestie on the phone to listen to how he talked to me behind closed doors. Away from public view. HER MOM HEARD IT. Thought she was watching some kind of dramatic show, until she realized it was me on the phone. She's listened to so many calls its unheard of. There was a day, I had enough of it. (Ok A lot actually) but I grabbed my laptop and my charger and left the house. I sat in the park drawing on my laptop. Texted every person I could think of that I cared so deeply for that they would care for me back. I was in a dark ass place asking for Advice. My eb shrugged off what my husband was doing and scolded me for leaving. For sitting in a park drawing out my feelings instead of being with him because he's being dramatic to her husband upset that I started an argument. I didn't understand what I started when it was over me telling him not to throw the controller when he loses a COD game because that's how it breaks. Why he threw it? Because I distracted him by playing with my cat while he was playing the damn game and made him lose! yep. Exactly that. So I was yelled at to quit. So I did. I went back to my drawing and then with my headphones on I was humming to my music. It distracted him and he lost. So I flipped out because I can't do anything in my own house without being scolded for it. So I stormed off to the bedroom to draw some more. I'm upstairs and away from him. Didn't want to eat now I'm stressed and upset. So I didn't cook anything and now he's hungry and upset at me for not making food yet. YES. That's how it started and I again was the bad person in the story for safely removing myself from an environment where all my mind was telling me to do was dark things that hurt to say. To give up on everything I have worked for and all my dreams.

That was the last time I spoke to her for a while because everything started to be only about baby and about doing this for baby. Doing that for baby. But then she would never answer me back. I was done trying to fit time to hang out. To do something, I made new friends who didn't have kids and hung out more with them. It got horrible. the sound of a child crying made my stomach hurt. I had non stop dreams of the same thing happening. It was just awful. I looked it up and it was just meaning I had something and lost it. Whatever is missing in the dream what what I had lost.

In this dream I was dressed in all black, lace and long dress covering every inch of skin on my body. I had a hat with a veil and I was rocking a bundle in my arms in an old decrepit room with peeling paint and broken toys. It was a nursery. An old ruined nursery. I was rocking just a black blanket swaddled with a hole that emptied to the void. It gives me chills, I get this dream so much that me explaining just makes my skin crawl and my body ache. It hurts to think of but I just cannot understand it. Makes sense now that I looked into it.

But me going through all of this, I can't talk to my husband about my feelings because I'm too needy and being selfish for not taking his feelings into an account. That he's not ready that we are not ready and that I'm not ready because I'm going to be a horrible mom. Cool.

I have tried so much. I couldn't be around kids. It made me so sick and I jus would have to find somewhere to hide and cry for hours. I would cry myself to sleep. Never getting comfort by him because I'm throwing a pity party. I was so hurt. Still am. I'm broken hearted. Thinking that if I had a kid, at least I would have something that needed me and would love the care I gave and would love me back. I wanted to feel loved for how much I put out in the world. I wanted to have something to ground me to this world before I did something stupid. I was in such a dark place that I drove an hour to go see my bestie because I was scared that I was going to do it. That I was going to be the big disappointment he told me I would always be. Three months later, baby is here and I go back to playing dnd with my friends and its at their house. My husband is rubbing it in my face. He's holding baby and talking to baby and doing all these things making my mind break. He asks if I want to hold her. If i if iififififi NO.

I can't I cannot. I'm trying to be respectful. I missed out on other games because I had to hype myself up. I procrastinated because I didn't know how I would be or if I could handle it. I got to the point that my eb's husband told me that he doesn't want me playing anymore because I sent a text trying to apologize to my now eb that I feel so bad but I can't see her right now since seeing her kids just sends me into a panic attack and I can't stop thinking horrible things. So she takes that as I have a problem with HER kids and not just the KIDS situation. Doesn't hear me out. blames me for everything and has me banned from coming over. in which her husband says he doesn't want me over anymore. Which my rebuttal is because she's telling him only. But he said it was his choice. I don't know don't care. It just hurt that THATS the reason I got kicked out. Not because I was good, but that I couldn't handle their kids. And I would not pay attention by drawing the whole time. I was distracting myself because I'm trying to drown out the noises of cooing making my gut rot and my mouth dry. So by all means I'm selfish for wanting a dream that I was being promised for the last 6 years of physically being with my soon to be ex. I've know for actually 12 years. And that I drove 15 hours to bring you to me since you couldn't drive.

So I need to know from real parents, was I out of line for telling my eb that I had feelings and that them not being heard or just cast to the side hurt? Am I crazy for feeling that I've been robbed? For being upset when my husband comes home drunk and abuses me? For being hurt when I'm called all sorts of names and told I'm worthless by the man I should trust the most? Please. I need to know.

I know I'm ranting, but I need to get it out. I need to find some sort of something to figure out why I'm feeling this way, or why I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I'm fighting for the divorce since i haven't been to my owned house in the last 5 months since he changed the locks on me. I moved an hour away from my home and my family and still to this day, I hurt to hear or watch children around me. I'm happy, but inside something aches and just feels empty. Not to mention that I got told by people that know me that he's been caught buying condoms. We are still technically married, and he can't be doing those things right now. Am I jealous? Upset? Hurt? All of the above? It just sucks and I'm drowning in debt a bit trying to work my ass off to get where I want in life again since all of everything has been ripped from me. I'm trying. Please let me know if I'm crazy or out of line? I want to be heard. I'm going to start to save up. I have a plan for my 27th birthday. If it doesn't work in time for my 28th birthday, I'm not sure what else I can do but join the 27 club.

#send help #please reblog #mental health #parents #mother #father #moms #family #reblog #important #self care #self love #self help #self esteem #self healing #my story

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growsagain · 2 years

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The Plan

I’ve been talking about the current efforts we’re making to move somewhere that will enable me to make videos again and have a much better quality of life, but i thought I would explain properly what the situation is and why this move is so important, and then how things will change if we can pull it off.

First of all, I know a lot of people have been frustrated that there have been very few visuals at all since I’ve been back. Basically the boat we live on has no room to film or photograph, it’s absolutely tiny and is barely big enough for us both. I certainly don’t have a space to record. The boat itself is now over 50 years old making it a nightmare to insure and has sunk twice, once just after we bought it. It’s in a really bad way. it’s starting to make us ill living here, and I was sick enough all of last year. at the time it was all we could afford and though I tried to save all of last year for the money for a new boat I had to replace my iPad (my art is my sole source of income and the screen failed), then I had to replace two other expensive things, then the boatyard changed hands and the mooring fees almost doubled, and then I lost the one bit of regular weekly money I had which means for the last 3 months I’ve had to mostly support us off the money I had put aside to replace the boat. I also had to stop or barely take the two medications that controlled all my health conditions well enough to finally get some semblance of a life back in 2020 because I can’t afford them so my health has been on a sharp decline. So here’s the plan, in an ideal world, if I can gather all the money we need to move:

We want to move to a static caravan, which will mean we’re off a boat that we’re in constant fear of sinking again and in a place where there’s actually more than one room.

I’ll be able to make full videos again which means I’ll be able to make a safe and steady living through my store for the first time in years because that’s the only way to make real, liveable money here (I work as an artist full time but believe me it does not pay well and I barely scrape by from week to week. It’s getting hard to feed myself, let alone stuff myself)

The more paid videos I make, the more free stuff i’ll get to make and share for everyone at the same time, there will always be previews, outtakes, extras and sneaky little vids taken at other times. Right now I can’t even go and take photos of my gut after a big meal, this way i’d be able to share each and every stuffing with anyone who wants to see!

And that’s the other thing. Right now everything is so hard to do because of how little space we have. Cooking takes more energy than I have and so a lot of the time it’s easier to choose not to eat. We’re so far out of the way that we can’t even get takeaways delivered here. A caravan would enable me to order food in when I feel too tired or ill to cook, and luce really wants to learn to cook all my favourite foods so that she can cook for me while I’m working and then stuff me stupid when I’m done, and I can’t express what a dream that would be!

The thing is, it’s not just that I like being big, my body seems to function better when I’m bigger. the constant upwards cycle of health that I was on in 2020 was unbelievable after years of being more or less confined to bed. When I was able to consistently take the 2 meds that control most of my chronic illnesses I felt better and had more energy so I was able to cook and stuff myself and gained a considerable amount of weight. The more weight I gained, the stronger I felt and the more energy I had, and by the time I hit my biggest (15 and a half stone) I was in the best health i’d been for decades! Then last year I had to stop both meds to save for my replacement iPad and ended up in a cycle of pain, recurrent meningitis, constant illness and therefore lost weight. This is the one chance I have to get back that life I had so briefly.

I actually want this to be mu]y opportunity to really push it and get a lot bigger. I want to get back to 15 and a half stone first since I know that’s the point at which I felt best and 9 striving for a year to get back to. Then I want to get to 17 stone and then set new goals from there 💙

I’m sorry this is a long wall of text and I’m sorry it’s so grim. I’ve tried for a very long time to just stay upbeat and keep going but at this point I’m tired of sugar coating and I need to be upfront about what we need to do.

I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has supported me as I made my return, and to all of you who have continued to support me through patreon and ko-fi, every little bit is going towards making this move happen, but I have such a long way to go. i’m working every hour I can right now. I have long lists of videos and audios I want to make after we’ve moved which i’m going to share later too. For the time being, thank you for sticking with me and I promise big things ahead

If you would like to help support me getting back on my feet (luce too, she’s going to be doing some vids and things with me after the move again!) than reblogging my posts helps to get the word out and I have a ko-fi and a patreon which are both awesome ways to help us get the home we need to get back up and running 💙 there’s never any pressure and whatever happens i’ll contribute in whatever ways I can to the community but I’m extremely grateful for any help you can offer x

https://www.patreon.com/gurglegoddess 💙

https://ko-fi.com/gurglegoddess 💙 Ask me for paypaI/ca$happ 💙

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA.

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave.

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?”

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable.

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed.

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend.

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially.

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid; when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be.

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that.

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks.

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras.

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man.

“You good?” His answer was predictable.

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands.

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other.

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end.

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything.

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away.

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph.

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt.

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his.

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing.

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs.

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else.

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #fluff

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write-ur-wrongs · 4 years

Text

Thank you sweet anon for your request!! Again, I didn’t fully proof-read this bad boy so please forgive the errors! I hope you enjoy some angry Jealous!Geralt!

A/N Request: Geralt meeting your ex who thinks that you're still together/or tries to get you back in front of geralt?

The great hall was alive with royals and nobility alike. Laughter and chatter mingled easily with the sound of the band’s lively jig and the soft tinkering of fine cutlery.

The hosts had expected you and Geralt to make an appearance at dusk, but neither of you were particularly fond of all the fuss royalty liked to put up, so it wasn’t until long past sunset that you joined the party. Jaskier on the other hand, was overjoyed at the prospect of attending such an illustrious affair. He’d put up a fuss around noon and insisted he be allowed to take Roach so that he could arrive in time to make a strong impression with all in attendance. Of course, Geralt had refused, so he had gone off on foot, strutting and sighing dramatically.

Now, as you and Geralt did your best to navigate the already flushed crowd, you found yourself wishing you’d arrived sooner. It was easier to avoid people when they were being stifled by a sobering social awkwardness; after hours of ales and fine wine, however, people seemed to get a little too comfortable for your liking.

“I hate these ridiculous evenings,” Geralt grumbled, holding his arms close to his body uncomfortably.

“Maybe if we saved less lives,” you said, biting back a smile, “they’d be less inclined to insist we attend.”

Geralt only responded with a grunt and a roll of his eyes, which made you laugh lightly as you looped your arm through his and led him deeper into the crowd.

“C’mon love,” you said, a slight tease to your tone, “let’s find the free food and drink we were promised, yeah?”

You laughed again as he fought back a smile. “Atta boy Geralt, don’t smile too much or you’ll ruin your reputation as the big bad wolf.”

“Will you shut up,” he muttered, handing you a goblet of wine.

“I don’t think I will,” you said downing the wine in one go, “and could you hand me an ale?”

“I don’t think I will,” he teased, kissing your temple lightly before handing you his mug to share. You take a slow sip, your eyes twinkling as you held Geralt’s gaze, already feeling the liquor warming you from the inside. You hand him back his drink and kiss him lightly in thanks.

“Do you want to –”

You were both pulled away from your conversation by a loud clang from across the room. Geralt furrowed his brows and turned towards the sound quickly, untangling his arm from yours before reaching for his sword. He immediately relaxed as the familiar shouts and accusations resounded through the hall.

You collectively sighed your frustration as you saw Jaskier get chased into a corner by an angry nobleman; no doubt his latest conquest’s husband, who was not quite as pleased to hear the bard’s dulcet tones.

“It’s your turn,” Geralt said, downing his ale before reaching for a second helping.

“I don’t think so! I’m the one who saved him from that fisherman at the last village! It’s your turn,” you said, poking him in the chest before stealing his mug and holding it away from him.

“Actually,” he said, his low gravelly voice reverberating through you as he leaned across your body to grab his drink from your hand, “it was my turn at the last village, but you just couldn’t help yourself and jumped in to save the day. Rules are rules my dove; it’s your turn.”

You scoffed incredulously at his nerve, but shook your head in resignation; he was right after all, the rules you outlined were clear and the cycling of turns was strict.

“Well fuck. I’m taking this ale though,” you said, clapping him on the shoulder before stalking off towards the commotion.

Geralt chuckled lowly and leaned against a marble pillar, marveling at the way you made your way through the crowd. A wandering waiter came by and offered him another ale which he accepts with a polite smile, not taking his eyes off you.

He loved watching you de-escalate social situations. Sometimes it was comforting to know that he wasn’t the only one who just melted when you spoke to them directly – you were effortlessly charming and completely disarming. You once managed to convince a band of attacking thieves to stand down so efficiently that by the end of the night, they ended up joining you for dinner around the fire. Yes, Geralt was the professional when it came to handling monsters, but you were the people person of the group.

Watching you now was no exception. Your body language, the way your warm smiled reached your eyes with ease, how smoothly you managed put yourself between Jaskier and the furious man; it was impressive to say the least.

Unfortunately, his attention was pulled away from you suddenly.

“I can’t believe Y/N is here tonight, I thought I’d never see her again!”

At the sound of your name, Geralt whipped his head in the direction of the speaker, cat-like eyes scanning the crowd swiftly.

“Yeah, the very same Y/N I’ve told you about. An amazing lay, I swear it!”

The man in question was holding court half a dozen other knights; they kept snickering and looking off at you in turns. They were teasing him, egging him on for details.

“She’s not as sweet as she looks,” the man stated confidently, “don’t let that smile fool you gentlemen. The last time I took her was in an alley! The little whore was mad for it – couldn’t wait for it, needed it right there and then.”

Geralt was fuming.

He pushed his way through the crowd with great force and little care. He was worried about your honour. Your reputation in the courts – that was all. That was enough to explain the way rage seethed through him and the strange urge to be sick that was hitting him in waves. He was concerned for you as a partner and a friend.

He wasn’t jealous.

“Gods her skin… smelled so good, felt even better… I’m getting her back tonight gents,” he boasted, puffing out his chest.

“You don’t have a chance,” said the knight closest to the bastard bragging about shagging you, “it’s been ages since you’ve last seen each other, and if she’s as good as you say, she definitely found someone new.”

Damn right, Geralt thought furiously, swallowing the bile bubbling at the back of his throat.

“No, no, believe me the way she mewled and screamed for me? She’ll do more than remember,” he said, disgusting confidence dripping off every word, “she’ll beg to have me back.”

You’ll beg for mercy when I crush your fucking skull you pathetic –

His murderous march was abruptly interrupted by Jaskier. The bard cut in front of him and planted himself squarely before him, chattering on incomprehensibly.

Geralt’s eyes were bugging out in panic as he watched the bastard strut confidently towards you. He tried to push past Jaskier but the bard was quick to match him in posture.

“Look I know you’re upset with me for ruining your evening but she came after me,” he insisted, “I mean I can’t blame her the song his perhaps my most romantic sonnet. Speaking of my writing – Geralt can you look at me when I am sharing my musings with you, please? Thank you – as I was saying, Y/N inspired me tonight to write this song –”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, “move!”

“Wha – why?” Jaskier pivoted on the spot – keeping Geralt’s path blocked – as he sought the source of his friends’ fury. When he saw that you were speaking politely to some knight he scoffed loudly before turning back.

“Oh-ho, no,” he laughed, “you’re jealous of that oaf? Geralt, seriously?”

“I am not jealous,” he spat, only able to look at Jaskier for a moment before his glare shot back up towards you.

“She’s just being polite! Seriously you always assume the worst in people, Geralt, it’s sad.”

“I see people as they are,” he muttered, watching closely as the knight took a half-step towards you, he let out a menacing growl when you didn’t step backwards. “For what they are.”

“Okay then why can’t you see that’s just some poor sap who, I don’t know, maybe wants to thank Y/N for her help in saving this kingdom.”

“Shut up, will you? I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.”

“You don’t need a Witchers’ hearing to know what’s happening over there,” he brambled on putting on voices as he acted out the conversation, “’Hi I’m Y/N’, ‘Hi I’m an unimportant but very grateful knight, pleased to meet you blah blah blah…”

“Fuck, Jaskier, shut UP –” he stopped himself when he heard your laugh, the deep full laugh you normally reserved for him.

Jaskier heard your laugh too, and turned his head to double check he’d heard right. When he saw the familiar twinkle in your eye, he looked Geralt with wide eyes.

“They know each other?” he asked.

“They,” he started, struggling to get the words out, “t-they knew each other.”

“Wait you don’t mean,” Jaskier started, connecting the dots, “that they knew each other intimately?” He wagged his fingers suggestively as he said the last word.

When Geralt’s only reply was a low, seething hum, Jaskier whistled lowly before shaking his head.

“Well that explains,” he waved his hands vaguely at Geralt, “this reaction.”

Geralt was about to shove the bard aside when he saw you waving him over. You were smiling widely as you waved, but it didn’t reach your eyes. He cleared his throat and pushed Jaskier lightly before charging towards you with the bard in tow.

“Ah, finally!” you exclaimed, swiftly wrapping your arms around his bicep, pulling him close, “Geralt, I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Hoeck. Hoeck this is Geralt, my partner,” as you spoke, you moved to loop his arm around your waist, “and this is Jaskier, he’s responsible for the wonderful music tonight.”

“The White Wolf,” said Hoek, sizing Geralt up, “wow - what an honour.”

He hummed in acknowledgement and took the knight’s hand in a tight grip, feeling immense satisfaction watching the man wince.

“And -erm, thank you sir Jaskier, for the wonderful music,” he said, trying and failing to subtly rub at his hand.

“Thank you, good sir. I speaking of, I should get back out there.” He shot you and Geralt a look and swung his lute around his back before strumming a few notes. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You all nodded to him as he strode off, beckoning the band to join him.

An awkward silence settled over the three of you. Geralt was clearly seething as he held your waist in a tighter grasp than necessary. After a beat, you shot Hoek a tight-lipped smile and made up some excuse about needing to say hello to the king and queen before the night came to a close.

“Ah certainly,” he said, disappointment obvious, “well if you ever find yourself in need of company –”

“I won’t,” you said quickly.

“She won’t,” Geralt growled, his deep voice overlapping with yours.

At that, the knight swallowed thickly and walked back towards his group with tail between his legs and his hand held close to his chest.

Once alone, you turned in Geralt’s arms and looked up at his sour face accusingly.

“Why did it take you so long to come rescue me!” you said, tugging playfully at his hair.

“Didn’t look like you wanted to be saved,” he said lowly, eyes still alight with jealousy, “and Jaskier got in my way.”

“That’s a shit excuse and a weak lie. He was all over me! It took all I had not to rip the bastard’s arms off!” you said, a nervous laugh bubbling out of you. “Gods he has some nerve.”

“Hm,” he hissed, “you’re right about that.”

“Geralt,” you looked up at him carefully and gently caressed the crease between his brows, “this is more than jealousy. What’s going on?”

Geralt hesitated before relaxing his face into your hand and took a small sigh. “It’s nothing. And I’m not jealous.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, “Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, he brought his eyes down to meet yours.

“Thank you,” you said, cupping his face before moving your hands to rest on his chest, “can you talk to me?”

“Don’t be patronizing,” he warned.

“Don’t be obstinate,” you countered.

Geralt rolled his eyes at you before pulling you closer to him. “Maybe I was a little jealous, and maybe,” he sighed deeply, “I was a little worried.”

“Geralt,” you started, your heart breaking at the sight of him, “you have nothing to worry about when it comes to us. I need you to know that.”

“I do,” he said quietly, “but the way he was talking about you – knowing he had been with you in that way...” Geralt stopped himself as he felt his anger come roaring back at the memory. “I wanted to kill him.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t have been upset with you if you had,” you said, jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little. Your time with Hoek was beyond brief; he was nice enough at first but quickly he became aggressive and possessive. You couldn’t help but cringe when you looked back on your time together and you hated that your beloved witcher was letting this get to him.

“Oh, Geralt,” you murmured when you realized he wasn’t letting up, “I’m yours. Completely and unwaveringly yours.” You kissed his forehead, then his nose, and finally his lips.

He kissed you back slowly at first, but his kiss deepened as you leaned into him. Geralt pulled away just a little and rested his forehead against yours.

“Y/N… I’m – I love you so much…” he whispered, “it’s just… the things he said about you –” he started, hating himself for needing to hear your side of the story.

“Either untrue or exaggerated, that I can promise.”

“Something about an alley…?” Geralt asked, holding his breath.

“Oh ew! That was a terrible night,” you shuddered, “he was so insistent! Wouldn’t take no for an answer – Wait, what was he saying about it? Gods, maybe I’ll kill him.” Anger and humiliation burned at the back of your throat.

Seeing your visceral reaction, Geralt was immediately overcome by feelings of guilt, for making you relive the memory, relief, that your reaction was so negative, and rage, knowing that not only did this pompous ass make forceful advances on you but he always lied about it to a crowd.

Feeling the intensity of your anger radiating off you, Geralt was about to suggest that the two of you left before you did anything you’d regret when Jaskier came running through the crowd shouting that it was time to leave.

You took off running behind the bard, holding Geralt’s hand tightly as you raced down the castle’s corridors.

“Why are we running?” you shouted, a little breathless.

“I might have added a little something to our charming friend’s drink, and he might be having a very intense negative reaction to it!” he said over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck,” you breathed through fits of laughter, “Jaskier!”

“He’ll be fine! Eventually!” he added, he turned and ran backwards so he could shoot you a wink before adding, “No one messes with our girl, right Geralt?”

Geralt rolled his eyes at his friend before he ran up behind you and scooped you up bridal-style – all without breaking his stride.

“Damn right,” he said, smiling widely at Jaskier before planting a quick kiss to your temple.

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