#Day 3: sleeping next to each other

[xojhi]

It's Zosan day so here's my partake on the Zosan prompt in twitter!

[meamiiikiii]

mira !!! :]

[xxplastic-cubexx]

it doesnt need to be said but its genuinely so funny how at-the-hip charles and erik are in krakoa like they really had the green light- the OBLIGATION- to be as obnoxiously close to each other as possible and abused that right to the fullest extent

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

ayyy im back with another Unedited human au snippet <3 it's almost entirely dialogue oopsies <3

~

Eddie slows in putting his coat on - Barnaby isn’t sticking around to chat with fellow staff like usual. He’s in a rush, scrambling to grab his jacket and hurrying from behind the bar. He dashes through the door, looking like a man on a mission.

The door Mr. Frankly had just vanished through. 

Could he be…? No, Barnaby seems like a good man. But he had seemed a little pushy with Mr. Frankly, from what Eddie could tell. 

It couldn’t hurt to make sure.

Eddie frowns deeply as he goes outside, wincing slightly at the first burst of cold air after hours spent in a warm building. He’s just in time to see Barnaby jog up behind Frankly and close his car door before he can get in. Barnaby immediately leans against the door with his arms crossed, pinning it shut and blocking Frankly from the driver’s seat.

Eddie’s stomach plummets. Before he knows it, he’s speed-walking across the parking lot towards them, a fire burning in his chest and his hands curled into fists.

Frankly says something loud enough that Eddie can almost hear, his voice echoing in the empty lot. As Eddie watches, Barnaby pokes Frankly’s chest, making him stagger back a step.

“Hey!” Eddie barks. 

Both of them jump and whip around - Barnaby’s eyebrows shoot into his hair, while Frankly’s lowers into a flat line. 

“Eddie?” Barnaby says.

At the same time, Frankly says, “Mr. Dear?”

The two of them look at each other in surprise. Eddie pays the exchange no mind. He stops by Frankly, trying to slightly angle himself in front of him without making it too obvious.

“Is everything all right here?” he asks, looking Barnaby up and down. He really hopes this won’t come to blows - Eddie can throw a punch well enough, but Barnaby is an imposing figure. Eddie already knows he’d likely lose, but as long as he can buy Frankly a couple extra seconds…

“No, actually, everything is not fine,” Frankly says in a ticked-off - and strangely scolding - tone. 

Barnaby, not breaking eye-contact with Frankly, counters with, “Everything’s peachy, Ed.”

“You sure about that?” Eddie asks, trying to keep his tone amicable. 

“Scout’s honor.”

“Please,” Frankly scoffs, “you were never a boy scout. And that’s not the point - I am trying to get home!”

“You are trying to die in the most avoidable way possible.”

Eddie shoots Frankly a concerned look. “You’re what?”

“I am perfectly sober,” Frankly says.

Barnaby raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Your face is flushed.”

“It is not!”

Eddie winces. “It, uh, it is. A little.”

“It’s none of your business,” Frankly seethes. 

“Listen,” Barnaby sighs. He leans heavier against the car and rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t wanna be the one 'ta call Julie and deliver the news that her beloved Frankie went and got himself killed at the taco bell intersection.”

Frankly makes a high and derisive noise. “Excuse you, I have class. I’d die outside of Howdy’s.”

“Please, he’d turn your memorial into part of the gift shop. I can already see the signs - ‘dead friend sale, five percent off!’”

“I’m worth at least thirty percent.”

Eddie clears his throat and gestures between the two of them. “You two… know each other?”

“Unfortunately,” Frankly mutters.

Barnaby grins. “Aw, you’re just saying that. It’s okay - I know ya love me, Frankie. You don’t have to say it.”

“I do not.”

“I have evidence that proves otherwise.”

Frankly rolls his eyes. “You’re unbearable.”

“And yet…”

Eddie heaves a sigh - of relief or exhaustion, he’s not sure - and drags a hand over his face. “Alright. Good, I - good to know.”

“What, did’ja think I was attacking him?” After a moment of prolonged, awkward silence, Barnaby’s teasing smile drops. “Oh. You did.”

“Barnaby? Attack me?” Frankly snorts. “Give him some credit - he’s smarter than he looks.”

“Yeah, I’d have better chances taking on a pack’a hyenas!” Barnaby lets out a hearty cackle. “At least then we’d all get a laugh out of it!”

“So I misjudged the situation pretty terribly,” Eddie says, inching to the side to give Frankly his personal space back. “My apologies.”

“Don’t sweat it, Ed. I know Frank may look like a bundle of sticks, but he’s petrified wood all the way through! Pure stone, you know.” Barnaby grins and leans towards Eddie. He whispers conspiratorially, “‘Cept when it comes to holdin’ his liquor. Then he’s a total lightweight.”

“Barnaby,” Frankly hisses.

“Practically paper!”

“That’s enough, thank you!” Frankly makes an attempt at shoving Barnaby away from the car door, but Barnaby widens his stance. It’s like watching someone try to move a tree.

“See, this is how I know he shouldn’t be driving,” Barnaby says conversationally to Eddie. “If he were sober, I’d be the one drunk - punch-drunk, that is.”

Eddie isn’t sure whether or not he should laugh - was that a joke? Barnaby seems fond of them, but… surely Frankly isn’t a violent person. Frankly lets out a growl of frustration and clumsily tries to bodyslam Barnaby. Eddie inches back a step.

“Alright Frankie, you had your fun.” Barnaby scruffs Frankly like a misbehaving cat and holds him at arm's length. He holds out a hand. “C’mon. Keys.”

“Never.”

“Have it your way. I’ll go ahead and call Poppy, tell her that you’ve forgotten the many dangers of-”

“Oh, fine,” Frankly spits. He yanks his keys out of his pocket and slaps them into Barnaby’s waiting hand. 

Barnaby flicks the keys as Frankly stalks to the passenger side door and yanks it open. “Choose a place for dinner, we’ll swing by and pick it up - my treat.”

“Obviously your treat,” Frankly grumbles. “As if I’d-”

The slam of his door cuts off whatever he says next, though Eddie can see him still talking in the car. His phone screen illuminates his irritated expression as he - presumably - looks up places for takeout. 

“Well, I’m glad you were here to stop him from doin’ somethin’ everyone would regret,” Eddie says. “Mr. Frankly-” 

“Mr. Frankly?” Barnaby snorts. “You’re not one of his students, are ya?”

“I’m just bein’ polite. He set the tone by referrin’ to me by Mr. Dear, so I’m tryin’ to respect that line in the sand.”

Barnaby shakes his head, grinning. “Just call him Frank. He puts up a big show of bein' a grouch, but he’s really a big softie. Though don’t - don’t try to pick a fight with him. Ever. You’ll lose.”

“Wasn’t plannin' on it.” Eddie makes a mental note to keep calling him Mr. Frankly, just to be on the safe side. It’s not like they’re friends, anyway. More like… acquaintances. Occasional Run-Into-Each-Other strangers. 

[amayikes]

in case anyone worries that I just said I've discussed walrus fairy with my partner for two hours, it's not a fight discussion, we're just two autism-bained academia suckasses and we LOVE getting into long profound discussions, and right now is "how the fairy/walrus dichotomy of humans reflects their stances on religion (my argument, I vote walrus) and ultimately proves how dangerous thought patterns lead to the prevalence of scams (his argument, he votes fairy)

[danielnelsen]

well i guess i can play bg3 now, assuming it finishes downloading sometime in the next 2 months

[phagodyke]

crimes of the future was sooo much fun actually... not quite on naked lunch level but straight to 2nd in my cronenberg rankings 😏

[iftitah]

accidentally opened lj's whatsapp chat from april 2023 and almost kmsed reading 2 texts couldn't even scroll above

[dolokhoded]

last of my never have i ever posting for the night still processing s4 but are we not going to talk about how not only ben felt comfortable enough to just Fall Asleep in devi's bed but also somehow nalini didn't scream bloody murder when she found out.

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Also I'm really into Venom now. Good night!

[noxtivagus]

ffxv makes me so emotional oh my god 🥹🫶🏼

[mashkaroom]

ok in other news i need to finish what i’ve estimates to be abt 15 hours of work more or less by the end of the day today and i even took an adderall and i even slept, for no apparent reason, 16 hours today??? despite sleeping a normal amount the previous several days??? but despite being well-slept, even obscenely so, and being medicated, both of which do help a lot, the mind still resists focusing on these tasks, instead visciously desiring to learn more and more about singer’s translation process and come up with cool new dictionary features and to share this with as many people as possible. please could this wait until tomorrow

[youremyonlyhope]

There is a nonzero chance that I have COVID.

Yayyyyyyyy.

Let's hope it's just a cold...

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[agoldengalaxy]

baldurs gate 3 companion headcanons:

- gale talks in his sleep

- astarion once made karlach laugh so hard that she sprayed fire out of her nose

- shadowheart can and will hurt anyone on purpose, but if she accidentally hits someone/steps on their foot she secretly feels REALLY bad about it

- when karlach told gale she hadn’t read a book since primary school he nearly passed out

- wyll is an emotional drunk. he has cried about the stars being beautiful and about how proud he is of his companions

- lae’zel learned her favorite trick from some of the tiefling children: sticking her tongue out at people she hates

- when she thinks everyone is asleep, jaheira sings old lullabies. minsc and wyll are the only ones who have heard, but they don’t say anything because they don’t want her to stop

- the children love to put flowers in halsin’s hair. he loves it too, and will return the favor if they ask. he once did it to an unenthusiastic astarion, who ended up secretly liking it

- minsc takes the BEST care of his nails. boo’s too, obviously. he has let yenna paint them once or twice

- everyone has a lowkey crush on wyll

- when no one is looking, astarion likes to feed and pet scratch and the owlbear, making comments about how they’re the cutest ones there (besides him) and no one gets him like they do

- karlach asked wyll for dance lessons. she never quite gets the hang of it, but she has fun, and wyll is proud of her

- astarion and shadowheart pretend to hate each other, but gossip about everyone else when they’re not looking

- everyone actually really enjoys gale’s cooking but they’d rather die than admit that

- girls night: shadowheart and lae’zel are at each other’s throats with daggers. karlach is passed out on the floor. jaheira is drinking all the ale she can find. everything’s on fire. the next day they look back on this fondly

- boys night: halsin and gale are laying on the ground to look at the stars, stoned out of their minds. wyll and astarion are pouring their hearts out to each other. minsc and boo are making dirt castles. the next day they pretend none of it happened

[reidrum]

close to home | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a/n: this has been rotting in my brain for days now i hope you enjoy the angsty comfort this brought me <3 my requests are open (guidelines in pinned!) or if you wanna just chat hop in my ask box :) gonna hopefully work on a smut fic in the next week so keep an eye out hehe

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, protective!spencer, afab!reader who uses she/her pronouns, non bau!reader, cm type violence, reader sustains injuries from unsub, vague description of injuries, maeve mentions, derek being a good friend, spencer being so in love with reader, this takes place probably a year after maeve, inconsistencies with tls and characters but who cares

wc: 2.4k

summary: the bau is working a local case when their unsub strikes again mid investigation, hotch tells reid and morgan to go check it out but spencer finds the address of the crime to be a little too familar

_______________________________________________

whenever the bau has a case based in the dc area, it’s always a little easier on the team. familiar stomping grounds, ease of resources, no major time difference, and everyone can sleep in their own beds. the hard part about home cases is knowing there’s a serial killer in the place they know deeply, with people they cared about deeply.

spencer and callahan are in the middle of the bullpen staring at the giant white board with all the evidence they have so far. the unsub has been killing women in their mid 20s in the local dc area, with the mo currently unknown. there had already been two victims, both killed in their homes. spencer was currently trying to analyze all the information the case had alongside with what garcia was able to provide, and he was still hitting a dead end. morgan had joined them at some point too, trying to offer what he could remember from the crime scenes but to no avail. he felt his eyes straining and dropping so he decided to get more coffee, but was stopped by hotch and garcia entering the bullpen.

“police just got a 911 call about a break in, but there’s a witness this time. she was home when it happened and it looks like he didn’t expect that and tried to knock her out before escaping. i think it sounds like our unsub. morgan and reid i need you to go check out the scene and interview the witness, see what she remembers.” hotch explained.

morgan and reid nodded as garcia spoke up, “i just sent the address to your phones, it’s a house on hillcrest so it's not that far from here.”

spencer froze. he had to have heard wrong, she did not say hillcrest, “did you say hillcrest?”

“yeah hillcrest drive. it’s like, a 15 minute drive it’s not that bad.”

he felt his heart drop to his feet, a sinking feeling building in his gut. that was the street you lived on. he tried to ground himself with logic, the probability of it being your house is only 10%, but he was dreading asking the fated question.

“garcia, what’s the house number?”

“reid, i already sent it to your pho-“

“garcia, what is the house number,” he spoke again. 

please don’t say 1159 please don’t say 1159 please don’t say-

“1159.”

fuck. the color drained from his face, and the nausea was building to a head quickly. spencer hurriedly tried to think through the last time he spoke to you, last night? this morning? he doesn’t check on you as much as he does when he’s not on a case, but oh my god why can’t he remember the last time he saw you.

“reid,” hotch bellows, finally breaking spencer out of his trance, “what is it? what do you know?”

he shook his head,  “nothing. morgan, let’s go.” he grabbed his jacket and booked it out the door.

morgan, garcia, and hotch all looked at each other in concern, before morgan spoke up, “i’ll see what’s up.” the latter two nodded softly, though the worry didn’t let up in their eyes.

morgan walked up to the car to find spencer repeatedly trying to call someone on the phone, clearly unable to get through and getting really frustrated.

spencer was alerted by morgan’s presence hearing the car unlock but he didn’t even look at him, just immediately got in the car and strapped his seat belt. morgan joined him in the drivers seat giving him a wary look before turning the car on and pulling out of the bureau.

“okay reid, spill it. it’s obvious you know who lives here.” morgan speaks up.

“just drive, please.”

“because if you know something, something that could help the case, it would be helpful if we knew.”

“morgan, just drive.” he borderline yells.

he raises his eyebrows at his raised voice, “listen kid, i’m just trying to help you. i can see you’re upset but we’re on the same side, you know that.”

spencer takes a shaky breath, feeling another shade of guilt at yelling at one of his friends, for something he didn’t even know about. he’d kept you a secret for many reasons— your relationship with him was still new, and he just wanted to keep you to himself for a bit. after what happened with maeve, he felt especially more responsible at keeping you safe and making sure you didn’t get tangled up in his line of work.

some job he did of that.

the one thing he regrets about how he handled the maeve situation, was not asking for help until it was almost too late. for not doing anything about her stalker when he was part of one of the most famous fbi teams built to find people like that. he’d always live with that guilt, but he vowed not to do that with you.

he loved you so much. you were so kind, and smart, and beautiful. a breath of fresh air after feeling lost in a dark tunnel for so long. you were so understanding when he explained what he did for a living, and what had happened to him and people he cared about as a result. he still remembers what you said to him when he told you that you could have an out, if you wanted.

“any risk is worth taking if getting to be with you is the consolation prize.”

tears welled up in eyes thinking about the memory. if you were willing to take any risk, then he should be able to as well.

he cleared his throat, and morgan’s ears perked up, “my uh, my girlfriend lives there. where the unsub, at- attacked.” he voiced softly.

morgan looked at him for a beat while driving, spencer missing the way his face dropped. he tightened his hands on the wheels, and didn’t hesitate to turn the lights and siren on and shift gears to speed up.

__

the car pulled onto your street and the first thing spencer sees is the flashing light of the ambulances. morgan doesn’t even put the car in park before spencer’s bolting out hoping he can find you quickly.

he’s asking all the paramedics he’s passing if they’ve seen you or know if you’re being treated, were you transferred to a hospital and he didn’t know, the tunnel vision slowly overtaking him until he hears a voice breaking through like sunlight call out his name.

he whips his head in the direction he heard it come from, and he’s never been more grateful to be met with the beautiful sight of you. you watch his eyes widen and let out a sigh before running over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance. he’s definitely not thinking when he goes in to hug you, not even knowing the extent of your injuries. he’s overtaken by the desperate need to hold you in his arms so he knows you’re safe and okay.

“hi,” you choke out muffled, “funny seeing you here.”

he pulls back to inspect your face, taking note of a small cut above your left eyebrow and the beginning splotches of a bruise forming on your lower jaw. his heart aches so much looking at you, knowing what happened to you and who did this to you.

“hi, honey,” he lets out tearfully, “are you okay? i mean, of course you’re not. but what did the paramedics say? did they give you anything? are you sure they checked all your injuries? you know what, let me go call the guy over. i’ll be literally two seconds.” his panicked ramble fading off as he rounds the truck you’re sat in to find the emt.

upon his extensive questioning of the man who treated you, he found out that you had sustained a minor concussion from when the unsub swung at you with an umbrella, superficial cuts caused by a broken vase you threw to defend yourself, and a dislocated shoulder from getting shoved into the wall.

you were okay, but at what cost.

the emt leaves you two and spencer sits himself next to you on the rig. he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you as tight as he can and the other hand cradles your head into the crook of his neck, holding you so tight he’s hoping he can squeeze the bad memories out of you. it’s at this moment of feeling safe and sound in his arms when the adrenaline of your attack wears off.

spencer hears a small whimper and feels a few hot tears trickle down his neck, your breathing gets faster as you’re attempting to beat your body’s fear response. the slow build up of sobs starting to rack your chest, and he immediately holds you tighter.

“it’s over, baby, they won’t hurt you anymore. i promise.”

you sniffle, “i know, i just can’t believe this happened. to me, to us. it’s not fair to you.” trailing off the last two words.

“to me? wh- what do you mean?”

you take a deep breath, “i don’t mean to bring it up again, i just know how eerily similar this is to a past experience you’ve had. and i hoped that i wouldn’t be in a position to make you feel that way again. i don’t know why this happened, i'm sorry.”

he looked down at you incredulously. genuinely unable to believe that you were sitting next to him on an ambulance, beaten up with bruises and scars after a home invasion attack, worried about how he would feel when he got to you. it was enough to finally let the swell of tears saved up in his eyes fall.

“oh sweetheart,” he chokes out, realizing you’ve been trying to be brave for him this whole time, “what happened is not your fault, do you understand me? my job is to always worry about you and your safety. when garcia said the address i…i couldn’t even process it, i don’t even know how i got to the car,” he shook his head, “but i am the last person you need to push your emotions down for. i will always take them in stride and love you even more for that, okay?”

“okay,” you take a shaky breath, “i love you.”

“i love you.” he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

both of your heads look up at an approaching figure, who you quickly recognize to be ssa derek morgan. you knew spencer hadn’t told the team about you yet, so you tried to sit up independently as fast as you could before he came over and suspected something.

spencer’s grip didn’t let up when he bent down and whispered, “it’s okay, he knows.” you look up at him with wide eyes when derek finally reaches you.

“reid, i already talked to the detectives and we’re good to go when you’re ready,” he turns his body to you and gives you a comforting smile, “hi sweetheart, i’m derek morgan, it’s nice to meet you.”

spencer rolls his eyes at the nickname while you giggle softly, “hi derek, i’ve heard so much about you. it's nice to finally meet you too.”

“i wish it were under better circumstances,” he sighs, “listen, i know it’s all still really fresh for you, but it might help the case if you’re able to come in for a cognitive interview, or even talk to a sketch artist.”

spencer doesn’t miss a beat before protesting, “absolutely not. we can do it later, it’s fine.”

“reid-“

you look up at him placing your hand on his chest, “spence, it’s okay. i want to help, please.”

he rests his hand on top yours and gives it a light squeeze, “okay, but i’m not leaving you alone for a second.”

“i didn’t think you would.” you smile.

“alright lovebirds, you can have your private time later, we should go now.” derek teases.

spencer groans, “see this is why i didn’t say anything.”

“you think i’m bad? wait till penelope meets her.”

__

the three of you pile into the car before starting the drive to spencer’s apartment so he could get you a change of clothes and other things you might need. you end up falling asleep in the back seat, the final stage of your shock sinking in like a rock. spencer checks on you from the rear view mirror and sees you passed out, and smiles.

“she’s cute,” derek starts, “can i ask how long?”

“nine months.” he replies, fishing for something out of his pocket.

“pretty boy hid a girl from all of us for nine months? maybe we’re not as good profilers as we thought.”

“imagine that,” he laughs, and gestures to the item in his hand, “look.”

spencer’s holding out a well loved photo booth strip with three pictures, of you and spencer from the time you went to a local county fair. you’re sitting in his lap, mostly due to the cramped space and the expansive limbs. the first picture is the two of you holding up finger guns attempting to be as back to back as you can. the second picture, you intended it to be a normal one where you both smile at the camera, but spencer couldn’t take his eyes off you and the picture captured the love struck gaze he had on you. the last one you were about to tell him the idea for it, when he grabbed your face and pulled you closer to kiss you, neither of you knowing when the final picture snapped.

the edges were worn out and frayed, clearly broken down by the oils on his fingers from pulling it out frequently. it was his most treasured item, a constant reminder of what was always waiting for him when he got back from grueling cases, and how lucky he was to have you in his life.

“you look really happy, kid.” derek says, thinking about the many times he’s seen his friend at rock bottom, the things that have been so brutally taken from him, and the suffering he’s had at the hands of his job. his heart warms for his friend, who seemed to finally catch a break.

“i am.”