#again. I’m fine- hoping I’ll feel better in a couple days. just exhausted physically and emotionally right now

[torchickentacos]

[toracainz]

Shrike

Masterlist

Summary: Things with Marc have been…touchy to say the least. Can things get better?

Pairings: Marc x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing. Established relationships. Verbal conflict. Break up. Physical conflict with some asshole. Knife but no harm to reader. Everything is wet but not how you think. hurt/comfort. angst/comfort. i mean I hope the comfort is there lol.

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: this is for my first-ever fic request. never thought someone would ever want to ask me of all people for a fic. I hope everyone likes it. it kind of got away from when writing it sooooo lol

Things were fairly quiet in the flat as Marc enters looking exhausted. It doesn’t take him long to notice the sound of the shower running. You were home. Just great. With an exasperated huff, Marc makes his way to the chest of drawers to quickly pack for yet another mission. Grabbing the things he was looking for he begins to shove them in a bag, trying to hurry out of the flat before you can notice, but he was never that lucky.

The shower turned off as he was putting the last couple things in and in a rush Marc runs into a chair with a loud thud and a “Fuck!”

“Marc?” You called from the bathroom, hoping it was him and not some burglar, as you stepped out, wrapped in your towel. He had been gone for quite some time with no word on if he was okay or when he’d be coming back. You and Marc had been together a while now, so long that he actually trusted you enough to tell you about Khonshu and what being his avatar meant. It was a bit hard to believe at first, until Marc summoned his suit in front of you…there’s no denying it then. So you came to understand that what Marc was doing was for the greater good, that he was out there helping good people and punishing bad ones. The first few times he left on a mission, you were worried sick and oh so relieved when he got back no matter how long that would be for…but after a while, after many discussions about just a simple text being enough, some kind of indication he was alive and maybe even when you would see him again him being away also brought frustration and maybe a little anger. While fights had become frequent when his missions were brought up, you both managed to make up and move on…until it happened again.

“Shit…” Marc muttered under his breath, “Yeah!…yeah, it’s me. Just stopped by to grab some things…got a uh…long trip ahead.” He knew what was about to come, another fight, another round of the same old thing.

“That’s it?! You’re just grabbing things and going? Were you even going to say ‘hello’? Or ‘I missed you’? Or ‘I love you’? Just grabbing things and avoiding me now?” Your tone became more and more agitated with each question. You had been waiting for him to come back, like you always did, and had been looking forward to spending time with him. Did he seriously need to go on another mission right as he was coming back from one??

“I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“Do you even know what day it is? Of course I’m home, Marc.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Spector. How many more times do I have to ask you, to beg you to just send me a message or call me? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you really just didn’t give a shit.” By now you’ve shed the towel that was wrapped around you and began to dress yourself. You were fuming and you truly wondered if he did care, if he could change.

“Is that what you think?” Marc let out an exasperated laugh, shaking his head, his grin at your accusatory statement beginning to  turn sour. “You’d like that wouldn’t you. To be right about me, huh? Someone who doesn’t give a shit about us, about you? Fine…you know what you’re right. I’ll save you the trouble and just get the fuck out of here.”

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Is he fucking serious right now? That’s it. “Good. And don’t expect me to be here when you get back.” The words felt cold even to you, but what else could be done? Sleepless nights, the secrecy, the blatant disregard for your relationship…you were basically like another goldfish for him and the flat your tank, just waiting for Marc to come back and feed you the little flakey sorry excuses for quality time or physical touch. It’s time to find open waters.

Marc couldn’t believe you, he didn’t believe you, that you would seriously leave. If he’s being honest with himself (which let’s be honest he can rarely be honest with the people he cares about let alone himself) he’s surprised you haven’t left him before now. Maybe he really is a piece of shit that doesn’t care…no, he can’t think like that. You’ve fought before and you make up and…everything’s okay. That’s right. You’re the one constant in his life and he really does look forward to seeing you after his missions…everything’s going to be okay.

He looks at you, intense brown eyes assessing you for your bluff…of course you’re bluffing…he shakes his head letting out a puff of breath through his nose before turning and walking out the door, shutting it a little harder than intended but not quite a slam.

Unfortunately for Marc…you weren’t bluffing.

As he makes his way out of the flat and on to his next mission you had begun to pack your things, anger simmering into frustration and heartbreak as tears roll down your cheeks. You try to steady yourself but you can’t stop the tears. Grabbing your things, or as much of it as you care to take with you, you walked out and locked the door. With the key in hand you looked it for a moment and sighed.

“Goodbye, Marc Spector.”

You knelt down and slid the key under the door, turning away and headed home.

~*~*~*~

Marc tries to quietly enter the flat like he had weeks earlier…once again he hadn’t called or texted you to update you on his mission, how he was, when he was coming back. This time however he was going to be able to just relax a while. Knowing things were left not on great terms, he had been ruminating on how to make it up to you. “I won’t be here when you get back.” The whole time he had been away those words stayed with him, he would tell himself you didn’t mean it, that you would still be here. After all, you were so patient and understanding of him, his past, and trying to help him make a better future.

Marc wasn't the best at keeping people close, especially the people he cared about. He told himself the reason he never called or texted you while on a mission was for your safety, he didn’t want anyone catching wind of him having something or someone to lose. He told himself it was the same reason that when he returned from a mission he would never come directly home. He would always stay at his storage locker a night or so or even stay somewhere else entirely before making his way back to the flat to see you. Of course he never expressed this. That would have made too much sense, made things too easy. And Marc was never good at making things easy, especially for himself.

He walked around the flat, looking for a sign you might be here. He didn’t see your bags or your laptop anywhere and he didn’t hear the shower or sink so you weren’t in the bathroom.

“Babe???” He called out. Maybe you were hiding? Yeah right, not really any place to hide in this open floor plan flat. “Baby???” Still he called out hoping just maybe you were hiding. He started back to the front of the flat, thinking you might have been in the kitchen (maybe with your headphones in listening to music) and he just didn’t notice. Marc was beginning to feel like a kid that had gotten separated from their parents at the grocery store. But when he got to the kitchen it was empty. Now he was beginning to panic. Maybe someone had found out about you and took you. He was already jumping to the worst possible scenario.

Clenching his fists, he hung his head trying to think of what to do, how to find you. His hands found their way into his curls as he gave them a tug getting more and more desperate with each passing second. That’s when the glint of something metallic flashed at him from a spot on the floor in front of the door. Confused and intrigued, he slowly approached it as if it might suddenly attack, but once he got closer he felt like he would have preferred a key monster attacking him.

Your copy of the key.

He knelt down, picking it up, examining it. This was definitely your key. Realization came crashing down on him. You really meant what you said. He really fucked up.

“Shit…SHIT!!”

He had to find you. He never wanted it to end like this, hell he never wanted it to end in general. It was one of those moments where you don’t truly appreciate what you have until it’s gone. Marc grabbed his jacket and keys and started back out into the chilly London night, thunder rolling in the distance. He had to find you and apologize. You deserved at least that. He told himself that even if you didn’t take him back, even if you didn’t forgive him, he wouldn’t blame you or be upset, you had every right to be upset. He fucked up royally after you begged him to be better. Maybe next time he would learn from his mistake, if he allowed himself to find someone else…but he didn’t want anyone else.

He managed to find a flower shop that was just about to close. Briefly summarizing his situation the shoppist took pity on him, letting him buy a small bouquet. Marc felt that if it was too big his apology might seem insincere or that he was just trying to bribe you to come back. No, the size he got was modest, but not puny. He hoped you would like it, even if you no longer liked him.

With an aching heart, he begins the trek to your place. You both hadn’t talked about moving in together just yet, but maybe if Marc hadn’t been such an ass maybe you could have.

~*~*~*~

The past weeks had been…hard, to say the least. You had gone home and cried and got angry and cried some more. By now the pain, though still fresh, had simmered down a little. You didn’t want things to end that way, but Marc just wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t change. It was hard having him gone so often, worrying if he was alright even knowing the suit would heal him. You just wanted to have him near you, hold you, and you wanted to do the same to him. He’s a good man deep down, but he just can’t seem to get out of his own way.

Your friends had been taking you out on the town since you broke things off with Marc, trying to get your mind off of it all. It worked, sometimes. Other times you would call it an “early” night and head back to your flat. This was one of those nights.

You had dressed cute, a very flattering outfit in both fit and color. You had a drink or two but nothing crazy, not like one of your friends. They all decided to stay out into the early morning, you however thought about your bed and sleeping in. The sound of your shoes against the sidewalk was really the only sound around in this sleepy part of town, aside from the thunder that seemed to get closer. Heaving a sigh, you cursed at yourself for not having brought a proper jacket or umbrella, but you were close to your neighborhood so maybe you could get there before it truly started raining. Now the bed was sounding even better than before, rain outside, cozy blanket, your comfort movie on, the feeling of being watched…your steps were no longer the only ones heard echoing in the night air. Your thoughts were yanked from the blissful thoughts of home to the very present moment and the gravity of just how alone you are this late at night.

You don’t dare look back, so you start to walk a little faster…the other steps picking up their pace too. Again and again, until you’re practically running, but try as you might those other steps are quicker. A strong arm suddenly grabs you from behind as a hand quickly covers your mouth as the body begins to carry you into an alley as rain begins to sprinkle down. The man harshly presses you against the hard exterior of the building…a glint in the dim light…a knife coming to hover in front of your face. As the rain begins to come down truly, it hides the tears that had begun to roll down your cheek.

“Hey, pretty lady. Where’s your friends, hmm? Seen you walking this way couple times…watching that ass move down the road. But that isn’t all I want. Give me your purse, your phone, anything of value…now.” His voice was harsh and his smell somehow still carried through in the rain. You hate how close he was, close enough to know things about him you never wanted to know. As he shifts against you, adjusting his hold on you, you can’t help but whimper in fear.

“Come on now! Don’t have all night pretty thing…out with it.” He barked in your face as your trembling hands began to comply, handing him your things.

“P…please just…please don’t…” Trying to catch your breath at this moment proved nearly impossible. Your heart pounding against your ribs, your lungs doing the same as your hastened breath matched your heart. This couldn’t be happening, why was this happening.

The man tucked your things away, to where you didn't know and didn’t care. You let out a whimper of fear of what might come next. The cold rain beating down on the both of you made you feel even more helpless, especially when a figure was suddenly standing at the entrance to the alley you had been dragged in. It was difficult to make out his features with the way the street light was lighting him from the back. Anxiety spiked as you began to wonder if this was another creep wanting to get in on the action, if they were a weird team or something, but more than anything you hoped it was some kind soul who would help you…though you were quickly running out of hope.

“Oi, what are you looking at huh?” The creep challenged the figure, so they obviously didn't know each other. You glanced around hoping the man would be distracted enough that maybe you could make a break for it, but before you could hatch a plan the figure was headed towards the both of you. “Are you deaf?! You better walk the other way and mind your business, yeah?!”

By now you had closed your eyes, you didn’t know what to do, words were failing you. All you wanted was to be home in bed and for all this to be some sick nightmare brought on by the night's tiring events. The sound of plastic hitting the ground was nearly drowned out by the pattering of rain. In an instant you were colder than before. Was this it? You stood there trembling as time seemed to drag on one agonizing second after another. You realized the creep was no longer caging himself around you, there was a thud and splash of a body hitting the puddling rain on the ground…then a repetitive thunk, thunk, thunk.

Your eyelids felt like they weighed a ton as you slowly opened your eyes, raindrops collecting on them before inevitably falling to your cheeks. And there you see the second man, pummeling the creep until he’s just a groaning barely writhing mess on the ground. When the man stood he gave the creep a swift kick to the gut causing him to cough and wheeze as the man wiped his knuckles clean before retrieving your things…and pocketing them himself. Oh shit, no this can’t be…not another asshole. Your legs could finally hear your brain’s commands as you started to hurry to the alley opening, the crunch of plastic as you stepped on what the man had dropped.

A strong, forceful, calloused hand grabbed your arm as you let out a scream. “NOOOOO! LET GO!!!” Somehow your fight had returned as you pulled against the man’s grip, his other hand coming to grab your arm. He was…saying something, but you didn’t want to hear it, you just wanted to run.

“BABY!!”

You froze, your eyes snapping to look at the man holding you still, eyes wide from adrenaline, fear, and shock. The street light no longer casting a shadow over his features, now the light shone on his damped tan skin and making his wet curly hair glisten.

“M…Marc? Marc…” You couldn’t help it, seeing him there feeling his grip holding you steady, everything came crashing in. A heartbreaking sob clattered from deep inside. Marc reached up, cupping your face in his hands.

“Shhhh…shhh it’s okay baby, it’s okay. You’re safe, baby. You’re safe.” His thumbs gently stroked your cheeks before slipping behind to pull you in close. The rain beat down on you both as Marc held you until you had managed to calm down enough so your thoughts could catch up with what was happening.

“Marc, you…how did you…why are you…?” You stuttered as his hand reached up, gently wiping your hair out of your face where it had clung to your skin.

“I uh…I was coming to see you…to apologize. Wanted to get my thoughts together on what I wanted to say…felt like walking was the best way to do that. Well, walking where I could. That’s when I heard a bit of…what was happening. I was already ready to step in and do something…but when I saw it was you I just saw red. Baby, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” The way he looked at you, his chocolatey brown eyes seeming so dark in the late night, you still didn’t understand.

Marc carefully and slowly let go of you to pick up the plastic wrapped bouquet of flowers, now slightly trampled and looking a little rough.

“These were…these were for you. Though, I don’t blame you if you don’t want them now.” He turned the bouquet this way and that to examine the little bit of damage they sustained. Looking back at you, clearly still in shock, he hands you the bouquet and begins to take off his jacket, putting it around your shoulders. The jacket shielding you, it was warm and helped take the chill from your skin. Putting his arm around you, he began to lead you out of the alley and down the sidewalk to your flat. Once at the door, he helped you to unlock it.

“Well, um…you get inside and get warm.” He stood there a moment, not sure what to do really. Should he come in? Would you even want him to come in? Maybe you should call one of your friends to come over…Marc doesn’t believe you’d want him to stick around too long. So, he begins to take a few steps away from you and the door.

“Why did you come to find me, Marc? The flowers? What is…what is happening here? I mean—thank you, for saving me. For—for being there, I just…I don’t understand.” Shaking your head you still tried to make sense of what felt like a very strange sequence of events. You looked at him, like really looked at him. The man you thought you’d never see again except for an awkward exchange at a pub or a tesco. He resembled a sad puppy that had been left in the rain.

“That’s probably the shock. You’ll want to lay down for a while…like I said, I wanted to—to apologize. For being an ass, for not listening to you, for all the times you begged me to do something and I never did. Look,” Marc took a deep breath, his shirt now beginning to cling to his body. “I am in no way expecting you to forgive me or take me back or give me a second chance cause quite frankly I don’t deserve it. You asked me so many times to do something so simple and I had convinced myself that by me not doing that—not texting you or calling you—I was protecting you. That I was making it so people wouldn’t find out about you…and I should have just told you that. I am so sorry. If I had—if I had maybe you wouldn’t have been out tonight. Maybe you would have been back home waiting for me to come home, you wouldn’t have…” his chest began to rise and fall as his breath hastened.

He did this. He caused this domino effect where you could have gotten seriously hurt. It seems no matter what he does, he can’t help but hurt the people he cares about. Maybe it is better that he just not get close to anyone…as much as it breaks his heart.

While Marc had begun to spiral you made your way down the front steps over to him, taking his hand in yours.

“Marc, stop that. None of what happened tonight is because of you…sure I might have been somewhere else, but some creep could have found me any other night. He could have found me while you were gone on your mission, but,” you quickly added, giving Marc a stern look, stopping him from saying that that would have been his fault too for not being here, “you can’t blame yourself for that. Marc, do you know how long I’ve just wanted an apology? An acknowledgment of how you were hurting me.” When those words left your mouth, Marc brows knit together, causing that crease between them to appear, he looked positively gutted. Of course he was hurting you, there didn’t need to be some weirdo in the middle of the night or some enemy of his to cause you pain—he was already doing that.

“I know…and I should have said it a long time ago. I should have because you deserved that much…that’s why I came out to find you…why I got the flowers. I—You deserved better. I understand why you left and I’m sorry it had to end like that.” He did everything he could not to look at you, he thought if he did his heart would hurt more than it already did. “You deserve far better than someone that doesn’t realize what he has until it’s gone.”

Your hand reached up, gently cupping his rain slick cheek, the both of you thoroughly soaked by now, but not wanting to leave the other despite the rain. When Marc felt the warmth of your hand on his cheek he couldn’t help but lean into it, damn he missed this.

“Oh, Marc…damn it. I never wanted to leave. I wanted you to work with me. It broke my heart to leave, but I didn’t see any other way. You didn’t seem like you wanted this to work…wanted us to work.” Your other hand came up to move his hair from where it stuck to his skin like he had yours. This really hit Marc hard. He wanted to be with you, couldn’t imagine life without you. Well he got a glimpse of it tonight and the horrid taste it left in his mouth was something he wished to never taste again, but that wasn’t up to him.

He took a deep breath, a calloused hand coming to hold yours against his cheek.

“Come inside, Marc.”

“I—I shouldn’t.”

“I wasn’t asking. You say you don’t want a second chance, that you don’t deserve one, but if anyone deserves a second chance it’s Marc Spector.”

His eyes snapped up to find yours, slightly widened at this news. “Baby…”

“Marc, I love you. And I want you in my life, but if this is going to work, if we’re going to be together…some things have got to get better. All I’ve done since I left was think about you. So…promise me, if we do this, that things will get better.” You stepped closer to him, your body pressing against his as his other hand comes to rest on your waist.

“I swear. Baby, I swear. I’ll text you, call you, send postcards, anything you want. I’ll make it up to you, all the times I fucked up.” He pulled you closer, arm wrapping around you.

“Marc, let’s take this a step at a time. Okay? A new start. How does that sound?”

“Like heaven on Earth. Like I’ve been reborn.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his flowery statements. Marc could be goofy when he wanted to, you felt like he was only able to relax when you were around and you didn’t mind that. It meant that you made him comfortable, that he felt like he could let down some of his walls and let you in.

Hearing your laugh made his heart lighter, a smile spreading across his lips. Marc was in awe of you, of your features, your laugh and voice, and your saint-like patience. He found himself leaning in, eyes drifting down to your lips, yours doing the same. You couldn’t help it, not with how close he was and how his hand held you against him.

“Marc,” you breathed out before his kiss took your breath away. He pressed his lips to yours like it had been a lifetime since he’d kissed you. The rain didn’t seem so cold anymore as you both embraced.

taglist: @saberlight1 @roseqzpd​ @rosecentaur1916​ @ahookedheroespureheart @sleepyamaya @parkeepingparker @lockleysgrl @marc-spectorr @vermillionsails @harrys-tittie @n0ripeaches @missdictatorme @bitchyglitterfox @spacecowboyhotch @randomchick546 @teacupcollector @local-mr-frog @stevenknightmarc @ahookedheroespureheart @mccn-bcys @juneknight

[clairecrive]

hi! I just recently found your account and I've been spending all my time reading everything you've written, and I wanted to tell you that I absolutely adore your writing! it's so beautiful.

I also wanted to request a friends to lovers nikolai x reader fic (you don't have to make it friends to lovers if you don't want to!) something along the lines of this: they get seperated after the battle with the darkling at the end of siege and storm and reader has to go with alina but they finally reunite? and everyone is super smug because they knew it would happen.

sorry for such a long ask and no worries if you decide not to do it! I hope you're doing well!!

Fools, pistols blazing and shock

A/n: a promise is a promise and the second most requested fic was Nikolai and angst and so here it is! friends to lovers is not my favorite trope but I enjoyed writing this. I hope you will too x

Thank you so much for your beautiful words btw, they mean the world <3<3

tags: @jupiterandbutterflies , @agentsofsheilds , @for-bebbanburg , @randomoutsiders , @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @story-scribbler , @crowssixof , @odetostep , @lizzie-he4rts , @korol-lantsov , @subjecta13-thefangirl ,@gallysonegoodlung , @a-c-lee , @mriddlemethis , @carnationworld , @thanossexual , @luvxginger , @sanna2020 , @partiesandblurrypolaroids , @edithsvoice , @wafflesandschemingfaces , @snugleo , @sugarmelonwater , @dobwhore, @sassybadqueen , @anything-forourmoony, @snokoi, @imaginingimagines, @vintagebitc_,

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

"So," he twirled around, "how do I look?" With a theatrical gesture, he stopped in front of you.

You looked at him, head to toe, before saying, "Like a fool I know."

He was imperturbable, by the smirk on his face one would think that you had paid him a compliment. "The answer was far simpler: handsome."

"You look like a prince," you conceded, " but so does your brother so take that as you will." And with that, you walked to your assigned post leaving a scandalized Nikolai behind.

The dinner went by smoothly even if you had to bear Vasily being his annoying self. So far so good. The important thing was that the people around the table were under no threat. The rest was bearable.

And no, it had nothing to do with Nikolai winking at you from time to time. Flirting was second nature to him and Alina's presence by his side was a cold reminder of how things were.

It took one look at her for your face to go as blank as Mal's on the other side of the room.

You had disconnected from the conversation at the table for a second, your attention going to the exit where a Grisha soldier had just walked in to talk to Zoya. If you had been paying attention to Nikolai, you would have known what to expect.

But you hadn't and so the next few seconds were pure chaos.

The unthinkable happened.

Black shadows filled the room, leaving no chance to the people they had appeared before. The Queen's scream brought your attention back to the table and consequently to the Vasily. Or rather, to what was left of him.

Beside him, the kind had crouched down to hide and was cowering behind the throne. The Queen clutched her son's body to her chest wailing and screaming. Then your eyes fell on him, standing tall in front of his parents shooting away.

You didn't know what you were going to do. You didn't think. You just acted and the next thing you knew, you were running towards him shooting fire at whatever tendrils of shadows you could see.

"Nikolai!"

In a moment, you reached his side, covering his back for every possible attack.

"You need to go," you urged him over the sounds of crying and shooting. A shot of light filled the room blinking you for a moment and panic shot through you at the possibility of Alina being hurt.

"Take your parents and Alina and go Nikolai. You can't stay here!" You insisted again, still back to back, unwilling to let anything happen to him. If he meant to argue you didn't know. You heard him speak but his words went unheard over the chaos in the room.

You turned around just in time to see one of those things trying to make their way to him. The tendrils of fire that shot through you slowed it down but it was only a shot of wind coming from a squaller that did the trick and sent it away.

Nodding in the squaller's direction you took Nikolai's shoulders and turned him towards the secret exit behind the throne.

"Stop playing hero and just go for Saint's sake!" Under normal circumstances, he was stronger than you. And well, he still was but too busy worrying about getting his family to safety and covering your back, he ended up succumbing to your shoves.

"I can't leave you here!"

"You can and you surely will! I'll make sure that Alina is safe," ushering him and his parents towards the exit, you didn't give him time to argue. Once they were through the door, you closed it behind them and melted the lock.

You allowed yourself only a moment to worry about him, to mourn him if things were to go downhill for you. Only a second for you to mourn the future that you knew you were never going to get with him.

Then it was over. Your heart locked away and your mind focused solely on the battle ahead. You needed to make sure that Alina was alive and get her to safety whilst also trying to save as many as you could along the way.

A piece of cake.

*+*+*+*+*+*

You knew that he had made it out of Os Alta alive. You had gotten word that he had arrived safe and sound to one of his hiding spots scattered around the country.

Alina and a group of other Grisha, including yourself, had managed to make it out alive out of the capital as well.

All was as well as it could be under these gloomy circumstances. And yet, you couldn't help but feel like you had lost.

Too many had fallen under the Darkling's wrath. Too many had given up their lives in honor of Ravka's freedom. Too many sacrifices for you all to be hiding in the tunnels like scared cats.

But you had a plan. You just needed to be in the same room as Alina, all of you at once, and you were going to make your way up.

It was only a matter of time before you were going to see him again.

*+*+*+*+*+*

It turned out that you were right. It was a matter of time indeed before you saw Nikolai again.

As always, he couldn't help but make a grand entrance while praising his good looks. For once, your eyes didn't roll in mock annoyance. The joy of seeing him again, safe and sound while also saving your asses, prevailed.

And the moment his eyes met yours? Priceless.

Despite being in the middle of running away and fighting the first army's soldiers, you felt like there was only the two of you. Nothing mattered besides Nikolai, his stupid smirk that shone brighter than all the stars combined.

It turned out that that moment came with a price indeed. Your distraction paved the way for an almost fatal mistake.

Too lost in Nikolai's eyes and restraining yourself from throwing yourself at him, you didn't notice the soldier sneaking up behind him. Or well, you didn't until it was too late.

The movement caught your eyes, but the bastard had his pistol already drawn. You had the presence of the spirit of pushing Nikolai out of the way before a shot was fired.

Focusing on the bullet you tried all your might to melt it, but you knew it was a desperate attempt since you had noticed it too late. Trying and losing was better than not trying at all so trying you did.

However, what turned out to be life-saving was Nikolai's counterattack. While you exercised the small science, Nikolai quickly drew his own pistol and shoot at the soldier.

Time seemed to slow down as you stared in front of him, hands in the air while Nikolai moved behind you. Right before your brain registered that while you had indeed managed to burn the bullet, it was still coming your way at high speed, another object entered your field vision.

At that moment you didn't exactly decipher what had happened, you blinked and the bullet was not there anymore. However, your stupor was short-lived as other soldiers were coming your way after hearing the noise.

At that point, Nikolai tugged you away and towards his awaiting ship knowing that the soldiers would surely outnumber you.

It all happened in a blink. One moment you were on the ground hellbent on not dying, and the other you were up in the air.

That, combined with the stress of the last couple of weeks. exhaustion and dehydration put you in a state of shock. Resulting in you staring numbly ahead of you.

Then, when you felt a hand on your face, your brain started working again and your eyes slowly began to focus.

"Are you injured?"

Nikolai was moving your head left and right to check for wounds and after that, he moved down on your neck and vital points. But you weren't hurt.

"It's so typically you to swoop in and save the day in the most dramatic way possible that I shouldn't even be surprised."

Your sarcasm reassured him that you were fine more than the absence of physical wounds. Leaning back on his haunches, he gave you a lazy smirk. "You know me, always read to save damsels in distress."

You almost hated how handsome he looked in that moment but the fact that he basically had saved your life made it really hard for you to get mad at him.

"Not a damsel and not in distress but I appreciated your gesture," you fired back falling naturally into your usual easy banter. "Thank you, Kolya."

"You shouldn't be thanking me. I did it for a whole selfish reason." His features morphed into seriousness which was usually something he left for meetings or that kind of stuff. Seeing it now directed at you, seriously worried you.

"Since when does Nikolai Lanstov shy away from gratefulness and compliments?" You tried to jest but to no avail.

"I'm serious."

"Alright, so why did you do it? You have tons of other Grisha available."

"Because a world without you is not a world I want to live in."

Well, damn. Trust Nikolai to make you completely speechless.

"That must be the shock talking," you murmured still taken back by his words.

"I've almost lost you, y/n, I'm not going to waste any more time avoiding my feelings." Crossing his arms on his chest, Nikolai lightly shook his head. Damn, there was no smirk on his face, no twinkle in his eyes. He must be serious.

"I should be having an epiphany moment since I was the one who almost died," you protested.

"Feel free to declare your undying love for me then."

"Ass. Now I'm tempted not to do it just to prove you wrong," you glared at him but sighed knowing what you needed to do. "But, as much as it pains me, you're right."

Your eyes flickered between yours and the sheer intensity of them gave you enough confidence to bear your heart to him, "I do love you, you know."

"Well, let's be honest, who wouldn't. I'm amazing," with a careless shrug, Nikolai gestured to himself. Which, of course, made you glare at him.

"Joking, I take it back. You're insufferable." Your mock-annoyance did nothing but amuse him to no end. However untruthful they might be, Nikolai played along with your words. While also progressively leaning closer to you.

"Nope, can't do that love. You signed your destiny, you're mine." You would have retired, of course you would have, but the truth is, his lips were more interesting than any witty comeback ever could.

[midgardianweasley]

Your grace! Bless us with a Natasha x reader where the team is invited to a wedding by a close friend of Tony’s. Then when the bridal bouquet is thrown, the bride throws it too hard where reader accidentally catches it and the team is just going “Oooooh!” And reader is like “I’m not even in a relationship!” But the team know in secret that reader and Natasha have feelings for each other but are too dumb to know. Just funniness and fluff! 🥰😍 (Your writing is brilliant btw!)

I loved this request!! I hope i did it justice <3

it’s a wedding thing

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

^idk Nat, you tell me^

Summary: When the Avengers get invited to a close friend of Tony's wedding, what hidden feelings will surface? What relationships will bloom? Who will be the next bride?

Warnings: none!

word count: 4.1k

Message/ask if you want to be added to the taglist!

requests are open loves

“Alright gang, this one’s for all of us, we all listening?”

A cluster of ‘yes’ ‘go on’ ‘come on Tony’ filled the room, everyone eager to hear what the fancy envelope held inside. It was amusing to watch Tony take advantage of everyone’s excitement, slowly peeling the envelope, gasping when he pulled the letter out of the casing slightly, not letting anyone else see what was written on it.

You, Natasha and Wanda all seemed to share a look of amusement at the dramatics and the almost visible frustration coming off of everyone. It was like watching children try to wait patiently for sweets in a shop, almost completely off of their seats. It wasn’t until Tony noticed that Pepper was giving him a warning look, that he, begrudgingly, hurried up and announced what was written on the letter.

“Wow. Caleb’s getting married.” He spoke, eyebrows raised in surprise. “And he’s invited the team.”

“Well, I’m not going.” A voice spoke from the corner of the room, clearly un-amused by what was currently going on.

“Luckily for you, I don’t see ‘reindeer games’ anywhere on the invitation. So you’re off the hook.” He replied with a tight lipped smile, Thor had been visiting recently to see Jane and pay the avengers a visit and wanted to bring Loki to meet her.

‘A pleasant trip’ Thor said.

‘A living hell’ Tony corrected.

It got a laugh out of the team though. Nat and I especially. We’d spent the last couple of nights in each other’s bedrooms, making a list about our favourite moments through the day where Tony and Loki clashed, making stupid insults towards the other. I think it’s safe to say that we went through multiple bags of popcorn over the nights, though you were both thankful it was there, it was the only thing muffling the laughter, if it hadn't, you’re almost certain the entire compound would have woken up at the sound of our laughter.

You nudged Natasha’s side gently, the bicker between the two men still continuing.

“Hey, Nat.” She turned and tilted her head questioningly.

“So we know how a physical fight between those two worked out. But, if they had to compete in a rap battle, who do you think would win?”

Her face immediately lit up, eyes sparkling which only enhanced their beauty, you could almost feel the cogs turning in her head, trying to go through every logical option.

“Well. Loki seems pretty well spoken, so vocabulary wise, I think he’d be strong. But Tony is sarcastic which can help with quick quips. But then again, Loki-”

“Hey lovebirds, Romanoff, Y/L/N” Tony clicked his fingers, earning himself a pair of eyerolls at the term he’d used. “Anything you wanna share with the team, or can we move on?”

“Actually-”

“Overridden. Moving on.”

You looked towards Natasha, snickering slightly at how blunt he’s being, Loki having found his way under his skin again. A part of you felt bad for the man, but that feeling is soon replaced by amusement. It was obvious Nat felt the same way, her sharing the same expression as you, although, you could hide yours much better. She had to physically put her hand over her mouth in the hopes the man wouldn’t notice her.

“So, the wedding is next week, a little short notice but when do we ever have enough notice, who’s in?”

Looking around the room, there were a handful of nods, each looking to see who else was going to go. You looked towards Nat again to see if she was planning on attending, only to find her already staring at you.

“So Y/L/N, up for a wedding?”

“It would be a nice change of pace. Are you going?”

“Only if you are” You blushed slightly at the response.

“Better get your nicest dress on Romanoff.” You winked, her turn to blush and focus back on what the rest of the group was saying.

“It’s probably easy if I list couples first on the RSVP and then the singles.” Tony took a glance around the table, mentally taking note of those who had shown signs of agreement. “So there’ll be Wanda and Vision, Legolas and his wife, Romanoff and Y/L/N, Thor and Jane-” You felt your face morph into one of confusion.

“Woah woah, Tony, back up, what did you say?”

“Thor and Jane, they’re-”

“Before that.”

“I’ve said this before Y/N, Legolas isn’t actually real. I meant Clint.”

“Very funny.” He held a proud smirk. “Romanoff and I aren’t a couple”

You wish.

“That’s not what Rogers said when he saw you both cuddling up on the sofa last night.” Before you had a chance to look in Steve’s direction, you could practically feel the daggers Nat was sending him, making his face cringe slightly and his back straighten.

“That’s what Rogers said, is it?” She spoke, tilting her head in question. You knew she was partly joking, but you’d still decided to intervene before anyone lost any limbs.

“My head fell onto her shoulder when I dozed off during our movie. It wasn’t ‘cuddling’ , thank you very much.” You laughed, internally wishing that Steve’s words were true.

“See? So cut it out.” Steve put his hands up in surrender, despite having a cheeky grin on his face.

“Okay okay. Fine!” The billionaire said, writing something on the envelope. “I’ll just put ‘couple pending’” He muttered

“Stark!”

__________________________

You and the girls had just come back from dress shopping, all three of you had spent the whole day in and out of different shops, hours in dressing rooms and your voices were almost completely gone with how often you were telling each other, ‘that looks stunning’ ‘that’s the one!’ and the most common one by the end of the trip; ‘please just pick a dress so we can go home and nap’. That one was from our very own black widow, her patience wore a little thin after 8 hours of staring at dresses.

You had gone through all the colours and styles while you were out, ranging from classy jumpsuits to figure hugging dresses that felt like a second skin. Wanda and Natasha had chosen their dresses and were eager to find you one, and what a mission that was.

“I promise you, we’re not going home until we find this dress, okay?”

“Wanda’s right. We’ll stay out until they all shut if we have to. But, let’s make that a last resort.” Natasha eyed you both warily.

You’d been walking around for hours now. Each dress you tried on had potential, but there was always something that didn’t sit right with you. It was either too baggy, too tight, the cut wasn’t appealing, the length wasn’t ideal, it was starting to feel hopeless. You’d even suggested just going in your pyjamas, but Wanda’s death glare had made it clear that wasn’t an option.

You and Natasha were both dragging your feet, Wanda still having a slight spring in her step as you walked into the final shop and picking up a couple of dresses before then going into the dressing room to try them on.

The first two were okay, but you weren’t a fan. Then there was the third one. The third one was a gorgeous Y/F/C dress that fell just past your knees, it had thin straps and the skirt was simple and loose so that when you spun around in it, you felt like a princess. You looked in the mirror and you adored the reflection, you still wanted the others opinions though, though you didn’t doubt that they’d feel the same way.

Pulling the curtain back and gaining their attention from where they were looking elsewhere, you smiled when you saw their reaction, more specifically, Natasha’s. Wanda was complimentary, walking up and feeling the fabric, gushing about how beautiful you looked, but you barely heard it, too focused on the redhead sitting in front of you, her eyes glazed over and her jaw almost on the floor, completely zoned out on you.

“This dress is it, Y/N, you have to get it! Nat? What do you think?” Her head shook, bringing herself back to reality and briefly meeting your eyes, only to quickly dart between You, Wanda and your dress in an attempt to compose herself.

“Yeah, I mean, wow, you look- wow.” Her hands flailed in your direction. You’d knocked the assassin speechless. Wanda rolled her eyes playfully at the interaction. She’d known about you and Nat’s feelings for each other for a month or two now, silently cursing the both of you when there was an opportunity to confess, yet never did. It was obvious to the rest of the team, why were neither of you picking up on it?

Keeping quiet, she ushered you back into the changing room, much to Natasha’s relief, both because she wanted to head back to the compound and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would’ve lasted seeing you standing there looking literally flawless. She always thought you looked amazing, but there was something about the way you looked in front of her just then that made her brain feel like a haze.

It was pretty safe to say,

You bought the dress.

Collapsing on your bed, dropping your bags to the side and letting out a loud sigh, you heard your door shut and someone fall into the chair by the window. You already knew who it was.

“I’m exhausted.” The woman groaned, rubbing her hands up and down her face to attempt to physically remove the tiredness from her body.

“Sorry for dragging you around for so long, I just-”

“Hey, no, don’t apologise for that. We all said we’d find the perfect dress, and it was worth the wait.” Heat rose to your cheeks at her words.

“You really think I looked good?”

Natasha could sense your underlying tone of doubt, unsure as to why you would doubt her opinion, she’d always been honest with you. Nonetheless, she heaved herself out of her seat and made her way to the end of the bed, kneeling down so that your now sat up figure could look down into her eyes, with her hands on each side of your face to focus you on her and her alone.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, okay? You looked incredible and I'm sure you’ll look even better at this wedding on Saturday, if that’s even possible.” You let out a small chuckle at her words as a smile made its way onto her face.

“You’ll be the prettiest one there.”

“Better not tell the Bride you said that, Nat.” She laughed, looking down for only a few seconds before looking at you again.

“We’ll make that our secret.” You nodded in silent agreement, grateful that she’d made you feel so reassured.

“Thank you, Tasha.”

“You’re more than welcome, sweetheart.” She replied.

You were so lost in her words, you hadn’t realised how close her face had gotten to yours, and how her eyes swapped between your eyes and your lips. You didn’t realise how she subconsciously had kept edging towards you, hands trembling a little with every inch closer she gets.

She wanted to kiss you. Every nerve in her body was almost electrified with the temptation to just move her lips over yours and become one. Her pulse raced, almost to prepare her for doing so. Which is why she wanted to kick herself with a pair of her highest heels when she uttered her next words.

“We should get some sleep.”

You broke out of your trance, jumping backwards slightly when noticing limited space between you both. You awkwardly coughed as she stood, heading back over to her chair to grab her bag and return to her room.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Big today, rest is probably a good idea.” You both nodded, she was already one foot out of the door when she gave you a small ‘goodnight’ and left, not waiting to hear you say it back.

Just like you hadn’t realised her actions early, you were oblivious to her hitting her head off of the wall in the corridor just outside of your room, wondering why she’d backed away. Where was Thor’s hammer when you needed to knock some sense into yourself? She thought before dragging herself back to her room where she would fall asleep, unable to get you out of her head.

_________________________

“Right! Headcount before we go in! And I want us all on our best behaviour Avengers, this is a wedding” Steve had completely lost you after ‘Headcount’. Not only are most of you fully grown adults, sorry Peter, but he seems to be oblivious to the fact that some of you were wearing high heels, and patience in high heels had an expiry date.

“Y’know, if he doesn’t let us in soon, I’m not afraid to threaten him with his own shield.” You heard a whisper just behind your ear, smirking at the comment.

“I’ll join you.” You answered, Bruce and Clint sharing a knowing look from afar when watching the two of you have your own quiet conversation, though short lived when they saw Natasha’s head move in their direction, their gaze coming to a halt so as to avoid any conflict with their teammate.

You guys could try to hide it all you want, but your entire team knows better than that, they just had to wait it out until you both finally admitted it to the other.

______________________

You and the Avenger’s were currently sitting at a guest table, now in the reception part of the evening. The ceremony was beautiful, the bride wore a crisp white ball gown with her makeup and hair done to perfection, the groom looking like a prince in his black tux and a look full of adoration towards his wife to be painted on his face.

Their looks weren’t the best part of it though. The clothes and the accessories were lovely, of course. But all you could focus on was the love shared between them as they shared their vows telling the other how they believed they were each other's soulmate, and that they promised to always be the other’s rock. You’d found yourself with tears in your eyes, barely able to appreciate the sight with how blurry your vision was now. They finally fell when they said their ‘I do’s’, feeling only happiness for the newlyweds.

Although marriage hadn’t been something you always thought about, you’d hoped that you would meet your special someone and settle down, retire from the missions, the battles, the superhero lifestyle and just be with your soulmate for the rest of your days.

Despite not being a couple, whenever you thought of the person you wanted to spend the rest of your time with, there was only one person that came to mind. And she stood right in front of you throughout the ceremony, comforting a sobbing demi-god while he was also trying to explain to Vision why he was in floods of tears.

Music filled the room, upbeat, but calm enough for the couples on the dancefloor to sway gently to the beat, soft lights occasionally shining on them as they danced, the bride and groom being one of them. You smiled gently at the sight, feeling dreadfully single with all of the love in the room, but grateful that you could see so many people look so content and in love with their significant other.

An elbow could suddenly be felt in your side, pulling you from your thoughts to instead be met with gorgeous green eyes and a bold red smirk.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She leaned in, curiosity clouding her mind.

“Nothing much up there really.” You glanced back at the dance floor quickly. “I’m just happy to see everyone so happy.”

Natasha followed your direction of where you were looking, an idea soon popped into her head. She was going to ask you to dance.

Her mouth opened to speak, but as if it was done on purpose, a ‘screech’ echoed in the ballroom, catching everyone’s attention, including taking yours away from hers.

“We’re taking a break from dancing for a minute folks, It’s time for the bride to throw the bouquet!” He announced, soon followed by shrieks and the sound of feet padding on the wooden floor, women all gathering in a small bunch, huddled together as if their lives depended on it as the men all returned to their seats, shaking their heads at the commotion.

Not really wanting to take part, you turned back around again.

“Sorry Nat, what were you-”

“Y/N!” Your head fell as you were interrupted by a very excited Maximoff.

“Y/N! C’mon! We need to do the bouquet toss!” She started to pull you up, refusing to listen to any excuse you could possibly conjure up to avoid having to take part.

Giving the team a desperate look, hoping someone will help you escape, you’re instead met with encouraging and amused faces, including Natasha’s a clear indication that not a single person was going to help you. Traitor’s.

With a half serious eye roll, you quickly grabbed your glass of champagne and kicked off your heels, heading towards the group of screaming women basically crawling on top of one another when the bride was barely up on the ‘stage’ yet. You let Wanda wander off into the group but remained towards the back, sipping from your glass and sending the occasional sneaky glare towards your table.

“You guys ready?” The bride yelled, only to be met with more screams and a faint chorus of ‘yes’ heard among it as they all threw their hands higher. Wanda saw you were just stood there, and subtly used her powers to raise your hand, earning loud laughs and cheers from the Avengers, taking great joy in the scene unfolding in front of them.

“Okay! Three...Two..”

You kept your arm up, pretending to be enthusiastic about the toss, when you realistically didn’t really expect much from these kinds of traditions. What you definitely hadn’t expected, was for your figure to stumble backwards as you suddenly felt petals and stems in your palm, a faint feeling of silk brushing against your thumb as your fingers wrapped around the item.

You almost spat out your champagne, eyes widening in shock as you looked to see the arrangement of flowers in your grip, looking up to see women both disheartened and elated at your catch. How the hell had you managed that? You were literally the farthest person away, and on your own! You must’ve been set up. Okay, a bit of a stretch, but still!

“WOOO, Y/L/N IS GETTING MARRIED!”

“WHO’S THE LUCKY SOMEONE Y/N?”

“Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS, Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS.”

The bride noticeably laughed at your friend’s cheers, she hadn’t meant to throw it that far back, her arm just kinda went full force, but seeing the reaction it caused, she didn’t regret it. She didn’t even regret it when she saw the look of embarrassment on your face, as it was soon replaced with a contagious beam as you walked towards them again, a very proud Wanda in tow,

“Guys! Guys! I’m not even in a relationship! I highly doubt i’m the next woman in this room to get married.” You joked

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Sam laughed “Romanoff, you got an engagement ring handy?” He yelped as a peanut from the centre of the table was thrown at him, and of course with being a trained assassin, Nat had hit him right in the centre of his forehead, earning a dramatic noise of pain to leave his mouth.

These guys will be the death of you.

__________________

After some teasing, the room had filled once again with happy couples dancing, now including some you were very familiar with, one being a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist and his CEO wife, and another being an Asgardian with his Midgardian girlfriend, both gently moving side to side in time with the music.

Letting out a content sigh, you were met once again with the flowers, however, this time, they weren’t on the table, but were held by a gorgeous woman in a flawless navy dress.

“So, I know we aren’t a couple, but, would the future bride like to dance?” She asked, you let out a content sigh, pretending to think it over for a minute.

“Y’know what, I would, thank you for your kind offer.” You took the hand she’d held out for you and led you to the dance floor. While her hands went to your waist, gently tugging you closer, your arms went around her neck, hands interlocking behind her as you, like the others you’d admired all even, swayed.

You’re unsure when it happened, much like a time before, but your head had made its way onto your dance partner's shoulder, your body following suit as it left no room between the two of you, though you weren’t complaining. Neither was the fellow Avenger.

It was peaceful for a period of time, the only sound being the slow music and a quiet chatter of people across the floor. It wasn’t long before you heard the red head above you whisper in your ear once again.

“You really do look amazing tonight, Y/N.” You raised your head so it was directly opposite hers, sending her an appreciative gaze.

“That future fiance of yours is lucky.” She winked.

“Hilarious” You scoffed, fully aware of her humorous tone.

“I know, sometimes I amaze even myself with my jokes.”

“Well, it really is funny, because I honestly don’t see myself getting married anytime soon.” Nat’s eyebrows raised in what could almost be described as confusion.

“And why is that? Do you not want to get married?” Her hands started grazing up and down your waist, like she was comforting you, but really she was bracing herself for what was incoming.

“No, no it’s not that. I just..”

“Just?”

“I don’t think the person i’m interested in, is necessarily interested in me.” Her heart dropped. So you did have someone of interest. She pushed the sinking feeling to the side quickly so that she could respond.

“Right, and why is that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen them make a move. I thought it’d be obvious. I think it has been to some others.” Your eyes wandered, lingering for longer than what was probably appropriate, on Natasha’s plump lips, wondering if you’d ever get to experience what it’d be like to feel them on yours.

This time, Natasha didn’t miss it. She would’ve blamed it on alcohol, saying that she must’ve just imagined it, but she had only consumed a few drops all evening, being too entranced by you didn’t leave much room for hydration. She hadn’t been more thankful, because it made a light bulb go off in her head as the pieces came together in her head of who you were referring to. She didn’t make a move the other night. It was obvious to the team. How could she have been so blind?

You didn’t see it coming, even when your chin was held in her grasp and you saw her face leaning in towards yours, the reality only hitting you when you finally felt what you’d been wanting to feel for the last months, right now. Your surroundings had just disappeared, the only thing that was running through your head, was the way her lips were moving against yours, and the way her lips tasted faintly of vanilla, and how she smelled like her floral perfume she wore for special occasions.

Whooping and cheering brought you both back from your bubble with just the two of you, your head falling just below her chin, her hand stroking your back as you could feel her chuckle bubbling where your head lay. Well, hid. Her arms had muffled their comments, but you had an idea of what they were, probably a mixture of ‘finally!’, ‘i knew it!’ and you’re almost certain you heard a ‘You owe me 20 bucks.’, that one making you shake your head.

Remaining in your hiding spot, that wasn’t very well hidden, but was keeping your bright red face to yourself, a pair of familiar lips lingered right beside your head.

“So, about that bouquet..”

You weren’t getting married, but by the end of the night, you definitely didn’t feel so dreadfully single as you had earlier.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

[hxseok-honee]

sundress || part 18

written portion under the cut!

sundress [part 18] || make you feel better

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : [and if you were my little girl // i’d do whatever i could do] daddy issues x the neighbourhood

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_____________________________

Saturday, 23 October, 10:13pm

“Are you feeling any better?” Y/n blinks and looks over at Yoongi while she’s dropping empty McDonald’s containers in her garbage bin. He’s standing by the window, pushing it open and fanning himself, cheeks red. It’s starting to get rather chilly outside these days, and the castle’s finally turned on its heating systems to keep the students from freezing to death as winter nears.

The problem -- for most Slytherins, in fact -- is that Yoongi’s so used to the dungeons always being cold that it takes him some time to adjust to the heated rooms above ground in the winter. Y/n’s bedroom feels normal to her, but to him it’s a damn sauna, a sentiment emphasized by the fact that he’s stripping out of his hoodie as he makes his way to her wardrobe to look for thinner pajama bottoms than the ones he’d shown up in. When he finds what he’s looking for, he’s ducking into her bathroom, calling out to her through the door.

“Answer me, nerd.” Y/n hums, having forgotten that he’d even asked her something because she’s so busy trying to decide how to survive the night with that chill coming in through the window.

“I’m okay -- Yoongi, how are you expecting me to sleep with that window open? We’ll both catch a cold.” Pulling the door open, Yoongi tosses his other pants over her desk chair and points at his hoodie, abandoned on her bed.

“Should still be warm.” He doesn’t say anything more about it, heading over to where his laptop sits on her mattress, their movie paused. “You’re only feeling okay?” He’s very nonchalant about the whole thing, but he keeps bringing it up, so Y/n knows he wants to have this conversation.

“Yeah, I’m just -- I dunno, stressed. Tired. Overwhelmed. Did I mention stressed?” Breathing out a laugh through his nose, Yoongi checks that the battery on his laptop’s still fine while Y/n reaches for his hoodie. Sliding it over her head, she finds that he wasn’t wrong -- it is still warm. It also smells like him, and she breathes in the scent easily, already mourning the moment that the material will start to smell like her instead.

She’s so busy pressing the sleeves to her nose and humming with satisfaction at the smell that she doesn’t notice Yoongi’s watching her from where he sits on the edge of her bed. When she finally looks up and meets his eyes, she sees that he’s got a fond look on his face, smiling up at her while she gets distracted by the comfort of wearing his clothes.

“Having fun?” If this were any other day, she might be embarrassed that she’s been caught sniffing his hoodie. But she’s feeling warm and a little delirious both from the food and the exhaustion of such a long day, so she’s just nodding, pressing the sleeves to her face again. Yoongi’s lips twitch in amusement.

“Okay, well -- we can finish the movie or just go to bed? If you’re tired?” Y/n shakes her head, still feeling too wound up from the day to even fathom going to sleep right now.

“Let’s finish the movie — I’ll probably fall asleep at some point.” He nods, scooting back on the mattress until he can lean against the headboard and get under the blanket, beckoning her over with a pat of his hand on the space between his legs.

“Come on — I’ll keep you warm.” Unable to deny the excitement she feels at the thought of being held while she drifts off to sleep, Y/n crawls over to Yoongi, settling with her back against his chest. She sighs contently when he wraps his arms around her, hitting the spacebar on his laptop with his foot to resume the movie before bending his knees and caging her in. She feels safe here.

They watch the movie in silence for a few minutes, Yoongi holding Y/n’s hands in his and playing with her fingers to try and soothe her with small movements. It seems to work, because she’s curling into him even more after a moment. Pressing a kiss to her temple, Yoongi whispers to her.

“Is there anything I can do?” Y/n shuts her eyes with a smile, filled with adoration. Ever since what had happened on Thursday, when she’d expressed her insecurities, Yoongi had been more attentive than usual. Keeping an eye on her and spending more time attached to her physically, he’d been very affectionate the last couple of days. She’s not even sure he’s noticed. “Y/n?” She cracks her eyes open, letting out a noise of confusion. Yoongi smiles softly, repeating himself.

“Let me help you… please?” Humming quietly, she finds it hard to concentrate, feeling herself getting lost in his warmth — he’s solid against her, strong and secure. With his heartbeat against her back, his breathing in sync with hers… it’s comforting. She knows he’ll take care of her if she asks.

“There’s… one thing… that might be nice.” He squeezes her, letting her know he’s listening. Their hands are intertwined in her lap, but she’s extracting her right hand from the pile and placing it gently on the back of his. Guiding him slowly, she sets his hand at the base of her throat, feeling him inhale sharply behind her when he gets the message.

“I thought you said you didn’t wanna talk to Rough Yoongi anytime soon.” He says it jokingly, but she hears the genuine question within.

“It doesn’t have to be rough…” Blinking quickly, he starts putting the pieces together in his head, realizing what she wants. But his silence is a little too long, worrying her, and she’s turning just enough that she can see him out of the corner of her eye.

“We don’t have to… is it because it’s Saturday?” If he’s honest, he’d completely forgotten about the fact that this would technically break one of their rules, but he’s pretty sure he’d broken a rule at that Gryffindor party not long ago. Besides, she needs his help.

“I don’t care about that… I just wanna make you feel better.”

She’s already whining, and he hasn’t even done anything yet. Moving his hand, he wraps his fingers around her throat, pausing to meet her eyes before he does anything else.

“But I need you to do one thing for me.”

“Anything.”

He purses his lips, incredibly fond of her in this moment — usually, it takes a while to break her, but she’s already given in. She’s already relinquishing control, leaving everything up to him. It’s adorable, but he’s still cautious, not wanting to go too far -- not tonight.

“You have to tell me how you’re feeling when I ask. Sound fair?”

She nods quickly, breathing out a confirmation as she leans her head back on his shoulder and shuts her eyes.

“Mm… sounds fair…”

Keeping his gaze on the side of her face, he runs his thumb and two of his fingers along the sides of her neck, feeling her shiver against him. Satisfied, he presses the rest of fingers down, palm warm against the base of her throat.

When he squeezes tight, her body reacts automatically, a shaky breath leaving her while she clings to him. Her hands ball up the material of his pants when she grabs at his thighs, and Yoongi’s shocked to see how responsive she is.

“Are you that wound up, babygirl?” She whines quietly, and he squeezes once in warning. She hadn’t answered him. “Let’s try that again, hm?”

“I’m sorry…” He watches her frown as she apologizes, her eyes cracking open to glance nervously up at him. “Are you upset with me?” Removing his hand from her throat, Yoongi brushes his thumb over her cheek, shaking his head.

“Not upset… Just want you to answer my questions so I know you’re okay.” She nods, unintentionally pouting at him while she finally responds to his question.

“I’m still just… really tense, I guess…” Dragging his fingers back down the column of her throat, Yoongi squeezes suddenly — it’s not harsh or shocking, only firm, his hand steady against her. It pulls a sigh out of her, and her eyelids are fluttering closed as she drops her head back against his shoulder again.

“Feel good?” She smiles hazily, a whispered ‘yes… thank you’ leaving her, and Yoongi can’t help but smile at how honest she is. Pressing tighter, he doesn’t say a word about the shaky moan that slips out, only wrapping his free arm around her waist and holding her closer to his chest.

“Don’t worry about anything, okay? I’ll take care of you, babygirl.” Her whine is loud, and he sees now that that’s what she needs from him -- to help her forget. To give her a break… Yoongi plans on making that happen for her.

“Trust me?” She echoes back immediately, the ‘trust you’ breathy and distracted, like she’s not totally paying attention. But she’d remembered to answer, so Yoongi knows she’s still with him.

“Want me to fix it?” She whines out a confirmation, nodding slowly. This one’s delayed, prompting Yoongi to check in on her.

“How are you feeling?” A pause, and then—

“Good… feel good… better…” Yoongi flexes his fingers, pressing down for longer this time to reward her for being honest with him. When he finally eases up, she’s gasping for breath, and he can feel her heart racing through her back — or maybe that’s his heart. He’s not sure. They’ve done this before, but not like this, so he’s getting a little nervous that what he’s doing won’t be enough to help her. But he has to be steady for her, so he’s pushing forward, hoping he can do it right.

Pressing his mouth to the shell of her ear, he’s mumbling softly to her -- it’s permission, permission to forget everything and give him control. And, even though he’s unsure of himself, it turns out to be exactly what she needs.

“Just let it all go, babygirl… Don’t think about anything but me.” He squeezes for emphasis while he says it, only releasing her when he feels her exhale deeply, going lax against him. Running his fingers gently over all the places he’d pressed too hard, wondering if he’d accidentally left bruises, he whispers to her, checking in.

“Better?” When she doesn’t respond after a moment, his heart is dropping, and he’s glancing down at her quickly, fingers going to her chin so he can turn her head toward him.

“Y/n?” She doesn’t make any move to acknowledge him, only nuzzling her face into his neck slightly. Yoongi furrows a brow, blinking through the pounding in his ears because he needs to figure out what to do. Had he gone too far?

“Baby? Hey…” Taking her face in his hand, he shakes her gently, trying to get something -- anything -- out of her. She must be able to hear the slight edge in his voice, because she’s finally responding. Just a hum, but it’s enough to have him sighing in relief. “There you are…”

“…’m sorry…” Breathing out a laugh, Yoongi works at slowing his heart rate while he responds.

“You’re not in trouble… just wanna know how you’re doing.” Y/n shifts in his arms, turning in his lap until she’s curled up to his chest, her mind fuzzy. She only nods, and Yoongi knows that’s all he’s getting out of her. But he’s gonna need more than that.

“Feel better?” She nods again, stronger this time.

“Better… much better…” He’s glad, because he’s not sure he’d be able to keep going with this tonight, still a little on edge. But as he looks down at her, he can see that she’s completely at ease, all of the tension in her shoulders and face gone now. His chest swells, proud of himself for being able to help her after all.

And then a breeze is drifting in through the open window, and she’s shivering against him. He looks over at it, relaxing his hold on her as he considers getting up to shut it.

“Want me to close the window?” Immediately, she’s latching onto the front of his shirt, holding him back. Her eyes open then, expression laced with panic. His own eyes go wide, too, not having expected her to come out of her headspace that fast.

“No-- Don’t go…” Yoongi breathes out a laugh of disbelief.

“I wasn’t gonna leave, baby…” But he doesn’t push it, only readjusting his arms around her, pulling her close again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Sliding his leg out from under the comforter, he closes his laptop with his foot, their movie completely abandoned.

Deciding he’d honestly rather risk breaking the device than letting Y/n go for even the few seconds it would take him to move it to her bedside table, he nudges the computer toward the edge of the bed, aiming for the spot where he’d left his bag earlier and pushing it off. He winces when it crashes to the hardwood floor instead. He’ll just buy a new one.

Turning to look at Y/n, he shuffles around on the mattress until they’re tucked comfortably under the blanket, Y/n’s face hidden in his chest.

“Doing okay?” He feels her nod, and then she’s lifting her head to look at him -- her eyes seem clearer now, he notes.

“I’m good now… sorry for not answering you earlier…” With a smile, he scoots down until they’re eye level with each other. He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her as close as possible.

“It’s okay… I was just worried…” Y/n looks him over, seeing the lingering anxiety in his eyes. He must have tried really hard for her.

“I’m sorry, I was just… a little out of it, I guess. It felt nice, so I didn’t want to come out of it.” Yoongi nods, finally understanding what had been happening to her.

“Good… I didn’t know if it was a good thing or not that you just weren’t registering anything anymore…” He pauses, biting at his lip nervously. “It… was good, right? I did okay?”

Y/n just stares at him for a moment, wondering how he could possibly not be sure of himself after having just seen her fall apart. After having just made her fall apart. Smiling fondly, she leans in, pressing her mouth to his. It’s soft, their lips barely touching, but it’s enough to have him exhaling deeply, releasing the stress he’d been feeling.

When she pulls back, she’s smiling softly at him, but then her mind is flashing back to what she’d been worried about earlier, the feeling creeping up on her again. She eyes him guiltily, only voicing her concern when he lifts a brow at her.

“Is it okay… that I asked us to break a rule? I won’t do it again…” She’s unprepared for the wide smile Yoongi shoots her, his gums peeking through. He finds it incredibly cute how vulnerable she is, pouty and nervous.

“I really don’t care, Y/n. I just wanted to make you feel better… as long as you’re okay, nothing else matters.” She pouts again, this one more because she’s not sure how to respond, her face warming from how gently he’s looking at her, gaze full of endearment. Deciding finally to just curl up to him and hide her face in his neck again, she lies there for a moment, listening to his breathing. It’s just as comforting even now, when she’s free of the things that had been worrying her. He’s just as solid against her -- just as safe.

“Can we still finish the movie?” Yoongi snickers when she mumbles the question into the crook of his neck, shaking his head.

“Yeah… my laptop’s definitely broken, babe.”

[s1ater]

hiii i saw that you write cobra kai imagines and i was wondering if you could do a miguel imagine in which the reader is best friends with robby and has developed feelings for him while miguel still likes sam, so the reader and miguel start fake dating and emd up catching feelings for eachother?🥺💞

failure to plan, part one. miguel diaz x reader

summary 📣: above :)

warnings 🚫: gif not mine, swearing

slater’s note 🗯: also there will be A PART TWO I PROMISE

“i have a plan.”

you looked up from your textbooks, seeing a very hyper miguel, his hands pressed down onto the table, inches across from you. 

you press your lips into a thin line, narrowing your brows up to the boy, your head slightly quirked to the side, “what’s your plan?”

miguel pulled out the seat in front of you, causing you to begin to close your books and set them to the side, giving him your divided attention. 

“i need to be with same,” he said straight forward, folding his arms against the cold, blue plastic table, “i’m done constantly chasing after her.. wondering whether or not she likes me the way i like her still.” 

he paused giving you time to process his words as he tried to think of what to say next, how to form his words while your lips pressed back into a line. 

you didn’t know miguel that well... well you did but he was more or so an acquaintance than anything else. you had found yourself noticing him a lot more the moment him and robby had began to get along, causing your whole friend group to pull closer together, that being, sam, you, tory, robby, demetri, eli, and miguel. 

he was a funny kid, one you could put a lot of trust into if you needed to. 

“i know you like robby,” he paused, looking down at the table as if he was slightly ashamed for knowing this information, and you yourself were slightly shocked, but you stayed silent, resisting the urge to open your mouth. “i see the way you look at him, i know you like that kid just as much as i like sam.”

robby. that “kid” was your best friend and you had very valid reasons as to why you liked him, one being as to he was there for you since day one. robby didn’t have a lot of trust in people, nor did anyone seem to trust him... but you. 

you had met him at a skating rink where you had just about fallen on your ass if he hadn't swooped in and caught you by the arm, keeping you on your feet and away from falling into a deep pit of hurt and scratches. 

he taught you things, you kept him out of trouble, you kept each other alive and in your well beings. you couldn't have asked for a better friend nor would you ever think about replacing him. 

that’s why it was hard for you to realize that you thought of him more than just a friend. the thought of ruining what you had with for something that might not even be a possibility, that being; him liking you. 

“yeah, okay, so you know that, what about it?” 

“i have a proposition.”

“get to the point.”

you didn’t intend for anything that came out of your mouth to be rude, but the fact that he knew something so personal, something that you wouldn't even tell your mom or girl best friend about made you uncomfortable, on edge. what else did he know? 

it was ridiculous to feel so attacked by miguel diaz because really, the kid was sweet, he had no attentions in being harmful, but you just couldn't stop your mind from caving in on itself. 

“fake date,” he said it straight forward making you curve your head a bit in confusion and in thought, wondering whether or not your heard him right or if you were really going crazy faster than you thought. 

“huh?” “fake dating,” he repeated, “it’s the only way to tell whether or not if i’m wasting my time, but i don’t think i am, i just know she likes me back but i need to push her a bit.” “so you want to make her jealous?” he nodded his head, waiting for you to say something, waiting for you to say ‘yes’. 

“what’s in it for me?” “works both ways.” “yes, but i don’t think robby likes me like that, that’s why i haven’t said anything to him about it-”

“y/n,” he cuts you off, wanting to slow down the oncoming rambling that was about to spill out of your mouth in one big mess, “guy best friends usually like their girl best friends. robby just needs a push as well.” 

it made you bit your lip in thought, eyes racing back on the table top before you. the idea he presented before you was either a really good one... or a really, really bad one. 

“i’ll think about it,” you got up quickly, grabbing all your books before rushing out of the library. 

°•

monday came rather fast, making you think you didn’t have nearly enough time to think about miguel’s proposition. you knew he would probably would want an answer, especially due to the fact that you had ignored all his phone calls and texts. 

hanging out with robby all weekend hadn’t necessarily gave you any clarity either. it was the only thing on your mind as you the two of you went to the skate park and his dad's apartment, and mr. larusso’s home, and the food court, and anywhere and everywhere. the only thing. 

you begun to feel bad because twenty minutes into hanging out he had noticed, giving you hard time about it as time continued on it seemed to have been a repetitive thing. 

“what’s on your mind, kid?” “uh, nothing.”

all you could say was you felt bad. 

you hustled down the hallway, trying your best to maneuver yourself around the teen bodies that filled the hallway like a small box. it was hot and stuffy and you felt your heart all high in your chest as you tried to spot for something familiar, spot robby. 

you continued down the hallway before hitting a clearing a relief hitting you and lightening up on your chest, analyzing your environment before planning out how you’d get to your next class. 

you rounded a corner, five feet away from your physics class before you felt the weight of your body being pulled back in your past tracks. 

and you almost smacked whoever did so before realizing it was miguel, a relief coming over you as you sighed, sinking your shoulders back into a more relaxed position. 

he slightly laughed, letting go of your arm, “relax, it’s just me.”

you rolled your eyes, nodding him off, “what do you want?”

“i want an answer.”

“what?” you almost resisted the urge to play dumb but the words just fell out of your mouth, think it would give you more time to make up your mind. 

“you know what.”

“yeah, i don't know,” you turned around but he grabbed onto your shoulder quickly before flipping you back around. 

“y/n,” he gave you a pointed look that made you even more anxious than you already were.

you bit the inside of your cheek, hoping the answer would just come to you right in that moment, but it didn't. there was just some part of you that just didn't understand, maybe that was what was holding you back due to the lack of clarity on the situation. what did “fake dating” even entail? what would you have to do? and why you? what was so special about you other then the fact that you were just as helpless as he was to getting the person he liked to like him back. 

but so what? there were hundreds of girls like that at your school. 

you exhaled, almost rolling your head down in shame, “you know what, fine, i’ll ‘fake date’ you... but you have to tell me why.”

“what do you mean, why?”

“why me, miguel?” 

he rolled his eyes as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world, “i already told you, we both have people we like-”

“yeah but there’s other people in this school in that exact situation,” you extended out your arm, getting worked up for basically nothing. 

miguel rolled his eyes again before taking a step forward, “we can talk about this later, meet me in the library later.”

and he walked off. 

°•

“hey, can i give you a ride?” 

three o’clock arrived like clock work and after seven classes of hell you walked out of your last one, completely exhausted and ready to go home, but remembered you still had to meet miguel in the library. 

it had been bearing on your mind all day, that you just wished you could forget about it and go home with robby like he offered. 

“no, i can’t,” you mumbled, diverting your body to face robby as the two of you neared the exit of the school.

“why not? got a hot date or something?”

“something like that,” you smiled just as he did. 

“alright, i’ll see you later,” he gave your arm a tight squeeze before walking out the doors, waving as he continued out onto the parking lot. 

“lord, help me.”

°•

“no strings attached, you don’t have to call me at twelve in the morning when your crying nor do i have to call you when i get hurt or some shit,” miguel was straightforward, he pulled out his phone and began reading from a list off of it, like he had had this planned way before even deciding to talk to you about it. “we’re here to make people jealous, not get attached.”

you nodded, trying to process all the things he had said in the past ten minutes about what was to go down with the two of for however how long it would take before either sam or robby broke from underneath the pressure of you two “dating”. 

miguel already had the week planned and you were slightly grateful that he knew what he was doing because you sure as hell didn't. 

“i’ll take you out to the mini golf place so then it’s public, you know? it’ll seem more official and that way people will see us together...” he continued on by saying, “we hold hands, kiss in the hall, and do all the cheesy couple shit.” “thought you were a sucker for that stuff,” you hummed, raising your eyebrows, slightly shocked by him bad mouthing all the “cheesy shit” that couples do, the type of shit you would see him doing in the halls with sam when they were still a thing. 

he rolled his eyes, “whatever, we got a deal?” 

you watched him raise his hand, reaching across the table for your own... and you took it, nodding your head still lost, but content now. 

“we have a deal.”

masterlist

taglist 🗞:

join the taglist dawg 

@bigbilliamdenbro @axastasiasstuff @alexmercer-reginaldpeters @teti-menchon0604 @lydiaamphlett @torynicholsgf @Skiala45 @write-from-the-heart @mrfeenyisswag

[letarasstuff]

Can I stay with you?

(A/N): This is based on this, this and this post. I really hope you are ready for the feels, because they are there and they are heavy-

Summary: Following the events of Emily's death, how will Spencer and his daughter cope with it?

Warnings: Angst and lots of it, mentions of drug use, contemplations of drug use, mentions of needles, we also got some bittersweet fluff

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _______________________________

A hospital is not a place where a child should be, Spencer knows that much. But he picked (Y/N) up on his way for two reasons:

The first one being the simple occurence that the babysitter is not able to keep her any longer, because she has classes in the next morning. The second one is selfish and the father knows that, but he needs her presence, the comfort she brings to him.

“Daddy”, the child breaks the silence in the waiting room, “Is Auntie Emily going to be ok?” She sits in his lap reading a book before looking up at him. Her eyes hold something he wishes to never see again: Fear. The fear of losing someone she loves dearly.

“I hope, Baby. But let’s not forget one important fact: Your Auntie Emily is one of the strongest women I know.” Spencer gives her a kiss on the top of her head and cuddles her closer to him, seeing (Y/N)’s eyes dropping. The rest of the team watches the interaction with aching hearts.

The girl is asleep for half an hour when JJ enters the room. Everybody gets up crowding her. Spencer is careful to not disturb his daughter as he moves her head to his shoulder and hooks his arm under her legs.

“She never made it off the table.” These words echo in the genius’ mind, seemingly being the only things he can think about. “I-I never had the chance to say goodbye.” JJ hugs him, trying to give some sort of comfort. In this process (Y/N) wakes up. As soon as she spots her father’s tears, she knows not to ask a question. Instead she loops her arms around his neck.

“It’s fine. It’s gonna be alright, Daddy”, the toddler recalls the words he says to her whenever she is upset in hopes to cheer him up.

The next couple days are hard on the whole team. They try to grieve together, especially while the funeral takes place. (Y/N) notices that the color black is fitting, since her Auntie really liked to wear it. She likes that they do the same to pay their respects that way.

“Auntie Penny, is she watching?” The blonde woman carries her while the casket is walked down the aisle. Since her death, (Y/N) doesn’t dare to say Emily’s name. She thinks if she avoids it, she is going to inflict less pain when she is talked about.

“Of course. Emily is in heaven and watches this beautiful beautiful ceremony we hold for her. So wipe that frown off and put on that smile she loved so much. Alright?” Confusing to her, the adults want (Y/N) to smile all the time. But they are frowning and crying more often than not.

“Can she hear us? Because I want to say I love her. I forgot to say it the last time I saw her.” Trying to distract herself from seeing the casket lowering into the grave, the girl plays with Penlope’s hair. She in turn has to fight tears back. Only now she realizes the impact the whole thing has on her.

“I’m sure she does. What about when the majority is gone, we go to her grave and talk to Emily? Do we have a deal?” (Y/N) nods.

As soon as the ceremony is over, Spencer takes his daughter, cradling her close to him. As if she senses his sadness, the girl is petting his back in a comforting way. He squeezes her closer to him, leaving her not much room to breathe.

“Daddy, I wanna talk to her. I need to get down.” (Y/N) wiggles in his grasp after she whispers this into his ear. Reluctantly Spencer lets her down and she toddles over to the freshly made grave. A little plastic card sticks out of the grass in place of a headstone.

The adults try to give her as much space as possible, they have to let grieve on her own.

“Hey, Auntie Emily. I-I wanted to say I love you, and I forgot to tell you this the last time so I say it a second time. I love you. And I miss you. I think Daddy misses you too. He is sad since you are gone. I’m too. I think it’s because we miss you. But I hope you like Heaven. Maybe you see my Mommy. When you do, can you say I love her?

“I’ll try to see you soon, Auntie. Goodbye!” (Y/N) goes back to her father and makes grabby hands towards him. Gladly Spencer picks her up again, putting a kiss on her head. “Wanna go home, Daddy.” The child mumbles, exhausted by all the stress and emotions from the day.

The father is relieved to have an excuse to skip the meal with the team. He is scared that the evening at the little restaurant is clouded by sadness and angst. Spencer doesn’t need that right now, a nice sit in with his daughter sounds way better.

After saying their goodbyes the little family sits in the car on their way to the apartment. As soon as Spencer starts the car, (Y/N) is fast asleep. He looks at her through the rear view mirror, happy to see her at peace. It gives the father time to sort through his own thoughts. Since Emily’s death (Y/N) tries to be around him constantly, which he is thankful for, because she keeps the darkness away.

Her last hours play again and again before his eyes. The different ways he could have stopped all of this. Why didn’t he say more when she began biting her nails? When she said “Laura Reynolds is dead”? Maybe all of this is his fault?

His forearm begins to itch. Exactly where Tobias Hankel injected the needle same as he did several times. Maybe, maybe it would make everything better? Just this one tim-

“Daddy? When are we home?” The small voice cuts off his train of thought. Spencer needs a few seconds to clear his mind. Did he really think that? Taking dilaudid while the reason he fought his addiction literally sits right behind him? “Just a few minutes, Sweetheart. Do you want to go to bed after dinner?”

As if she knows that the father can’t be left alone in this state, (Y/N) answers: “No, I wanna watch a movie with you. Can we watch Alvin and the chipmunks? I love Simon so much!” This places a smile on his face, the excitement in her eyes scare his dark thoughts away. “Sure, Peanut. We can watch whatever you want.”

It's the fourth evening in a row that the girl sleeps in her father’s bed. She either falls asleep there or climbs next to him in the middle of the night, so he figures he lets her sleep there right away.

“Good night, Sweetheart”, he tells her as they lay down. Even though it’s quite early for Spencer to go to bed it’s (Y/N)’s time. “Good night, Daddy”, she tells him while snuggling closer, “I love you. Soooooo much.”

The young doctor decides to take the next few days off from work in order to work through the events. The first one he spends coloring in books with her the whole day. While she works on her own books gifted by various members of the BAU, Spencer has his own extra made for adults. He can’t deny the soothing effect it has on him. The repeating moves calms the storm of thoughts inside his head.

The next day the two of them sit the whole day on the small couch in the living room, (Y/N) on his lap, and read. Sometimes they read for themselves, others the father reads outloud from his own or (Y/N) from her own. It’s kind of therapeutic to hear his child doing something he enjoyed his whole life.

“Daddy, do you think she feels lonely in heaven? There is nobody she knows, she has to wait for us to follow her, doesn’t she?” Not prepared for such a deep question, Spencer is caught off guard.

He clears his throat before answering. “Uh, Auntie Emily isn’t that lonely up there, you know. You can’t remember him, but Uncle Gideon, a friend from work and someone I looked up to, is there. He surely greeted her with open arms, happy to see her. And your Mommy is also there, she certainly asked lots of questions about you.” “A-are you sure? I told her to say Mommy ‘I love you’ when she sees her.” (Y/N) looks up to her father with big eyes.

He is not sure if he is lying right now to her, but he sees that his daughter needs the reassurance. “Yes, I’m sure.” To lighten the mood he begins to tickle her, which ends in a tickle fight which in turn ends in tiring the girl out and falling asleep while watching a Disney movie.

The next day is by far the worst since it all happened. Both (Y/N) and Spencer haven’t slept much due to nightmares from both sides (him comforting her as she tears him from his own), which results in a grumpy toddler and a non stop coffee drinking adult.

“Sweetheart, you need to put that shirt on. Auntie JJ is expecting us in ten minutes. Please, stop fighting me”, he begs, but she continues to cry. As Spencer tries for a third time to put it on her (Y/N) throws herself to the other side of the bed.

“I don’t want that, Daddy!” She finally gets out through her sobs. Spencer halts in his movements. “Why? That’s your favorite, Baby.” While (Y/N) begins to cry louder, he leaves the clothing article on the bed and gathers her in his arm, rocking her back and forth additionally to whispering sweet reassurances in her ear.

“She gave it to me. I don’t wanna make it dirty or ruin it”, the toddler says between shaky breaths. For what feels like the trillionth time, the young agent’s heart breaks over this statement. He has a bigger vocabulary than the average English speaking person, but at this moment Spencer is at a loss of words.

“Sweetheart, I apologize for not acknowledging this right away. I’ll get another shirt out for you, ok? Thank you so much for telling and helping me.” Just a few minutes later the little family is on their way to the next metro stop. It’s then that Spencer realizes his day won’t be any easier.

“(Y/N) you can sit in the seat next to me like you always do. Why do you have to sit in my lap today?” Normally he isn’t someone who denies his child physical contact, but the seating chart has a logical purpose. Being on a train with a child means you have some kind of luggage with you, which leads to occupying a four seats compartment. In order to prevent somebody taking the seat next to him, Spencer places his daughter there. It’s a win win situation for everybody, really.

Unfortunately for him (Y/N) is extra clingy today and won’t stop crawling onto his lap. With a sigh he accepts his defeat and tries not to think about the amount of germs that fly around.

Another problem that torments the father: Over the last few days his cravings grew. Especially today the feeling, the need, for another shot and another high is undeniable for him. As if sensing this (Y/N) sticks by his side throughout the whole time, keeping his mind off of the drug that changes him.

While they are at the Jareau’s and Lamontagne’s household, his daughter refuses to play with Henry. “I wanna stay with you”, she murmurs into his shoulder. Again Spencer accepts his defeat and sits down on the couch next to his best friend.

“Sweetheart, you need to let me go. I have to go to the bathroom, you can’t come with me.” This is followed by a tsunami of tears. While JJ tries to console her, he slips out of the room discreetly.

Due to (Y/N)’s current grumpiness and Spencer’s fatigue they quickly call it a night, even though he could use some more comfort from his friends.

“Good night, Sweetheart. Sleep tight and dream nice. I love you”, he says after tucking his child in and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Night night, Daddy. I love you, too”, her small voice echoes back to him and makes him smile softly.

Spencer finds his way back to the living room and sits down with a book in his lap. As expected he doesn’t get much reading done, too distracted by his own thoughts. The events of the night of his colleague’s, his friend’s, death replay themselves over and over again.

What if he made his conclusions faster? He is supposed to be the smart one, the one the team relies on for making important connections. But he failed once so who knows what happens when he fails again? Next time it could be the whole team dying. He could die. He would leave (Y/N) alone with the team gone. His mother isn’t capable of caring for her and his father doesn’t even know she exists. She will go into foster care, into a home with too many kids. She will be looked over, too small to be seen. Her potential will go to waste and she will never achieve anything she is capable of. And all that because he hasn’t made a conclusion fast enough.

Spencer’s scars on his forearm itch worse than ever. One shot. Only one shot to make the thoughts go away. To make the guilt go away, the bad feelings. He needs it. He needs to cure himself from the symptoms of being a human.

Before the young doctor even registers what he is doing he already put his jacket on and looks for his wallet when a voice startles him.

“Daddy, i can't sleep. Can I stay with you again?” (Y/N) stands in the doorway, clutching her stuffed animal and her blanket, shielding her eyes from the light, oblivious to what her father was about to do.

“Oh Darling, of course. Do you want me to read to you? Or we drink hot chocolate and watch a movie?” He suggests, ready to distract himself from anything that’s going on in his mind. A few minutes later his daughter cuddles into his side while watching once again Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Spencer is just happy to have his light in his life all the time and is ready to tackle any task to keep her there, may it be once again the weekly visits for anonymous narcotics or time off from work to process the events together in therapy.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[stylesberries]

Vegan Cupcakes

Summary: You and Harry have been quarantined together and he needs space.

Genre(s): angst (happy ending)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning(s): angsty stuff, ~foul language~

You and Harry have been quarantined together for several months now and, despite the difficulty and the severity of the situation, you as a couple are having the time of your lives.

Harry was definitely disappointed and upset about not being able to go touring with Fine Line, but the second he heard the news he thought of you.

He has been donating a lot of money and supplies for those in need of it or unemployed while you took your university classes online.

Spending most of the spring together didn’t feel as suffocating for Harry as summer did. Your classes were over and you didn’t take a summer semester, so your time fully revolved around him. Which he liked.

In the beginning.

Until you clung on him like a koala for days and made him cuddle you all the time, which he enjoyed a lot until it became a routine. Harry couldn’t even tell you how he felt because it would hurt your feelings, so he didn’t say anything at all, keeping it all to himself.

“Baby?” You call for him from the kitchen.

Harry rolls his eyes as you, once again, interrupted his flow of thoughts. He gets up from the couch he was laying on peacefully before and walks towards the kitchen, where you are standing holding up a paper so big it covers your whole face.

“Yes?” Harry asks, trying his best not to come out too rough. You placed the paper on the kitchen island in front of you to look up at Harry. You didn’t pay close attention to his annoyance; you were too busy brainstorming what proportion of flour to sugar to take for your vegan cupcakes.

“Harry, do you think I should take 1:2? Like twice as much flour? Or do you want the cupcakes to be sweeter?” Harry watched you ramble, crossing his arms, feeling ~this~ close to bursting. “Or do you think the cupcakes shouldn’t be that sweet because they’ll have sweet icing on top?” You ket throwing question after question at your fuming boyfriend, still oblivious of his irritation.

“Or maybe we should make them both mildly sweet?” Shut up.

“They will be chocolate anyway, right?” Shut up.

“Would you prefer dark chocola-”

“Y/N, shut up already! Can you stop fucking rambling? My head is going to explode from your talking.” Harry explodes, not letting you finish your question, the excited smile leaving your face.

You felt your head being squeezed from sides, pressure increasing at your temples.

“What?” You ask, hoping that you misheard him, knowing deep down that you didn’t because the Harry you knew and loved would never say such a hurtful thing.

“I said shut up. My brain is buzzing from your talking. Do whatever you fucking want.” Harry said and walked out of the kitchen before you could say something to him.

Thinking that he probably isn’t in a good mood and certainly needs space from your rambling you stay back in the kitchen and go back to your recipe with a broken heart and wet eyes. Your hands shake as you brought the paper back up to your face, failing to read any of the words and measurements through a layer of tears that were collected in your eyes.

Even when you were fighting he had never said anything so mean to you before, especially after he found out that your whole life people have been discouraging you from talking, so you closed off and spoke up only when you were directly called out for not saying anything. It took Harry a couple of months to finally get you to open up to him and talk to him without feeling guilty for it. He used to love it when you rambled on and on about things you’re passionate about. At least that’s what you thought.

You spend the next hour making the batter for your cupcakes and baking them, which only took about fifteen minutes. You felt encouraged to go up to Harry when you smelled the chocolate cupcakes fresh out of the oven.

“I’ll put a couple on a plate.” You spoke to yourself placing the freshly baked cupcakes on Harry’s favorite flower plate. “Just like that.”

Talking to yourself was a way you brushed your nervousness and anxiety away. Harry would catch you talking to your reflection millions of times, just standing and secretly watching you sometimes with a wide smile plastered on his face.

You placed the plate on the tray you brought from your trip to Italy and poured Harry some black coffee, placing it next to the warm plate. You picked the tray up and walked out of the kitchen, making sure to watch your elbows at the doorway.

Making your way towards the living room, where you expected Harry to be, you spotted no grumpy boyfriends there.

“He’s probably in the studio.” You spoke to yourself, refusing to let Harry’s bad mood discourage you.

Harry would rarely hide from you in the studio when you’re fighting, usually he would face you and solve the issue before it grows and hurts you even more, so it was unusual for him to run off there.

You brushed the thought off and watched towards the studio door. As you walked closer you could hear Harry talking to someone, but knowing that there is no one home except you two, you understood that he’s talking on the phone with someone. You stood at the door, turning to the side to place the tray on the floor, freeing your hands to turn back to the door and knock, as you didn’t want to interrupt any important calls or interviews that Harry could have with your talking.

Before your knuckles hit the door, you heard Harry’s voice.

“Man, I mean she’s always next to me. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wait for her to go back to uni for me to get some air.” Harry whines. Your heart stops before going back to beating at a higher rate, full of anxiety.

“Yeah, right! It just feels as if she’s been dreaming of being touchy-feely with someone and now that I’m finally home she can’t get herself off of me.” Harry kept stabbing your heart and laughed at something the person on the phone said.

With every word, you felt more and more empty. You started walking away from the door, bending over to take the tray with yourself not to leave any traces behind.

How could he say something like that?

I thought he loved me.

You didn’t know what you were doing. Your legs moved on their own and you just followed along, tears leaking from your eyes’ inner corners, tracing a way down to your chin. The salty trail wasn’t getting a chance to dry as new tears followed the same path as the ones before did.

When your body reached the kitchen your shaking hands placed the tray on the counter, Harry’s coffee slightly spilling on the tray.

Pain.

Never before have you thought than sadness could physically hurt so much; it hurt like a bitch.

You placed the tray on the table for Harry to find later and walked out of the kitchen to go back to your bedroom to cry in your pillow while he keeps complaining about you to his friend.

Harry came to bed in a couple of hours closer to the evening after looking for you all over the house to apologize for his rough words. When he saw you laying on your side of the bed, your knees pushed up to your chest, the duvet hardly doing its job keeping you covered and warm, he felt guilt running through his veins.

Walking up to his side, pressing a knee on the mattress first, Harry scooted over to you and pulled the duvet to cover you up. He let his arm stay on the duvet wrapping around your fragile form. He moved his upper body closer to yours, his chest pressing against your duvet-covered back.

“Baby?” Harry spoke softly, cautious not to wake you up. When no answer followed he frowned and positioned his face into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses on your neck.

“I’m sorry about earlier, baby. I was very mean to you.” He spoke against your soft skin. “I shouldn’t have exploded like that. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Harry’s apologies kept following one after another and you stayed silent, keeping your act on. You would’ve believed every word of his if only you haven’t heard him say the things he said about you to someone else.

You kept your eyes closed. Harry’s apologies subsided as he slowly fell asleep cuddled into your back. You stayed up that night, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. You wished for the pain inside to leave with your tears but it stayed, eating you from inside, until sunrise when you fell asleep from the emotional exhaustion.

When you woke up, Harry was no longer lying next to you and you were thankful for it. You really hoped that he wouldn’t bring yesterday up, even though you knew he would because he never got to apologize to you awake.

Your stomach growled and you remember that you never got to have dinner the day before, falling asleep drowning in your own sadness.

You quickly got up to sneakily walk down to the kitchen, but you were disappointed to have smelled Harry’s signature chocolate waffles in the air. With your shoulders slumped in defeat you walked down the stairs towards your kitchen.

As you walked through the doorway of the kitchen you saw Harry placing the brown waffles onto serving plates and adding sliced strawberries on top. You stopped your heart from fluttering because you, unfortunately, knew more than you’d prefer to know about how your boyfriend actually feels about you.

Harry felt someone’s eyes on him and turned around to be greeted by your indifferent self. He felt his heart sink as he read the hurt from the day before engraved on the surface of your face. Harry kept fidgeting about the table trying to let you pass to sit in your place next to him and placed the plate of waffles in front of you.

“I made you your favorite, baby.” He spoke unsure of how you would react to any words that left his mouth.

You fought the desire to bite into the warm chocolate waffles that your belly was craving after crying all night long and being left hungry for so many hours and walked up to the counter to get yourself a couple of your ill-fated cupcakes.

You couldn’t see Harry’s head lowering as you dashed his hopes to make it better. Little did Harry know you weren’t upset about his outburst about the cupcakes yesterday, so a couple of waffles won’t help to glue together the ruins of your heart that he shattered.

As you bit into the cupcakes, you stood at the counter facing away from the table, Harry took no bites of his breakfast, staring at your back helplessly. Suddenly he felt small and didn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, Y/N. I acted like a piece of shit. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.” His lips moved as his eyes watched your back for any reaction coming from you, his voice coming out soft and weak.

You stood there, your eyes glossy and your lips curving down in a frown, as you fought back the tears. Harry doesn’t have a single idea of how much pain he’s caused you and how none of these stupid apologies will ever fix the cracks that he left in your heart. You looked over your shoulder at Harry’s similar-to-yours state and hesitated whether or not to open up to him. Harry looked into your eyes with his and held a breath, hoping that you would figure things out. Your eyes broke the eye contact by looking down and speaking up.

“It’s okay.” You spoke and abandoned your plate, walking out of the kitchen, Harry’s eyes observing your every movement.

For the next couple of days, you stayed away from Harry and things were pretty cold between you. Harry would come up to you every day trying to apologize but you wouldn’t let him finish any of those times, leaving the room right away. Hurt was eating you from inside and you didn’t care what he had to say. Harry chose to sleep in the guest bedroom not to make you uncomfortable and you thanked him for it.

As time went by, you cooled down and felt better yourself. Harry gave you all the space you needed and it helped your healing process. You still hurt but you could talk to him now at least. Things went back to normal in most ways except one: you would stop yourself from expressing any kind of affection to Harry and he wouldn’t say anything but it drove him insane. He didn’t know why you wouldn’t kiss or snuggle him like you used to. You also started talking less because of your fight and Harry noticed every single change in your behavior and beat himself up for it.

“Y/N.” Harry walked into the bedroom with an i-can’t-do-this-anymore face on. Your eyes had to abandon the indulging book you were reading as Harry closed the door behind him, which meant he was determined to finally face the difficulty of the situation. Noticing the mood in the room change to a serious one, you placed the book on the bedside table and crossed your legs under the duvet, focusing all of your attention on your restless boyfriend with arms crossed.

“Mhm?” You ask, waiting for him to spit out whatever he’s been putting aside for almost two weeks.

“I’m sorry for that fight, okay? I really am, sweetheart. You haven’t been the same since then and it scares me. I didn’t mean to go off at you like that. You didn’t deserve it at all. I was exhausted and felt shitty myself and took it out on you. It’s not an excuse to yell at you and be so mean, I understand and I’m sorry, beautiful. It was a mistake and it won’t happen again, I promise. Please forgive me, Y/N.” Harry spoke so desperately, his emotions all over the place. He started gesticulating, which you knew meant that he was anxious and frustrated.

“I’m not mad at that, Harry. I forgave you.” You spoke the truth; Harry looked at you with even more frustration behind his now-glossy eyes.

“But you don’t even touch me anymore! You don’t kiss me! You don’t even want to be near-” Harry lets all of his insecurities out, oblivious to the flow of your own that you prepare to pour on him. You couldn’t sit there and listen to him accuse you of being neglectful towards him so you broke in to speak yourself.

“You don’t want me to be around you anymore! You said that yourself! You-you said-” Your voice cracks as tears build up in the corners of your eyes. It became hard to talk. “-said I’m always next to you and you need some space from me always being there.”

The tears that were collecting in your eyes were streaming down your cheeks, Harry’s glance reflecting off of them. Harry couldn't understand what you were referring to but kept listening to you.

“And you didn’t even have the guts to tell me yourself. You whined about how annoying I am to your friend, embarrassing me. It’s supposed to be something kept between us two, not discussed with your friends.” Every word stabbed his heart in same places as it did yours.

Harry’s mind went straight to the call you were talking about. He felt his intestines turn into a knot inside of him, causing him to feel nauseous. He felt like an asshole. It was fair because he was one indeed.

I hurt her.

You don’t want to be around me anymore.

Does she really think that?

You need space from me.

My baby. My angel.

What a fucking piece of shit am I to hurt my precious love like this.

You saw right through Harry’s sudden self-hatred despite the two layers of salty tears between your eyes and his.

“I’m so sorry.” Harry’s apologies filled the room, as pain continued to fill his soul.

“I hurt you. I’m so fucking sorry. It was so wrong to share something so personal with anyone except you. I didn’t even know what I was saying. I can’t live without you.” Harry’s cries became louder and louder as his regret first doubled and then tripled in size. “Your hands, your lips, your beautiful eyes - I can’t live without those things on me constantly. I was such a fool to think that I needed space from you. You’re the love of my life! I love you so fucking much. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I-” Harry's voice was cut by him having to take deep breaths to keep himself together. He placed a hand over his chest breathing in deeply.

You ripped the blanket off of yourself watching Harry closely, getting ready to sprint to his inhaler in case he needs it. Harry saw your reaction to his heavy breathing and rose his hand to gesture that he’s okay. You let out a relieved sign and scooted closer to the end of the bed where Harry stood. When he caught up with his breathing he looked down at you, moving to get on his knees in front of the bed. Harry’s hands flew up to cup your cheeks softly, giving you time to stop him if you wanted to.

“I love you so much, baby. I can’t express how sorry I am to hurt you so much. I don’t need any space from you. I can’t function properly without you on me all the time, without you wrapped in my arms.” Harry spoke and tears kept running down his face. You watched his eyes jump from one side of your face to the other, trying to absorb every single line and curve of your face.

“Fuck, I’ve missed looking at you so fucking much,” Harry speaks up, his face frowning as new tears start flowing out of his eyes. The frown on Harry’s face became more prominent as he understood the severity of the pain he had caused you.

”It’s all my fault.” Harry cries, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, your arms wrapping around him. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Harry kept apologizing the whole night and many days after, not letting you walk further than an arm length away from him. It took him a lot of effort to kick the insecurities that he birthed out of your head, but he kept proving himself to you over and over again.

He is an arrogant son of a bitch, but nonetheless he loves you more than himself.

© all right belong to stylesberries. do not repost or modify.

[arvinsescape]

Nurse Y/N

A/N: I’ve been working on this for a couple of days and happy to finally be able to post it. Mob Tom fic, i tried to add smut but i don’t think my writings there at the minute, i’ll do it eventually. Bit of a slow burn but not too much. As always i hope you enjoy.

Summary: You’re a nurse and you’ve always been on the right side of the law, what happens when you meet a man that sweet and caring but definitely not on the right side of the law.

Warnings: Language, mentions and hints of smut.

W/C: 4.4K,

You’d lived with your best friend for around a year now. A bad relationship had brought you to his door, he took you in and the rest is history. You were working as a nurse in the local hospital and you had no idea what exactly it was that your best friend did, he didn’t talk much about it, claiming he “just did odd jobs for someone”. You were sceptical to say the least, the amount of times he had come home covered in bruises led you to believe that his activities were probably not legal. But he never brought it home and being non the wiser made things slightly easier for you. It was your day off and you were stuck into a Netflix series when you saw your best friends name light up on your phone screen. You noticed it was 1am and wondered why he wasn’t home yet.

“Hi James. What’s up?”

“Y/N? Where are you?” He asked in a rushed tone. He sounded out of breath. You could hear the slamming of a car door over the speaker.

“I’m at home. Why? James what’s wrong?” You asked him, voice growing more concerned.

“I need your help. If I text you an address can you meet me there?”

“Sure. James are you okay?” You asked as you started to put your shoes on.

“I’m fine! I just need you to meet me.”

“Okay, text me the address.” You sighed as you hung up and grabbed your car keys.

Once you received the address you set off in the direction that your SAT NAV was taking you. As you came nearer to the destination you started to feel more and more uneasy. It was almost too quiet for London. You pulled into what looked like an abandoned warehouse, now you were really uneasy. You fumbled around your bag as you tried to find your phone, with a tight grip you dialled James’ number.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

“I’m outside but what is going on? Where have you brought me?”

“Stay there I’ll be out in a second.” He huffed as he put the phone down.

He wasn’t wrong, it couldn’t have been 30 seconds later that he arrived at your car, pulling the door open. He looked physically fine but the worry on his face still had you on your guard. What on Earth was going on? You glanced at the time in your car 1.10am. What the hell is happening?

“Y/N. I’m sorry for calling so late but I didn’t know who else to call. I can’t go to a hospital and I need one, so I need your help. I need you to do something for me.” He spoke faster than you thought physically possible.

“Slow down. What is it? Are you hurt?” You asked as you scanned him overlooking for wounds that weren’t there. What did he mean he needed a hospital but couldn’t go?

“The guy I work for. He’s been injured, someone managed to get a shot off on him.” He rambled as he pulled you towards the building.

“Shot! What the hell are you talking about? What do you do?” You almost screamed.

“Look. I promise I’ll explain everything Y/N. But right now I need you to help him. I can’t take him to a hospital it would be too risky. I need you to take the bullet out and stitch him up. Please, he’s my boss. He’ll make it worth your while.” He asked you with pleading eyes as he pulled you further into the warehouse.

“James. I’m not a surgeon! I don’t know if I can do that!” You started to panic now.

“You can give stitches though? He’s been shot in the arm, he’s losing blood, but I think the bullet is stemming the bleeding. I don’t think it’s lodged too far in. Please and I promise I’ll explain everything.”

The nurse in you was screaming at you to try and help who ever it was but you were frightened, you weren’t a surgeon. What if it went wrong? He could sue you; you’d lose your career. You weren’t supposed to do this off duty. So many things were running through your mind as James took you into another room that was filled with 4 other men. All dressed rather smart to say they’d clearly been involved in illegal activity. The man who James had informed you was the boss became apparent when you saw him clutching his arm. Blood dripping down it.

“Boss. This is Y/N, she’s a nurse.” James explained as you both stopped in front of him. He was attractive at first glance. Beautiful brown eyes and brown curls that were almost begging to have fingers run through them. You kept quiet, feeling intimidated as he stared you down, expression completely unreadable.

“Can you trust her?” The ‘Boss’ asked James.

“She’s been my best friend for years; you can trust her.” James answered confidently. You just shook your head, finally having the courage to speak up.

“Hang on just a second. What do you mean can you trust her? I’m the one who should be wondering that, your sat there having been shot, apparently need my help and you have the audacity to ask if you can trust me?” You almost screamed at the man in front of you. You don’t know what made you snap, maybe it was the stress of the situation or how tired you suddenly felt. James grasped your arm in a tight grip.

“Y/N. I love you, but this is no time to be head strong. Just please, be respectful, he’s an important man.” He said to you as he released your arm. Before you could say anything, the brown eyed man spoke first.

“No, that’s quite alright James. She’s feisty, nothing wrong with that.” He said as he smirked in your direction. He may have been good looking, but he was irritating the hell out of you. You just looked at him as if to say, “what the fuck?” He just smiled at you. “Now, I would very much appreciate it if you could help me out. I will pay you what ever you want, and I promise not to say a word to anyone about what you have done for me.” He gave you what seemed to be a genuine smile and you sighed. Perhaps doing what he asked was the fastest way to get to bed.

“Look, I’m not a surgeon. I might not be able to do much, but I’ll try. Let me have a look.” You said as you eyed him carefully. James had left to stand near the other 3 men in the room. You took his arm as you assessed the damage. Maybe you could do this. The wound didn’t look all that bad. “I think I can do this. It just, it will hurt, and I don’t have anything to numb the pain. In fact, I don’t have anything at all to work with.” You suddenly realised.

“Well I came somewhat prepared. Sam? Have you got the first aid kit?” He turned to one of the men. ‘Sam’ nodded and made his way towards you, handing you the first aid kit and making his way back to his original spot. This really was some strange operation.

“Like I said, this might hurt.” You sighed as you got to work.

**

“Okay. All done.” You said as you finished up the stitching. You were surprised at how little he flinched throughout the process. He must have one hell of a pain tolerance. “Take some paracetamol and ibuprofen when you get home. I really would suggest you go to an actual hospital to make sure I removed that bullet properly.” You said as covered the stitching with a bandage.

“Thank you very much. I’m sure I won’t be going to a hospital, not sure how I would explain a bullet wound without the police getting involved and what would I tell them? I’d have to tell them nurse Y/N helped me out in the first place.” He teased.

“Whatever, just please don’t sue me if you end up losing your arm.”

“I promise. Now how much would you like for what you have done. Name your price. It’s yours.”

“I don’t want anything. Just please don’t tell anyone what I did and try and stay out of trouble.” You sighed as you looked into his brown eyes. You really were tired now, thankful that you had a day off tomorrow, well today.

“I already promised that I wouldn’t say anything and as for staying out of trouble I’m afraid I can’t promise you that. But hopefully I won’t need your services like this again. Are you sure you don’t want any money?”

“I’m sure. It wouldn’t feel right to take money when I know I shouldn’t have done that. I really just want to go home and go to bed.”

“Whatever makes you feel better princess.” He said as he flashed you a genuine smile and that nickname made your stomach do things that you’d rather not think about. He wasn’t someone you should get mixed up with. That much you could tell.

“James? Are you coming?” You finally turned to your best friend and he just shook his head, saying that he had things to finish up there and with that you left. You fell into bed and as soon as your head hit the pillow you were asleep.

**

You woke up at around 12pm, having not gotten into bed until 3am and you were still feeling exhausted. You briefly wondered if last night was just a strange dream was just but you knew it wasn’t. You made your way downstairs and made yourself a coffee, yeah you were going to need caffeine to wake up today. You wandered into the living room where you saw James sat on the couch, he looked over at you.

“Y/N. Thank you so much for last night. I’m so fucking sorry that I dragged you into that, but I couldn’t let anything happen to him, he’s a very important man.” James rambled as you took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, sipping your coffee.

“I just want an explanation, James. It’s the least you can do.” You were still slightly pissed at him, but you knew he wouldn’t have risked you and your job if it wasn’t important.

“Okay. Look, I’m involved with the London ‘mob’ if you want to call it that. I’ve made it pretty far up in the ranks and that was my boss, the leader you saved last night. We were reclaiming some old territory when things went a little south and he got shot. I can’t thank you enough for what you did, and I promise I wouldn’t have gotten you involved if I didn’t have to.” He sighed. You’d stayed silent, taking in his words and you just sighed back.

“Listen, I’m still pissed but it’ll pass. I had a gut feeling you were involved in something illegal and I think you should get out if you can but please don’t get me involved like that again and we’ll continue to pretend that this never happened and you don’t do what you do for a living. The less I know the better.” James smiled at you as he hugged you.

“Thank you Y/N. You’re the best. I love you; you know that. I can deal with you being pissed; I deserve that much. I promise I’ll make it up to you, pizza for tea. I’m buying!”

Most people would say that you’d had a rather nonchalant response but honestly. You didn’t want to know more; he was your best friend and maybe you were trying to look the other way to protect your image of him or maybe you were still tired and your brain hadn’t quite caught up yet but you left it at that and he told you he was going to ‘work’ and off he went about his day as you started going about your own.

You’d just been for a shower when you heard a knock at the door. You hadn’t been expecting a visitor and assumed it was your friend who also had today off. You threw on your pyjamas which consisted of shorts and a tank top as you made your way to the door.

“You know Lizzy, you could’ve texted me before you decided to- “Your words were cut short as you opened the door. It wasn’t Lizzy at all, it was the man you’d helped last night, escorted by two other men that you didn’t recognise.

“If I had your number, I might’ve done sweetheart.” He said as he took in your attire. You suddenly felt self-conscious under his stare and wished you’d have grabbed your dressing gown.

“What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?” you asked him.

“My apologies but James said you lived together, and I know where all my staff live.”

“Okay, so what do you want?”

“I came to thank you properly for last night. You don’t want paying and I can’t take what you did for free.” He said as he watched you cautiously eye the two men that he’d brought with him. “Don’t worry about them, apparently I’m not aloud to go anywhere alone until my arm is healed. Mum’s orders and you know you don’t argue with your mother.” He said, trying to ease you, you still looked somewhat tense. “Can I come in? I’ll make them stay outside.” He asked and there was that genuine smile again. It made your stomach flip and you just nodded as you moved aside and let him in. Shutting the door rapidly as he crossed the thresh hold.

You hadn’t noticed his hands were full until he placed down a large box on your kitchen counter. “Do I want to know what’s in there?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Well unless you’re allergic to anything in there, I wouldn’t be too concerned.” He teased. You made your way over and opened the box, it was full of god knows how many boxes of all different types of chocolate. “I did ask James and he said you loved chocolate so I thought I could repay you by starting there.”

“Well thank you but honestly I don’t want anything else. It’s not like you were on deaths door.” You joked back. Something about him set you at ease when it probably shouldn’t have.

“Well who knows? I might’ve lost my arm.” He laughed. You couldn’t help but laugh with him, it was almost contagious. “Tom by the way.”

“Wow. James didn’t call you Tom; I must be honoured.” You laughed.

“Well unlike James, you don’t work for me princess.”

“No, I suppose I don’t.”

“Cute pj’s by the way.” He teased as he eyed you again. You instantly wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling conscious under his stare, but not in a bad way, in a way that made your stomach flutter and heat rush to your cheeks.

“Um, thanks. Look, not to be rude but what do you want?” You asked as you locked eyes with him. God he was beautiful.

“I’d like to take you out to lunch, as a thank you. Don’t read too much into it.”

“Will you take no for an answer?”

“Not really darling.”

“Fine. Give me 10 minutes.” You laughed as you made your way upstairs to get changed.

**

He took you to a nice restaurant at the other side of town, it seemed expensive, but he didn’t seem to mind, it seemed like he knew everyone that worked there. He probably owned it; you came to realise. It was actually a lovely afternoon spent chatting and getting to know him. There were numerous times when you found yourself wondering how he ended up being part of a mob. He was sweet but every time you remembered what he did for a living you were reminded that you couldn’t let yourself go there.

**

“And where have you been?” James teased as you came through the door.

“Out.” You answered vaguely.

“With a certain brown eyed, brown haired mobster?”

“How did you know?” You asked, shocked.

“Well I know he was interested in how I knew you and then we didn’t see him again all day.”

“Right, well, he just wanted to say thank you.” You said as you joined him on the couch.

“Bullshit Y/N. I think he has a soft spot for you.” He continued to tease you. “I mean come on. He’s gorgeous.”

“It was just a thank you lunch!” You defended yourself. “Besides it wouldn’t be a good idea, you know with what he does for a living, if you want to call it that.”

“Yeah, but he could offer you protection and all the money you’d ever need. He might do illegal stuff but he’s not a complete monster Y/N.”

“James, please don’t go there.” You groaned as you took a slice of pizza from the box he’d ordered in.

“Okay, okay. I know that look though. That one you had when you came through that door. I just have one question for you.” He said as he laughed.

“What’s that?” You asked, mouth full of pizza.

“When are you seeing him again?”

You picked up the nearest pillow and hit him with it, mumbling a ‘fuck off’ as he laughed at you. You finished your night watching a movie before heading to bed, dreams of a curly haired, brown eyed boy flooding your dreams.

**

Two weeks passed before you saw Tom again. James had mentioned he wasn’t going to be in for the night, and you’d decided to read a book as there was a knock at the door. You made your way over and opened the door, there he was, alone this time.

“Déjà vu. I swear you had exactly the same thing on the last time you opened this door for me.” He laughed as he gestured towards your attire.

“I did. What are you doing here Tom?”

“I actually just came to see you.” He said as he made his way past you so you could close the door.

“And why’s that?”

“Look, I can’t stop thinking about Y/N. God knows I’ve tried but I can’t, and I know we hardly know each other but I’d like to change that.” He answered, he’d stepped slightly closer to you.

“Tom.” You sighed. “We shouldn’t. This isn’t a good idea, you know that right?”

“Trust me, I’ve been through this a thousand times since we last saw each other but I can’t help it. I think I like you, like a lot.” He said as he reached towards you, catching a strand of your hair as he played with the end of it. Your heart rate was starting to pick up at the closeness.

“Tom I-“

“I could give you everything and anything you want princess. I’d look after you and that’s a promise, I know my line of work is messy and comes with risks but I’m willing to risk everything for a chance with you.” He’d tucked the strand of hair behind your ear and placed his hand on your cheek, moving his face closer to yours, you could feel his breath on your lips.

“We shouldn’t” you whispered, although you knew you didn’t mean it. He just shook his head in agreement with you. Lips almost touching.

“If you don’t want to just tell me to stop.” He whispered against your lips. Your body moved before your brain could catch up and you connected your lips. It was like fireworks had exploded in your stomach. Your lips moved against each other as your fingers made their way into his curls, god they were soft.

He backed you up until your back hit the cool wall behind you, moving his hands to grip your hips. His tongue slid over your bottom lip asking for access which you gladly gave. Your tongues danced together like they were old dance partners. Knowing exactly how to move together and it made you moan slightly. You pulled back for a bit of air before his lips were back on yours. You’d never been kissed like this before. Almost as if he was trying to tell you everything through the kiss.

He tapped your thigh and you jumped, his strong arms instantly catching you as he pinned you further against the wall. Your mind was racing, this was possibly the hottest, most intense kiss you had ever engaged with. “Do you want to stop?” He mumbled against your lips. You only shook your head in response reconnecting your lips as he carried you through the flat, you directed him towards your bed room and the night was spent with you receiving the most amount of attention and pleasure you’d ever experienced with another human being.

**

You woke up with a warm arm wrapped around your waist, your mind flooded with the events of the night before. You smiled to yourself as you carefully removed his arm and made your way into the bathroom. You examined yourself in the mirror after having brushed your teeth and gasped at the large hickey that had been left on the sweet spot of your neck. You bit your lip and smiled. You threw on Tom’s shirt that he’d worn last night and some underwear, making your way into the kitchen. You boiled the kettle as you got two mugs out, lost in your thoughts you didn’t hear a second person enter the kitchen.

“Well someone looks happy.” James laughed as you lightly screamed and turned around to face him.

“James, I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” You gasped, hand on heart as you waited for it to beat at a regular pace again.

“I recognise that shirt.”

“How can you recognise a white button up shirt?” You asked in disbelief.

He just laughed at pointed at the sleeve, you looked down and on the cuff of the shirt was ‘T.H’ embroidered in gold. Heat instantly rose to your cheeks.

“It’s none of your business!”

He threw his hands up in defence. “You’re right, it’s not. You look happy though, I’m happy for you.”

“I don’t- we haven’t spoken about it.” You sighed. Just as you spoke Tom walked into the kitchen, he smiled at you.

“I wondered where that had gotten to.” He laughed gesturing towards the shirt as he said morning to James. James shook his head and laughed.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” He grabbed his keys and wallet and walked out of the flat. Leaving you and Tom stood in the kitchen. He was shirtless and he looked good, you bit your lip as you looked at him.

“Morning princess.” He smiled as he wrapped you in a tight, warm embrace.

“We should talk about last night.” You mumbled against his chest. He sighed.

“Look, I meant what I said. All of it.” He kissed the top of your head. You pulled out of his embrace as you looked at him.

“I just- I know it might seem ridiculous because of last night but I want to take it slow. We should get to know each other. We don’t know enough about each other yet and last night, I don’t regret it but maybe we should take it back to step one.”

“Whatever you want princess. I promise I’ll look after you. I know my line of work bothers you and I hope that you can accept that it’s part of what I do but I understand if getting to know me more means that that is too much for you.” He said as he looked into your eyes. He was being vulnerable, honest and you knew you had to give him the chance. You’d regret it if you didn’t.

**

You went on dates and it would be three months before you found yourself in bed with him again. You fell hard and you fell fast for him. You ended up leaving your job in favour of becoming the woman who oversaw all of Tom’s books. He kept you safe and he loved you and made you feel more loved than you thought possible. Anything you wanted, you got. Anything you needed, you had. Anything you asked of him, done.

You never imagined that you’d end up dating a man on the wrong side of the law and being okay with it, being complicit in it but here you were. You married about three years in and nothing changed, he still made you feel the same way he had years prior. You had three beautiful children with him, and he was best, most loving father a child could hope for. You had two boys which he would do anything and everything for and your little girl well he doted on her completely, she was his little angel, couldn’t do a thing wrong in his eyes.

“You know I never thought I’d say this” he spoke one night as you were cuddled up in bed “but I’m actually thankful I got shot that night.”

“Most people wouldn’t be thankful for that Tom.” You teased him.

“No probably not. But I never would have met you had it not happened.” He said sincerely as he ran his fingers up and down your arm.

“No, you wouldn’t have. I’m always thankful I gave you the chance even if at the time I was wary.” You laughed as you kissed his chest.

“Admit it. I had you the second I kissed you and then gave you one of the best railings you’d ever had.” He teased which earned him a playful smack on the chest.

“Yeah that always helps.” You laughed as you rolled your eyes at him. You couldn’t be more in love with this man if you tried. 

[kevindayscrown]

One shot of Kevin not knowing how to show he cares (ft KevNeil)

Display of emotions had always been a tough matter for Kevin. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been on the receiving end of affection, or the last time someone had shown him he cared. His mother had died before he even turned ten, and the following years were a haze of constant pressure, punishment, repeat.

His only outlet was panic or anger, depending on the situation.

After his hand broke and everything he knew was stripped from him, he realized that there had been comfort in the known and familiar, even in an environment such as the one in the Nest. He had already been taught that his hands and his body in general must be preserved in a perfect condition, so he could keep playing.

That was the only show of care he had ever received in his years as a Raven. Even if it wasn’t genuine care for his wellbeing, but for his ability to keep playing, to keep being an asset.

Which was one of the reasons why he had a hard time displaying his care himself. Of course, part of it was because of the game, but when it came to certain people, it was a lot more than that.

The first game of the championships was against the Breckenridge Jackals. They always played dirty, and it was especially hard and tiring for Kevin and his still recovering left hand. After their game against the Ravens last year, he was using it a lot more often, but tough games like that one always put a strain on it. Thankfully, because of the new sub strikers they had recruited that year, he was able to play only during the first half.

Neil, stubborn as always, had talked it out with Wymack to play both halves. Kevin didn’t put much of a fight, because Neil was quickly rising to become one of the best strikers among the Class I teams, and worthy enough to stand by Kevin’s side both in the eyes of the fans and the rankings.

Kevin watched from the benches intensely during the second half, green eyes following the red head as he run up and down the court almost effortlessly. Whenever he pulled something stupid, Kevin would bang the plexiglass wall and Neil would get the message.

That didn’t mean he would always listen though.

Kevin had warned him to reserve his energy for the last half and give it his all in the last few minutes. However, Neil had tired himself out, and with that, his patience ran thin as well.

He had possession of the ball and was heading for the goal. Kevin watched him, but also had his eyes on the Jackal that was fast approaching. He somehow hoped that Neil would pass the ball to Robin, but instead the red head tried to maneuver and get himself out of the tough spot. Having tired himself out, he didn’t quite achieve that.

The Jackal slammed him hard against the wall, and Neil’s hand got trapped between the bodies and his own racquet, hard enough to echo against the court.

The referee blew his whistle immediately, but Kevin was faster as he called for a sub to take Neil’s place while the paramedics checked on the striker’s hand. Kevin rushed to where Neil was now sitting, with ice pressed up against his wrist.

“Are you fucking deaf?!” Kevin called and tugged at the grated part of Neil’s helmet so he would look up at him, blue eyes piercing green ones. “I’ve warned you time and time again. Don’t pull shit like that. If you fuck up your hand-,”

“Kevin,” Dan started but he completely ignored her as he harshly tugged his glove off. The scars were perfectly visible, white and thick, a harsh reminder of that night.

“You have no idea what you are risking,” he hissed. “How many times will you have to find yourself in this position before you learn your lesson?”

Kevin was beyond himself, waiting for a response, only to get a stale “I’m fine.”

Kevin stared at Neil, trying hard to not snap at him where everyone could see them. Neil didn’t understand what losing everything could do to him. Not just for his Exy career. The last thing Kevin wanted was to see Neil go through something like what he had; months, years of hard work to get back to where he had been. All the disappointment and the exhaustion, physical and mental. So many close calls to giving up.

Wymack told Kevin to focus back on the game for now and surprisingly, Kevin cut the scolding short, which surprised Neil. In fact, Neil had never seen Kevin react this vividly. Sure, Kevin was always loud and pushy, but this kind of anger had taken the younger striker by surprise.

The Foxes won the game that night, but it didn’t feel like that in the atmosphere that had been created. Kevin was awfully quiet, not even bothering to go on a rant about what had gone wrong that night, like he always did.

Neil wasn’t particularly good with those kinds of confrontations, so he didn’t try saying anything either, even as the two of them retreated to their dorm room. Kevin showered, read a bit and then went to sleep without uttering a single word, leaving the red head in a state of confusion.

Neither of them had ever known anything else but fear and anger and hurt. Any other emotions had always been cast aside, neglected, pushed down. How were they supposed to allow them to resurface, even if they desperately needed to?

It took days for them to be forced to figure it out. Neil’s hand was indeed fine, he had just been advised to rest it for a week or so. However, all Kevin could think of were the countless what ifs. What if Neil’s hand had been broken beyond repair? He told himself that the logical explanation behind those persistent thoughts was Exy. Always had been, always will be.

And yet, it wasn’t.

“You are an idiot,” Neil finally said, after his first practice playing again. The locker rooms were empty, and it was just the two of them, packing up their things.

Kevin shot a glare at him after he was finished pulling a shirt on.

“I’m the idiot?” He demanded and banged his locker shut. “You are reckless Neil. You don’t give a fuck. This has to stop eventually.”

“I’m not going to risk your precious line up.”

“It’s not about the line up!”

The silence was deafening. Neil stared at Kevin and then his gaze was drawn by the hand, the now exposed scars,

“I don’t-,” Kevin stopped, trying to find the right words, but it felt as if they were stuck in his throat. He tried to force them out, clenching his hand tight, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Neil understood. It was one of the benefits of not being able to communicate verbally. They had to rely on different signals to get messages across. This was what it was all about.

He stood up from the bench and walked over to him. He grabbed Kevin’s hand and tugged harshly, enough to get his attention and make him look at him. The shorter striker then intertwined their fingers, trying to make this gesture a bit more affectionate and reassuring.

They said nothing as Neil leaned his forehead against Kevin’s shoulder, and Kevin closed his eyes, remaining silent as well. Touches were a bit easier, for reasons Kevin did not understand, but he still took it and gladly embraced it whenever he could.

“I’ll try,” Neil eventually said and then looked back up at Kevin. The latter nodded slowly.

“I’ve heard that before.” He sounded serious, but Neil knew him enough to be able to decipher it as Kevin’s attempt at teasing Neil. If anything, it was amusing, because anyone else would think Kevin was annoyed and angry – as always – but Neil knew better.

“Put your gear back on,” Neil said with a vicious grin and tugged at Kevin’s hand once again. Kevin raised an eyebrow and let him, until he was no longer standing in front of his locker. He watched Neil open it and toss the uniform and padding at Kevin.

After a couple more hours of intense practice, the two found themselves in the shower, sharing a stall as they washed the sweat away. Neil long ago had grown comfortable to put his scars on display in front of Kevin. He knew he wouldn’t judge nor nudge nor pity him. He understood, to a certain extent.

It was still mostly quiet, or with occasional banter, but this was their way of saying;

‘It’s okay.’

‘I’m here.’

‘It’s going to be alright.’

And it was a step forward to figuring it out.

[imaginesntingz]

Imagine Gaara comforting you when the depression and anxiety hit

Trigger Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Swearing(?)

A/N: Hey y’all! This is my first post on this blog. I hope you all enjoy it <3 Please don’t copy any of my works. It’s all originally written and I put a lot of time and effort into my pieces. Please ask me before reposting.

————————-

You were curled up in bed staring into nothingness. The past week or two you’ve tried to keep it at bay, but you felt the ever lingering depression creeping its way in. Nothing in particular happened. It was just always there. There wasn’t a time you could remember it not being there. Sometimes it was muffled like background noise and other times the volume was turned up so loud it was the only thing you could hear. It was your constant companion following you like a shadow. And to top it all off, anxiety was right behind it. You thought about overthinking and overthought about thinking. Racing thoughts kept you up sometimes until the sun shone through the blinds.

Everyone wondered why you were so quiet at times, but they couldn’t hear the ass beating you were getting from your own mind that made it almost impossible to be in the present moment. Nor could you find the energy, the language, nor a fuck to give to even begin to explain the war going on inside you. Temari invited you out to what you thought would be a small kickback yesterday that ended up being a full blown party. Gaara, who was supposed to go with you, was inevitably called in for village business. You ended up socially tapped after just a few hours in. Although Temari was with you and you met up with some chill friends . . Although you were surrounded by people, you still felt completely alone. Although you heard the words coming out of their mouths, you couldn’t keep up with what they were saying. Although you were physically there, you weren’t there. You wanted so badly to just enjoy yourself like everyone else, but it was what it was. After pleading with your sister in law, you finally went home only to find that Gaara was still in the office. One final push that sent you

Spiraling

down

And there you were exhausted but painfully awake in the darkness of your shared room. You didn’t know how long you were lying there. There was no time, only the bottomless ocean that swallowed anything and everything you tried to drop into it. No amount of journaling, affirmations, meditation, prayer, movement, walking, entertainment, pet cuddling, food, water, medication, vitamins, herbs, epsom salt baths, incense, face masks or any of the methods you’ve tried felt tangible to you in that moment. What was the point when you didn’t even have the will to move? How could you think of going on a mission next week when you couldn’t guarantee you’d attempt to leave your room tomorrow? How were you going to take care of your hair if you couldn’t even braid, twist or put it up for the night? How could you call yourself a caring friend when you’re thinking about canceling the dinner you’ve already rescheduled twice?

“My love? Why are you still awake?”

Your husband’s soothing voice jolted you out of your inner dialogue. You hadn’t even heard him come in, too lost in the wall in front of you.

“ . . . Can’t sleep.”

You heard the sound of the door closing and hushed shuffling as he moved around the room. A few moments later, you felt his weight dip the mattress beside you. A warm arm wrapped around your middle, gently pulling you to his chest. His hand moved to intertwine with yours as he spooned you from behind.

“How did it go with Temari? Again I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go with you. I hope you had a good time.”

“It’s fine. It was fine.” you replied flatly.

Gaara caressed the back of your thumb with his own as silence filled the space between you. His lips met the skin of your shoulder and you felt your body gradually relax into his embrace. He was never one to push you when you weren’t ready to talk and always made you feel grounded back to earth with his very presence. Even amidst his many responsibilities as Kazekage, he always made sure to check in on you and provide whatever you may want or need. He would do anything for you if it meant you would feel loved, safe, balanced and happy. Gaara, sweet Gaara, was the love of your lifetimes and you, his. He knew you better than he knew himself and picked up on every detail. Your likes and dislikes. How you took your tea in the morning. Your sensitivities. Every expression. Your body language. The tone in your voice. The slightest change in your eyes. So it was no surprise that he picked up on the shift in your mood right away.

“(y/n) . . . Sweetheart, It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it right now, but please know that I am here. I love you more than words can express. I am here to listen and support you in any way that I can. I always will be. You know that, right?”

And with that, you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Your body trembled as he maneuvered you to face him. He wrapped his arms firmly around you, cocooning you into the safety of his hold. You buried your face into his chest and the calming scent of earth and cinnamon enveloped your senses. Your tears and running nose wetted the shirt he wore, but he didn’t care. Soft kisses were pressed to the crown of your head as his fingers trailed up and down the length of your spine, occasionally drawing soothing circles. You turned your head to listen to the steady rhythm of his heart pressed against you before finally catching your breath to speak.

“I-I’m just so tired of fighting just to be okay all the time. I’ve been taking steps to take care of my mental health, but it still feels like it isn’t enough. It’s like one day I’m fine and a couple days later it feels like I’m back at square one. I just want to exist sometimes. No expectations. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to be anything. I just want to be.”

He squeezed you gently at your words, pausing thoughtfully before responding.

“You once told me that your dream is to become the peace within and despite the chaos inside of you. The chaos all around us. You said that you wish to heal yourself and pass on healing to others. I know it is easy to lose sight of it when you’re in the midst of what feels like a never ending battle, but I wanted to remind you of it because I never want you to lose hope.”

Your eyes widened in shock and turned glassy as he continued on.

“You have brought me out of the depths of the greatest despair and have played a huge role in supporting me in healing from my past. Your love is medicine to my heart. There were times when I was lost that you reminded me to never lose sight of my dream. To never lose sight of what truly matters. Even in the most difficult times, you have always found hope where others have felt hopeless. That is one of the many reasons I love you. I am your husband, so let me be your strength when you are tired and feel you can’t go on because you are my strength, dear wife. We can get through this together. Remember that healing is a lifelong journey, not a destination. So take it one day at a time. Hour by hour or minute by minute if that’s what it takes. You’re so hard on yourself sometimes, but look how far you’ve come to be here. Right now. How much you’ve grown. I want you to know that I am so proud of you, sweetheart. I hope that you can come to be proud of your accomplishments too.”

A fresh wave of tears came over you, but for a completely different reason this time. You practically tackled your poor mans onto his back and your lips met in an intense yet equally loving kiss. His hands worshipped the expanse of your hips and time fell away. Vibrations hummed throughout your body as you pulled back to look into those seafoam green eyes. His red hair and pale complexion highlighted by the light of the moon peeking through the window. He was ethereal.

“I love you, Gaara. So much. I am so happy that you exist. Honestly when you speak so openly and directly like that I feel like my heart is gonna burst through my chest . . . fuckkkk. In a good way though! But seriously, thank you for being you. I never thought I’d be able to say this to someone without fear, but . . when I am with you, I know that I am home. You are my home, love. ”

His eyes softened before a huge grin spread across his now blushing features. Gaara didn’t smile often, but when he did it was a sight to behold. It was like feeling the warmth of a sunrise for the first time. An all encompassing glow.

He sat up and cupped both of your cheeks in his hands, tears now mirroring your own. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Do you know how beautiful you are? Truly? Your beauty radiates from the inside out. Honestly, what have I done to deserve you?”

“Sir, have you taken a good look at yourself lately? That’s my line. Fight me. Right now.” you deadpanned playfully.

A look of genuine concern crossed over his face. His hands settled on your waist and his posture noticeably drooped.

“(y/n), I would never fight you.”

“ . . . Gaara, I was just joking. I know you wouldn’t.”

“Sarcasm?”

“Mhm.”

“ . . . Right. I should have known. I’ll do better next time.” he sighed dejectedly.

Your body shook with laughter at your man’s adorably serious face. He’s always trying his best. Only Gaara could go from holding space through your tears of sadness, to making you cry from happiness, to having you doubled over with laughter within a matter of moments just by being authentically himself.

“I love you so fucking much, my sweet Gaara.”

“And I, you. My beautiful (y/n).”

You both slept soundly that night in a tangle of limbs, not knowing where one ended or the other began. Two, who together, are one.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 22 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Things are changing for the better. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Adults w/ Age Difference, Sub Drop, vague mentions of trauma/dissociation, PTSD (mostly comfort) Word Count: 7.25k

MASTERLIST

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The dulcet, bustling sounds of the Dulles International Airport were more soothing than I expected. Normally, the massive crowds and constant barrage of information would make my brain go into overdrive, but there was something about Spencer being there that made it all turn to white noise. If I had to guess, I would say it was the feeling of trusting someone to take care of you.

I still hadn’t gotten used to it.

“Hey, I got you something.”

Even then, when he’d approached me from behind and gingerly placed the bag on my lap, I barely even flinched. I smelled the contents of the bag before I noticed the logo or managed to open it, but once I confirmed it was what I thought it was, my eyes immediately teared up.

“Oh my god,” I keened, pulling out the familiar blue cup holding a much too sweet, much too large cinnamon bun. Although my mind was running with a million things to say to express just how appreciative I was, I took a bite out of it before I said anything else.

“I love you so much,” I mumbled around a mouth full of pastry.

Spencer tried to respond, but after one glance at me, fingers and face already covered in frosting after only a few seconds, he burst out laughing. 

“You’re a complete mess,” he chastised, trying to cluck his tongue but failing in his laughter.

I just smiled back, not even bothering with the plastic utensils and enjoying the indulgence with absolutely childlike joy. It wasn’t even just the sugar or my fingers pressing into the warm, sticky dough that made the morning seem so much better; it was the way Spencer watched me.

With one arm leaned against the chair, his whole body was turned towards me. It was clear from the slightly glassy look in his exhausted eyes that he was also stuck trying to find the right words to say to express just how grateful he was that we could still have moments like that.

Those same eyes roamed over my figure with such an overtly intimate gleam that it almost made me blush. If he’d touched me, I definitely would have. But he kept his hands to himself, and eventually, buried them into his carry-on bag. I didn’t even look at what he was doing, too lost in the sweetness of being cared for.

That foolhardy trust was a mistake. Because, it turned out, Spencer Reid was a monster.

Without any warning at all, a cold wet wipe was dragged over my cheeks. I flinched back, only to find Spencer’s hand holding onto my head and stopping me from turning away. The madman even had the audacity to smile as he gingerly wiped the frosting from my cheeks and chin. Of course, considering the fact I was thrashing wildly away from him, it ended up mostly on my lips.

“Pfftbtb! Spencer!” I spit and whined, earning confused looks from basically everyone in the vicinity. What they would find when they looked over was him in a fit of laughter, continuing to try and clean my face, which was still covered in sugary frosting despite his best efforts to remove it.

“I thought you enjoyed the taste of alcohol,” he teased.

“First of all, no one does, and second—” I started, only to be cut off with a kiss over my much too clean mouth. I smiled, but only because it used to be my move. I wondered when exactly the tables had turned, and it became his job to shut me up with a kiss.

“I know,” he whispered, licking his lips just to cringe at the taste he’d forced on me, “I’m just joking.”

I decided then that the sight and shared disgust for ethyl alcohol were enough for me to forgive him for the time being. I let him clean the rest of the evidence of my greed from my face but decided to clean my fingers myself. I popped each one into my mouth in what I’d imagined was a very non-sexual manner, but Spencer still seemed to enjoy watching me as each digit was cleaned. Granted, he handed me another wipe seconds later. Damn germaphobe. Like he didn’t shove his tongue in my mouth on a daily basis.

The rest of the treat was shared between us, with utensils this time, in a relative quiet. Brief giggles or sighs were all there was to be said. Once there was nothing left to fixate on, I was left only with my thoughts and Spencer’s eyes that still watched me like a horribly affectionate hawk.

“I’m really sorry,” I mumbled without realizing. I’d almost hoped he wouldn’t even hear it, or let it go without a conversation, but of course, he couldn’t do that.

“For what?”

“For making you do all of this,” I explained with a heavy sigh, “I feel like a big baby.”

Spencer’s hands came to brush away the stray strands of hairs from my face. They weren’t actually in the way of anything; I think he just wanted to make a better view. That alone was enough to make me smile, but that only seemed to make him feel guilty.

“Don’t apologize for this. This is my fault,” he said just as quietly. I mirrored his motion, running my fingers through his hair and watching as his mouth dropped open in a pleased smile.

“No, it’s not. You’re wonderful,” I said through my own. It was only a little bit sadder than his, but wasn’t that usually the case? I could only imagine what would happen the day we were both overflowing with nothing but joy. Before, that thought might lead me back to the bank, the place that ended our last purely happy encounter, but…

I looked at Spencer, with his mouth still slightly open and his head lolling back and forth with the little weight of my hand, and I couldn’t bring myself to think of anything bad. So I just thought of the picnic, instead. I thought of him licking my hand as we rolled in grass, and of his own hands working through my hair to make it into something besides a mess on my head.

I looked at Spencer, and I saw beautiful things. And the longer I played with his hair, the more relaxed and content he became. Of course, I would never be satisfied. His smile was the most beautiful thing to see, and I needed it to deal with the guilt still sitting like rocks in my stomach.

“Besides, it’ll be so much easier putting down my work and actually getting sleep when you’re waiting for me,” Spencer slurred, his neck relaxing to drop the weight of his head against my palm.

“I hope not too easy. The world needs you, Dr. Reid,” I kindly reminded.

His eyes fluttered open, trapping me in dark honey irises filled with pure adoration. “You need me, too,” he whispered.

“Arrogant bastard.”

Naturally, he took it as a compliment, his smile growing into a smirk as he answered, “A little bit.”

He should have known better than to give me that look, though, because within seconds my hands fell from his hair. A small whimper came from the pitiful man at the loss. It was quickly followed by a sharp inhale when my hand grabbed his thigh.

“You think I’ll actually let you sleep?” I whispered.

Aside from the obviously tense quadriceps beneath my palms, Spencer showed very little response to my suggestion. Well, rather, he showed little arousal to it. There was a reaction— just not the one I expected.

He looked... nervous.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that...”

“What?” I shot back immediately, my hands withdrawing and tugging on my shirt while I instinctively tried to hide from him. I was trying to look less guilty, but I was acutely aware that my actions screamed the opposite. So, I tried to combat my obvious anxiety with a voice that was far louder than it needed to be. “I swear I’m on all my medications. I haven’t missed a single therapy appointment, either!”

Spencer’s hands were gentle and cautious when they came to my wrists, gently pulling them away from my chest. “I know. I trust you,” he said with a sad but still genuine smile, “I just wanted to ask you how you wanted to handle this.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” The words tumbled out of me in the least convincing manner. Spencer was too smart to fall for them, although I could see a playfulness bloom through his features.

“No offense, but you just cried over a cinnamon bun,” he said, unable to stop a few chuckles from mixing with the words.

“It was just really good, okay?” I scoffed, tearing my hands away from him and feigning offense despite his little disclaimer. From there, I sank down in the shitty airport chair and refused to look up at him. I could still feel his cheeky, arrogant little grin watching me.

Eventually, after I thought we’d suffered enough and I could already feel my legs going numb, I weakly conceded, “Fine. What are my options?”

“Well, basically anything. But the main thing to consider is...”

He paused. It was one of the sure signs that he was taking the situation very seriously. Usually, he would just spout out whatever came to mind and sort out the details later. But this time, he spoke slowly and purposefully. “Majority of our relationship has been based on physicality. Whether it was sex or healing or hurting and I... I want to give you the option to not do that. At least, not for a little while.”

A feeling of dread filled my blood that I could suddenly hear rushing through my ears. I didn’t tell my heart to beat faster, but it did. My hands that had once again crossed over my chest suddenly itched to hold him.

“Why would I not want to?” I asked, fiddling with the buttons on my shirt and occasionally glancing up at him only to realize that he wasn’t looking at me, either. I tried not to read into it. After all, he was the profiler— not me.

“It’s not a matter of avoiding it. I just need you to know it’s not expected of you.”

Without shifting my body at all, my eyes were glued to him. The strain of the angle and the sound of those words caused them to burn, but I refused to let tears fall again. He wasn’t rejecting me, right? He was telling me that he loved me. There was no reason to be scared.

I wasn’t used to that yet, either. But I wanted to be. And judging by the way his hand cupped my face and guided it back to his, I think Spencer felt those anxieties. He tried to will them away by pressing his forehead against mine and letting his thumb ghost over flushed cheeks.

“Don’t be scared. I just need you to know that we don’t have to have sex for you to be worth my time and attention.”

The tears grew bigger under his scrutiny, but they didn’t fall until he closed his eyes. I think that was why he did.

“I love you,” he assured me with a whisper, “I’m not going to deny you affection or intimacy if that’s what you want. I just need you to know that it is always an option.”

Normally when Spencer pulled away, the air felt cold in his absence. For so long, my body had felt lonelier and less than without him. But in that busy, bustling airport, I felt just as loved even when his hands fell away and he sat back up in his chair.

For those who might’ve been watching, they would just see two lovesick idiots whispering sweet nothings in a flagrantly public display of affection. They wouldn’t have heard the weight of the words or felt the way my perception of the whole world shifted from them.

Spencer smiled again, still nervous, but also clear and authentic.

“I’m sorry,” he told me with his eyes fixated on my hands in my lap. He made no move to hold it, although I could tell he wanted to. I suspect he wanted me to focus on the words, so I tried my hardest. I almost asked him what he was sorry for, but he answered first, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”

A lump quickly formed in my throat that I tried to swallow. When that failed, and I felt the telltale signs of tears filling the sides of my eyes, I did the only thing I could think of to hide. I threw my arms around the only thing that never failed to make them better. I buried my face in Spencer’s neck and laughed along with him as my eyelashes and breath tickled the soft skin.

After a brief second of listening to our hearts settle into a matching rhythm and letting our body heat sink into the clothes between us, Spencer groaned, “How are you still sticky?”

—————————————————

A couple weeks prior, the thought of being alone in a hotel room waiting on Spencer to finish work for the day would have instilled the fear of God in me. I would have done just about anything to avoid the exact situation I found myself in now.

But honestly? It wasn’t all that bad. It was the perfect opportunity for me to force myself to slow down. Granted, that mostly just meant that I would watch bad TV in a bathrobe with overpriced food, but... like they say, change is as good as a rest.

The hardest part about it was actually just convincing myself that I deserved the rest. While I was taking naps and trying to do anything to unwind, I knew what Spencer was doing.

Well, I had some idea of what he was doing. Reality was probably worse than my imagination— it usually was with his job. At first, I had let that guilt get in the way, but at some point over the nine hours, I realized that I would have to find a way to cheer myself up. Because as soon as I heard that small beep of the keycard, I would have to find a way to remind him of all the beautiful things in the world.

No pressure, right?

The sun had already started to set, and I hadn’t heard from him in hours. We’d started the day out with a constant line of contact, but over time he became too busy. Which, again, just meant that I would have to work even harder when he finally arrived.

Luckily for me, by the time Spencer had arrived, there was no need for a pep talk or acting of any kind. My heart immediately started to race the second I heard his voice down the hall. I had already bolted from the bed and positioned myself just far enough from the door that I could jump forward the second it opened far enough to fit me.

And when it did, I pounced.  

“Spencer!” I cheered, throwing myself into his arms that had fully been expecting me. Still, the two of us crashed back against the frame and I heard the breath be knocked out of him from the impact.

“Hey, little girl,” he managed to laugh with empty lungs that made it impossible to forget how tired he was. His arm eventually settled at my lower back, lifting me slightly so he could move us from the door’s path. But when we were out of harm’s way and the latch clicked softly in place, Spencer didn’t let me go. In fact, he tossed his bag into the chair at the desk and wrapped his other arm around me, too.

“How was work?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.

“You know...” he muttered with a crackling voice, “awful.”

If that hadn’t given it away, the way he buried his face in my neck certainly did. His hands were even more insistent, pressing into my back as he led us both to the bed.

I had to laugh, though, as the realization dawned on him that he’d have to let go of me if he didn’t want to track filthy shoes in our bed. A heavy sigh fell from his lips when he finally released me, practically throwing me onto the terrible mattress before taking his seat next to me.

“I missed you,” I announced in the ambient noise of the cheapest hotel that the government could justify using.  

Spencer looked up at me, but the words took a little longer to register. I could only imagine how busy his mind must’ve been, and the guilt quickly came creeping back.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, albeit with a tint of sadness in his tone. But the longer we stayed there, the calmer he seemed. It was such a powerful effect of our proximity that by the time he did lay down next to me, he seemed like the man that had wiped frosting from my face in the middle of a busy airport.

Spencer must have noticed the shift, too, because no sooner had his head hit the pillow than he had flipped over, throwing his leg over me to pin me down against the bed.

My initial reaction was to keep laughing, but the noises were muffled by the persistent kisses he gave. They started at my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose but landed on my lips. I felt the tension leave his shoulders as he lowered more of his body weight against me, and I reveled in the feeling of his presence.

“God, I needed this,” he growled just before his tongue slipped into my mouth.

Everything we’d talked about at the airport felt a lifetime away, and as soon as I felt his erection pressing hard against my thigh, I only had one goal in mind. I forced my hands between us, trying to remove his tie with the hope that it would shed some of the thoughts he’d brought back from work.

But then it all stopped. Spencer had pulled away, grabbing onto my wrist and pinning it to the bed beside me once more.

“No, we don’t need to do that. I just wanted to kiss you,” he panted through heavy breath and swollen lips. I couldn’t stop staring at them long enough to answer, but it was clear from the look on his face that any plea I gave would be for naught, anyway. “I’m honestly way too exhausted to give you the attention you deserve.”

I believed him. Even when he hadn’t slept for nearly two days, he still looked livelier then. I had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with sleep and more to do with emotions. I wanted to help him with that, too, like he did for me, but I didn’t know how. So, I did the only thing I did know how to do well, which was to place a soft peck against his lips until they turned up into another smile.

“Get some rest, old man,” I murmured, “I’ll be here to kiss again when you wake up.”

“Let me hold you,” he answered immediately, nuzzling his face against my neck like a puppy seeking any shred of attention. I couldn’t tell if I was laughing because of the way his hair tickled or because it was so strange to see him so vulnerable while still in dominant, albeit disheveled, work clothes.

“Fine. Only because you asked nicely.”

Continuing the trend of being remarkably adorable, Spencer giggled as he rolled onto his side. I was almost tempted to turn towards him, but he had already wrapped his arms around me before I could decide. He pulled me as close as he could before his lips once again settled against the column of my throat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he stated absently. It was so quiet that I’m not sure he’d actually planned on me hearing it. But when I reached a hand up to run through his hair, he spoke with a shaky, relieved whine, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

A gentle, warm exhale breezed over my skin as he continued, “I love you so much.”

From that point, any words he might’ve whispered were muffled through sloppy, sleepy kisses over my neck and shoulder. His hands, though slow, were still rough and purposeful as they pawed at me in a way that was only vaguely sexual. It was more like he was trying to prove to himself that he was actually here with me, and my breasts just happened to be the first thing he could grab.

That still didn’t stop my mind from running wild. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I focused on the way his breath felt against areas still wet from his kisses. And when I arched my back, I felt his hips press harder.

Eventually, when I could trust myself to speak without whimpering, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to...”

I peeked back at him before continuing, having noticed a lull in his kisses. Sure enough, Spencer was fast asleep, his lips still attached to my shoulder. I had to chuckle at the sight, but my heart did hurt for him. I couldn’t imagine how tired he must have been to fall asleep then, and still in his clothes, much less.

The guilt over being the main cause of his tiredness was enough to keep me still for at least two hours. I spent that time slowly inching to a more comfortable position, only to be squished seconds later by Spencer. Even in his sleep, it seemed he was terrified of the prospect of me slipping from his arms. He was just being dramatic, though. It’s not like I had anywhere to go.

Wait, that sounded wrong. Truthfully, there were many places I could go, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with Spencer, tangled in his long limbs and tickled by his hair that had grown long enough to gracelessly flop onto my face regardless of position.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to leave at all.

But I did. Inch by inch, I carefully slipped from Spencer’s arms. Against all odds, I managed to maneuver through the death grip he had on me and plop down on the ground beside the bed. My mind found that to be the perfect time to recall the lecture he’d given me about how suitcases, and more specifically, their wheels, were the most dangerous bacteria-laden aspects of traveling, but I dismissed the thought shortly after I stood again.

I didn’t want to leave Spencer’s embrace. I’m not really sure why I did. There wasn’t even really a particularly angsty reasoning for it. I just had this feeling, this tingling on my skin and a weight in my stomach that told me I was meant to be doing something different.

The only problem was that I had literally no idea what the fuck that something different was.

So, naturally, I did what every young child does when their parents had grown tired of their restless children jumping on the hotel bed. I grabbed the keycard and the ice bucket and set out on a very thrilling journey to find the vending room. The first part was the hardest. It was shutting the door to return the room to darkness, knowing that Spencer was alone in bed.

It was hard, but it wasn’t impossible. I slipped from the room into the horrible yellow lighting of the halls with the dizzying wallpaper and patterned carpet without another thought. I’d hoped that the walk might bring me answers to the mood I was currently wrestling with, but I was wrong. Because it basically only took me three doors to find the room that I was looking for.

Great.

I threw the door open haphazardly, actually contemplating grabbing the ice and returning to bed no wiser than I had left it. But when the door swung shut behind me, the humming from the machines bled into my brain and started to cover all the other thoughts. It was warmer than my room, as well as smaller and quieter. Of course, it was also remarkably less private, but it was also like 2am. If someone came in to find a strange girl sitting on the floor next to the ice machine, that was their own fault.

In a strange way, it was the most peaceful I’d been in a long time. As much as I loved being with Spencer, these circumstances made it hard for me to not feel like I didn’t belong. Probably because I didn’t. He was here on work, a life that he’d tried very hard to keep away from me. I didn’t blame him for that, either. I was sure he’d gotten a number of questions from Morgan and Garcia about my presence, but he hadn’t shared them with me. I’d even asked him, just so I could concoct my own retaliatory questions for the nosiest of them, but he just laughed the question away.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just the realization that Spencer had a life of his own and I was just starting to see it for the first time. I was learning so much about him and honestly… None of it was bad. Most of it was just downright silly. Things like prank wars and physics magic and careful, chemistry-based improvements to shitty coffee. I was just too busy realizing that I was falling even more in love with Spencer to notice anything else.

Including, apparently, the sound of the door to the room opening. Trust me when I say that was saying a lot; the presence of Aaron Hotchner was not easy to miss.

“Can I join you?” His voice filled the room despite its low volume, and I followed the sound with a small smile that grew at the sight of him in casual clothing. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it sure did make him less intimidating than our previous encounters.

“Sure,” I said as I pulled the still-empty ice bucket into my lap. Once he took his seat beside me, I rolled my head toward him to try and figure out what exactly he had planned. But after another few seconds of silence, I realized that he was doing the same thing I was.

Improvising.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I asked, insistent that it wasn’t my job in this scenario to come up with the advice.

Hotch seemed equally lost, and with a slight shake of his head, he explained, “I only heard the door open once. Figured it was worth a trip to get some ice to check.”

He held up his matching ice bucket, to which I lifted mine to knock together like the worst kind of toast. It at least succeeded in making him laugh, although the sound was short-lived. We both recognized the shoddy attempt at humor was just masking the things I didn’t want to talk about.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

He had never really been a beat-around-the-bush sort of guy.

“Freakin’ profilers,” I affectionately muttered back, which only earned me a playful warning glance that I, for once, didn’t choose to ignore. “I don’t know. I’m guessing it’s probably the 3-hour nap I took when we got here.”

Then, deciding that still didn’t describe the situation well enough, I tagged on, “You know, while you all were working and saving the world and what not.”

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of the BAU: Do not ever speak poorly about yourself. Not even an implication.

“Rest is important. No reason for you to suffer for us,” he returned without pause.

“You sound like Spencer,” I said through a half-hearted laugh.  

Hotch shared my laughter, causing them both to grow in volume as he snarkily replied, “And who do you think taught him?”

“Right. Sorry.” I held my hands up in surrender, but we both knew it would be harder than that.

But that was okay. He came prepared.

“So, what else is wrong?”

“So persistent, you lot,” I chuckled. I half expected him to let it go, but he just turned to stare at me with that usually stoic face contorted with an obvious reprimand. I swear, I didn’t even realize his eyebrows could move that far. But there were, raised up his forehead as his cheeks dimpled from his little, knowing smirk.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “Just thinking about things and I was scared I would wake up Spencer. Like he would feel my anxiety in his sleep.”

“What’s making you anxious?”

I paused. For a moment, I thought about lying. Not the kind of transparent lie that you do when you say that everything is fine. The kind of lie that also contained the truth. There were many things that had happened lately that would explain my anxiety, and they would be believable enough because I did still feel them.

“Everything. You know. The usual,” I said softly, attempting to stall.

Because that wasn’t what the problem was that day. The problems that day were… complicated in a different way than the usual angst. So, I let the thoughts marinate for a moment, considering the different outcomes and deciding which I really wanted.

I hadn’t let myself want things in a while. Maybe that realization was why I decided to just tell him the truth, despite how embarrassing it felt.

“It’s not bad anxiety, necessarily. It’s just this realization that… I don’t know.”

“Take a guess,” he pressed, feeling the hesitance as I stood at the brink of what I really wanted to say. The real answer to why I was sitting on the floor of an ice machine vending room with my boyfriend’s boss, who also happened to be our shared adoptive father figure.

I took a deep breath, clutching onto the ice bucket so tightly that my knuckles blanched and the edges imprinted on my hand until I blurted out, “That I think I’m ready for something else. Something more.”

We both stopped then, enjoying the noises of machinery and the barely-there echo of my words.

“Something more, huh?” he repeated more clearly.

I didn’t appreciate the way the words were practically sung through a clever grin, and before he could take that train of thought any further, I stopped him with an answer too loud to not be deemed defensive.

“Not like that! Not like, let’s run off and elope and have lots of babies tomorrow!“ He didn’t look convinced, so I continued with a much more believable promise. “Don’t worry, I’m not sniping your genius.”

“Thank goodness,” he replied sarcastically. I appreciated his ability to keep things lighthearted, and for a second I did have to laugh at the fact he was such a different person when he wasn’t at work. He must’ve taught Spencer more than I realized. And, in turn, Spencer was teaching me. I just wasn’t sure when the lesson would be over, or if it had already ended.

“I’ve just held onto my independence and this… heavy bullshit for so long, and I’m a little worried about what that means,” I thought aloud.

Again, Hotch had read my mind, or at least, my body language, and demanded the answer he saw written across my features. “What do you think it means?”

“Do you always give fatherly advice like this to whiny girls in ice machine rooms?” I shot back with my first attempt at a glare. It only lasted until he flashed me a toothy smile and his own clever retort.

“No. Now answer the question.”

“I had to try,” I grumbled, only to be shut down again in an instant.

“I’ll forgive you when you answer.”

With a begrudging sigh, I tried to do what he asked. But I only barely got through one word before they turned to a lump in my throat. I choked on the words strongly enough that tears I hadn’t anticipated began pooling on my eyelashes. The power of a profiler, I guess, to know I was on the verge of an emotional catharsis before I did.

“I know we all change. I know that no one stays the same. We all go through things and they change who we are. And that can be good, right? But…”

Once the words started, they wouldn’t stop, turning and tumbling from clumsy lips still chapped from incessant biting. But teeth and willpower couldn’t stop the feelings that caused them, and if Spencer had taught me anything, he’d taught me that speaking a feeling into existence was half of the battle to let it go.

“But sometimes it’s gotta just be bad, right? Like, we’ve got to acknowledge that sometimes we change in an irreparable way that’s just bad for no reason.”

“Right,” he very eloquently returned. Normally, I would have bullied him for giving such a simple response to such a complex question, but at that moment I was just grateful that I could continue. Heaven knows Spencer wouldn’t have let me.

“So, what if that happened to me? What if one day I wake up and finally find out the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself?”

When I turned to the man then, I saw a genuine confusion for the first time that night. I couldn’t tell you where I’d lost him, but it was clear that he heard something in me that alerted him that some deeper rooted issues were just now finding the light of day.

Of course, in this situation, it was really just a flickering fluorescent bulb.

“What question is that?” he whispered, like his voice would intrude in the thoughts.

But the truth was they didn’t feel like they belonged to me, either. That was the problem. I’d spent so long with memories that felt like a dream. I saw them playback when I closed my eyes, just to open them and find the same images reflecting in Spencer’s. I knew they were real because they were written into my skin, yet my mind rioted against them so hard that instead, I just started to think that this body wasn’t mine, either.

“How much of me died that day?”

The question sat with us, taking form in the reflection on the metallic surface that hummed a somehow somber tune. And even though I knew I was looking at myself, it didn’t feel that way. When I saw Hotch move in the background, I turned to him just in time to feel his hand resting over mine on the metal pail in my hands.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

I felt the warmth flow through him, bringing life back into a hand that suddenly started to feel like me again. His voice shared the same rejuvenating quality as he quietly but confidently answered, “I think… it’s much less than you think.”

As tears slid down my face, they felt less like the beginning of a downpour and more like the drizzle that follows the storm. I let them fall without wiping them away, hoping that as they fell away, they would take the fear with them.

After they did drip from my jaw, I laughed. I couldn’t hold it in because it seemed so silly how much lighter I felt after losing just a few droplets of saline. But, realistically, I knew it had more to do with his hand still holding mine.

I dropped my head to his shoulder, selfishly stealing his body warmth as I croaked, “Thanks for talking to me. I know I must sound like a stupid kid to you sometimes.”

“Not at all,” he said with that tone that was difficult to discount, “You sound just like you should.”

“Can I tell you something now?” I asked between sniffles.

“I’d like that,” he mirrored.

“You’re like… a really good dad.”

It was his turn to shed tears, then, which he did. They were much manlier and less silly than mine, but they were there. I almost accused him of creating them just to make me feel less embarrassed, but before I could, he’d enveloped me in a hug that was way too genuine to question it.

As I hugged him back, I realized just how badly I’d missed moments like this. I’d fooled myself into really believing that loneliness and independence were the same things for so long that when I was granted the support all human beings need, I didn’t know how to respond.

But that was the beauty of family, right? You don’t have to try to earn their love. They already thought you were worthy.

So I hugged him harder, ignoring the clanking of the machines and the sounds of crowds of people stumbling back from bars in the hall that could walk in any moment. I wasn’t embarrassed to be sad anymore. I was just a person. It happens sometimes.

“Speaking of, it’s well past your bedtime,” Hotch said finally, gracelessly shattering the moment in a very dad-like fashion.

“I walked into that one.”

Following that trend, he continued with a gentle bump of his shoulder against me, “If you don’t want to go yet, you can talk to me about that something more.”

I practically shoved him off me, huffing between chuckles and shaking my head in the hope that he wouldn’t notice how it flushed.

“Please. Spencer talks about that stuff, but he’s all talk.”

At first, Hotch just nodded. But after a few wayward glances, he confessed, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

That time the warmth I felt came from within, carried by butterflies that had burst in my stomach at the thought. I almost asked him what he meant, but then felt the familiar, creeping embarrassment that came along with loving someone a little too much.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.

I knew he was reading my expressions, but I couldn’t hide the smile, no matter how hard I tried. He still had the decency to ignore my blatant displays of excitement, instead asking the question we both knew the answer to already.

“Is that something you’d want?”

“I…” Such a simple syllable still seemed like too much, and I stuttered it a few more times before I landed on an answer that wasn’t too humiliating. “I guess he’ll have to ask and find out.”

“I hope it turns out well when he does,” he said, pausing to correct with a sarcastic, “Sorry. If he does.”

“Yeah, me too,” I sighed heavily. It was a last ditch effort to hide the way my cheeks were still stuck in a full-faced smile. I turned to see him with a very similar expression.

I knew just how to change that. When he stood up and offered me a hand, I took it and let him do half the work for me. But once we were on equal footing, I placed my hand on his shoulder with a complacent pat.

“You know, if it doesn’t turn out well, you’ll have to figure out how to comfort the both of us.”

“The horror,” he jokingly cringed with a shake of his head.

I almost left then, but thankfully he’d remembered the actual purpose for the room we’d had our impromptu surrogate-father-daughter moment in. He grabbed my ice pail from my hand and dropped it under the dispenser without saying anything else, letting the chaotic crunching signal the real end of the moment.

Once it was over, I looked down at the now freezing bucket in my hands that suddenly felt warm. Then I looked back up at him and saw a pride that I wasn’t expecting.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” I said as the last remaining bit of tension fell from my shoulders.

“Goodnight,” he answered, opening the door and watching as I padded down the hall. He waited until I slipped back into my room before his door clicked shut, and mine quickly followed.

That tiny sound was just enough to wake the man in the bed, and when I turned to him, the sight took my breath away. Because there was Spencer, the man I loved, reaching his arms out into the darkness and grabbing the empty air as he whined, begging me to come to him faster.

And I did. Tossing the bucket onto the table, I rushed over to him and threw myself into the bed beside him without any grace. With a similar restlessness, Spencer wound his arms around me as soon as I was within his reach, pulling me as close as he could without sacrificing all the air in my lungs.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against my hair.

“Don’t worry. I’m back,” I whispered back. The words were lost in his shirt, but he somehow heard them well enough to ask, “Where did you go?”

I didn’t know how exactly to describe what had happened, so I told one of those lies I’d contemplated earlier. “To get ice,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It was just a very inefficient summary.

Spencer didn’t care, either. In fact, he giggled at the thought, nuzzling his face down into my neck and tickling me with his lips as he mumbled, “Let me warm you up.”

It did succeed in warming me up, but only because it turned into a fit of giggles and more intense tickling. His fingers danced along my sides and his whispers turned back to the same kisses that we’d started the night with.

But it couldn’t last forever. The poor guy still had only had a couple hours of sleep, and I felt the excitement wear off all at once, leaving him only half-awake on the pillow beside me. He still found the energy to look at me like there were stars in my eyes.

“Where did you really go?” he asked again, dragging his hand over my cheek like he could see the tears I’d shed just a few moments before.

“Just ice. I promise,” I answered, ending the thought with a quick kiss on his palm. When I could tell that he didn’t believe that, I brought my hands up to his face as I snickered, “See? Cold hands.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he just leaned forward, letting our noses touch and pulling me in to him again. His eyes fluttered shut, and I could almost see the way his body started to return to sleep as he barely muttered, “No cold feet, though?”

It took me a moment to register the words, and once I did, I still couldn’t believe them.

“Cold feet for what?” I whispered back.

Spencer’s answer only came in the form of a dreamy laugh. He didn’t open his eyes again, instead choosing to drop his face back into my shoulder just like he had before. This time there were even fewer kisses against my neck before he went still again.

Once again, I was left with my thoughts. Only this time they weren’t scary. Because marrying Spencer Reid was not the worst thing to imagine by far. In fact, there were very few things I’d ever wanted more.

—————————————————

| Part 23 |

[ushidoux]

He, Hercules - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: What is Ushijima if not strong? (~2.0k words)

Warnings: accident, temporary disability, implied depression, some suggestive themes, hurt/comfort

A/N: I have limited experience with athletic injuries and mental illness so bear with me. If there is anything you find inaccurate or insensitive in my depiction, don’t hesitate to pm me! <3

---

“Mr. Ushijima?”

You perk up when you hear the secretary’s voice call out your husband’s name, only realizing now that in your long semi-long wait you’d ended up dozing off, resting your head against his shoulder. Clearly, you must have been exhausted, because it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and why you’re here.

There are very few others in this small office aside from the single middle-aged man in the corner who you realize is staring quite hard at you, and you wonder briefly if it’s because you somehow looked inappropriate or acted inappropriately while you were asleep. There shouldn’t be anything very noteworthy about a young couple inside a therapy practice.

You glance at Ushijima who is barely moving despite the fact that his name was just pronounced. He’s as still as a statue and his expression is neutral as is typical of him, but you still perceive the lack of intensity behind his eyes, a constant reminder that no matter how much he acts as though he’s fine, he’s not.

Why else would you be here in the first place?

You nudge him gently.

“Love, they called your name. It’s time for your session,” you whisper into his ear.

He had been staring off at a fixed point across from him, but he does still respond to your nudges. When he rises, it’s done slowly, and he walks besides you with a slight limp in his left leg. He doesn’t wince with any step but the arm you hold onto as you walk with him through the hallway down to the provider’s office is stiff. You wonder if he resents how clingy you’ve gotten since his injury, handling him with kid gloves as though he were the most fragile of glass. You can’t help it. You’d almost lost him.

The office is open when you arrive, and a man who looks only a few years older than Wakatoshi is seated in a cream armchair, waiting, a measured smile on his face. Ushijima doesn’t smile back but he doesn’t frown either. 

“Welcome! Please come in and make yourself comfortable,” the man says without missing a beat, rising to shake his hand. He also shoots a glance at you, but before he can ask you to introduce yourself before politely shooing you out of the room (this is not couples’ therapy after all, even if it will help the two of you), you squeeze your husband’s hand before quickly exiting.

“I’m his partner, I’ll see myself out, thank you!”

You worry slightly about leaving him alone in this stranger’s care, but Ushijima is not a child and this isn’t the first day of kindergarten, he’s a man recovering from a life-altering injury and has finally agreed to go to therapy. 

You’re not sure how optimistic to be, but you’ve done an extensive amount of research and this particular therapist boasted credentialing in sports psychology, was highly recommended and had worked with a lot of current and former athletes alike. 

Of course, this would all be meaningless if Ushijima refused to talk, but as you started your car to pass the next hour at a nearby mall, you gave yourself a little bit of hope.

---

“Tell me about yourself,” is the first question the therapist asks, after offering not much more than his own name, and Ushijima is slightly annoyed by the question.

He does not want to be here in the first place, he doesn’t need to be here, and now he’s asked a question as vague and audacious as ‘tell me about yourself’ like he’s expected to pour out his feelings to this stranger from the very second he sits in this admittedly comfortable couch.

He pauses. He’s not sure exactly what he would say. 

He’s nearing 30. He’s married, no kids. If it’s not obvious, he’s from Japan. He plays volleyball professionally… well, played, up until recently. 

He frowns. That’s why he’s here. Because you don’t think he is okay, even if all of his injuries have essentially healed aside from this annoying limp that makes it obvious that he’s in some way not in optimal shape, broken, vulnerable. This  limp is the reason why he can no longer play even if he feels fine otherwise, and why he’s not exactly sure what to do next. 

But that’s beyond the point. The question is about himself.

What else can he say? How would others describe him?

His friends call him serious, just as the media describes him. Quiet and serious. Dedicated. Strong. 

Maybe he’s not that last thing anymore, but that too is beyond the point.

You think he’s sweet; you say this repeatedly. You tell him that he’s kind and considerate.

He thinks for a moment that maybe he was too kind. Kindness is what got him in this predicament in the first place, isn’t it?

A moment of compassion - a likely exhausted mother whose eyes leave her child for a split second to rummage through her purse, a little girl whose tiny legs take her just a bit too far out into an open intersection, a speeding car that shows no signs of stopping…

He remembers the exact moment he is no longer jogging but sprinting to take the child out of harm’s way, as well as the exact moment he hears his bones snap on impact, and he’s too shocked initially to feel pain, eyes frantically searching for the kid who now is standing on the opposite side of the street, looking at him in curiosity because the toddler is too young to understand what it means to see a body crumple. She’s unharmed, so he’s successful.

A woman screams and she sounds nothing like you. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing.

The car speeds on.

---

You sit in a food court, poking at some fries, but you’re not exactly hungry, just anxious. Is the session going okay? 

Even if the man is a professional at getting people to talk, Wakatoshi is a hard nut to crack. You could envision him sitting silently until the hour passed completely, before getting up to bow and exit stage left. It had taken you months to get him to agree to go to anything other than physical therapy.

You hope this is not an exercise in futility.

---

“I’m fine,” he grunted, just a couple days out of the hospital, once you’d started nagging him for weight-bearing on the leg that had just been operated on.

“Your leg was literally shattered!” You shouted. “You’re lucky they didn’t amputate!”

He gave you a mildly fatigued look. All he’d wanted to do was walk to the kitchen by himself, without crutches in his own house, and he’d barely made it a couple of steps before you were standing in the bedroom, looking all sorts of stressed and concerned. 

He figured your concern was temporary, so he attempted to quell his stubbornness. He had already been benched for the season, possibly to likely forever and pouring out his frustration on you wouldn’t be helpful.

“What do you need? I’ll get it for you.”

He frowned but he let you help him anyway.

---

“My name is Wakatoshi Ushijima. I moved here several years ago from Japan to play volleyball professionally. I was in a bad car accident a few months ago and my wife is concerned that I’m not adjusting well.”

The therapist offers a small smile again.

“Do you disagree with that assessment?”

Ushijima tilts his head slightly. He does disagree… he doesn’t? He’s not sure. He’s frustrated of course, who wouldn’t be, he had just been in the Olympics after all, but he’s fine. He’s strong.

He’s strong.

---

“We just wanted to thank you again.”

Wakatoshi glanced at the gifts the couple before them had brought,  a bouquet of flowers and stacks of cookies and pastries in boxes on the living room coffee table, before looking back at you. Your face remained polite and smiling but you were clearly uncomfortable from the way you were perched on the seat, nodding carefully as you listened to your visitors, your arms crossed over your midsection as you leaned forward in your chair.

He knew you wanted to be angry at them, well, her, the mother who looked at him pitifully initially then averted her eyes out of shame. But it wasn’t her fault but yet, it was her fault and still, it wasn’t. It was very complicated. No one was at fault. Her daughter was safe.

Everything was fine.

---

You’re back in your car again, ready to drive to pick up your husband from therapy. Things should get better from here on. 

Maybe he will no longer shut down like a brick wall when you suggest that now is a good time to start transitioning away from sports for the future. Maybe he’ll be less upset with small things like not being able to run as far, or lift as much or please you as much in the bedroom as he used to. 

They’re small things compared to losing his life.

---

“I would like to go back to playing but I’m told at every turn that it’s too dangerous, maybe even after a year of healing.”

The therapist nods, and scribbles something on a sheet of paper.

“How does that make you feel?”

The therapist notices even through Ushijima’s accented Polish that he’s naturally eloquent, but regardless he still lacks the words to appropriately talk about his feelings. 

His hands grip at his knees, the good and the bad one. The word ‘useless’ comes to mind but he can’t bring himself to say that to this stranger, even if these four walls come with the promise of understanding. 

For once, silence is uncomfortable for him, and the therapist is surprisingly good at staying quiet. They sit in silence for moments longer and surprisingly, Wakatoshi speaks up first.

“Weak,” he ekes out in a voice that is so small he barely recognizes it.

To that, the therapist leans just slightly forward, focusing his eyes on the man’s restricted range of motion and slightly hunched shoulders. It’s the posture of a man who’s normally stoic and confident, now made uncertain about the future.

“What’s wrong with weakness?” He says quickly, and Ushijima is somewhat stunned which then lends way to a small measure of anger.

Everything is wrong with being weak. Weakness was for other people. How could he protect himself, his livelihood, his team, you?

What is he if not strong?

---

“I love you.”

He says it less often than you do to him, but every time he does, he means every word. You shifted beneath him, weary from the lovemaking of just prior but still nevertheless craning your neck up to reach his lips. 

Your hands traveled down his shoulders and along the length of his bulky arms, playing with his biceps, drinking in the sight of his muscles flexing as he moved. He smiled and wrapped his arms tight around you, laying his head on your chest. 

“Aww, Toshi, you’ll crush me if you hold me so tight. You barely know your own strength,” you teased with a laugh, prompting him to loosen his grip ever so slightly, and lift up his head to show you the smallest of pouts.

“I love you more,” you added, giggling.

Pleased, he lay his head back down on the softness of your bosom, clinging to you more. He’d protect and take care of you forever.

---

You hold Ushijima’s hand tightly as you walked out of the building to your car, holding in your curiosity about the session the entire time. 

Would he go again?

He gives your hand a squeeze suddenly which surprises you, and when he turns to you, there’s a small upturn in the corner of his lips that approximates more of a smile than you’ve seen in recent weeks.

You’re elated enough that you immediately give him a hug, and maybe you’re a bit overzealous about it, but he stops and holds you close for just a moment.

“Thank you.”

There’s a lot in the thank you, and you shed a tear.

---

Strength is relative and inconstant, so our first task is to work on your definition of strength. 

But I would say, coming here in the first place is already evidence enough.

[kermittedfelony]

Safe and Sound

Hi guys! This idea has been on my mind coz I’ve been struggling a bunch w panic attacks recently AND I’m currently in a hard lockdown so none of my friends can help me sooooo I’ve been imagining Nat helping and decided to share it with yall. I know a billion writers have done this idea but yeah this Is my take on it! Enjoy!

TW: panic attack, coarse language

Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Word count: 1675

The last week had been pretty fucking hard. You had gone on a simple recon mission on Monday by yourself, but it was a three-hour ride on the quinjet, where the heater was broken. It also rained the whole day, and someone(Steve and Bucky) had taken the tarp out of the jet to go on a goddamn camping trip, so you were left shivering on the cold wet ground in only a light parka that was most definitely not enough to keep you warm and dry. As such, you were buttfuck freezing down to your core. The whole. Fucking. Day. Did you mention it rained? Yeah, it fucking rained.

So that was Monday. Tuesday was spent attempting to finish the mission report for Steve, but you just couldn’t get your damned mind to focus. It wasn’t even a difficult report; the data you gathered was very minimal and easy to dissect, but you just could not do it. So naturally, it took you all fucking day and to top it all off, exhausted you cognitively.

Wednesday wasn’t much better, you had the day off and originally planned to go for a run in the morning and then just relax the rest of the day, but it rained (again), and as much as you love rain, it’s annoying when it fucks up your plans.

So, in short, Monday fucked you up physically, Tuesday fucked you up cognitively, and Wednesday fucked you up mentally. You had the whole shebang dragging you down.

Due to you being drained in every which way, you were looking forward to enjoying Thursday night movie night with the rest of the team. It was Wanda’s turn to pick, so you knew it would be some nice romcom that you could sit back and relax to. You could just, be.

You exited the elevator in your comfiest trackies and hoodie with fluffy socks that had the little bit of grip on the bottom. If you were going to enjoy this movie night, you were going hard. Comfort to the max.

“You look like a giant fluff ball y/n!”

“I will be taking that as a compliment Nat,” you responded with a wink. You walked towards her and gave her a big hug.

“Tough week, huh?”

“You have no fuckin idea.” You sagged in her arms, making her laugh at having to hold all your weight.

“Alright, come on then, you big sack of potatoes. Let’s get you to the couch. Let me handle the snacks and drinks for us, yeah?”

You smiled gratefully at her, “thanks Nat, love you!”

The movie was really good!

It was good.

Better than good actually.

It was great. It was.

So why did you need to leave so bad? Why was everything closing in on you?

The movie was still running, you were in the last 15 minutes. You could wait it out right? If you left now, everyone was sure to notice, and you did not need that kind of attention on you.

Your eyes flicked to Natasha to the right of you, who was leaning on you with your arm over her shoulders. You couldn’t leave yet, so your anxious energy had to go somewhere. Your index finger on your left hand started to tap on your thigh, slowly and irregularly at first, before picking up speed and rhythm. Next to go was your left knee. Your right leg was crossed over the left one, so when your left knee bounced, both your legs felt the movement.

Nat repositioned one of her hands to rest on your knee, giving you something to focus on. She knew sometimes the anxiety just got to you hard and fast, no clear trigger. She started tracing circles on your knee, allowing you to take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

You quietly whispered, “thanks.”

Nat gave your knee a squeeze in acknowledgement. She knew you hated asking for help and preferred to try and stick it out in situations when you got a wave of anxiety, rather than leaving and “giving up”, as you liked to call it.

Your knee stopped bouncing and so did you finger. For a time.

Not five minutes later, your index and middle finger were both tapping in tandem with your foot. Additionally, your right hand, the one that was wrapped around Nat’s shoulders started tapping.

Nat noticed immediately and whispered to you, “you alright?”

When she didn’t get a response, she tilted her head up to look at you in your eyes.

“Hey. y/n. Can you hear me?”

You were so lost in your own world that you didn’t acknowledge Nat’s words, even though she was right next to you.

She removed your arm from around her and tapped you on the cheek to get your attention.

You jumped subtly and looked at her with wild, flicking eyes.

“Hey, hey, deep breaths, how about we go for a walk?”

You stared into her eyes for a bit longer before quickly getting up and walking out of the room. Your stride was fast but shaky and you had one hand gliding along the wall next to you to keep you upright. You kept going until you didn’t know exactly where you were anymore and slid down against the wall, your butt hitting the floor harshly. All you currently knew was that you were in a dark, quiet corner, and you had gotten as far away as you possibly could. You just had to hope nothing else was coming.

It was at this moment that Nat finally caught up with you. She sank down in front of you and put two hands on your knees, which were up against your chest. You violently jumped at the contact, and attempted to shuffle away from her, further into the corner until your back hit the apex of both walls. All you knew was fear, you had to get out, you had to escape. You tried to stand up but the dizziness from hyperventilating hit you full throttle and you collapsed back onto the ground. You looked up and through eyes blurred by unshed tears, you saw a figure a metre or two away from you with hands up in a placating position.

Nat pleaded with you, “y/n, y/n, it’s just me, it’s just Nat. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to stay right here, okay? But I really, really, need you to slow down your breathing. I need you to do that one thing for me, okay?”

Your darting eyes finally focused on her steady ones, and you let out one big breath, disrupting the rhythm of your hyperventilation.

“Yeah, there we go! See you can do it, you got this. Keep slowing down for me.”

Nat slowly inched toward you on her knees until she was close enough to reach out and touch you. She could see you were tensed up as tightly as possible.

“Just slow, deep breaths for me y/n. I’m going to touch you now, is that okay?”

You slowly nodded your head. You felt her warm hand rest lightly on your right knee, before her other hand landed on your left one. You brought your hands up and covered her hands with yours. You closed your eyes before re-opening them at the sound of footsteps. Your breathing began to quicken once again.

Nat reached out and tilted your head back towards her.

“Just focus on me y/n, keep looking at me.”

Nat turned her head and saw Wanda peak around the corner, a worried look in her eyes.

Nat looked back at you, “It’s just Wanda y/n. Would you like her to come?”

Nat knew you trusted Wanda a lot, just as much as you trusted her. You nodded your head again, and Nat waved Wanda into the corner. Wanda came over slowly and sank to her knees to the right of you, so that she could put her arm around your frame. She could feel you shaking under her.

“Hey you’re okay, you’re safe. We’ve got you, don’t we Nat?”

“Yeah, we do. We’ve got your back here y/n.”

You dropped your head at the words spoken to you and took three deep breaths, fully getting your breathing back to normal. Wanda and Nat were both each holding one of your hands, so you gave each woman a squeeze, to let them know your gratitude. The three of you sat like that for another five minutes.

You were so appreciative of how they knew to let you settle properly before moving you back to your room. They just knew you so well and were so patient and calm. They didn’t judge you or urge you to hurry up or get over it or anything. They just let you exist, let you be.

Once she felt you had stopped shaking, Wanda asked, “How about we get you up to bed yeah?”

Nat agreed, “I think that’s a good idea. I’ll quickly make you a cup of peppermint tea. One sugar, right?”

“Ah, you know me so well,” you responded, a slight smile on your face. “Thank you, guys. For helping me just now.”

“You know we’re always here for you,” Wanda smiled back at you.

“Exactly. Do you know what caused the attack?” Nat questioned.

“Just had a very draining couple of days. It all just hit me at once.”

“I understand. I had that happen to me a couple weeks ago, remember?”

You looked at Wanda, “Yeah actually, I do. Consider the favour returned.”

“Always, y/n.”

You grabbed onto her offering hand, and she hauled you to your feet and pulled you into a big hug.

“Thank you, Wands.”

She only squeezed you tightly in response, before slinging her arm around your shoulder and leading you towards the elevator up to your room.

You knew sometimes panic attacks just happen. You used to often feel so much shame about them, but now, with such strong friends around you, you knew you were going to be just fine.

[darthkruge]

Can I request something where Anakin takes the reader on a date for Valentine’s Day

Anakin Skywalker x Reader ~ Valentine’s Day

Summary: After learning that you’ve never had a romantic Valentine’s Day, Anakin decides to make his first one with you all the more special

Warnings: None <3

Words: 2.1k

A/N: I legit debated writing a Valentine’s Day fic because I’m always sad and lonely on this holiday. But then someone requested it (tysm anon btw) and I had this idea that allowed me to ~project~ so I hope y’all like it!! 

gif credit

“What would you like to do for Valentine’s Day, my love?”

Anakin’s honey smooth voice slipped through your ear, synonymous with the way he was languidly tracing patterns up and down your back with his metal hand. You lifted your head from where you were laying on top of him to smile. You leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips, too exhausted to try and do so properly. 

It was a week until Valentine’s Day and you would like to say you’d forgotten. Truly, it’d been on your mind for a while and, because of that, one would think you’d know exactly what you wanted to do.

And, yet, “I have no idea, Ani. Whatever you want will be wonderful, I’m sure”

“No, no, love, come on! There’s got to be something you want to do!”

You fumbled over your words for a second, wracking your brain trying to think of something that might be fun. But your mind was blank, nothing would come out. In all honesty, you didn’t know what to expect on Valentine’s Day. It was always a holiday you dreaded, as you’d never been in a relationship on the day before. You usually just curled up in your room, ate candy all day, and made sure to avoid the balcony, as you’d frequently see happy couples flaunting their love in the streets. 

Now, you were one of those happy couples! And, despite your long-standing hatred for the day, you were itching to celebrate it, to at least have a memory of one good Valentine’s. But you had no clue where to begin or even what to wish for… although you’d been dating Anakin for a bit over nine months now, you were still shy and found it difficult to ask for what you wanted. You always had this residual feeling in the back of your mind that he’d be annoyed with your request and find you too needy. Logically, you knew this was impossible, but that little voice was persistent.

“Anakin, seriously, it’s alright! We can just… watch a holovid and grab dinner or something!”

At this, Anakin sat up, pulling you with him so you were looking directly into his eyes. 

“Y/N, we don’t need to celebrate if you truly don’t want to… but it is our first Valentine’s Day together and I just thought it might be fun to do something to show that!” Anakin said, grasping your hands. He knew you were holding back and he hoped he could get it out of you.

“No, Ani, it’s not that, I want to, I do, I just-” You broke off, unable to put your feelings together. 

Anakin nodded, trying to find a way to help you vocalize your thoughts. “Okay, what have you done in the past for the holiday? Did anything feel special? Because I’m sure I could put something together along those lines, just, of course, much better than whatever any of your old relationships gave you…” 

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at his antics. “I’ve never exactly… been in this position before” 

Anakin squinted, confused. You sighed in response, fiddling with his fingers to calm yourself. 

“I’ve never had a real Valentine’s Day,” You continued, “And I don’t want to, like, overwhelm you or something. I don’t need a whole celebration or anything, promise! We can just do what we normally do and that’ll be fine.” You said, trying to convince both him and yourself. 

Anakin looked into your eyes before placing a deep kiss on your lips.

“Angel, you’re not going to overwhelm me! And you’ve never had a real Valentine’s Day? Well, I’m going to fix that.” He said proudly

“Ani, you don’t need-”

“-Too late, my love. It’s going to be perfect.” 

You broke into a big smile before leaning in to kiss him once more. He loved it when you smiled into his kisses, he loved the tangible reminder that he made you happy. Cupping your cheek, he deepened the embrace and pulled his arms around your waist as you melted into him. 

When you finally broke away, you opted to rest your head on his chest, liking the grounding feeling his heartbeat gave you. As you drifted to sleep, Anakin’s fingers were running through your hair as his mind already started thinking of ways to create the perfect Valentine’s Day for you. 

------

You awoke, smiling as you felt Anakin’s strong arms wrapped around you. Regardless of how many times you started your days beside him, it never failed to make butterflies appear in your stomach. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

You hummed in agreement as Anakin leaned over to press a sloppy kiss on your cheek. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Ani.” You said, your happiness coating your words. 

You whined as you felt Anakin start to get out of bed, wanting to stay enveloped in his warmth forever. He just chuckled, leaning to whisper in your ear. 

“We’ll cuddle again soon, don’t worry.” And with a kiss to your cheek, he was up. 

You grinned as you saw Anakin bolt out of the bedroom in a happy skip. If you were honest, you knew you were excited, too. Anakin had a knack for making you feel special; you were looking forward to what he had put together for you.

You started laughing as soon as he came back in the room, almost toppling over from how fast he was trying to get back to you. He was carrying a bouquet of beautiful flowers in one hand and a bag of… something in the other.

He plopped them down on your lap and looked at you expectantly. You tried to hide your blush as you opened the package and realized it was full of all of your favorite treats. Rummaging through, you found candies, cookies, pastries, and basically anything else you’ve ever mentioned was delicious. 

“Ani… when did you have time to get all this?!”

“Well, I asked Obi-Wan to let me know when you were busy this week and then I swung by the market a few times.”

“Thank you,” You said softly, his sweetness almost overwhelming. It seemed like a small gesture but it meant the world to you; Anakin was so busy and the fact that he used his limited time off to do this for you, just because it might make you happy?! That meant everything.

As you pulled out some of your favorite baked goods, your eyes widened. “Where did you even find these?? I’ve searched the markets for them for ages and they’re never there!”

Anakin walked up beside you, pulling an arm around your shoulder. “Well those, my love, are actually made by me.” 

Your head snapped up, hardly believing it. “Kriff, really?! You made them for me?!”

Anakin just nodded before you put the gifts to the side and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him down on top of you. He landed with an “oomph!” but soon his laughter was mixing with yours as he pressed quick kisses all over your neck, making you giggle. All the while, you just held him to you, squeezing his body into yours. 

“Now,” Anakin said, breaking the silence. “I set up some of your favorite holovids for us to watch together, so I was thinking you get that started and I’ll grab us some plates and you can try some of the pastries, if you want?”

By now, your cheeks hurt from smiling and you truly didn’t think it was possibly to blush this much. You were overcome with your love for him, with the way he made you feel like the only person in the entire galaxy. Kissing him, you muttered a quick “yes” before getting the holo ready.

Anakin was back in a few minutes, carrying drinks and plates. He passed you some food before settling down beside you. You instinctively moved closer to him, resting against his chest as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

You sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the holovid, food, and each other's company. As per usual, you were constantly touching each other; whether it be leaning on him, your fingers in his hair, his hands playing with yours, your legs intertwined, or soft kisses, the physical affection remained. 

By now, the sun was beginning to set and Anakin pulled you up out of bed once more. You looked at him quizzically, unsure as to what he was doing.

“Come on, love. We’ve got somewhere to be” He said, holding his hand out for you.

Intrigued, you took his hand, allowing him to lead you out of the apartment and onto his speeder bike. He helped you in and you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, anchoring yourself to him. Anakin smiled as you placed a few kisses and leaned your head against his clothed back. 

He took off, the air whipping through your hair. You watched the traffic around you, giddy at the fast motion of the vehicle. You loved taking rides with him; his recklessness made you feel alive and, yet, his protectiveness allowed you to feel utterly and completely safe. 

You smiled as you started to understand where he was taking you. He parked on the outskirts of Coruscant and helped you out, just as he had so many times before. You ruffled through his hair, already messy from the wind as he chuckled. 

You started climbing up the ladder on the side of the abandoned building. You still remember when Anakin found it for the first time. You’d come to him, sobbing, stressed, and feeling unfathomably trapped. So he took you away. And you drove and drove until the lights and stars blended together and eventually, somehow, ended up here. Ever since, it’s been your spot. 

When you got to the roof of the building, your breath caught in your throat. Looking around, you noticed beautiful string lights and candles illuminating the space. There was soft music playing from the speaker, the same music you danced to for the first time. A table was set up, dinner steaming from the plates and another bouquet of your favorite flowers sitting as the centerpiece. 

“You like it?” He asked.

You turned to him, your eyes sparkling with tears and adoration as you nodded, unable to trust your voice. Anakin’s mouth turned into an amused pout at your reaction as he walked up to you and hugged you, swaying you in his hold.

“I can’t believe you’d do all this for me! It’s too much, Anakin, you didn’t need to!”

“Nonsense,” He said, running a thumb over your cheekbone, “You deserve all of this and so much more.”

You walked forward but were cut off by Anakin bolting in front of you. You froze and giggled, wondering what the kriff had gotten into him. Your giggles turned into laughter as you saw him scrambling to pull out your chair for you but decided to amuse him anyway. 

“For you, my love!” Anakin combined his words with a dramatic wave of his hand, allowing you to sit before pushing your chair in and then running around the table to take his own. 

“What?” Anakin said, your laughter and happiness contagious. 

You reached across the table and took his hand. “Nothing, baby. You’re just really sweet” 

“Thank you!” He said cheekily, quite proud of himself for pulling all this together. 

Your mouth watered as you took in the wonderful food he’d prepared; you were sure Obi-Wan helped him make this happen, too, but opted not to ask. You wanted all the focus to be on Anakin and you. 

As you ate, you made conversation as you normally did. This was an underrated part of your relationship with Anakin that you always reminded yourself to not take for granted. No matter what, you could talk to him about absolutely anything. He made you laugh and comforted you when you cried. You never had to force a conversation around him, the topics flowed naturally, just like your love. 

Once dinner was over, you stood up and walked over to the side of the roof, looking at the sky. Anakin joined you, situating himself next to you as if it was where he was always meant to stand. 

“I truly can’t thank you enough for this, Anakin. I’ve never…” You trailed off, hoping he understood. “I love you so much.” 

Anakin wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. “And I love you. Forever” 

There you stood, two beautiful flames, side by side. The cold wind whipped around you but, encompassed by each other’s warmth, you never burned out.

----

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[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twelve

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: this took so long bc ive been reading chain of iron and in general agonizing over things i cant control instead of being productive 🥴 that being said, absolutely none of the events in this chapter were planned in my outline, but here we are with something new!

***

December brings more snow and bone chilling weather, to the point where Cassian has to drag Nesta out of bed, either physically or by phone call, to get her to therapy appointments on time. 

She’s in the waiting room one freezing morning when, in her utter boredom, she musters up the nerve to turn to the girl sitting next to her. “What are you in here for?”

The girl blinks her large blue eyes, taking notice of Nesta for the first time. Nesta uses the opportunity to take in her freckle-painted face, a little wan but beautiful. Reddish brown hair hangs around her face and shoulders, creating a thick curtain from the rest of the world, and Nesta’s curiosity piques like she’s just found a shiny new toy.

It probably isn’t right to compare people to toys, but then the girl says, “This isn’t prison, you know.” Her voice is deep, almost sultry— completely at odds from her huddled-in posture and sickened expression. “I didn’t commit a crime to have to be here.”

Is she insulted by Nesta’s question, or is she poking a joke? Nesta decides to play it safe by murmuring, “Sorry, never mind.”

She starts to turn away when the girl says, “We’re trying a new type of trauma therapy today. I had to get here half an hour early because I couldn’t swallow my nerves.”

Nesta might lack many social skills, but she isn’t stupid enough to ask what kind of trauma the girl is being treated for. Instead, she nods casually as if she understands the struggle. “I’ve been coming here for weeks now and I’ve barely discussed shit. That’s mostly on me, but you know…” She actually doesn’t know where she’s going with her train of thought. “It sounds brave to do whatever you're doing,” she states finally. “I don’t think I’ll be able to open up that much about myself, ever.” 

The girl gives Nesta a weird look that she immediately recognizes. Nesta uses it every time she doesn’t know how to respond to someone who takes her by surprise.

The door to Lana’s office clicks open, and the woman herself pokes her head out with a plain smile. “Ready, Nesta?”

Nesta bites down on her frown. She has a feeling today won’t be as easy as her past sessions.

She’s about to leave without another glance at the girl beside her when that low voice speaks up. “I’m Gwyn.”

Nesta looks back at her as she gets up from her chair, and says the first reply that comes to mind: “Good to know.”

***

Nesta is contemplative hours after she gets back from her therapy session, bundled up in her bed with a coloring book. The repetitive motion of filling in the mandala drawing lets her mind wander, picking up and dropping different thoughts like she’s inspecting stones. 

She keeps her wrist light as she colors in with red. She finally said Tomas’s name in therapy today, though the action left a slimy feeling in Nesta’s stomach that lingers even now. She also spoke about her sisters, which somehow ended up leading to a discussion of her uterus. 

“How have you been dealing with the endometriosis news?”

Nesta shrugged. “I’m getting treated, and my last period was more bearable than usual—”

“I mean mentally, how are you doing? With how your condition could affect your future?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Affect me how?”

“Have you never considered the impact it could have on your ability to bear children?”

“Not everything in life is about bearing children, you know.”

“We’re humans. It’s definitely something to consider.”

“Not for me. I’ve never wanted kids.” A mistruth at best. “I don’t care what endo does or doesn’t do to me on those grounds.”

In a way, Nesta told herself, the health risks were actually for the best. If she ever did, by some stupid loss of sanity, try to have children, then her body would act as a safety net from her decisions.

Lana only said, “You’ll never know how much you care or don’t care until you talk out your feelings.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know.”

Nesta lets the memory of that conversation drop like a stone on a shore. That’s not something she has to face for a good long while. No, right now she has to face her past. 

Her sisters, and her ex, and even her father— 

I wonder if I came off too strong with Gwyn today. 

Her hand stops drawing, and she switches out her red marker for an orange one. This thought she doesn’t mind inspecting for a little longer: she and Gwyn ended up leaving their sessions at the same time, which meant they were forced into stilted conversation on the way down to the parking lot. 

Not forced, Nesta self-corrects. She willingly initiated a conversation, and it didn’t go terribly. She wonders if making friends in therapy waiting rooms is a real thing.

Her phone vibrates beside her, breaking her hours-long mental bubble. Blinking dazedly, she answers the phone call.

“How are you?” is the first thing Cassian says to her. He makes sure to ask her that at least twice a day, like a gauging of her temperature. It makes Nesta wonder what she’s ever done in her life to call for such… attention to her well-being. 

“I’m good,” she answers honestly. “My head’s a little loud right now, but I don’t mind it.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, I’d rather hear you talk.” She slumps back against her pillows, coloring book forgotten. “What’s up?”

“Ah...” Cassian sounds hesitant for the first time since their relationship started. “It’s just that I haven’t gotten my Christmas decorations up yet, and I was going to ask if you wanted to help.”

Nesta takes a moment to absorb his words. “It’s December fifth,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“You just seem like somebody who does their decorations the day after Thanksgiving.”

“Well, this year is a little different, with you moving out and being busy with school…” He pauses. “I was waiting to do it with you.”

When she doesn’t reply, Cassian adds, “I don’t even know if you care about Christmas. I know you and your family sort of ignored holidays. It’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“I’ll be over right now,” Nesta blurts. 

Half an hour later, Cassian swings open his door with a smug grin on his face; a vast difference from the stammering hesitance he displayed over the phone earlier. Nesta’s own lips want to pull up into a smile just at the sight of him, but she holds back and narrows her eyes instead. “What’s got you so worked up?” she questions as she steps into the warmth of the cabin and out of the freezing cold.

“The way you ran over here as soon as I asked.” He looks her up and down, still amused. “You didn’t even bother to change, did you?”

It’s true: she’s in the same sweatpants and long sleeved tee she wore around home, and her socked feet are shoved into slippers. 

“Get that smirk off your face.” Nesta flicks his nose before tossing her coat off. “If this is a competition about who’s got a bigger puppy-crush for whom, you already won when you delayed putting up your Christmas decorations for me.”

“Fair enough,” he grins. The words send an unexpected pang through Nesta, because it’s partly true, isn’t it? He cares more openly for her than she does for him. 

She looks away in guilt, not knowing how to fix the imbalance. Her eyes land on the living room coffee table, where their half-finished jigsaw puzzle sits. It’s been stored under the couch for the past few weeks, forgotten by Nesta and Cassian alike as they moved on with their lives, but now it’s sitting out again.

“Have you been working on the puzzle without me?” She raises an inquisitive brow, about to feel— hurt.

“Never,” Cassian promises, saving her from that irrational hurt. “I just brought it out because I figured we should get to finishing it one day.”

She pads over to the table, picking up a puzzle piece and turning it over in her hand. “I don’t know if you remember, but we had a terrible time working on this,” she scoffs lightly.

“Oh, I remember,” he says, coming up behind her and stealing the piece from her grasp. “I think it’s safe to say those evenings were the worst fights we’ll ever have together.”

Nesta leans back against Cassian’s chest and hums. “It made us a stronger couple, don’t you think?” She turns her head up and back to meet Cassian’s eyes, finding that he’s already looking down at her.

Hypnotized, she leans into his warmth. She only manages to land the smallest kiss against his lips when his hand squeezes her ass cheek. “You’re here for a job, remember?” He taps her butt before pulling away, gesturing to the Christmas tree in the corner of the living area with his chin. It stands bare. “You do tinsel, I’ll do lights.”

Tinsel is harder to work with than Nesta remembers. She only manages to get half the tree done before plopping onto the Persian rug, exhausted and covered in silvery material. She doesn’t mind laying there while Cassian continues working; it’s her revenge for when he napped on her bed while she moved in.

“You know the stair railings still need to be wreathed, Archeron.”

Nesta declines to respond, tilting her head on the carpet for a better view of her boyfriend’s ass instead. “All this decorating,” she starts. “Is it just for you?”

Cassian turns to her, surprised. “Well…”

She pushes up onto her elbows, catching her mistake. “Are we doing Christmas together? Or are your friends coming over?” She hasn’t bothered to celebrate Christmas in years now, and she doesn’t care much what Cassian’s plans are either way.

“I was hoping for both?” He sounds hesitant. “Christmas Eve is all the way over in Velaris, but I was thinking we could go together, open some presents, and come back and spend Christmas here.”

Nesta purses her lips. She doesn’t actually hate that plan. Both Feyre and Elain have been pestering her with the annual texts asking her to visit for Christmas, and for once, she feels like responding to them. The invitation is more of a formality than an actual request at this point; she doubts her sisters want her there after years of rejections, but… what’s the harm?

“Is that a yes?” Cassian asks at her unreadable face.

“Yes,” she states unflinchingly. She refuses to overthink the possible consequences of this choice and chooses to focus on the broad grin overtaking Cassian’s face. “Really?” he says.

“But there has to be rules.” Nesta sits up fully now. “No one can know we’re together, no matter how much you trust or love them.”

“We already agreed to that, baby.”

Yes, but Nesta knows the secret weighs on him heavier than he shows— even if he agrees with her that it's for the best. “It’ll be different when we’re together in the same room as everyone else,” she says. Cassian wears his beating heart on his sleeve, and she doesn’t think he’s ever had to hide it before.

“You’ll also be different,” she adds. “It’s a huge change of pace.”

Cassian drops the remaining strand of lights and smiles confusedly down at her. “What do you mean, I’ll be different?” He sits across from her, before the blazing fire. 

“You know how you get around your friends.” Nesta shrugs without a thought. “Like your personality readjusts to mirror the people around you. I used to find it a mix of sad and adorable, like a neglected puppy desperate for love, but now I— okay, I still feel the same way.” She waves a hand in a dismissive gesture.

By the look on Cassian’s face, he does not find her words so easily dismissed. 

Coldness curdles in the pit of Nesta’s stomach, the realization that she’s said something wrong. She can’t fix it until she knows where she fucked up, though.

“Is that what you think of me?” Cassian finally says lowly. His usually expressive mouth is drawn tight and narrow. 

“Um… What would you rather I think of you?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Seriously, Nesta?”

Nesta’s back stiffens, refusing to cower. “I only described what I’ve observed in the past.”

“And what you observed was a desperate puppy?” His voice is cold in a way she’s never heard before.

Okay, she’s starting to see how that might be offensive. She forges onward, “Tell me what you think about yourself in the presence of your family, then.” It’s a private victory that she says family instead of clown circus. But she’s not trying to turn this into a fight.

Cassian is silent, but his stare continues to rage at her.

“Tell me,” Nesta repeats.

His hands curl into fists on the rug. “I think I’m empathetic, easy to talk to, and easier to be around. Is it a problem if I’m likable?” Unlike you are the unsaid words.

Nesta inspects the space between them like it’s a chessboard. “And what part of yourself are you giving up to be so likable, Cassian?” she says quietly.

“Nothing.”

Nesta disagrees, if only because she’s been watching him out of the corner of her eye for years. “I think you base your personality off of those you love, and you lose a little bit of your true self every time you put others’ needs before your own.” 

She shuts her mouth, not having expected such honesty to come out of it. Cassian is taken aback, too, she can tell.

“And I guess it’s natural that you’d see all of that as a bad thing, considering your history of being closed off and self-serving to a fault,” he fires back with the flatness Nesta utilizes so often.

One for one. Fair enough. “We’re both right then,” Nesta says. “You work for your best friend because you have no ambition beyond serving your family, and I have no such family because I can’t bring myself to care about those things. Are we even now?”

Cassian furrows his brows, those defensive walls melting away as he realizes she’s completely serious. “What? No, Nes—” He shakes his head. “Okay, so maybe you’re right about me. Maybe I agree with you a little bit, but… If we see flaws in each other, then we should be working to overcome them instead of weaponizing them.”

Now Nesta’s the one shaking her head, quickly lifting a hand to stop him. “Relax there, sweetheart. I have no expectations from you or myself to go on some self-improvement journey now that we’re together. Talking about my feelings with a professional every week is hard enough.” Yes, agreeing to go to Feyre’s Christmas party is improvement. Slow, barely there improvement, but enough to wear her out for the rest of the month. For Nesta to fully let people into her life, to treat them as lovingly as she treats Cassian— that’s a long way away. She can’t envision it, doesn’t even know if she wants it.

Cassian must understand some of what she’s thinking, because he nods and backs off. He gets back up and returns to stringing lights, tossing a handful of tinsel at Nesta as if to say Get back to work. 

She stands and obeys, thinking their not-argument is officially over when Cassian says, “You’re wrong about one thing.”

She looks up from where she threads tinsel through fir leaves. He doesn’t take his eyes off his work as he says, “You do have a family. And deep, deep down, you care about them as much as I care about mine.”

***

Nesta catches Emerie’s eye as the dark-haired beauty walks into the pub. Raising a hand and waving, she gestures Emerie over to the booth she’s sitting in. 

“Look what I found,” Nesta says with a hint of pride, pointing to the redhead sitting beside her. “A third girl for girl’s night!”

“I was kidnapped,” Gwyn speaks up. “Jumped on the way to my car.” She’s out of her usual hoodie and in a tight-fitting blouse, looking stunning even while seeming out of place in the dim bar.

“She came here consensually,” Nesta retorts. “Emerie, this is Gwyn. We met at therapy.”

Gwyn offers Emerie an awkward smile.

Emerie slides into the booth across from them with raised brows. She looks between Nesta and the new girl and back again. “You invited her here? All by yourself?” she asks.

Nesta nods firmly.

Emerie breaks into a wide grin and reaches over the table to grab Nesta’s hand. “I’m so proud of you!” If Emerie were anyone else, she’d be squealing in excitement, but Emerie does not squeal.

Nesta waves off her friend’s praise, though a part of her wants to beam at it, too.

Gwyn glances between the two of them with slight amusement. “I mean, it’s not that impressive,” she says. “She came on a bit too strong, probably a five out of ten on the asking-someone-out scale.”

“‘A bit too strong’ is all you’re gonna get with Nesta,” Emerie says, lifting her hand to order drinks. “She’s all-or-nothing, and most people would pray she doesn’t give them her nothing.”

Nesta doesn’t know if that’s a compliment, but she supposes there are worse things that could be said about her.

“So, Gwyn, what do you do?” Emerie leans forward. “All our friends are law students and it’s starting to get boring.”

Gwyn goes off about her librarian job as Nesta orders their drinks, and Emerie rests her chin in her hand and listens eagerly. Christmas music plays softly in the background and snow flurries gently outside. Nesta thinks she can’t be doing that bad in life, if she’s managed to carve out this little slice of happiness for herself.

***

a/n: i promise shit actually happens next chapter! we're getting christmas with nessian and the ic in the same room for the first time

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