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muffinbeliever · 2 years

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Neighborly Love [01]

Pairing: Coworker!Dean Winchester x Coworker!Reader

Word Count: 2100

Warnings: minor language, dean is a dick

Summary: Coworker!AU– Dean Winchester is the newbie around the office, and also your new cubicle neighbor. You have him all figured out from the start: a jerk, or so you think. It doesn’t help that he won’t stop flirting with you. Will Dean be able to convince you otherwise?

A/N: hello hello hello I KNOW IVE BEEN GONE but i wrote this for my narrative writing class with the intention of turning it into a fanfic so technically ive been writing ! it was originally for the coworker au square in my fluff bingo board, but the more i write it, the more i want it to be a regular series so here it is!

Masterlist | Neighborly Love Masterlist

The corner cubicle offered you only one neighbor, and the departure of the cubicle’s last occupant, Adam, left a cold, empty feeling inside of you. While you had only known each other for a month, it still hurt when he had suddenly left without even saying goodbye. For the past couple of weeks, you wished there was someone next door for you to talk with and mildly complain to, but today you welcomed the solitude.

After catching your boyfriend of two years in bed with another girl the night before, you seriously considered calling in sick today. The last thing you wanted to do was work. What you really wanted to do was bundle up in blankets and wallow in bed, but you knew that if you were at home, all you would do is replay the sight of your now ex-boyfriend in bed with that blonde girl, and you would rather stab yourself with a rusty fork than relive that disaster.

So, you went to work.

It was Monday– the Mondayest Monday if you ever knew one. You woke up bleary-eyed and puffy-faced thirty minutes after your alarm supposedly went off. You burned your thumb making coffee and tripped on an overturned corner of your rug on the way out. Traffic was a bitch, and it took you ten minutes to find a parking spot. And now, like icing on the cake, your supervisor, Chuck, was headed your way. You quickly opened the first file on your desktop so you weren’t caught staring at a blank screen. Chuck’s monotonous voice met your ears and you turned to face him, only to meet his back.

“This is your desk. You can decorate it however you want, I really don’t care,” he said flatly, addressing the person in front of him. You huffed, your chair swiveling back to the computer. You had been eagerly waiting for a new neighbor, but not today. Any day but today.

“Too bad I left all my Playboy posters at home,” a deep voice responded.

It was a guy. A crude, cocky guy if his poor taste in jokes was any indication. You internally groaned. You had encountered so many guys just like him– in fact, you just dated one. You knew exactly who he was even before saying hello.

“It’s time for my break. Don’t bother me unless it’s urgent.” Chuck left without waiting for a response, leaving you alone with the mystery man.

Your eyes stayed glued to the screen in front of you, but you barely registered its contents. Instead, you focused on the cubicle to your right.

The partition blocked him from your view, but you heard a thump! as his box was set down, causing your desk to tremble under your fingertips. The faint scent of his cologne wafted past. There was clinking as objects were moved around, followed by the distinct sound of papers shuffling.

You debated on introducing yourself and giving him the benefit of the doubt, but a larger, more stubborn part of you wanted nothing to do with him, certain he was exactly the type of guy you expected. You heard your mother’s voice, chastising you for judging a book by its cover, and you felt a momentary lapse of guilt, knowing that your parents would be disappointed by your actions. In hopes of masking the small, fleeting bout of shame, you convinced yourself that you were being a good person by letting him settle in quietly, rather than overwhelming him with introductions and questions.

Caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the silence that fell over the neighboring cubicle. What you did notice, however, was the distinct sound of the mystery man clearing his throat, which snapped you back to reality. Irked by his sudden intrusion, you spun in your chair to face him, but your witty retort died on your lips when you saw him.

His eyes were intensely green and twinkled under the harsh fluorescents– although, how that was even possible was lost on you. Freckles dotted the bridge of his nose like paint lightly splattered against canvas. His short, dark hair was softly spiked, and his lips quirked into a teasing smirk when he caught you staring.

“Like what you see?” He asked, in a smooth, flirtatious tone that you were certain he had perfected over the years of picking up women. Your laugh was cold.

“I’d like it a lot better if you let me go back to work,” you snapped. He raised a dark brow.

“Just so we’re on the same page, when you say ‘work’, you mean staring at a three-year-old document and not working, right?” He gave you a pointed look.

Your head whipped to the screen, mentally cursing when you saw the date; he was right. It was an outdated spreadsheet of the company’s clients.

“Do you want something? Or did Chuck just hire you to annoy me?” You huffed, steering the conversation away from your blatant lie.

“Please,” he scoffed, “Chuck doesn’t give a rat’s ass about you, or me, or the company. That dude is here for one thing and one thing only: the money. I, however, will take your number, since you’re offering.” He gave you a cliche wink. You blinked.

“I wasn’t,” you bit back.

“No?” He cocked a dark brow. “You asked if I wanted something, and that’s what I want,” he stated plainly. “Unless you’re more of a let’s-not-talk-it’s-just-sex type of girl,” he added. “Then, I don’t need your number, just a time and a place.” Your eye twitched as you restrained yourself from slapping the shit-eating grin off his face.

“How about you do both of us a favor and go fuck yourself,” you snapped, before turning back to your desk.

“Only if you’re there to watch,” came his cheeky response.

You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath, coming to the conclusion that you should’ve stayed in bed this morning. One look at Chuck’s closed door was enough to convince you that it wasn’t too late to do just that. You made quick work of turning off your computer and grabbing your things before making your way to the elevator, not sparing the green-eyed man a second glance.

The next morning, you were ready. You had given yourself a pep-talk in the bathroom mirror about stupid manwhores and shitty green-eyed men. You strutted down the lines of cubicles in a pair of heels that you affectionately referred to as your Fuck You Platforms. You imagined breezing by him to your desk, but your best-laid plans crumbled at the sight of his empty chair. His computer was on, and there was a steaming mug of black coffee next to a bag of Hershey’s Kisses. You huffed in annoyance. If anyone could unknowingly ruin plans, it would be him.

You stepped into your side of the partition, and your gaze immediately honed in on the little silver-wrapped chocolates carefully placed on your desk spelling out, “SRY.”

“What the,” you muttered, setting your bag down so you could better inspect the treats. There was no note, but you had a sneaking suspicion of who had left them. You threw them by the handful onto the desk of the neighboring cubicle before settling into your chair, hoping at least one of them landed in his coffee. You scrolled through your email and forwarded project updates to Chuck even though you knew he never bothered to read them.

Chuck was single-handedly the most incompetent supervisor you’d ever had. He never bothered to check in on projects nor did he enforce deadlines. He only cared about the long line of zeros on his paycheck. You didn’t blame him, though. You also would only do the bare minimum and get paid for it if you could.

A couple of minutes passed before heavy footsteps and a familiar scent of cologne grew close.

“I see you didn’t like my apology,” he noted, gesturing towards your empty desk. Then he spotted the candy strewn about his desk. “I guess you didn’t like my Kisses, either,” he added.

He swiped the twenty-or-so chocolates into his hand and placed them back in the bag. You watched him from the corner of your eye as he sipped his coffee, and you smiled when he frowned at the mug.

“I don’t take candy from strangers,” was your simple reply. You opened the spreadsheet for your current project, trying to ignore the man next to you.

“I’m actually your coworker. Technically your neighbor. Hardly a stranger,” he corrected, much to your frustration.

“Jesus Christ, do you ever stop talking? I have shit to do! You and I both know we’re only here to work. We don’t have to hold hands and sing Kumbaya,” you exclaimed, exasperated.

“You’re too young to hate your job and be bitter about it,” he stated, after a beat of silence. You rolled your eyes.

“You don’t even know me.”

“And you don’t know me, but that doesn’t stop you from making assumptions, huh?” You wasted no time responding.

“Actually, I know exactly who you are. You realized in college that you could use your good looks and cheesy lines to get girls into bed, and once that happens, you either wham-bam-thank you ma’am her, or you keep sleeping with her until she catches feelings for you, and then one day you decide to give in to her advances and date her for two years before getting bored and fucking the next girl who will spread her legs for you!”

Your throat burned as tears brimmed your eyes, threatening to fall. You stared at his green eyes that were widened with shock from your outburst, and took a deep breath before continuing

“Now, can I get back to my spreadsheet, or are you going to keep bothering me?” You had barely turned back to your desk before the man next to you spoke.

“So… I’m guessing you got cheated on?” Hesitation laced his voice. You was hit by a wave of guilt, and your shoulders dropped as you slumped in defeat. You shuffled your feet until you were facing him once again before giving him a sheepish smile.

“What gave it away?” You tried to joke, but your voice cracked, and you were unsuccessful in your attempt to swallow the lump in your throat. You turned away and hastily wiped away a stray tear that had escaped.

“Here,” he said, offering you a tissue. You accepted it without a fuss.

“Thanks.”

A beat of silence passed.

“Sorry for being a bitch,” You started, but the green-eyed man shrugged.

“Trust me, I know what you’re going through. I’ve been there before.”

“Right,” You scoffed in disbelief. “Like anyone would cheat on you.” He shrugged again.

“You’d be surprised.” He stuck his hand out before you could respond. “Dean.”

You stared at the extended hand. The guilt was back and bigger than before. Maybe you were being a tad bit irrational. With a sigh, you shook his hand.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Such a pretty name for a pretty girl.” Dean winked. You quickly retracted your hand from his grasp. You began to berate yourself for being foolish and doubting your instincts, but stopped once you saw the mirth sparkling in his green eyes.

“Funny,” you said, not finding it funny in the slightest.

“Sorry,” he winced. “Too soon?”

“Yeah, I think one day is too soon.” He let out a low whistle.

“Yikes. I figured it was pretty raw, but not that raw.” He reached into the bag of Kisses and gently placed a handful on the corner of your desk. “You definitely need these more than I do.”

“Thanks, I always wanted pity chocolates,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice. He gave you a knowing look and you rolled your eyes before unwrapping a Kiss and popping it in your mouth. You tried to hide your sigh of relief from the silky chocolate, but Dean caught it right away.

“Good, huh?” He sported a triumphant smile.

“Not bad,” You admitted, a hint of a smile dancing on your lips. The silence was long. You cleared your throat before it could get awkward.

“I’m gonna,” you motioned towards your screen, “You know.”

“Of course,” he said dramatically, grasping at his chest. “Your spreadsheet awaits.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. You rolled your eyes at his childish antics, before turning to your desk and getting back to work.

Taglist: @akshi8278 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @lanea-1 @slamminmine @bluedragonflylady @cevans-winchester

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female reader #y/n x dean winchester #reader x dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural series #muffinbeliever

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damnfandomproblems · 1 year

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4144 not sure how to feel about the second half of that

But yeah. Its pretty frustrating when writers either 1. Dont set their boundaries before opening requests or 2. Dont set all of them

Ive had writers suddenly say they wont write something that was requested even thought it wasnt listed in what they wont write. And you know its fine, as someone who forgets alot, i get it. But when you then attack or ban the person who requested it just because you neglected/forgot to set that boundary, that just makes you a shitty person.

If someone requests something they couldnt possible have known you wouldn't like beforehand, that is on you.

What i find even worse is writers banning people who even like something they dont even though those people respected the writers boundaries and never tried talking or interacting with the writer about the thing, and/or have only really ever interacted with the writer through things like reblogging and liking. (stalking peoples blogs is not cool my dudes)

Like im sorry but peoples taste in fiction is not cause for a block when you write just as bad or arguably worse shit, and all people want to do is read what youve written. Not shove your triggers in your face. It is not comparable to being a nazi, terf, pro choice or whatever like that.

I think people get a lil too trigger happy with the block button when people barely even talk to them. Blocking harrasment or people who cant take no for an answer is one thing. Blocking for irl beliefs and stances is a second thing.

But over the fact one person like a type of dark FICTION you dont when you also like dark fiction which is still real gross irl? Touch grass. Even if you dont like dark fiction. If you block over shit like that when that person has made zero attempts to force it on you? Touch grass. Go outside and talk to a real person.

(yeah it was a real experience. Sad that person somehow thinks they are morally superior for liking incest compared to i *a csa survivor of incest* for enjoying fictional adultxminor. When i never even tried talking to em about it lmao. Even weirder when they would make tge little sibling weak, naive, and submissive *like a child* even though they are meant to be an adult. And it was like... Every character even canon ones. And even had ficcs where the older sibling groomed the other and its just? Huh??? Grooming is fine for fictional adults? But when its a fictional kid somehow its bad because of age? When they arent even real? I still think that person needs a therapist because they obviously dont understand how any of this shit works, and for all that repressed and internalized shit or whatever lmao)

Posting since this is a response to a previous problem.

#response to previous problem #fandom problem 4144

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thec0untry · 1 year

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realllllllyyy sentimental sentimental emotional personal

Idk why i feel the need to write it all out, it supplies some sort of catharsis to type everything and see it all in words. Coming to terms with the fact that i am still getting over a four-year whirlwind relationship with a girl who still in many ways is the girl of my dreams. We broke up a year and a half ago extremely amicably and responsibly, but the aftershocks of my entire life being uprooted have in no way ceased. We stayed close all through last year through the fucking absurdity of my gender tornado and my ultimate self destruction (which i am still in the early-middle stages of recovering from). The holistic rewiring that must be exacted following such a relationship/breakup (we were convinced through all four years that we would marry each other) has been such a long process, and my current emotional makeup makes so much more sense to me when i remember that i am still "getting over" all of it. Have only had one brush with love since then and that was more an extreme emotional/creative/personal alignment that ended in heartbreak and turmoil but also a friendship i am confident will last for my entire life. The way i always say it is that i can still remember the endless hours in the mornings when i would wake up before her and hold her in her bed, her body fitting perfectly in my arms, her strange breathing and her eyes as she woke, her sleepy voice and face, i can recall all of it immediately, the tenderest moments. This in varying forms for years. The deepest love and the warm knowledge that we shared every emotion for each other. And now the fact that i rationally understand but can't seem to really reckon with is that i will not feel that way again for a very long time. And it is not fair to whomever i am with to constantly measure my relationship with hypothetical new person to the relationship with her (of course when the true power and love returns it will be rapturous and nothing like anything i have ever felt). And at the same time she is continuing her life, and her growth has been staggering and beautiful to watch after we parted--painful, undoubtedly, but if our split was what she needed to grow then it was exactly necessary, i would never want to hold her back (i was). She is with a new boyfriend and this is good. But i can not shake the feeling: i am still here, and though the last time i saw her i realized that i am very much not in love with the person she has become, the fact of our relationship has left a universe-sized footprint on me. I am still here i am still here i am still here. But i feel like i am not, i feel like i am still in some interim, still living in the blast zone of our breakup and the abjection that followed it. Also knowing that she was the best person ive ever met, and though i do not love her now she is still one of the best and most powerful people i have ever known. And then comes the other fact that i spent the first half of this year convincing myself that i could somehow make her love me again, forgive me for all of the destruction i very publicly caused last year, somehow prove that getting back with me would not be an act of cowardice or backstepping. However It is not willed and this is a simple fact. But if she turned around and texted me right now something sweet and said she wanted to see me all amorous-like i would drop everything for her (perhaps not good because i do not really enjoy being around her anymore, but this is still true, i am not writing what i wish was true, i am writing what is true). Then the next question is: what next? I am a young man who feels love for everything and everyone very deeply and the answer of "dont think about falling in love" is not viable. I have tried that route again and again and it feels very bad. and so the answer i suppose is that i must strengthen even further, resolve all of my emotional hangups and potential immaturities, squash out my occasional suicidal flashes (which are obviously very alienating for people who love me), deepen my love for the world, for people, for art, forgo pride and inauthenticity,

increase my comfort and stability in the world and in social relations, increase my skill and power as an artist, fully live in my body, increase ruthless honesty with myself, understand all of my motives and learn to never hurt anyone on accident, be a little less intense, be kinder and more forgiving to myself, truly live, truly be alive and love being alive, and really really get over this breakup (which involves doing silly things like write big paragraphs on tumblr)--all around make myself the best potential boyfriend for the girl whom i love whom i havent met yet who is walking around right now. Man somehow writing all this out listening to my big ambient playlist has made me feel a lot better!

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actualbird · 2 years

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good day po fave online kuya kong si kuya zak 🫶🏽🫶🏽

feel free to delete this from ur inbox if u don wanna answer i genyuweenly won't mind <33 pero how did u decide on a senior high school?? a strand?? A COLLEGE???? a career too doot doot doot

idk school and the future has been stressing me out :pain: also any debate tips cause in my head ur a very good speaker...... my first debate is graded so it's taking a toll on my grp 😓😓😓😓 AND labag sa kalooban namen ung topic AHAHHAHAHHA so namamlastik lang kami

thank u sm ule kuya kahit na idelete mo to, typing it out made me calmer ng onti seryoso ueuueue

>hopefully friendly neighborhood (marikenyo) grade 10 student

ps; ur luke cos is so cos goals the luke stan in me is screaming crying cause im curious if im taller than u /j im only 5'2" lawl UR WIG IS SO NICE TOO LIKE GENUINELY !!!! the styling is mwa chefs kiss

hi hi anon!! omg first off can i just say i got a nice boost of happy chemical from being called kuya zak like,,,,oh das me :'D

and it's alright, i dont mind this at all!! i really understand how the future can be stressful huhu, especially when ur in high school, so helping out in any way wld be my pleasure

i'll go thru this one by one (and under a readmore) cuz it seems uve been following here for a while so siguro by this point, siguro alam mo na na madaldal ako esp sa mga ask responses JHVKAJHSFVJKAHS

how did i decide a senior high school strand/college degree/career?:

unfortunately, i cannot help on on the High School Strand kasi 'di ko naabutan yung strand system in high school VSJHFVKSJDHGSD. my batch graduated right when they started doing strands, so i never got to experience it, huhu, nor do i understand the process (even after my younger sibling has tried many times to explain it to me, minsan bobo ako jVKJSHF)

but maybe my next stuffs can help out :D

in choosing a college course i.....really kinda just picked what i wanted to do. and this was a huge privilege i'll always be grateful to my family for, whatever i wanted to study, they'd support me. the courses i applied for in diff schools were the following, in order of first to last choice: Creative Writing, English/Comparative Literature, and BA Psychology (tho disclaimer: i only put this last one on application forms cuz it was needed, i didnt actually want to study that very much HAHA, it was writing or lit for me all the way)

on why i wanted those courses is....idk it's another thing that i think is also a privilege. ive always known that ive wanted to write, to study writing, and to pursue it later on. ive been writing and reading ever since i was a kid and i was pretty deadset on it from an early age.

i know that a lot of people dont have a similar experience tho sometimes, but i guess my advice for how to pick a college course is: what can you see yourself enjoying learning more and more and more about?

ofc, this gets a bit more complicated if ur family is strict and will only allow u to take certain degrees huhu. but if uve got the freedom to choose, i'd say dont just think about what you like, but what you'd like to learn about.

cuz college is work. it's a LOT of work. and while liking something can help, that Like can fall flat when youve gotta be doing all the requirements. it helps if, whatever u choose, it's something uve got a craving for knowledge for.

and honestly, if you dont know what to get or if you choose something and realize it isnt for you, thats okay too! you can shift courses in college! or if you want to learn more, you can take a minor degree! sometimes your first choice wont work, and thats okay. you can choose again and see what fits.

how i chose my career was a bit different from this cuz....the ph job market is in shambles JHVASFVASKJFHASVKFJAH

i currently work as a copywriter and despite the stresses, i really enjoy my job! but this wasnt my first job (my first job fucking sucked so bad that i resigned within a month) and i didnt land it straight out of college (i was out of college for over a year before landing my current gig). i got lucky with my current job, bc when it comes to careers, it's a lot harder to have a choice.

of course, all the jobs i was looking into were writing related: content writer, SEO writer, scriptwriter, etc etc. but theres a lot of companies out there that treat writers like absolute shit, a lot of companies who wont get back to you after an interview, a lot of companies who wont take you. i didnt choose my career so much as get lucky in the job market gacha (lol), but my advice here is that like...search within the industries you think you'd, at best, enjoy working in or, at minimum, can endure being in

which is a very depressing statement, i know.....life is tough, but there are good jobs out there with ppl who wont treat u like crud. if i got lucky, i can only hope more ppl can get this kind of experience too

and like i said in the college bit, if u find urself in a job u dont vibe with and u have the privilege/stability to be able to quit it:.....just quit it

a lot of these life choices are made to be really Big by schools and teachers and everybody really, but you dont have to get it right the first time. you can start over, it's alright, youve got your whole life ahead of you. if your life allows u the privilege and freedom to choose and discover new things, dont hold yourself back

i hope this could help somehow. i realize that a lot of this is medj philosophical jHVJHSFKJSD but back when i was in college, i wish somebody told me that it's not the end of the world if i didnt get it right the first time. so thats what i'll tell you, cuz it's true :'D

and as for debate tips HAHA, okay heres where i can give some more concrete advice because i LOVE DEBATING. I LOVE PUBLIC SPEAKING AND PRESENTING OMG OMG. it's a dream come true for me, people HAVE to listen to what ive got to say, it's a huge power trip JVSKJHFVAJS

ANYWAY, DEBATE TIPS:

i am so sorry that the topic that got assign to u and ur grp isnt something u like huhu. but my overall tip for debate (and any public speaking tbh) is. fake it

like, legit, just fake it. the delivery portion of debate, to me, is basically theatre and acting HVKJHVFKJAHFAS

imagine the most confident speaker uve ever seen urself, maybe somebody so confident na nainis ka sa kaniya, and do exactly that:

get that good posture, make motions with your hands because this helps get people's attention. if eye contact makes u nervous (it makes me so nervous huhu) u can blur/unfocus ur eyes, U Do Not See It

maintain a good rhythm with your speaking too. speak with moderate loudness and emphases for the less important, and then idiin mo in the bits na gusto mo parang mic drop moment ahfjshfa (which is usually saved best for the latter portion of an argument, but good to pepper it in as well thru the whole thing with ur most important pieces of info)

tho ofc thats all only on the public speaking bit. if im remembering correctly, high school debate does also rely heavily on the research/outline stuffs u have to do prior to the debate, and for that, i have less advice huhu. im not all that great of a researcher, but as long as uve got ur reputable sources all arranged well, oks na yan!

i feel like at this point i shld tell u that in high school, medj patapon ako na estudyante, basta pumasa ako, ok na yan sakin JHVJSHFVKDSJHFKS

that being said, pls take all my advice w a grain of salt, ha! because what works for me might not work for you. everybodys got different methods of speaking, researching, choosing degrees and careers. but even if what i said doesnt match what wld work for u, i hope ur main takeaway na lang is that u can do whatever u want in whichever way works best for you

anyway, thats all ive got to say for now! i hope smthng here could be of use and that you have a great week, anon :'D

(P.S. WAAHH, THANK U FOR UR KIND WORDS ON MY LUKE COSPLAY :DDD!! i got the wig secondhand for a steal price HAHA and......yes, you are taller than me, im 5'1" JHVJSHDFVKSDJHFVDSKJHFDSKJJKHVKJH)

#asks #anon #ANG DAMI KONG SINABE HSFKJSSFGJH i hope smthng here can help tho <3

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solardick · 2 months

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So she’s the girl I’m supposed to come out of the closet to. Sorry girl. Im a queer now. Ive be fagetized. Im going to be alone to the end of dsys now. And this typing is going to continue to be only thing to talk too. Too bad its corrupted by shadow assholes. B cause im just here to be fucked and nothing else. Its the whole readon of being alive. Just being fucked whike having no participation in life.

Dorsnt matter ill be dead soon anyway. If not this year. Then its the next. Or the year after that. But, its comming soon.

I dont want to be apart of a workd tgat promotes torture to suicide as a divine thing. The workd is too fucked ip and corrupted to live in anyway.

I dont care about having a single human connection with anyone anymore.

She’s a burnt out loser. Im a burnt out loser. Whos been fucked for over the last 26 years. Hope she isnt expecting much.

So you’re going to hook me up with the one human race i have zero sexual interest in. Uh.

So human beings have body hair, for the reason of disgust. By-passing the disgust factor trigger tgat keeps moderation on sexual practices. “i wouldn’t eat out a hairy pussy. That shits disgusting!” “ i would sate a girl woth hairy legs or a beard! That shot is disgusting!” When the hornanal starts to fluctuate and activate there is little in the way to jeep the conscious didposition seperate from the instinctual.

I dont want to be apart of a world thst does nothing but lie to me everydingle day. While preaching about the war of misinfiration. And the gay catalyst war with russia.

So far so good, i honestly can’t tell if she’s playing me or not. But she wants sex. And im even less capable bow then o was before.

But, i guess she can take my slut aspects for herself. I don’t want to do that but, whatever. Like anyone cares.

Not much to say on my dearh bed but. Im done. Im beaten. I was born. Fell doemwb the stairs. End of story.

Fuess im not sleepign again either. Too bad i cant lose my job uh? Get fired for sleep deprivation. Sotty until i stop havign a vagina. I cant function.

I dont think im

Going to work anymore. Think im just going to

Stop. Dont rhink j can hold a job anymore. Alchohol and suicide. Indint have a choice. Being abused into suicide.

I almost dies again yesterday.

You come to terms with the fact your being murdered by your entire comminity.

Hahjaah im being murdered. And no one gives a shit.

A bottle of hard stuff and a noose and my problems are over.

Everytime the world puts itself over me to do

What it whats. Which has been a whole. Counting 40 years of never failing. Its never once worked out to my benefit.

Most of it is displacing me from place to place. Being beaten on. Half the time, unfairly. Being drugged. And now wrll its always been to this purpose for the last 20- years or so. Always setting me up to fall. And noone ever coming in to be on my side in anything. If it doesnt allow thrm to be over me one way or another. Even if its just conversationally. Watching ehile everyone knows thinking your an idiot. Not knowing whats comming. Ive known for almost 20 years. God, the internal one, tood me in a dream. All those years ago. As i stand here and watch you guys rape my existance. For something indont even deserve. I dotn want to be alive anymore. So that other people can feel supperior over me. Thats all life has ever been.

If my family ever cared about me they wouldnt have beaten me into suicide.

And the world is never going ti stop fucking with me. I dont have much of a choice but to kill myself do i?

Should tell ger that to. To stay away from me for her own protection. Save that they come after her for supporting me. But she’s in on it anyeay. Somi doesnt matter does it?

Born cursed by this demon. Never knowing what life is. My entire existance. I cant do it anymore.

Wonder if after this their going to beat me into

Another beligerent mess ao they can have an excuse to be me some more.

Should have fucken killed myself when i tirned 35 like i said i would.

What do you mean, the cameras in my appartment watching me every moment of everyday. Zero privacy. So it’s constant pressure. Cant really do anything.

What the childhood sex addiction i had when i was a child. That ruined my life? Killed another life, And the harmed lives of the ones i loved. I dont think i know hoe to live ithout having n addiction.

Your an alcholic whis been sober for the last 25 years? Hey, man i got a case of 24. Want a beer?

Hey you know what. Im going to leave this bottle of whisky here. While me and all my friends treat you like dog shit. And record you.

Well i coild try wuitting smoking again. Gives them one less …someword, to dose me with.

Liok at what it turned my family into. A bunch if inbred retards. Bent on demonic spychopathic, sociopathis bs. And look at what its fone to the rest of the community around me. Turned all of them into the same. Fueled by bs. Acting on bs. Running on hatred. And they all play into it like a bunch of fucken idiots. Slave to thus demon running their lives.

If this continues for much longer i

Not going to survive.

Wow. Im turninf into an asshole. Start shittinf on everyone.

Paid suspension.

What are you doing here. Get out if my van im noy done yet. No, get out im not done yet. Complaint. Fucken femmes.

After listening for 10 months of cursing and swering and throwing shit around. Sexual and racial derogatories. Yeah ok.

Everyone can treat me

Dog shit and rape my existance. Blow dhit out of proportion. Add in their own bs. But, i cant even do anything.

Oh well back to warhammer. Kill some lowlives. Still being fucked. Iust like childhood.

And if and when inmake complaints like yhat. It gets blown right out the window. Doesnt matter.

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unwellcryptid · 7 months

Text

hi. im an artist who isnt really an artist so much as a guy who happens to draw.

i also have a myriad of illnesses and conditions that fuck with my ability to do that, or to enjoy it.

ive been having a very difficult time making anything i wanna make recently. i say recently, but it wasnt that recent honestly- back in, what, 2020 or 2021, i developed a repetitive strain injury in both my arms, afflicting the muscles responsible for closing my hands and the down motion- both things you kinda need to do when you draw.

i should clarify that i didnt develop this because i was drawing excessively- i cant say ive ever drawn excessively, i dont think im capable quite honestly- but because of how i held myself at all times all the time for basically my entire life.

the RSI (abbreviated for repetitive strain injury because thats A Lot To Type) is responsible for my chronic pain. i hear some people can recover totally from an RSI, but alas i am not one of them.

i started drawing in 2016, and i had decided very strictly to draw Something every single day due to instruction from the artists i learned from, and i had largely done that.

but part of my (attempted) recovery from my RSI was not being able to draw. i knew, before it even began, that if i stopped drawing for very long, i would have an extremely hard time picking it back up.

(this had happened before, in smaller ways. if i didn't draw for a week or two, drawing was a major struggle and i enjoyed it way less, so i didnt draw as much. i almost had to force myself to draw just so i could build a pattern to enjoy it again. the RSI recovery was worse, i wouldnt be able to do anything for months, even if i wanted to.)

and as i predicted, when i stopped drawing for that long, i found it nearly impossible to pick drawing back up. this struggle has continued to this day- ive never been able to draw every day anymore- not helped by the fact the RSI never went away, so drawing can be physically painful if im not careful- but it isnt ONLY the RSI messing me up.

i realized i formed a very strained relationship to creating drawings itself.

its kind of hard to talk about, because i feel totally alone in having this problem. every artist ive ever known or even heard of has all said the same thing, that making art is part of who they are. theyve been doing it naturally, even if they havent been drawing since childhood, its still an easy and simple thing for them to do. most talk about how art got them through depressive episodes and bad parts of life, or how it helps them work through their emotions, or how its part of them recovering energy after a long day.

its none of those to me. drawing has always been a strain, a second step i take in my creativity that i work very, very hard to do. it takes energy, it causes pain, and usually it didnt help me with my emotions. that was never the point of me drawing.

i suspect the reasons why im struggling with art are complex and varied and i feel like its almost impossible to talk about with artists. they never get it, especially not professionals, especially not healthy ones.

so i guess i made a tumblr blog about it. because i wanna talk about it, and the best i can do is make my own space for it.

im not gunna post art here, but the plan is to post about art, and about how i'm handling it, about why i'm feeling this way, and how i'm doing with it day-to-day. i think that might help

#chronic pain #i dont. really wanna post this in too many tags. i kinda dont wanna be seen too much

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heybaetae · 1 year

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i don't think its cus ur shitty but probably more cause they see u have a big heart and thats def something ppl take advantage of. sometimes we just meet ppl, good or bad for us so i wouldn't put it on urself too much esp if u know you're not toxic like that. ive also been getting the short end of the stick when it comes to friends & maybe i'm projecting but thats what it feels like. its crazy how much words can hurt esp said at the wrong time, while maybe the person who said it didn't see it that way. it's how they react to u telling them it hurt u, will show you the type of person they are. the irony is i never really do express how i feel and the 1 time i did it, the person took no accountability :) they felt like they can choose when their actions/words hurt someone when thats not the case at all. maybe they didn't /intend/ to but it could still happen & thats what they couldn't get at all. question tho, u have online friends right? do u only consider them online friends or are they just friends in general? (more so talking about the ppl u know by name and talk w/ often) asking cus i known someone online for a few yrs & got super close but recently they're treating me like i'm not apart of their life (barely hear from them, leaves me hanging for days before they reply) so im kinda backing off and it doesnt seem like they care tbh. now i feel like i'm just someone they know "online"

oof yeah you’re really hitting the nail on the head about the selective accountability thing. i can’t believe how hard it is for some people to acknowledge that they might have hurt someone with their words or actions. when someone’s pride outweighs their ability to own up to their mistake and let someone be vulnerable with them about how they made them feel. how do you expect anyone to ever trust you when you can’t do that? when you’d rather someone live with a bad version of you in their head instead of apologizing and making an effort to do better?

i do have online friends. most of my friends now are online ones. like i said earlier, the pandemic really kinda messed with the real life friendships i had (which ironically started as online friendships anyway) and with growing up, people drift apart or move away. i consider some online friends much closer than others, as you do depending on how much you talk and how much you let them in. i’ve learned to be a little more careful about it though because i’ve been burned by people. i’m a lot more reserved about it these days, but my best friend of twelve years is someone i met online and we’ve only met in person once because we live in different states, but he’s practically my soulmate and we can go days or weeks without talking and nothing changes. we have excellent communication too. i’ve had online friendships that were close but have fizzled out naturally and i get how it feels when that happens, it can be confusing when you realize maybe they were more important to you than you were to them 🥲

#ask

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xxmourningdove666xx · 1 year

Note

GRABS YOU AND SHAKES YOU spill the Cyril lore

okay hi hello i dont know the exacts of what you wanna know so i will indulge abt the parts of his lore ive been most focused on rn: his relationship with dustin (this will be deepest lore type shit)

so, theres a huge trigger warning for abusive relationships past this point so whoops. ill try to keep everything vague though

so!! dustin was the second man cyril ever dated, and this was in college. they met some time their first year and cyril wouldnt necessarily say they hit it off but well- he's not the strongest when a cute guy decides he's gonna flirt with him. honestly, i think it says something abt cyril that he didnt exactly fight the dude away even though he wasnt the biggest fan of him but, well, i feel like its understandable after noting this dude was like a whole ass volcel who barely took care of himself after finding the first guy he dated's dead body dumped in an alley so- you take what you can get as a disheveled mess of a person.

anyways, i feel like i dont discuss just how shitty of a guy cyril was for a lot of their relationship. like, you can definitely sympathize with him but idk- (trying so hard to keep myself from spilling every sin ive written into this story) he was a pretty damn closed off guy to dustin and its understandable why, between the fact he was pressured into the relationship and the fact he was taught to view emotions as inherently bad, and idk- i think they were both better off never having gotten together and sure i wrote them but i also didnt if you know the Deepest deepest lore (this relationship is based on one of my own :p ((yes half my oc lore is venting)))

anyways that aside i like talking abt how cyril's disability actually effects his day to day and i just- so dustin was killed because cyril shot him yeah? i feel like it should be known that was 100% a lucky shot, this dude has shit aim 99.9% of the time and elijah absolutely mocks him relentlessly, of course its important to note that their entire dynamic when it comes to fighting though is tank x dps lmaoooo theyre silly lil guys. regardless, cyril cant see out of one of his eyes which does make a lot of shit regarding needing depth perception difficult as all hell. if he really tried he could probably overcome the whole "shit ass aim" thing but he also doesnt mind being the one with terribad aim considering elijah is a trained sniper regardless, he has the whole demonic strength thing going for him, he'll be fine.

but yeah idk this probably only caused more questions actually so uh- oops-

#my oc shit #liquorish rambles #starting to think i need an ask tag

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yesimwriting · 3 years

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hiii, this might seem weird but do u have any head cannons for when the reader is pregnant and how the Darkling would react?

a/n love this concept,, it's not weird at all!! i feel like there's so much here!! also i leave for college this month and im lowkey starting to freak out so ive been watching star wars movies for comfort 😭and now i have half a mind to write for them, especially the prequels (cough, cough,, anakin) 😭 😭 that should tell you where i am mentally

anyways lets get into the headcanons:))

- okay so like most of my headcanons, this is probably going to be all over the place bc i feel like so many different things could change how he would react. Like if the darkling x reader have been trying to get pregnant, or an unplanned pregnancy with someone he really likes, i also think whether or not the reader is a grisha affects his reaction too

- in general though, i think he'd lowkey have a breeding kink he'd def find something about the thought of you having his child really attractive bc for one thing, he wouldn't have to worry about being left alone and now he has an excuse to be a real 'protector'.

- also if youve read my other headcanons i am 100000% convinced that he has this thing where if he really likes someone he needs them to need him (let's all remember the whole 'i will strip you of everything you know and love speech until I'm your only shelter' speech he gave to Alina)

- also i kinda want to write a fic or blurb series or something that's just the darkling being super toxic in super thoughtful ways LMAO if that makes sense, like he's being super sweet but it's to make sure the reader is dependent on him

- and he def wants to be the protector to give himself some sense of assurance bc he's so desperate to not be alone anymore and bc the reader is the only person he has/loves, he wants to feel in control and like he's the less attached one

- okay,, let's get back to the pregnancy thing, anyways, your pregnancy is most definitely activating all of those senses and this was meant to be a sub plot but it kind of became it's own thing lol

- so lets get to the actual pregnancy reaction

if you two have been trying to get pregnant:

- when you tell him, he kind of like, pauses bc it's not every day that he gets surprised so it takes him a moment to register that he's experiencing shock lol, so he tenses and goes islent

- and then after he realizes that he's surprised and that it's bc of a good thing, he manages to relax

- meanwhile you're kind of freaking out bc he got so quiet?? you start to wonder if he's regretting ever wanting a child with you? and you're like two seconds away from a downspiral and then he...

- he touches your cheek and looks at you in a way you've never seen him look at anyone,, not even you

- the look is so warm and strong and full of fierce admiration that you feel foolish for ever thinking he didn't want this. And then he says something about how you're carrying his child and how he didn't realize he could adore you more and then he kisses you and it's all :)) warm:)

- he doesn't want anyone to know that he's expecting a child as long as possible bc of how many enemies he has and how he has to worry about you enough when people just know that you're his 'lover' (a title you never really liked, but one he tells you is necessary to make sure no one realizes the extent of his attachment)

- if you really want to tell your mother or someone of that relation, he won't be mad about it, but he just needs to know

- Genya is the only exception bc the darkling basically instructs her to look out for you,, but when you tell her she's like oh?? you guys just found out?

- miss girl most definitely noticed like a day and a half ago after you cried bc she couldn't find you ice cream the other night 😭and she just assumed you knew but weren't ready to tell anyone

- okay so this what i think is his most problematic expecting father trait would be. So i just ranted about how important secrecy would be to him but he's also the most overprotective person in the entire world,, like he was bad before but once he knows your with child?? yeah, if a man asks you about the weather, he's done for

- he's next to you in a second, ordering either you or the man to do some asinine task

- if you get mad about this (rightfully so) or even just point out how nothing is wrong and you having a casual conversation with a man who isn't even looking at you sexually won't hurt you or the baby, he'll lose rationality

- it depends on how much you push, but it'd be super easy to make him super possessive bc like i said, being bonded by a child has made him so much more intense (and he was pretty intense before)

- and if you push too much he'll lowkey forget about how cautious he's trying to be with you and pin you against the nearest wall and say something along the lines of 'are you already forgetting you're mine? that i own you, body and soul--is my child growing in you not enough of a reminder? because i'll give you another one if you need it.' (AH--i want to write a whole fic based on this line)

- also if the reader is grisha, especially if she's a sun summoner/special grisha like him, he def talks about the power that they've created and how proud he already is and how he can't wait to train together and be the most powerful family in the world

- not everything is perfectly happy though, bc now he feels more pressure to complete his plan and establish the world he wants his child to be born into

- so sometimes when he's working extra hard or is extra aggressive for no reason, you have to work at calming him down and reminding him that the best thing he can do for his child is be there for them (and the child's mother,, lol)

- sometimes he'll respond by actually listening to you and trying to make up for his absence or his aggression by being extra soft until you finally forgive him

- you never last that long, it's hard to be mad at him when he's coddling you and whispering such sweet things about he's so happy to have you and your future child

- overall, his first reaction is to swell with emotion, which he isn't used to, and so he becomes super protective but also extra lovey and you know that his overreactions are just him trying to show that he cares about you and your future child more than anything

If the pregnancy was unplanned:

- the initial reaction is pretty similar, only his state of shock lasts longer

- like i said at the beginning, he's not used to being surprised and an accidental pregnancy is so much more surprising than a planned pregnancy

- this really sucks for you bc he's not exactly known for his patience so you just kinda sit there and genuinely wonder if you're going to be a single mom or if you're going to want to deletus the fetus or something

- but then he takes a step towards you and you see how he's looking at you and you just know that that fierceness has to mean something good

- and at this point you're scared and nervous and feel so alone so tears are pricking at your eyes,, so he wipes his thumb across your cheek to wipe away tears you won't let spill

- he then whispers something really sweet about how you two are now together forever, as you should be

- it's really relieving bc you felt so alone and uncertain and he's such a smooth speaker that by the end of the night, you feel like this is a good thing

- if youre still hesitant/weighing your options, he's not above trying to (gently) manipulate you into thinking that what he wants may be the only way

- by that,, i don't mean outright tricking you bc he means everything he says, but he def is pushing the keeping the baby agenda,, especially if you're a grisha,, and even more so if you're a grisha with similar power levels to him

- he won't get angry at first bc he's not so out of touch that he's unaware of how shocking a pregnancy is to a woman who wasn't planning one,, but his patience is limited and if you fight it too much he will get mad and yell

- but unless you really don't want to have a child, it won't get to that bc he makes the idea of having a baby with him sound so perfect?? like you genuinely don't understand how he did that

- he chases away all of your worries and assures you that youre not alone and that even though it isn't planned he wouldn't rather anyone else carry his child

- the initial conversation would probably end in you two sleeping together again bc he finds the fact that you're carrying his child so attractive and bc being aware of the pregnancy makes him more possessive

- it's also a good way to fight any of your doubts

- speaking of being possessive though,, i feel like he could be a little more possessive/protective of a reader who didn't plan on getting pregnant bc your relationship has been less established

- no one sees you as anything to him and he doesn't want to start rumors now bc it's important to him that his enemies don't find out about you or his future child so he doesn't want that to change

- but he almost forgets about all of those reasons each time he sees a man get a little too close,, especially if that guy is flirty

- it takes all of his will power to not just go 'she's mine and if i wasn't worried about the stress that witnessing something violent would cause our unborn child, you'd be dead already, but if you're not gone by the time i turn around, i'll forget about caution'

- lots of close calls ngl!! at one point youre like 'if it bothers you so much, maybe you should tell someone??' and he's like 'no,, maybe,, shut up' and then you raise one eyebrow and he just closes his mouth and is like 'i mean,, i'll kiss you to shut you up, haha--dont be mad'

- youre the one that's pregnant but sometimes you think he might be the one experiencing the mood swings i swear 😭

- so your little theory gets tested,, he's not the type to gossip with his besties and be like 'guess who's officially my girlfriend, i knocked her up but it's not like it sounds--'

- so he's like ig you can tell genya

- once again genya is like ?? yall thought you were keeping that secret? couldn't be me

- but having it a little out in the open helps ease him just enough that youre actually capable of consoling him when he becomes jealous

- still though,, he's quick to go into possessive/pregnancy kink sex

- youre most def not mad about it,, unless pregnancy has you particularly sore

- he's normally pretty understanding about that and def doesn't mind pulling his weight in the bedroom when he needs

- honestly he'd be really good at being a source of calmness at the beginning, but as time goes on he becomes more and more worried about finishing his plans bc he didn't expect to have a child right now

- so he'd be more adamant about working/becoming more tense and would be more difficult to console if it was an accidental pregnancy

- when you call him out on it--or on anything while your pregnant--it's frustrating for you both bc the number one thing everyone knows is stress is bad for baby, so he's trying to keep you calm without backing down

- these argument always end with one of you clinging to the other,, and then the more angrier of the two just like shuts up, rolls their eyes, and lets go of the argument...at least for now

- the main difference between an accidental and intentional pregnancy would probably be how you perceive him,, bc an intentional pregnancy means youve talked about things but since you havent talked about anything your shocked about how soft he becomes ??

#headcanons #headcanon #darkling x reader #the darkling x reader #the darking x you #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x you #general kirigan imagine #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #aleksander morovoza x reader #aleksander morozova imagine

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ventiskies · 4 years

Text

when he accidentally injures you | Xiao, Albedo, Bennett

a/n: hello anon!! im doing well, thank you!! hope you are too !! thank you for giving me the chance to add characters HHHH ive been DYING to write for Xiao, Albedo and Benny so i took the opportunity to! hope you like it !! also,,, this is probably my longest post !! i loved writing this <3

pairing: Xiao x gn! reader, Albedo x gn! reader Bennett x gn! reader

warnings: vague mentions of injury and blood

Xiao

★Xiao and you had been on a stroll, something you casually did together whenever Xiao was in a good mood. the adeptus wasn’t one to get out of the confines of Wangshuu Inn, so every time he does, you cherish it and spend it as if it was your last

★but this particular stroll didn’t go as planned, at all

★the two of you had left Wangshuu Inn in the morning, when the weather had seemed as if it would be sunny the whole morning, but it had betrayed you the moment you had set foot in Minlin, the skies had loomed with darkness and occasional rumbles of thunder

★Xiao could have easily teleported the two of you together, but a sudden attack with a ruin hunter had caused him to get distracted

★he could easily defeat the creation with a simple use of his elemental burst, but you were in the vicinity and he didn’t want you getting injured, despite the chances of hitting you were low, he wasn’t going to take the chance

★he had strictly told you to stay back and out of sight, making use of the terrain to jump and strike at the core with his polearm whenever the hunter was aiming to him, but he should have known you were stubborn

★the moment you had ran into the fight, arrow pointing to the ruin hunter, the said war machine had immediately turned towards you, all four of its arms aiming missiles towards you

★Xiao had been too slow, and when he had realized it was aiming towards you, you had already been sent back flying after the hit

★your name fell on his lips, his eyes widening in anger when he had seen what the creature had done, and without any hesitance Xiao summons his elemental burst and sends the creature falling to pieces

★“y/n,” Xiao mutters, worried that he would be met with the sight of you dead, “y/n, where are you?”

★you gave a weak groan, unable to raise your head after hitting it on the sharp rocks. Xiao made his way towards you, and the rain started pouting

★Xiao knelt down and cradled your head gently, seeing the gash on your head. you were most likely suffering from a concussion as well from the way you were unable to look at him in the eye, and your hands grabbing your forehead as if it had exploded

★his eyes showing evident worry, and this was the first time he had felt so scared

★he knew he was powerful, and he was beginning to regret even taking you out of the safety of the Inn. this shouldn't have happened, he was with you because he wanted to protect you,

★and here he was being the cause of your injury

★“y/n, can you hear me?” he asked, and when you hissed the moment he placed a gentle hand on your head, he curses lightly, unable to keep himself calm as he always had anymore, “hold on,”

★Xiao had lived for years and had suffered watching deaths and injuries of the people he had been close with since he had became the adeptus of Liyue, but for once, he had felt a different type of hurt when you had been injured this time

★because this was his fault; what if it had happened again?

★he had teleported the two of you back to Wangshuu Inn, and had asked Verr Goldet to help you just because he was afraid of hurting you further

★and she knew more than to question what happened, especially after Xiao had told her with the weakest voice she has ever heard him use, and pleading eyes to take care of you.

★when you had healed completely, you noticed Xiao had distanced himself from you more than when you had both met the first time, and it had worried you to no end

★it had came to a point where he would disappear whenever you tried to search for him at the balcony, and you were getting upset that he was running away from you because of the accident that was caused by your stubbornness; and the fact that you knew Xiao blamed himself had only made you more guilty

★”Xiao,” you gently said, walking outside with a bowl of his favorite almond tofu, “I miss you,”

★he had to contain himself to avoid disappearing on you again after he heard the words. Xiao wasn’t much of an emotional person, but the memories from the accident had left him afraid of getting close to you again, in fear that he would hurt you once more

★but when he had met your glossy eyes and saw the pained expression you held, he knew that it was only going to be worse is he had avoided you

★”y/n-” Xiao started, but you had only dropped the almond tofu and ran into his arms, hugging him tight as if you were afraid to let him go

★and (with reluctance), Xiao had hugged you back, twice as hard

★it would take time for him to get back to his usual self and trust himself to go out and adventure with you again, but for him, you would wait your lifetime.

Albedo

★An experiment going wrong was a part of alchemy. It was something Albedo would expect to happen fifty percent of the time he conducts something for the first time

★He has gotten a handful of injuries from it that he had sometimes forgotten that people outside of the realm of alchemy wouldn't know what it would be like to expect a burn or scars after the first test

★So of course, sometimes even the smartest people could be careless

★Albedo had brought you to his lab in Dragonspine, claiming that he had found a rare plant and wanted to see if it was able to withstand heat

★Putting it in a flask, he had placed it on a test tube holder and your curious eyes had caught sight of the glowing pink tube

★“What’s this?” you stepped closer to inspect the glowing flask, and Albedo wordlessly looks at you with a fond smile. your curious gaze at his work had always made him feel happy; you truly were endearing

★Albedo turns on the burner, and the moment the fire had hit the flask, the substance had instantly exploded, causing you to recoil back and grab at your face when the substance had burned your face

★instantly, Albedo had abandoned his failed test and attended to you, trying to pry your hands away from your face

★“My love, I’m so sorry,” he says gently, trying to see the damage that the explosion has gave you, “please look at me,”

★you felt tears well in your eyes, the burns on your cheeks combining with the coldness of the snow stinging your face

★when Albedo had successfully pried your hands away , he grabbed them gently and looked at you, “we- we need to see the deaconess,” he mutters to himself, feeling his heart ache seeing you holding back tears, never in his life had he regretted conducting an experiment so badly;

★he had wished he was able to take the pain away from you, he absolutely despised seeing you so hurt

★after you had healed, Albedo would make a rule that you weren’t ever allowed in the premises of his laboratory ever again, and that you were banned from joining him whenever he was conducting experiments

★it had hurt you when Albedo had adamantly decided on it, but you knew that it would only hurt him more if you tried to fight him about it

★he was still blaming himself for the incident; despite him knowing that errors were completely common in alchemy

★his greatest fear was hurting you, and if he was given a choice, he would rather have you far away as possible from anything that could lead to potential harm

★(and that especially meant that when the time comes and he loses control and destroys Mond, he hopes you would be far away from him as possible, too)

Bennett

★Bennett knew he was bad luck, he knew that was mostly the reason there wasn't anyone on his team. no one wanted to get hurt and gain nothing on an adventure. no one wanted to bring a bunch of medical supplies for when an accident that was bound to happen, happens

★no one but you

★you were the only member in Bennett’s team; you were a duo. you didn’t wield a vision, but that didn't make Bennett think of you any less, in fact, he thought you were the bravest person ever for being just a feet away from him outside of Mond, and now you were a team member of his

★injuries were common for you. there would always be some sort of scratch or bleeding whenever you went out on an adventure with the pyro vision holder. if there wasn’t a monster encounter, the two of you would accidentally trip and fall into a lake

★but when the latter happens, Bennett would have a fire for the two of you, and settle in an empty (at least, you hope was) hilichurl camp nearby to warm up in

★it was the norm now, and despite Bennett wanting you to just choose another team because he couldn't handle seeing you in pain from his luck, you had always reassured him that the unexpected turns of events because of his luck was just what you had loved about adventure, and you always trusted him to take care of you whenever something like that happened

★but of course, it was only a matter of time until it was Bennett himself who had hurt you

★you were both fighting a cryo abyss mage, the bastard’s protective shield already broken by Bennett’s elemental skill, causing the creature to start crawling on the ground pathetically

★you were sure its health had already decreased a significant amount that one slice could kill it off instantly, and you had wanted to give the final blow

★but Benny seemed to have a different idea

★the moment Bennett had saw you coming, it had been too late for him to stop, because the same moment you had ran towards the abyss mage, he had raised his sword and sliced the creature hard to the point that his sword had accidentally sliced your stomach as well

★thankfully, your clothes were thick enough that the cut hadn’t been deep enough to get stitches, but it still hurt so badly that you had fallen to the floor, clutching your stomach

★“y/n, what happened?!” he asked, too worried to remember that it had been him who did it, “are you okay?!- wait, no, that was a stupid question, let me see,”

★Bennett was an excellent team leader, but sometimes, he could be a little oblivious

★he gently lays you on his lap, taking out supplies from his belt. he had saw a glimpse of red, so he takes out towels to wipe the blood

★he had gently asked if he could lift your shirt, and when you had weakly nodded, he assessed the damage

★and that was when he had saw the burns by your cut

★burns. the abyss mage was a cryo one, and there wasn't any source of fire where you were but him

★Bennett felt his breath hitch, hands holding the towel clenching in fear. what had he done?

★“no, no, no,” he says in slight panic; this was exactly what he was afraid would happen, “no, no, y/n I’m so sorry. I was supposed to protect you,” his voice broke, gently pressing the towel on your wound to soak up the blood, and when he heard you hiss in pain, he felt tears well in his eyes, “I’m so sorry...”

★he knew the cut wasn’t deep, and you were going to be okay, but the mere thought that the fact you couldn't move and were in pain was because of his doing had caused Bennett to be unable to focus

★you were taken to Barbara immediately, Bennett carrying you bridal style the whole way back (he had been silent, while you had tried to start a conversation with lighthearted banter with him, he had only given you a half hearted laugh before focusing on his journey back) and was healed with a simple swish of the deaconess’ hands

★but afterwards, Bennett had started to spend less time outside of Mondstadt, saying that he had preferred to read at the library with you, and that was extremely unlike of him

★you knew it was because he was blaming himself for what had happened, so you had to let him know that you were fine, and that you knew that it was bound to happen anyways

★It would take a lot of reassurance for Benny to agree to even step a foot outside again, but in the end, it would be worth it to see his adventurer spirit once more

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1-800-seo · 3 years

Text

1-800-SEO presents: — Where Is My Mind?

genre: dystopia/slight angst/escapism

pairing: Johnny Suh/Gender Neutral Reader

warnings: IV’s/needles, intravenous use of narcotics, bad coping mechanisms, alcohol use, depictions/descriptions of poverty to a degree, implied sexual activity, dreams

word count: 2506 words

in affiliation with: @127-mile ‘s

drive in fic collaboration

summary: Based in a future where your wildest dreams can be lived in for a few hours through intravenous methods, vices and virtues blur. Scraping by is all you can do, and escapism is all you live for. Maybe that will change when you meet him. (Loosely based on Inception.)

The familiar haze of mental fog clouds your mind, it coats the edges of your thoughts like a viscous syrup. You find yourself in a wheat field, the golden crops stretching for as far as the eye can see ahead of you. The swirling breeze passes over your hands and you feel it tickle, a sensation you’ve not felt in a long time. After taking a crisp piece of the surrounding plants into your hands, you feel each and every texture it offers with a fingertip. It’s not like you’ve ever touched real wheat before, you want to imprint it to memory. With the piece of crop still in your dominant hand, you turn your head, body following its arc too, and your eyes meet a cottage. The building just exudes a comforting energy, it's homely even when your real home is nothing alike. The trees that are positioned off to the side of the cottage provide the right amount of shade, one side of the house has full direct sunlight and the other is gently shaded, but in a comforting way. You drop the wheat and make your way over to the cottage. As you make your way up to the front door, following the perfectly placed path, you take in the smell of the decorative flowers that adorn the surrounding gardens. The smell of real flowers is something you’re not used to. Finally upon reaching the door, you outstretch your hand to grasp the door handle. The moment your skin makes contact with the sun-heated metal, a blinding hot white shoots across your vision, and pulls you out.

Waking up is never easy, but it’s not like you’re not used to it. The moment you open your eyes you are met with the same dingy apartment as almost every other wake up. Your arms feel weak from lack of circulation as you reach across to pull out your IV. It doesn’t sting, you’ve done this so many times, it’d be surprising if it did. As your eyes adjust to the light you start to make out the time, it’s displayed on the heads up view of your plexi-wall, and reads 11:36PM. Stars, it’d been 7 hours since you last ate, and your body is definitely letting you know as it starts to wake up from its lulled state. You shift your wobbly legs away from the crusty office chair you were sitting on and begin to make your way over to the food dispensary. You hold your palm over the sensor as a silver sachet slides out and into your palm. You make quick work of depositing its contents into a bowl and mixing it with hot water, your hunger spurring you to be swifter.

Before you know it, all of the food has been devoured, your stomach full, and the night is ready to be conquered. You have no desire to leave the flat, nothing calling you besides money to leave the (lack of) comfort of your home. But of course, money always beats out desire, and so you hastily put on your shoes and proofed jacket, grab your safety umbrella and backpack, and leave. Things had to be paid for, and your credits were seriously running low, if you wanted to continue with your expensive hobby, it meant scrounging. You’re not dumb, you knew that daydreaming wasn’t a cheap, safe, respectable, or even remotely healthy hobby to have, but at this point it was escapism, freedom from pain, and so you’d do anything for that sweet peace.

Once you’re at street level, you put up your umbrella. At this point it’s better to be safe than sorry, the acid rain warning that you saw on your dash ringing out in your memory. It never used to be like this, acid rain was once unheard of, but in the last ten years pollution came to the point that even the water cycle couldn’t be trusted. That’s the joys of living in urban scum, you think to yourself. Your ears register the faint sounds of sizzling rain droplets on your umbrella and you're grateful for it now. Your pace quickens, and after a blur of around 20 minutes walk, you arrive at your workplace.

Workplace was definitely too light of a word to call the building that stands before you. The imposing structure juts out into the dark with brightly coloured lights on its each corner, signalling its presence, as if it was easy to miss without the lights. The commonplace sound of thumping bass echoes about the street for meters, and it only gets louder as you walk up the stairs and into the building. A sign reading ‘Sondaero LivingSpaces’ greets you, but you know full well the people here are barely living. Oh no, this type of place is home to some of the most prolific daydreamers; well, the most prolific for the underground scene. You step through a set of large doors and out into the main courtyard. It’s an indoor park, filled with neon bioluminescent plants, and jarringly placed speakers. If this was any other establishment, the sea of ravers surrounded by people daydreaming on cot beds would be jarring to you, but you’re so used to it that you couldn’t care less; or more so, you’re plainly desensitised to it.

You find your way out onto the dancefloor and surround yourself with people - the more people the better, it just makes your job easier. Safely hidden in the palm of your hand is a biometric chip you crafted yourself. Implants are a little drastic in your opinion, especially when cosmetic, but this was a necessary thing to you considering it earnt you money. The function of the chip worked like this: every person is assigned biometric numerical values by the government of their country, this is to make controlling their finances easier without having a physical device like a debit card or a mobile phone. Instead each user is assigned these numerical values based on their facial bone structure, and the chip's job was to scan this using minute sensors. All you had to do was simply wave your hand in the direct vicinity of their face, and await results - those results being the chip draining their bank account of credit and depositing it into yours. The waving part is complicated in normal use, but when at a club, where wild dancing is the norm, it makes hand movements so much less conspicuous. As you imagine the small amounts of money gradually making its way into your account a man approaches you to your side.

The guy has long-ish dark brown hair, with eyes of the same colour and a tall stature. He begins dancing near you, slowly moving closer and closer towards your vicinity. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to this man, he was objectively good looking, and the smirk he was wearing on his face was hard to ignore. Before you know it, he’s leaning in your ear and shout-whispering: “hey, do you wanna get a drink with me, angel?” The confidence in him to skip all normal greetings is astounding to you, but in some ways that makes him even more attractive to you, so you whisper-shout back “yeah!” and lead him over to the bar by the elbow.

After you have a few drinks in you, dancing becomes thoughtless, and swaying and grinding on the nameless man is even easier. “Yo, what’s your name?” You ask over the pulsing beat. His response is a finger trailing up your spine with the words ‘Johnny’ leaving his lips. Maybe those disquieting thoughts aren’t only silenced by daydreaming, maybe this could be another outlet. That thought curls in your mind, the wispy tendrils of a coherent thought fading like a misty night.

A few more drinks in your systems leads you to going home with the man, but your memories fade away as the night (or should you say early morning?) carries on. It passes by in a blur and the next thing you know you’re being startled awake by a cat sitting on your chest, with an unearthly headache.

Once you finally manage to extricate yourself from the cat’s grasps, you sit up and immediately notice the sleeping form of Johnny next to you on the tatami, his chest rising and falling with each breath. As quietly as you can, you tiptoe up off the tatami floor, acknowledge the ache throughout your entire body and move towards his kitchenette for a glass of water. Unbeknownst to you, Johnny apparently has a rudely noisy water purifying outlet attached to his faucet, and it decides to make itself known the moment you hover your palm over the on sensor. Johnny quickly stirs awake at the noise, and he sleepily opens his eyes in your direction.

“Wha-what’s going on?” He asks, squinting as his dark eyes adjust to the light. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was just trying to get some water.” You respond, tottering back over to the tatami, glass of water in hand. “Um, I’m sorry, I don’t really remember much of last night, did we uh- what did we do?” You’re aware your question was haphazard, but the incessant hangover looming in your head has your thoughts less than clear.

“If you are wondering if we had sex, the answer is yes, but the only thing I remember is waking up covered in… unsavoury stuff...so that certainly was a way of knowing how. I also know that apparently at some part of the night we decided to dream ‘cause I had to tidy up the gear earlier, but to put any worries at bay, I’m clean and vaccinated so...yeah.” He finishes the end of his sentence, trailing off. Well, at least the mystery man is somewhat of a gentleman, and he’s not gonna give you anything nasty which is always a good thing. You realise his late night cleaning must’ve turned to yourself at some point considering you are somewhat dressed and clean, but you can’t find it in you to care, you’d come to this shameful point so what did a bit of aftercare matter.

“Oh ok, and thanks for letting me know. I’m clean and fully vaccinated too.” You respond, unsure how to act around him. Perhaps he feels your apprehension, and in answer he pats a spot on the tatami next to him, just away from his cat too. You make your way over to the spot, feet padding on the floor as you go. “Your cat’s cute, they decided to sit on my chest this morning. Despite knocking the breath out of me, they’re pretty charming.” Johnny’s eyes widen at this knowledge before throwing his head back and letting out a hearty laugh. It’s somewhat comforting to hear such a genuine laugh; it takes your mind off the world of insincerity around you.

“I apologise for Ten, he gets cuddly in the mornings.” Johnny picks up his cat to give you more space, Ten’s legs sprawling wide in the air before being put down to safety.

There’s something so warm and familiar about Johnny’s presence, it has you naturally leaning into him, and his arm comes to rest around your shoulders as your head gently leans on his chest. The feeling is just so warm and despite knowing you don’t know him well, it almost feels like you do. It feels like a lover long lost, and now he has returned a warm feeling spreads throughout your chest. It’s almost inexplicable, and if you were to try to justify it to anyone other than yourself, a wave of embarrassment would certainly wash over you.

Looking down at you, he meets your eyes, and they seem somewhat fond; not what you were expecting to see. “Do you fancy dreamin’?” He asks, still maintaining eye contact? “Hmm, sure, hopefully I’ll remember it this time.” You reply with a smile and he reciprocates.

Before you even open your eyes you’re met with the sensation of skin on skin. Beneath your fingertips you feel, what you suppose is a firm chest, and when you open your eyes your suspicions are confirmed. Your hands are resting on Johnny’s taut chest, and of course this is what an unscripted dream with the two of you looks like. You feel that you are naked too, and his hands rest gently around your waist, a relaxing gentle weight reassuring you he’s still there. You meet each other’s eyes and the tension is palpable in the air. He dips his head down and kisses you, lips melting together with ease. His hands move from their placing and trail down to cup the small of your back, your bodies meeting infinitely closer.

The two of you move together like jigsaw pieces slotting into place, there’s no conscious thoughts, only the two of you existing in this dream space. Part of you can feel Johnny’s thoughts swirling as you share the hazy unstructured scape. There’s hints of lust mixed with a sleepy mindset, probably left over from waking up moments ago in the real world. He’s set on being a lazy lover right now, selfishly devouring you with no haste in any of his actions, just taking these moments for himself. He can feel your thoughts just as much as you can feel his, he knows you’re feeling relaxed with him and he’s pleased at that, he knows how good you feel right now and he’s proud. He wants to use all of this time to make you feel good. You’re both in agreement that losing yourself in each other is ever so easy, and so you both fall into the other's grasps.

The second time you wake up, Ten is resting on your feet, warming them from the slight chill of the room. Johnny had roused quicker than you, and he’d already removed the IV from your arm. You spot him winding up the fluid bags and putting them into the insulated case they reside in. “How are you feeling?” He asks whilst disposing of the needles in the marked sharps box. “Good, lighter than usual. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, albeit mostly imaginary.”

The floaty feeling remains in the forefront of your consciousness. Despite feeling lighter, less burdened, you’re aware that you need to change your vices. Constantly daydreaming, forming relationships through them, isn’t healthy. Continuous escapism isn’t a way to live; numbing yourself over and over again won’t solve anything. With a new fervor to gain meaning in your life, you rise from your place on the tatami. “What are your plans for today, John?” You ask, perhaps vices and meaning aren’t that different from each other.

long time no see! this is my penultimate fic :(( hopefully u guys enjoyed it! I know it’s not like my usual style and is somewhat offbeat but I hope it makes sense hehe <3

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flowerwrites06 · 4 years

Text

break my mind’s eye X — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

The entire house descended into an ominous silence. Yoongi could hear murmurs coming from through the door where Saito and Belle were still conversing. No one could really hear what they were talking about. He had a few ideas however. Taehyung sat down at the small dining table while Jungkook had his back faced to everyone, leaning over the study table.

Time was running out. In only a few minutes those doors were going to burst open and Yoongi knew he had to keep his heart hardened. Exposing and arresting Jungkook was not just an act of heroism but it broke so many manipulative ties. So many dens used vulnerable people as bait, Taehyung being one of those victims. The countless amounts of people who died or were severely damaged while Jungkook made money off of that suffering.

Those thoughts provided him with a new boost of determination. He was doing this for good. It was a heartless act for a broken hearted man but it was the right thing.

Glancing over at Taehyung, Yoongi tried to give him an apologetic look knowing this was not the right time to be adding more stress. But they both knew this was for their freedom.

Heat erupted like a volcano from his toes right up to his head. Hands trembling and eyes burning as Yoongi reached into his holster, carefully hearing the rustling outside of the house.

Heartbeat pounded in his ears muffling all sound for a moment but his chest felt the thud.

The door burst open as a small crowd of police officers marched in almost like an army of cockroaches except more organized. Dark uniforms contrasting with the soft warm tones of the house design.

One of the officers pointed a gun at Taehyung making him stand up from the chair and raise his arms in defense.

“Stand down, he’s not the one we want. Niether are the two women inside the bedroom.” Yoongi ordered simply glancing over his shoulder as he pulled the gun out of the holster. He watched Jungkooks’ movements carefully but the younger male stayed still. Almost like a statue of sorts. Even Yoongi grew convinced that the world finally froze for a moment to give them time to breathe except he could only hold his right now.

Then Jungkook turned his body around, reddened gaze and an unreadable expression adorned on his broken features. Eyes merely glanced at the officers as if he already expected their presence…or was just too heartbroken to really care. Finally that same eerie gaze fixated on Yoongi. “Suppose I should’ve guessed it. No medical apprentice would know how to work a gun that well.” He smiled sadly, eyes still a little glossy.

“Jeon Jungkook…” Yoongi sighed, tightening his grip on the gun and pretending he was dreaming for a moment to make it easier not to shake. “You’re under arrest. Don’t make this harder on yourself and just come with us.”

“I’ll go.” Jungkook nodded a lot longer than Yoongi was comfortable with.

He could recognize that silence from far too many arrests already. Not a single person went so willingly, even the innocent ones.

Before anyone was prepared, Jungkook grabbed the gun from the table and shot the guard next to the older male.

Almost like machines all the standing officers raised their guns while injured officer groaned, bleeding on the floor.

“No! Stand down!” Yoongi ordered in more of a growl now ensuring no shots were fired from the police officers to prevent casualties. Especially since Taehyung was still standing there, breathing heavily. Raising his own gun at the Jungkook, both men now had their weapons pointed at each other.

None of them made a move for the trigger nor were they determined on lowering their guns either.

Belle and Saito jumped at the sound of a gunshot from the other side. The younger womans’ memory now jolting to what was to be done today, she pushed herself off the bed. Pain shot through her entire lower body as she moved her legs to the side and got to her feet. Belle leaned onto the wall with a light groan.

Saito immediately held onto her arms to keep her from moving any further. “You need to stay here if there’s danger happening.”

“No—” She shook his head, gently patting her hand. “He’s not going to listen. I need to talk to him.”

“If someone pulls the trigger accidentally—”

“Then I’ll get shot.” Belle replied simply, walking past the woman trying to be as kind as possible. There wasn’t really anything else that was going to surprise her anymore. If death was the next option for her continued torture then it didn’t look too bad.

She opened the door harshly causing a gust of wind and dust to flow through her hair and dress. Belle’s heart dropped when she saw Jungkook and Yoongi pointing a gun to each other. She hated not knowing which side scared her most. Either way her trembling feet moved forward.

If both Yoongi and Jungkook were stubborn before, it quickly faded to a numbing feeling when they saw Belle stand smack damn in the middle of them.

Yoongis’ eyes widened seeing his gun pointed right at her back and Jungkook lost all his anger for a moment seeing the end of his weapon aimed at his wifes’ forehead.

“Belle, what’re you doing?” Jungkook asked in a breathy voice, immediately putting his gun down as Yoongi did too not wanting to have that view ever again.

“Turn yourself in.” Belles’ lips quivered but she stood her ground, not wanting to succumb to the pain anymore even though it felt so easy to do so now.

Jungkooks’ mouth moved in a subtle manner attempting to form words, eyes momentarily glancing over at Saito who stood at the door before looking back at Belle. “Yoongi betrayed us—” He leaned in as if to try and reason with the woman in an attempt of a private conversation.

“You—” Belle corrected. “He betrayed you. Not us.” Her features twisted welcoming another brewing sob as more tears gathering at her stinging eyes. “He’s helping me.”

Jungkooks’ expression deflated. A disquiet silence plunged into the warm room. “No…n-no you’re just tired, you’re saying things.” He forced out a chuckle but it quickly faded into a confused frown. “Just go back to the bedroom.” He reached out to hold onto her arms.

Belle pushed his arms away and shook her head. “It’s over, Jungkook.” She gulped down the lump in her throat. “Please let it be over. I don’t want to do this anymore.” Tears overflooded and streamed down her cheeks, voice crackling at every word. “It hurts too much now, I tried—” She gasped lightly. “I really tried to be good for you but it has to end. Let it end.”

It didn’t take a mind reader to see Jungkooks’ whole world crash and shatter right in front of eyes when his lips parted and he lost control of his tears again. As his body shook and his heart clenched until it grew ten times smaller, the grip on his gun loosened. Metal clanged onto wood making Belle jump a little.

Yoongi gestured over to four officers making them immediately rush over to where Jungkook backed away and grab him by the arms.

Belle stood frozen as she watched her husband being dragged away out of the house. Letting out a drawling breath, the girl had to stop for a moment to ensure this wasn’t some kind of sick dream. Looking over her shoulder she saw Taehyung slowly walking towards her.

Immediately the older male engulfed his sister into a warm hug.

As if another dam broke down when Belle let out a series of sobs, a strange mixture of hurt and that little tingle of relief that she so longed for. It wasn’t fake anymore. Her sobs muffled a little into his shoulder. For a few seconds the woman could take a breath and quite happily cry her suppressed pain out without the pressure of smiling again.

She was hurt, broken and deeply damaged. But she survived. That was all that mattered in this moment of heartwarming vulnerability where a brother and sister could finally walk towards freedom.

A week almost flew by without Belle fully realizing her world changed overnight. The sun shone a bright golden high in the sky as she sat in one of the biggest law firms in the city where divorce papers were being filed and signed. Cool air brushed through her grey bodycon dress, the extra swell on her belly still poking out when she sat but it definitely dialed down significantly after all the check-ups and treatments.

Saito seemed to lose her smile for the past few days finding out the unfair game her biggest customer had been playing with none other than own protégé. A part of her felt guilt settle in her upset stomach letting all this happen under her nose without, even for a minute, checking if everything was okay.

Once Belle’s signature etched onto the paper, the papers were enveloped and made to be sent to the prison where Jungkook was held. Apparently the now convicted drug lord specifically asked to have a private cell as far away as possible from the city.

No pleas for bail. Nothing. Just quiet acceptance of the fate given to him.

Standing up from the chair after bidding farewell to the legal team, Saito guided Belle out of the office to the elevator.

With a pleasant ding, the doors slid open to reveal that the elevator was empty and the two women walked inside in silence.

As the doors closed and Belle felt a lift in her stomach as it descended down, she heard Saitos’ voice break the silence.

“I’m sorry, Belle.” Saito murmured not facing her but looking at the blurry reflection of her figure against the doors. “I should’ve known something was wrong from the beginning. Maybe—maybe none of this would’ve happened.”

Belle turned her head to face the older woman immediately shaking her head. “I’m the one who accepted the deal. And I’d do it again if I had to.” She spoke with any confidence mustered in the past few days.

All the daily interrogations really built a wall of confidence over her. Investigators really liked asking questions about the impregnation ritual and miscarriage on how it was not technically Jungkooks’ fault she said yes to him.

Even Namjoon, Yoongis partner, in all his ability to be patient, grew frustrated at the inappropriate and misogynistic questions thrown at her which really did not bring them closer to thickening Jungkooks’ case.

Both officers were struggling to find a decent number of years fit for Jungkooks’ sentence. That would only work if the investigators were not trying so hard to make Belle look like the real personification of Lady Macbeth, using her wit and beauty to ‘trick’ Jungkook in to committing the crimes he did.

Eventually that mindset was debunked considering how long Jungkook and his whole family had reigned over the city.

Out the elevator, Belles’ thoughts seemed to come to life when the two women were welcomed by two familiar officers at the lobby.

Namjoon and Yoongi stood waiting, with coffees in hand and badges flashing from their belts looking utterly out of place in an area infested by people wearing suits.

To her though, the familiar look brought a smile across her face.

“Can I say I’m out of the woods now?” Belle chuckled nervously looking at Namjoon and Yoongis’ expression twist into a mixture of a smile and some splashes of disappointment. “What was the verdict?”

The two men met each other’s gaze for a few moments before Yoongi took a breath to speak.

“Five years.” The answer lingered amongst the group with an eerie note.

Belle’s smile disappeared as she shifted where she stood, trying to immediately reassure herself with any comforting words that could be conjured. A lot of things could happen in five years. Which brought a sink in her belly wondering whether the life she makes at that time would be interrupted by a ghost of her past.

“You’ll be under court protection so he can’t come near you whether in prison or not.” Namjoon explained in the calm tone.

“It’s not him I’m worried about.” She smiled sadly. The couple were ripped apart in the heat of swirling events that overwhelmed the both of them. Despite the brush of freedom Belle now felt, there was still the nagging feeling at the back of her mind that something needed to be said. Like a chapter unfinished or a song stopped smack damn in the middle.

“There’s no need to worry about something that long away now.” Saito patted the younger womans’ back. “I’m going to work. You are going to get a whole day off and try not to think about anything else but yourself.” A comforting smile spread across her lips.

Belles’ gaze flickered over to Yoongi, her heart jumping a little to see his eyes already fixated on her.

Walking out of the firm building, the heat was pleasant on her skin after the chill of the air conditioners for hours. Saito took her own car to drive her around because Belle started getting a bit too jumpy to drive for a while. The younger woman was not so sure why because she had already seen and heard so many things that no person should in their lifetime.

Saito walked to her car and climbed inside.

As Belle tried to follow her, Yoongi lightly touched her shoulder to bring attention back to him.

“There’s something I need to show you.” He murmured, his tone serious.

Belle looked over at the male, confusion gripping her features but she did not argue much further.

Giving a quick farewell to Saito, she opted to climb into the SUV the two officers drove in. Apparently police protection had to be done in the subtle way possible to prevent spies from getting way too observant on when they were coming to watch Belle.

Climbing into the vehicle, the AC once again bursting throughout as Namjoon already started the engine while Yoongi got into the car. They drove off almost immediately and kept a strange level of silence in the air. Not that Belle was in mood for any kind of conversation, it still brought a small tinge of discomfort.

Passing the building at a somewhat snail pace as the traffic thickened, Yoongi finally built up some kind of courage to structure the words in his mind. The piece of paper in his hands itching to be given to the woman. The letter that could have potentially determined Jungkooks’ fate that night. If anyone found out that the man handed this confidential document to someone so close to the criminal, he would lose his job almost instantly. But it had to be done. Despite all the things happened Belle deserved to know Jungkooks’ plan prior to his arrest.

“What did you want to show me?” Belle broke the silence out of pure lack of patience with the thickening quiet.

Yoongi let out a deep sigh glancing over at Namjoon who kept his focus on the road rather than any of them. Pushing himself to a jolt of courage, he held the folded piece of paper behind him gesturing it closer to her. “This.”

Brows furrowed, Belle gingerly accepted the paper and unfolded it revealing handwritten words that only went through half the page.

“It’s the last letter he wrote before getting arrested.” He stated. Somehow the exchange proved to be a thousand times easier when Yoongi could not actually face the woman. However the deafening silence very quickly grew unbearable.

Eyes scanned across the words carefully written with the extra ink spreads at the end of most of the letters. Little dots scattered after a sentence because he was probably thinking up the best way to say something. Then the words themselves. Jungkook planned to give everything up to raise their family. He chose to give up his riches, power and reputation for family.

It was a lie. It had to be, right?

Why would he lie to his parents however? There was no reason to dramatically announce giving up his empire for his wife and child for people who were not even in the country. His parents wouldn’t want him to give up the empire. Jungkook didn’t say what his parents probably wanted to hear. Nor was there any use to lie to them about how much he cared about his own growing family.

It couldn’t be the other thing.

That wasn’t real, remember?

Belle felt her eyes sting and burn forcing her to rip her gaze away from the letter. Staring out the window, the buildings began blurring into one another either from her teary vision or the speed of the car. “Did you find this before or after the arrest?” She asked in a mixture of a murmur and whisper.

Yoongi pursed his lips together. “Belle—”

“Before…or after?” She emphasized her words in a more firm tone.

The male glanced up at the ceiling feeling a light constraint in his chest. A part of him prepared for this very moment where he would tell Belle the truth about Jungkooks’ intentions. Maybe his need to abide by duty overpowered it. Or maybe it was something a little more selfish than just his job. “Before. I found it before the show.”

Belle let out a shaky sigh, body deflating into the leather seat as she hugged the paper to her chest. “Why—why did you keep it from me?” Her voice cracked a little.

“What would you have done if I had told you?” Yoongis’ stomach may have dropped the slightest thinking of a very different turnout if Jungkook actually went through with his plan.

“You still shouldn’t have hid it from me.” Her heart began pounding and racing so hard, they could almost crack through her ribcages at this point. Did she do the wrong thing helping Jungkook get arrested? “He was—” Belle tried to let out a deep breath but it all collected in her throat preventing any of her nerves to calm down. They only grew more frazzled, tightening and numbing any ability to hear things clearly. “He was going to stop.”

“People like that don’t just stop.” Yoongi replied simply. “Give him three years of keeping his promise and he’s going to be back at it again.”

“That still didn’t give you the right to go behind my back like that!” Chest rose and fell as the woman struggled to gain a normal pattern of breathing. Her body burned like a volcano erupted from her belly, shooting uncomfortably through each vein.

“I was undercover, that was my job.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

“I was helping you! The whole time I thought—” At this point all Belle could do was heave as all the heat rushed through her head, tears melting down her cheeks and dripping onto her chest.

“He—”

“Yoongi!” Namjoon finally spoke up glancing over at the older male before indicating to the left. “She’s getting anxious, stop it.”

Yoongi had no stubbornness to fight any further anyway except now he wished there was anger to at least numb down that twisting feeling in his stomach. He could hear the way the girl heaved to get a deep breath out while the car slowed down gradually coming to the side emergency lane.

Namjoon puts the car to a complete stop and Belle immediately climbs out before Yoongi could mentally prepare himself for it.

The fresh breeze of air felt new as if Belle had not been breathing it a few minutes ago. Her body cooled down although it merely touched the surface; heart still beat far too fast to really think in a proper pattern. Everything felt like a kaleidoscope of emotions. Reddening from anger, then blue splotches of deep rooted sadness, deep maroon when she found the space next to her bed empty and her own apartment looked foreign all the while accompanied with a vibrant yellow to reassure her everything was going to be okay. The best and worst feeling that brought confusion to her vulnerable, healing body.

These momentary crashes of panic were happening a lot more often than she liked to admit. Belle remembered the first time was two nights after the arrest. Her whole night completely spent with Taehyung trying to help her regulate her breathing until at an ungodly hour of four in the morning, they managed to get some shut eye. Although not enough to keep them alert the next day.

Being in the car usually caused the worst of it and it didn’t help with the letter now swirling in her mind. It was so much more easy to think that Jungkook was a horrible, tyrannous drug lord who didn’t care for anyone but himself and his empire. To think that he had other priorities in mind while Belle helped his enemy brought an unwelcome twinge of guilt.

After a few moments’ of leaving the woman alone to her space, Yoongi climbed out of the car into the cool air. Sighing, he spoke up to break the silence. “Belle I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“I would’ve stayed with him.” Belle answered hugging herself as tightly as she could before nodding briefly. “If you told me about the letter, I would’ve protected him.” Her features twisted, not a face of pride for a loved one but one of submission and desperation. “At first it was because I was pregnant, I couldn’t raise the baby on my own, I knew that, I knew that my baby deserved a good family away from the world he was in. So if Jungkook ever told me he was going to give the whole life up…I would’ve gone with him.” A long drawling breath passed through her lips as the words seemed to loosen a few knots in her body.

For a minute she tried to searching deep into her mind wondering if the words coming out of her mouth were true. But there was nothing. “Why didn’t the police ask me about this?” Belle held up the paper not really knowing she was still holding.

“I am the police.” Yoongi shrugged. “I just didn’t give it to them. They had enough evidence to ensure Jungkook was the culprit for all the drug dens. The assassination on the mayor was more information for the mayor only.” He dug his hands into his pockets. “About you going with him…” He let out a brief sigh. “Is it just for the baby?”

Tears dried up from the wind, her face feeling a little tight. She shook her head. A part of Belle still grew so used to pretending like she had to sugarcoat things or make it sound like she was in control. However once you allow something to feel broken, it’ll feel like falling and falling into an endless abyss until all you can do is get back up again. “No…it wasn’t just for the baby.” Belle’s bottom lip quivered. “I didn’t want to…I really didn’t want to—” She closed her eyes before hanging her head. “But I do.” Shaky hands held onto the letter again.

Yoongi could almost feel a dark cloud over them. Belle should have been moving towards a path of healing, not wondering what it would been like all her life. Granted there was no way to know whether she was going to continue helping him after reading the letter but it still didn’t give him any right to keep this truth away from her. The last thing she needed was getting played into another lie.

Belle took another deep breath as her body now slowly calmed itself down. “It’s okay though, right? You did it to protect me and other people.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “There’s no reason to cry about it now.”

“Belle…” He murmured taking a small step closer.

“It’s okay, Yoongi.” Reddened eyes met his gaze. “Just take me home please.” Belle padded past the male and climbed back into the car leaving Yoongi with a question of whether he just helped the woman or rushed through a mission just so he could get what he wanted.

The drive back to her apartment reverted back to its original silence. Belle placed the letter into her purse despite a few sensible sides of her advising she get rid of it. It would only hurt more to keep it and wonder but her body seemed to grow weak whenever the thought crossed her mind.

Namjoon parked in front of the apartment building and Belle gave the two officers a quick ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’ before climbing out of the car.

Up the elevator and through the hallways, Belle felt a rush of relief coming back to her home again. At least she tried to call it her home now. It almost felt like coming into a hotel or just a really strong déjà vu as the old memories of her time here seemed so long ago.

Walking through the entrance, Belle tossed her purse on the kitchen island, leaning against the edge of the counter, fingers ran through her hair only to get a little caught in the middle. Pulling them out, she merely pushed the strands back and grabbed scrunchie from her purse to tie it back up into a loose ponytail. “Tae?” She called out softly.

The apartment was fairly silent at least until she heard ruffling on the spare room. Belle had moved most of her designs from the room to her own while some of her steel stands scattered around the living room.

Eventually the door opened with a half-naked Taehyung padded out of the room, ruffling his hair as his lips pouted out, eyes squinting into the light. “Hey…how’d the signing go?”

Belle shrugged, rummaged through her purse and seeing the piece of paper just sitting there. “I guess the same as any other divorce.”

“If you marry a mob boss, sure.” Taehyung stopped near the edge of the counter.

“What were you doing today?”

Taehyung rubbed his face trying to hide the wide smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Despite the exhaustion across his expression, there was still this aura of joy. It was not hard to guess who may have caused that smile. Seokjin had created full freedom for Taehyung to visit Angel without any rules involved but for her protection against her ex-husband, she had to publicly stay married to him. That is until some solid legal actions were made to properly keep Angel protected so they could think of something more serious with their new blooming relationship. “Little this, little that.” The struggle to keep his smile failed terribly as the biggest damn grin graced his features.

Belles’ heart swelled, a more comforting warmth spreading across her body compared to the one she felt during the drive. For a moment she could remind herself that things were actually more okay now. Taehyung looked so much happier and she even saw him sketching the other day. Things were looking to be normal again. Except for the secret in her purse. Gulping down, she pulled the paper out. “Tae…” Eyes stared down at the folded paper before placing it on the table.

The older males’ smile faded away into one of curiosity when he saw the paper in her hands. “What is it?”

“Yoongi gave me this…” She murmured, fingers caressing over the surface. Much to her slight shame Belle could imagine caressing Jungkooks’ cheek. How warm he felt and he would almost always lean into her touch naturally. The thought made her abruptly stop the action, gulping those feelings down. “It’s a letter…from Jungkook.” Belle took a deep breath. “It says that he was going to give everything up for me…” Her stomach twisted. “For the me and the—the baby.”

It didn’t take a genius to feel the heat of anger already radiating from her older brother as he tightened his jaw. “He’s just lying.” Taehyungs’ voice grew dark, making it even more raspier than it already was.

“It was a letter to his parents.” Sharing the same thought as the other male would have been comforting but Belle knew better than to lie to herself just for the sake of making things easier to bear.

“Doesn’t matter. He’d never do that, he loves his power too much.” Taehyung shook his head.

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t care about his family.” Belle glanced down at the letter.

“There isn’t any family now.” He corrected. “You’re divorced, he’s not your responsibility and the kid—” Taehyung immediately pursed his lips to calm his frustrations down before he said anything he was going to regret.

Belle stayed silent staring down at her dress, lump growing in her throat. With the whirlwind of things that had been happening in such a short time, the miscarriage seemed a distant memory. At least until she was reminded of how fresh the wound still was. “I know all that.” She murmured.

Taehyung immediately padded closer to the younger standing next to her. His arm moved over her back, rubbing up and down her arm while his forehead pressed against her temple. “I’m sorry…” He whispered. “I know everything hurts right now but it’ll be okay.” He tilted his head to try and search her expression. “You gave up so much to take care of me. Let me take care of you.” Long fingers brushed back a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

Chest fell and pushed out with a small sob passing Belle’s lips, the heat from Taehyungs’ body in such close proximity providing her comfort. “Okay.” She whispered. Turning her body around with a light sniffle, she buried her face into his bare chest, arms hooking back and hands gripping at his shoulders.

How freeing it was to be able to curl up into Taehyung’s arms whenever her mind decided to play tricks on her. Belle knew she was strong, so many people including the reporters on the news continuously tried to tell her. But it never reassured her. Strength was what got her into this mess. For once, Belle truly felt happy knowing she was strong but could still rely on the people she loved when her strength wasn’t enough.

Tonight had exactly been that night where Belle’s mind opted not to give her a break. Hazy visions of running around the dark Jeon mansion, not even the guards were present. Then it faded to the house she grew up in with her parents celebrating Taehyungs’ birthday party while she peeked out from her bedroom to watch it.

Then her bedroom now in this current apartment. She forcefully looked to her side and saw a familiar sleeping figure, blurry phoenix tattoo on his chest. His large hand came over to rest of her belly but now she wore a white dress. As he raised his hand up, blood spread from one point all across until the color changed.

Pain jolted in her head when she heard a gunshot.

Belle’s eyes opened.

Everything stilled, light ringing in her ears like she just walked out of a club. Sweat layered in on her skin as if she was really running before passing out on her bed. The ringing got louder. Belle realized it was not coming from her ears but from somewhere in her bedroom.

Exhaustion still pulling at her form, she pushed herself up from the bed to look at her nightstand. Her phone lighting up the entire room as it vibrated against the wood and sounded a ring. A familiar name on the screen: Yoongi.

Brows furrowed, Belle turned on a lamp since going back to sleep again after a dream like that was not likely. She pressed the green button and put the device to her ear. “Yoongi? What’s wrong?” For a moment it felt strange hearing her own voice, still raspy from her slumber.

“Sorry I know it’s late.” Yoongi murmured through the phone.

“It’s alright, I’m up anyway.” Belle scratched the back of her neck lightly, eyes still closing but her mind still too frazzled to let her be pulled back in again. “What is it?”

“Could you—could you come outside? Bring your stuff with you.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, it’s important. I can’t do it during the day so—” Yoongi cleared his throat.

Belle pouted looking at the clock for a moment to see that it was two in the morning. “I’ll be down in five minutes.” She replied quickly before completely getting off her bed and walking to her closet. Leaving her deep blue pajama set on, she merely draped a big coat over her body. Messy hair tied up in a somewhat decent bun as the girl stared in the mirror with a subtle pink tint on her lips to make her look less exhausted. Though the puffiness under her eyes spoke the truth.

Tiptoeing out of her bedroom, she glanced around before seeing the door to Taehyung’s bedroom closed. A part of Belle wanted to let him know that she was going somewhere but at this point, the older male wouldn’t really wake up so it didn’t seem necessary.

So giving one more look over her shoulder the woman placed on some shoes and walked out of the apartment as quietly as she could.

The crisp night air was both refreshing and unwelcoming as the moon still smiled onto the world from where Belle was looking. Across the path from the building to the curb where Yoongihad his van parked, she noticed the dew on the grass glimmering under the silver light while the trees whistled in the wind.

Eventually Belles’ gaze fully set on the van where Yoongi had his lights on to ensure she could confirm it was him and not someone trying to lure her. There had been a lot of looming danger for Jungkooks’ enemies to try and put the woman in danger despite their end in marriage. Which was also why the police protection was put in place rather than just keeping her safe from her ex-husband.

Walking to the passenger seat, she opened the door and climbed in without a word spoken until her seatbelt was fully fastened.

“Where’re you taking me?” Belle asked in a calm tone though the lack of information made her heart beat a little too fast for comfort.

“Somewhere I’m not allowed to.” Yoongi answered simply, turning on the engine and letting it purr for a moment before driving off into the street.

Silence took over the cool air of the vehicle adding more fuel to the confusion filling Belle. The streets slowly faded into main roads and then it turned to a highway. She pulled her knees into her chest, looking out the window wondering whether to ask again or just figure it out when the car stopped.

But then Yoongi spoke up for her. “You deserve closure.” His eyes were completely focused on the road, finding it easy to explain himself when he wasn’t meeting her gaze. “We got our jail sentence for Jungkook.” He shrugged. “That was all we wanted. To break his empire down in a status that was manageable. But you—” He glanced for a second after gaining some courage but looked at the road. “Your relationship with Jungkook is more personal than anyone else who wanted him down.” Yoongi took a sharp right turn.

“Aren’t you going to get into trouble?”

“Not if you can keep a secret.” He smirked.

Belle couldn’t help but smile a little. Although now there was a light sink in her belly having to prepare for a meeting she never thought she would have. Police and even her lawyer reassured that she would never see the male again but somehow it didn’t reassure her as much as seeing him on more time did.

The car drove into a dark yard, the building towering over the car park with some bright white lights shining inside the cement fences. Yoongi drove towards the metal date, letting the guard at the booth know who he was. A piercing clang echoed through the air as the gate slid open, creaking terribly in its journey.

Slowly inching into the car park, the male drove closest to the building before turning the engine off.

Belle climbed out of the car and stepped towards the entrance. Footsteps crunched against the gravel until the older male stood next to her.

Through the entrance, the two were already welcomed in by the guards. However welcomed was a strong word for blank expressions and monotonous voices. Yoongi was told to stay outside while Belle walked in because only one person was allowed to visit at a time.

Past the dank looking halls, Belle walked under the greenish light, all the while hearing howling and moaning from the other side. Indistinctive words but it wasn’t hard to tell they were all expressing misery. Her mind now filled with the vision of that wide sweet smile and warm gaze stuffed into this crowd.

The guard opened a door for her revealing a room with a line of seats. A glass division in front of it. It was mostly empty aside from an elderly woman sobbing while talking to a younger prisoner on the other side.

Belle was gestured to sit in one of the center booths. Hugging her bag to her chest, she did as she was told. Eyes flickered over to the guard on the other side keeping a close on the younger prisoner at the other side. A metal door closed next to him. In the slight silence the girl attempted to take a deep breath and organize what she could say.

Then the metal door clanged open making her jump back a little.

A figure wearing bright orange padded in and sat on the center, eyes not meeting hers yet. He slouched down on the chair, hair mostly tied up except for large piece handing over the side of his face.

When his gaze flickered up, his expression softened and his posture straightened. Jungkook stammered glancing around the room before looking back at Belle almost convinced that this could be a dream. “I thought you weren’t allowed to be here.”

“Do you want me to go?” Belle gripped at her purse tightly, heart pounding against her ribcages at the anticipation of his answer.

“No.” Jungkook pursed his lips together.

Silence plunged between them. Whether it was comfortable or disconcerting was up for debate.

Belle leaned in a little resting her elbows on the little table before her, eyes momentarily glancing down at the little holes made to be one of their ways of clear communication. “I saw the letter.”

It didn’t take Jungkook far too long for his face to soften into one of recognition.

“Were you lying?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I was?”

Belle let out a shaky sigh, another small lump growing her throat but she swallowed it down. “No.” She shook her head slowly. “I want the truth.”

Jungkook shifted in his position causing the handcuffs around his wrists to clink. “That day I yelled at you…” He stayed silent for a few seconds to take a deep breath. “I realized my priorities were muddled and I needed to figure out what was more important.” Adams apple bobbed up and down as his glossy eyes met hers now. “What I loved the most.”

Lips quivered as the lump only grew in her throat until she had to hang her head. “I didn’t know.” Belle whispered, breathing shakily. “I thought—I thought you didn’t care about us and then I saw Yoongi and—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He answered simply. “Yoongi was going to expose me with how close he was anyway. The new mayor was at my tail, it was bound to—”

“It’s not about the mission.” Belle closed her eyes and emphasized her words, fingers trembling a little. “I hated your job. I hated everything about it but I didn’t hate you.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “When I read that letter that you were going to give everything up for me, I felt—I—”

Jungkook searched the beauty’s expression, leaning in a bit more to maybe catch some warmth from her body or her scent. “What did you feel?” His voice came out in a whisper.

“I felt like I just—gave up something. Something that might’ve made me happy.” Belles’ eyes flooded with tears making her irises blurry before a single drop escaped down her cheek. “I kept thinking about how different it could’ve been if you weren’t who you were. Maybe if you were just… Jungkook and none of this happened. Maybe we’d be happy together.” She chuckled sadly before briefly covering her mouth.

“Would I have made you happy?” He sniffled lightly. “Even after all I did?”

His question floated in the air freely for a few moments as Belle wiped away the escaped tears staining her skin. “Maybe…” She shifted closer. Eyes flickered down at the holes again. Shaky fingers slyly hooked onto two of them not looking back at Jungkooks’ gaze rather looking at down her digits and sighed. “But I can’t…do this all over again on a ‘maybe’.”

Jungkook almost had his forehead pressing against the glass just to feel her close again. Instead the woman initiated the second best thing by putting her fingers through the opening of the glass division. His own rough fingers reached in to caress her soft skin before hooking them on top of hers.

Belle couldn’t help but feel a jolt in her belly feeling his familiar fingers on her again. It was a subtle action but it brought so many long slumbered feelings through her body. They both know this electric magnet between them was a ruse to hide the real truth. What they needed to say but could never admit in real life.

Until now.

“Do you feel happier now?” Jungkook asked, breaking the warm silence.

The real truth. The reason why Belle wanted to come here. Was it a real feeling of longing? Or just a strong attractions towards the comforts she created in the fantasy of her past? No matter how heartbreaking. It was a moment of weakness where the woman could only remember giggling under the sheets with Jungkooks’ warm hands all over her body, eating ice-cream late at night or giving each other reassuring words.

It was at this moment, Belle needed to remember that was only part of the story. Part of the beautiful fantasy they built together but now the show needed to end before anyone else got hurt.

Belle now spoke out the truth.

“I do.” She nodded, smiling through her light tears. “I do feel happier.”

Jungkook couldn’t control a wide smile of his own stretching across his lips hearing those words. “That’s good.” He let out a faint chuckle. “That’s all that should matter to you now, okay?”

Belle hummed lightly in agreement. “I hope you feel happier soon too. Once you’re out of here.”

He nodded finally succumbing to pressing his head gently against the glass, breath fogged up the surface as he spoke. “I’ll try.”

That was all they both needed to hear.

The curtains had been lifted and the fantasy dissipated. All that could be seen now was two broken individuals in their rawest form, making their slow but healthy path to a happier life. One they could finally choose for themselves.

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spacedikut · 4 years

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“i want to love someone and be loved” ; spencer reid - part 2

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: spencer decides it’s time to tell you, but he needs some help. 3887 words. part 1

a/n: THIS is the longest fic ive ever written but im actually kinda proud of how it turned out? i hope this is a good sequel :)

Spencer chickens out of telling you the next day.

He avoids you all weekend, actually. You resisted texting him the day after Rossi’s because you assumed he’d be busy – with his big plan involving a girl that isn’t you. You’re not bitter – but Sunday comes around and you message him not long after you wake up and six hours later there’s no response.

Twelve hours later - there’s no response.

Monday, you don’t have time to say hello to anyone – there’s a case waiting for you, somewhere in Florida.

Reid avoids your eyes. His body language tells you something is wrong, so you assume whoever he confessed to didn’t reciprocate (they’re insane) and he’s dealing with it. So you don’t press.

Spencer pretends to sleep the entire jet ride. He’s avoiding everyone, not just you.

He spent the whole weekend beating himself up. He drove to your apartment on Saturday, sat outside for so long a neighbour knocked on his window and asked if he was lost, but couldn’t bring himself to step foot out of his car.

So he locked himself in his room, away from you and your loveliness and away from his phone because he knew you texted him and he knew you’d send some soft message about being there for him if he needs anything and he didn’t need to be reminded of how beautiful and out of reach you are.

Derek seemed to be waiting for him Monday morning, arms crossed as he held a cup of coffee. It was weird seeing him in before Spencer.

“How’d it go?” He immediately asked.

“How’d what go?” Spencer mumbles, flinging his bag on the floor by his desk. He slumps in his seat.

Derek raises a dark eyebrow, “You know what, pretty boy. You had a big thing? Big plan?”

“Didn’t work out.”

It doesn’t take a profiler to realise Spencer is very clearly saying leave me alone. Leave it alone.

Derek isn’t one to leave it alone. Especially when it comes to Spencer.

He sighs and moves a little closer to Spencer’s desk, just in case someone overhears them.

“What happened?”

“That’s exactly it,” Spencer slams open a file, “Nothing happened.”

“And why did nothing happen?”

“Because I’m an idiot that can’t even tell a girl how I feel.”

“Whoa- hey!”

Derek spins Spencer’s chair so they’re face to face. Derek takes one look in Spencer’s eyes and knows what’s going on – he got too into his head and backed out at the last minute.

“You’re not an idiot. Why didn’t you do it?”

Spencer shrugs, “I got to her apartment. I had flowers, too. I don’t know.”

Derek’s evidently concerned – Spencer’s beaten up over this, over whoever this girl is, and he deserves the chance to experience love. Spencer deserves a lot more than he himself thinks he does.

“You seemed really excited, man. You can still do it. Just cause you try once and it doesn’t work out doesn’t mean you can’t ever try again.”

Spencer stares off into the distance, accidentally ignoring Derek as his thoughts slip out of his mouth, “Yeah, it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway – I was stupid to think I could get someone like her.”

“Hey, no.” Derek nudges Spencer’s shoulder so he looks at him again, “Don’t talk like that. You’re one hell of a guy, Reid. All you gotta do is get that confidence that you had Friday night back, and you’re all set. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Spencer gives a feeble nod. Derek moves back to his desk, knowing he isn’t convinced, but he isn’t done yet.

+++

Later, in Florida, Spencer’s making a coffee in the precinct’s kitchen after waiting twenty minutes for you to leave. Luck’s on his side, for once, and you’ve been working non-stop with Prentiss going crime scene to crime scene so he hasn’t had to actively avoid you. You smile at him every chance you get, though, and it distracts him.

Someone clears their throat behind him. It’s Penelope, whom Spencer didn’t realise was invited on this case.

She looks guilty. Spencer recognises that face; the face she has when she’s done something she shouldn’t have or knows something she isn’t really supposed to. Given current circumstances, Spencer bets it’s the latter reason.

“Morgan told me something he shouldn’t have.”

Bingo.

He leans against the kitchen counter, stirring his coffee absentmindedly.

“What did he tell you?” He asks, feigning tranquillity. Inside he’s screaming non-stop.

She’s got her hands clasped together in front of her, almost innocently, and fiddles with her fingers, “He told me you needed assistance in the love department.” Before he can object, she continues, “And I am willing to do anything if it means our resident weirdo-slash-genius falls in love and gets to experience some much needed cuteness.”

There’s no point in lying to her. There’s also no point in being mad that Morgan told her about his situation – they’re kind of a package deal. And, who knows, Garcia might be able to help.

“So…” She sways, trying (and failing) to appear nonchalant, “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Spencer shuffles on the spot, scuffing his shoes against the floor. He debates whether he should tell her, since, you know, you’re in the next room over, but Spencer worries that Garcia is so good at her job she’d somehow find out through hacking Spencer’s phone, or maybe somehow hacking his dreams. His subconscious. He’s terrified of Garcia and her abilities.

“You can tell me.” She insists, “I’m much better at keeping secrets than Morgan.”

Spencer turns away from her, she steps closer, and he mumbles your name.

“What?”

“Y/N.”

“WHAT?!”

Spencer spins, hands coming up to tell Garcia to shut up and Garcia immediately covers her mouth in both shock and hopefully so she doesn’t shout again.

“Since when?!” She screeches. “How could I not have known?! Oh God, almighty Doctor Reid, I feel like I’ve failed you by not realising earlier.”

Her enthusiasm makes him smile, for the first time in far too long. Garcia has that power – this innate skill to comfort those around her and make them feel special, make them smile when the world feels like its collapsing.

“Let me help!” She requests.

Spencer’s clearly hesitant. He knows it’s a bad idea.

“Please!” She begs, “I just- I have so many ideas of how you can go about this. Let me brainstorm, get back to you, and if I’m too over-the-top you can tell me no and we’ll pretend it never happened!”

He takes a deep breath. Yes, Garcia is the definition of over-the-top, but that’s one of his favourite things about her. It’s your favourite thing, too. And he did tell Morgan he had big plans. Anything involving Garcia is a big plan with big payoff.

“This is between us.”

“I’ll take it to the grave. Unless you realise how amazing my ideas are and use one to tell Y/N how you feel and then years later I get to commend myself during my maid of honour speech at your wedding.”

She looks ecstatic, hands now together under her jaw as her eyes twinkle. Spencer can’t help but laugh at her eagerness.

+++

The next day, the team returns to Quantico after a semi-successful case. The general mood is good and Morgan invites everyone out for drinks – Spencer declines, but you have your first full conversation since last Friday.

“C’mon, Spence,” Your head rests against the jet seat and you blink sleepily at him, “I feel like I haven’t spoken to you for years!”

Spencer gives you a small smile, “I promised my mom I’d call her tonight. Sorry, Y/N.”

You nod in understanding, “Will you tell her I say hi?”

“Of course. She loves you.”

You grin at eachother, immediately lost in your own world. You’ve missed him more than you realised, and you have no idea what’s going through his head, but you’re happy that you’ve had this – a Spencer Reid smile that makes you feel at home and on top of the world simultaneously.

Spencer has to tear his eyes away before he blurts something stupid, like she’s not the only one that loves you.

+++

“Spencer!” Garcia greets, Cheshire cat grin on her face. “I need to see you in my dungeon, please. Immediately.”

Spencer drops the file he’s holding. Unfortunately, Penelope’s request caught the attention of the whole team.

“What business do you have in the villain’s lair, Reid?” Derek asks. You’ve looked up from your computer, Emily smirking and leaning back in her chair in expectation.

“Uh…”

“Important nerd business. Go away.” Garcia says, eyes narrow as she tugs Spencer’s hand. He’s whisked away from any further questioning, leaving the befuddled team behind.

He isn’t sure what to expect when he stumbles into Penelope’s second home, but the display in front of him explains why he overheard a conversation about missing evidence boards earlier. Penelope’s obviously been using the new printer in her cave to her advantage – there’s at least twenty different pictures printed out on one board titled “date ideas”, then the board on the right has a picture of Spencer and you in the centre with a perfectly drawn heart around it. Under and around that is a mixture of love quotes, including song lyrics and quotes directly from romantic movies. He notices “The Parliament of Fowls” on there – Garcia remembers that he mentioned it’s considered the first Valentines poem?

“Whoa,” Is all he can say.

“I know it’s a little intense,” Garcia squirms, “But! I started scrolling through Pinterest and couldn’t stop. I don’t know what came over me, maybe some type of love deity, but I started thinking about you and Y/N in a classic love film in, like, black and white and I…”

She’s out of breath from animatedly explaining.

Spencer laughs through his nose, almost a scoff, but he’s impressed. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from the Penelope Garcia.

As Spencer wanders towards the first board, Garcia follows him like a shadow, “My personal favourite is-“ She points to a picture of chocolate fondue with faceless people in very little clothing, “-this one.”

Spencer awkwardly clears his throat when he begins to think of you and him like that.

“A little much for your declaration of love, though, I get it,” Garcia nods.

He scans the board – heart speeding up when he moves from idea to idea and picturing you and him in each one. He can’t help but think no, that one would be good for our anniversary – ah, she’d love to do that one for her birthday.

“What’re you thinking?” Garcia asks quietly. She knows his brain is whirring like her computer drive, so she approaches him gently.

“This one.” He says. “Where should we do it?”

Garcia grins behind him. The one he’s referring to shows a dinner table set up outside, brown wooded table with white wooden chairs opposite eachother. There’s flowers at the centre, a bottle of wine already poured in each glass in front of a basket of cookies, and the area around is shrouded by shrubbery, fairy lights hanging delicately from every-which-way.

It’s perfect. You love fairy lights, Spencer loves cookies, and the set-up looks private enough for Spencer to feel confident when he empties his heart and soul to you.

“The roof.” Garcia says wistfully.

“We have access to that?”

“Yes.” They both know they don’t. “Leave it to me. Oh… one more thing.” She adds, hesitantly, “Can Morgan help? I’m a lot of things, including emotionally strong and your love guru, but physically I’m gonna need some assistance.”

Spencer doesn’t even need to agree – Morgan’s gonna involve himself no matter what.

+++

Five o’clock is quickly approaching and you’re slumped over your desk, lost in your work. You need to be lost in it, because ever since Garcia released Spencer from her office right after lunch he’s been sneaking glances at you (he’s not sneaky) and has made several attempts to approach you but decided against it, sharply turning and pretending he meant to go another way instead.

You are beyond confused. You assume it’s to do with the girl he’s been trying to get over – you hope he’s been trying to build the confidence to tell you exactly what happened and maybe, you really hope, he’ll invite you over for the weekend so you can slip back into your old routine.

“Psst.”

You assume they’re not trying to get your attention, so you don’t move.

“Psst!”

You still don’t move.

“Y/N!”

Your head snaps up to Spencer leaning over the divider between your desks. He looks alarmed – which is odd, given he’s the one who called you – and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally speaks.

“Are you busy tonight?” He sits back and, if he wasn’t so goddamn tall, all you’d be able to see would be his eyes. His added height means you can see his eyes and his nose. You wanna kiss it.

You smile – this is an olive branch, “I am completely available for whatever it is you might need.”

You sound incredibly eager, which you are. You miss him.

His cheeks move upwards, a smile, “Can I talk to you, later, on the roof? Uh-“ He clears his throat, “-I need to tell you something.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You’re not gonna push me off, right?”

“No,” He laughs.

“Promise me.”

Now he guffaws, “I would never, Y/N!”

“Promise me, Reid!”

“Alright, alright! I promise!” He’s jokingly raising his hands in a form of surrender.

You give him another smile and turn back to your work. You feel at ease, now, thinking he’s finally gonna tell you what happened on the weekend – finally you’ll be able to help him and go back to normal.

Spencer, on the other hand, is the exact opposite of ease. He’s about to pour his heart out to you.

He takes a deep breath and looks back to his computer, which is open on a tab titled “How to Tell Someone You Like Them.”

Step 3: Be Confident.

Spencer opens a new tab and searches, “How to be confident.”

+++

Garcia hacks into Spencer’s computer to open a document and type that the roof is ready. She wishes him luck, tells him she loves him, and calls dibs on being the godmother of your future children. As if she doesn’t have enough godchildren as it is.

He clears his throat and your head snaps towards him. You’ve been done for a while, playing Tetris on your phone, waiting for Spencer to take you to the roof where he swears he won’t kill you – you’re not entirely convinced.

“Um-“ He scratches his neck, “You ready to go?”

You nod and give him a weak smile in hopes it gives him some type of reassurance.

“Whatever happened, it’s okay, Spence.”

All he does is nod in return, gathering his coat and bag. He doesn’t really register what you say, or he would’ve been very confused.

You follow him up to the roof. The elevator ride is silent and Spencer is jittery; his hands twitch and tap against his legs, he’s bouncing on his toes and he keeps looking at you through the corner of his eye. You’ve taken several deep breaths to calm your racing heart – you hate heights, and this is the closest you’ve been to Spencer in a week. This will be the longest conversation you’ve had with him in a week, too.

The second the doors open, Spencer leaps in front of you.

“Wait!”

You jump back in surprise, “What? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Completely fine. Just… when we get there, let me explain first, okay? Before you say anything.” He’s pleading, as if you’ve already told him no. You look at him with furrowed brows and mumble an ‘okay’.

You’re visibly confused as you trek up the flight of stairs to the roof. Spencer pushes open the fire door and the first thing you notice is how bright the roof is – you always assumed it’d be dark, little light, especially at night like this.

Wait.

There’s fairy lights… everywhere. You’re pretty sure this isn’t the norm for the FBI roof.

Spencer is equally as awed at what he sees before him - it’s exactly the photo he saw in Garcia’s cave brought to life, but he’s too distracted by you to fully appreciate it. You look like a child on Christmas; eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth slightly agape. You’re gorgeous.

“What…is this, Spence?” You wonder, noticing the set table, fingers grazing the roses that sit in a vase in the middle. They’re fresh and smell wonderful.

He stands a little behind you, fiddling with his hands, and clears his throat, “Would you like to take a seat?”

You do. When he finally sits, he pours you a glass of wine and you immediately take an anxious sip. Although Rossi is a big fan of wine, you rarely take interest in it only when Spencer’s involved. You’ve come to associate wine with him – a smile peeks out from your glass as you stare at the man opposite you.

“I need to get something off my chest. But there’s cookies, if you want one,” He picks one up from his plate, breaking it in half and giving it to you. He’s stalling, but you seem to take the bait and bite into it.

“Are these from the bakery two blocks away?”

“Yeah,” He replies, but he isn’t really paying attention. He doesn’t know where to begin.

You wait patiently for him to open up. You’re still unsure of what to make of all of this – the beautiful setting, the wine, the flowers, the lights. God, the lights are dazzling in the Virginia night sky. You need context, and you need it now.

“Spence-“

“Listen.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I just…” He trails off, “I need to say what I need to say before I back out again.”

You fold your hands in your lap. You’re ready for whatever’s to come.

“Do you know how long we’ve known eachother?” He asks. His head tilts like a puppy.

“Nearly five years. Our friendaversary is coming up, you know.”

You realise, then, that this must be a celebration for that – that explains the… typically romantic setting. Before you can open your mouth to ask if that what’s this is, Spencer speaks.

“Four years, three-hundred and sixty days. That’s how long we’ve known eachother.”

“If we were dating, we would’ve been my longest relationship the second we passed a year.”

You don’t know why you said it, but it flusters him. He has to pause to take a breath and collect his thoughts.

“I’ve been in love with you for four years and three hundred and fifty-eight days, Y/N.”

It’s silent as you process and he figures out how to continue.

“I knew you were special when you were introduced to us. Hotch already had such a soft spot for you, and you had this way about you that made us all fall in love instantly. I remember Garcia did a background check the second she found out your name and she said you remind her of me and I… that freaked me out, to be honest. I thought you’d try to replace me.” He huffs a laugh, but can’t bring himself to look you in the eye, “I realised I was in love with you when you drunkenly defended me. Do you remember that?” His eyes flicker to yours for half a second – you’re wide-eyed, “You’d known me for two days at that point, but we’d already done a case together so we were celebrating. And these guys at the bar were whispering about me, acting like I couldn’t hear them, and the second you realised what was happening you stood up, stormed towards them and gave them a piece of your mind. It was incredible.

“You barely knew me, at least personally, but you thought so highly of me you scolded a group of drunk bodybuilders without a second thought. You made them apologise – it was hysterical watching someone half their size force them into submission like that – and when you were done you asked if I wanted to leave and go get ice cream. We couldn’t, cause you vomited on the way there, but I knew in that moment I loved you and I feel so hard, so quickly, I didn’t know what to do. And you never… you never indicated you thought of me as anything other than a friend so I didn’t try. Then you dated Greg who, in my opinion, sucked on his best days, and you encouraged me to date Abigail and I…”

He’s run out of breath and of things to say.

“I just love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.” He adds, “I hope that’s okay.”

He finally looks at you, then. You’re just staring and he panics when he can’t make out what you’re feeling. He’s always been able to read you, you’ve always hated the saying that eyes are the windows to the soul because your eyes are always your tell, but now they’re… glassy.

You’re crying.

“Spencer…” You gasp, throat tight.

“It’s okay.” Spencer gives a tight-lipped smile. He knows what’s coming. He should’ve expected it. He has been expecting it.

“I love you too, Spence.”

Spencer chokes on air. He takes a gulp of wine.

You give him a teary smile in disbelief, “I’ve always loved you, Spence. I thought you knew that – I thought that big brain of yours knew exactly how I felt and… you didn’t do anything about it so I thought you didn’t feel the same. Spencer…”

He slowly moves a hand to place it palm-up on the table. Immediately you place your hand in his, your grip tight as you lovingly stare at him. This feels unreal.

“I’m in love with you too, you idiot.” You half laugh, half cry, “If you’ve really loved me this long, we’ve wasted so much time! God, we’re both idiots.”

Spencer’s crying too, now, and he starts laughing with you.

You’re two idiots in love, sitting opposite eachother on the roof of your place of work in a dream-like surrounding filled with fairy lights and flowers, and you could’ve been doing this for years.

Spencer sniffles, looking at you through his wet eyelashes, “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

“If I say yes, will I get more dates like this?” You tease.

“Well, Garcia has a whole evidence board of date ideas she stole from Pinterest. We have enough ideas to last a lifetime.” He giggles.

“Penny was in on this?!”

Spencer gives a heh, “This is all thanks to her, so yeah.”

“She’s always had our backs.”

“She’s also now going to be convinced she’s cupid.”

You laugh again, and can’t help yourself when you lean across the table, still gripping Spencer’s hand, and letting your lips fall on his. Spencer leans into you, lips moving against yours as you both try to suppress grins.

You pull back slightly, Spencer’s lips following you, and whisper, “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

He kisses you again. And again. And again, just cause he can.

Big plan, big payoff. You’re worth every little stress and more.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #garcia is watching everything through the security cameras btw #you think she'd do all this and NOT watch her hard work flourish?#think AGAIN

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