#his mind realized he already was everything he needed to be

[chithereader]

playing it cool / aaron hotchner

[credits to the owners of these photos!!]

word count: 1.9k

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

genre: fluff!!!!!!

cw: sickeningly sweet and soft aaron x reader, so much of aaron’s thoughts because we know that man thinks soo much more than he speaks!!

a/n: hiiii this is my third post so far and tbh i was so nervous to post the first two as that was my first time ever posting any of my writings anywhere!! but i’ve been getting so much more love on those than expected and i just really wanted to say thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs <33 i was honestly only expecting less than 10 notes as a newbie and reaching up to 200 is so so so wonderful. and especially for the love of hotch i– ugh!!!!! i already love u all 

The team had worked a straight 5 weeks worth of cases prior, which had warranted Strauss to grant them all a mandatory 3-day rest. This simply meant that for 3 whole days there are no cases, no deadlines, and no new case files. They could come to the office at whatever time they’d like as long as they finished some reports at the end of the day. 

Aaron being Hotch the boss man still aimed to arrive at the office at a reasonable time– 7:30am. To be fair, this is an hour and a half later than when he usually arrives at the office. And in his mind, the earlier he arrives, the more he can get done, and the more he gets done, the earlier he can come home. 

This is the only reason why he is up at 6:00am on a supposed rest day. He did expect that he’d struggle a bit more to drag himself out of bed, knowing you’d be keeping him hostage with limbs that wrap around him in ways he can’t begin to understand, but to his surprise, you weren’t there. 

Dragging his feet across the carpeted floor, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips and white shirt fitting him oh-so-snugly, he tries to find you. He’s rubbing the sleep of his eyes as he peeks his head into your shared bathroom. No sign of you. 

He’s covering his mouth as he yawns when he quietly opens the door to Jack’s bedroom–still no sign of you. Remembering his son has been nursing a stomach bug since yesterday, he opened the door further to check on him. No fever. No chills. No sign of discomfort. 

When he’s sure Jack’s okay, he turns around to go back to find where you went. He even checked the backyard as he passed by a window to see if you’re at your favorite swing reading, that perhaps you just woke up early and wanted to feel the morning sun because you claimed it lightens you. 

He smiles a little to himself as he treads downstairs, finally hearing your soft murmurs as you spoke with someone presumably over the phone. As he neared the kitchen he realized that the person on the line was your colleague and friend Tilly, and that she was on speaker phone making it easy to listen in. 

He slows down his steps as he nears the landing and pauses when he gets behind a wall near the kitchen. He doesn’t know what came over him. He doesn’t usually sneak around to eavesdrop, nor did he ever feel the need to especially when it came to you. You tell him everything, prompted and unprompted. 

But perhaps it was the haze of the morning or the curiosity of what could possibly get you out of bed this early when you’re usually the one snoozing away as he’s getting ready for work– he stayed quiet behind that wall and made it his mission to understand the conversation. 

He clears his mind and strains his ear, going as far as making his breaths slow and far apart. 

He hears Tilly giggling, “Don’t get me wrong, Adam from Finance is really cute but.. isn’t he just a little too serious? He’s always got that frown going on.” 

You sigh a little loudly, obvious that it’s a sigh to humor and not of exasperation, “Tilly, you know I love you, but every day you complain about being single. And every other day there’s a decent guy who you always always find that one flaw in that just crosses them off for you forever.” Tilly lets out a sound that’s a mixture of a laugh and a gasp. 

“That is so not tr–” “Oh, Hugh’s just too clean. And Frederick’s too hard, it’s like- scary. Yes, veiny hands are hot but there’s veiny and too veiny, and Jason was just a double too veiny.” 

Aaron momentarily pauses his listening and looks down at his hands, suddenly conscious where he fit in that category. Factoring in his age, his work, and the action he gets from the field– these all show. He tried thinking of a time you could’ve shown any dislike or disgust towards his hands but all he could think of was that one night when he cupped your face and you leaned towards it more, turning slightly to take his thumb into your mou–

He’s shaken out of his thoughts when he hears Tilly asking about you leaving, “What time are you getting to the office by the way? I just don’t want to get there without you. Adam might ask about that second date and I just need you as my bluff, my beautiful girl.” He makes a mental note to message Jessica before you both get ready for work. 

“Riiiight. Remind me how many guys have I scared off for you now? And how many times have I helped you scare them off? Besides, I can’t go today and I’ve already told Bobby I’m on leave.” 

In a slight surprise and panic Tilly whines, “What?! Why? You’re such a traitor. You know damn well I get so bored without you.” Aaron didn’t even know you were planning on staying home. You hadn’t mentioned anything about it last night which made him even more curious what made you decide. 

He hears your soft laugh, “Don’t be so dramatic. You’ll manage a day without me. I mean you have to– my son caught a stomach bug yesterday so I just want to make sure he’ll recover completely.” 

Aaron can hear Tilly responding, something about soup and warm baths, but his heart has just stopped so he’s not really processing any new words at the moment. 

My son. My son. My son. My son caught a stomach bug. 

He feels lightheaded. His heart kickstarts again, his pulse is ringing in his ear. He can feel his chest pounding to his heart’s beat. The words that rolled off your lips so effortlessly, so mindlessly, echoes in his head. 

Jack may be young but he is smart. So so smart beyond his years. And he has grown to understand what had happened to his mom Haley, but not once has he– and even you allowed Jack to forget who Haley is and how much she loves him. 

Images of you joining in their traditions of honoring and remembering Haley plays in his head in flashes. You helping Jack arrange a bouquet for Haley’s death anniversary. You helping Jack make a card for her birthday. You mixing the paint to get the right shades as Jack paints a portrait of Haley for his Mothers’ Day homework. 

Aaron had told you everything there was to know about Haley and you’ve listened. He knows you adore her. You adore her for the same reasons he adored her. You understood the space Haley had in his life and in Jack’s life, and not once were you ever jealous, immature, or selfish about it. Even though he would’ve completely understood if you were. 

You were nothing but supportive, and understanding, and loving. Even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when you deserved better. Admittedly, there was a point in time when he struggled with coming to terms with falling in love– with you nonetheless. You’re young, ambitious, brilliant, talented, insanely beautiful, and unfairly kind. 

When the two of you had met, this was his profile: divorced with a kid, recovering from trauma that stemmed from being stabbed multiple times in his own home, emotionally unavailable, annoyingly serious and fatally dull– which really makes him wonder what made you fall in love with him in the first place, and even more so what made you stay even when he was bafflingly dense about how you felt about him.  

He didn’t know how long he was standing there, like a deer caught in headlights. Replaying your words and his memories over and over again, slowly coming to the conclusion that you’re absolutely perfect and he’s absolutely gone for you. 

Slowly coming to his senses, Aaron becomes more aware of the silence. The call must have ended while he was having realizations about things. He rounds the corner silently, getting a feel of where you’re facing. Luckily he guesses right, that you’re facing away from him. 

You were rummaging through the fridge– the vegetable drawer if he had to guess, judging by how much you’re slouching and reaching, and the sound of the glass containers you use to prolong their freshness. 

He quickly surveys the scene- your phone is on the counter, beside it is a chopping board with carrots and onions, a carton of chicken broth, Jack’s favorite dinosaur-shaped pasta, and chocolate milk– the one drink you both know can make Jack feel instantly better, happier. 

His heart pinches again. You got up early to make sure Jack had something to eat for breakfast in time for his medicine. You got up early even though you aren’t planning on going to work. You aren’t going to work because you want to stay with Jack. You called Jack your son. 

With so many things running in his head, he stands quietly observing you finding god knows whatever vegetable. Maybe it's the intensity of his stare or the volume of his thoughts, or maybe he started to breathe loudly– but suddenly you knew he was there. He could tell. 

You slowly straightened your back from when you were leaning. Your hands have stopped rummaging through the drawer, and he could see the goosebumps on your legs and shoulders from the way the sunlight hits you through the kitchen window. 

You turn around slowly, as if you were just caught doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing, “I’m so sorry, did I wake you?” grimacing as if it was a crime to be hot and cute and gut-wrenchingly-sweet. 

“No.” His voice is groggy. Deep and rough given that he just woke up minutes ago and hasn’t really used it since. Looking at you through studying eyes, he clears his throat “Uhm, I woke up to get ready for work and you weren’t there.” 

Aaron suddenly feels a little cold. The thin material of his shirt and pajamas doing little to contain what warmth he has left in his body. Or maybe it’s you, maybe his body has sensed that you’re near and is now craving your warmth, making him feel a magnified amount of its absence.

“Oh.. I’m sorry I just wanted to get ahead of cooking so Jack can have soup before he takes his medicine at 8 and since I was also planning to do some work though I’m on leave, it just made sense to get an early start…” You slow your words, noticing how Hotch is studying you tenfold in the moment, as if you were an apparition, “Are you okay? Did you want soup too? I can pack you some before you go?”

His silence makes you panic a little. You can’t really tell if he’s upset about something or if he’s sleepwalking, “Or you can eat here. I mean– you live here, of course you can eat here. I mean like instead of bringing it to the office– not that if you eat here, you can’t bring some anymore.” 

The longer he stays silent, adoring you, the more you scramble to fill the silence, “I’m just– you know you can do whatever you want. You can eat here, there, anywhere. Unless you don’t want soup. I mean we still have leftover steak, I cou–” 

You pause your rambling because you can see a smile starting to form on his face. A real, big smile. Laugh lines and dimples and all, which makes you smile. Realizing how stupid you were sounding and how funny the situation was becoming, you started giggling.

And just as you think he’s about to join the laughter to make fun of you, his smile softens and he says, “Marry me.” 

[harmonysanreads]

hi! i love the way you write aventurine, could you give me some tips on writing for him bc im struggling her to grasp his character :(

if you don’t have the time then that’s alright!

Hello, nonnie. Thank you so much :') Since you didn't mention whether this was in the Yandere context or not, I'll list some general tips. I hope you find these helpful!

— FOR BASIC CHARACTERIZATION

One of the most important aspects of Aventurine is that he's insanely smart, but they always sign it off with luck at the other side of the equation. This is intentional of course and whether or not luck really is the ultimate deciding factor isn't really the question we should be pondering about for a video game. Everything Aventurine does is through careful strategizing, scheming and calculating. What you need to remember is that ‘luck’ is more like a protective layer on top of it all. When deciding upon a plot, try your best to keep Aventurine's intelligence in mind. Then you can seal it off by using ‘luck’ in classic Aventurine style, or use dramatic irony with this point.

I think, for Aventurine, having a reader who surprises him is very convenient. It doesn't need to be a head-on challenge, sometimes the strongest impressions are made through silence and passivity. Remember, Aventurine is an incredibly observant character. For example : when he offers the Trailblazer ten thousand Credits after their first encounter, if you refuse politely, he becomes extremely pleased, as opposed to his somewhat miffed reaction if you pick the other option.

As you know, he's often partial to extremes. His ‘all or nothing’ motto can be useful to stir inner conflict.

Body language is very important for building his character. Instead of writing a whole paragraph about how beneath his bravado, he's always scared of losing, they conveyed much more through revealing the fact that he hides his left hand behind his back during all daring gambles. Aventurine isn't the type to be upfront about emotions that can make him vulnerable — that's detrimental to survival. So I think you can reveal those emotions through body language.

He's a very... unconventional gambler. His tendency to pose things as gambles and bets is more like a shield than anything. In any case, it makes for a great tool in adding drama.

— FOR DIALOGUE

Aventurine is a pretty complex character so I often forget certain things if I don't stay in practice, listening to his voicelines really helps me get a quick refresh in those cases. There's this channel on YouTube that compiles the characters' scenes individually, it's very helpful.

I think we all can agree one of Aventurine's greatest strengths is how he weaponizes words against others. There's more to this though. Be mindful to the upward and downward inflections in his sentences, the pauses between phrases and which words he's putting emphasis on.

He's also an interesting mix of straight-forward and roundabout. He says he prefers people to be direct and he often is direct himself. But with his ‘insults’ in particular, he's very roundabout. By the time you realize what he just said, it's already too late to shoot a comeback and he has you exactly where he wants.

— MISC. TIPS

Keep his backstory in mind and be respectful to it, but don't let it stop you from experimenting.

He has religious trauma, survivor's guilt, trust and commitment issues, as well as a complicated attachment style. Do you research on how these things affect people in relationships.

Aventurine's arc hasn't ended, which is why many things about him aren't definite. Consider how you might use it to your advantage.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Spooky Call.

Spencer Reid x Hotchner!reader

Summary: When your boyfriend gets a call from you, the last thing he expects to hear is that you're being held at a police station for decorating your house.

Words: 2,2k.

TW: fem!reader. mention of haley's death, jack, crime, murder, blood (fake). reader was arrested (obviously). implication that the reader is wearing jeans and shirt (not very descriptive). reader is hotch's sister. established relationship. spencer being the standard. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This was the last fic of my october special, but I had problems and never posted it, so I had to change the plot a bit and here it is.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You’ve always hated asking for help. It wasn’t just a matter of pride—it was the belief that you could, and should, handle everything yourself. Life, however, had a cruel way of reminding you that it didn’t always work like that. Everyone needs help sometimes. At least, that’s what people—well-meaning friends, family, even your boyfriend—kept telling you. We live in a society; there are people who love you; they’d want to help, they’d say. Blah, blah, blah. The sentiment was kind, sure, but it never stuck with you. Not really.

Today, though, maybe you should’ve listened.

All you wanted was to throw your nephew a belated Halloween party. It wasn’t like you were planning anything crazy. Just a few decorations, some music, and a bit of creativity—how hard could it be? Nothing about it seemed complicated or dangerous, not at first. You’d seen your brother overwhelmed trying to keep things normal for Jack, and you figured this was something you could handle on your own. Something small but meaningful.

Somehow, things got out of your control, and now you were sitting in your boyfriend's car in the police station parking lot trying to organize your thoughts to explain to him how you had ended up arrested in the first place.

“This has a perfectly reasonable and not at all criminal explanation. I swear.” You began to speak as you noticed by the watch on his wrist that three minutes of complete silence had already passed.

It had only been a year since you started dating officially, and there were still some things you were afraid Spencer would see, especially the things that got you in trouble for doing stupid things. You'd liked him for a long time, even before he realized you could be more than just his friend and his boss's sister. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin everything and make him run away in terror, even though that didn't sound very much like him or his values.

“This better be a good explanation,” Reid finally said, his voice calm but tinged with confusion. He placed the car keys down in the cupholder and turned to look at you fully. “Because right now, I’m struggling to understand how decorating your house could get you arrested.”

You squirmed in your seat, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter. “It’s…complicated,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Please don't think I'm weird. Please don't think I'm weird. Please don't think I'm weird. That was the only thing that kept repeating in your mind.

“I’m sure it is,” he finally said, his tone dry but still patient, his gaze never wavering.

You exhaled sharply, dragging your hands down your face. “Okay. So, I started with simple decorations—some cobwebs, pumpkins, and all the usual stuff. But it just…it wasn’t enough. I wanted to do something big. Something really cool.”

He raised an eyebrow, silently urging you to continue.

“So, I got this idea,” you said, hesitating. You could already feel the heat rising in your face. “I took a garbage bag, stuffed it with paper to make it look like a body, and then—” You paused, your voice dropping slightly. “Then I added some fake blood. A lot of fake blood.”

His eyes widened, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying to hold back a laugh. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” you admitted, wincing. “But it looked amazing! For like…five minutes.” You gestured vaguely toward the dashboard, trying to find the words to defend yourself. “I might have spilled some of the fake blood on the lawn. And…it might’ve looked a little too real.”

Too real, extra real.

“A little?” Spencer asked, incredulous. “You mean realistic enough to make the neighbors call the cops?”

You winced, expecting him to think you were ridiculous—or worse, stupid. But then, to your surprise, his lips quirked into a soft laugh.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me!” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest when you saw the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Yeah, maybe you didn't want him to think you were weird, but you didn't like being laughed at either.

“I’m not laughing,” he said, though the hint of amusement in his voice betrayed him.

“You are absolutely laughing,” you huffed, your pout deepening. “It’s not funny, Spencer.”

He took a deep breath, finally managing to suppress his laughter—mostly. His hand reached out to tilt your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. The warmth in his hazel eyes softened the sting of your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, though his lips still twitched with the ghost of a smile. “I really am, angel. But you have to admit, you went a little overboard with the ‘terrifying’ concept.”

And there it was, the kind of sweetness that had made you fall for him so hard. The kind you'd expect to receive without question after spending at least half an hour locked in a filthy cell.

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “Okay, maybe. But in my head, it wasn’t that bad,” you said weakly. “It just…went a little wrong.”

“A little?” he repeated, his eyebrows raising again. “You got arrested. You scared half the neighborhood into thinking they’d stumbled onto a crime scene.”

“At least it wasn’t illegal!” You shot back, crossing your arms defensively. “I didn’t actually hurt anyone. I just made a mess. With fake blood.”

Spencer’s gaze dropped to your hands, where smears of red clung stubbornly to your skin. His eyes flicked to your clothes—your jeans, your shirt, both stained with dried streaks of crimson. A slow grin spread across his face.

“It wasn’t illegal, but now you look like you walked off the set of a slasher movie,” he said, his voice filled with teasing affection. “Here—and here.” He gestured to a streak of red on your shoulder, then another on your cheek.

You were about to protest when he suddenly leaned in. His face was so close now, his breath warm against your skin. Before you could say another word, his lips brushed softly against yours—a brief, gentle kiss that caught you off guard. You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. Then, as if it had all been a slow, perfect dance, you melted into him. His lips were warm and tender, the kiss slow and sweet, like a quiet promise that everything, even in the chaos of your night, was going to be okay.

When he pulled back, your breath caught, your chest fluttering in that way only he could make you feel. His grin was wide, playful, but there was something else in his eyes—a depth, a tenderness that made your heart thud. You blinked up at him, still dazed from the warmth of his kiss.

“For the record,” he murmured, his voice soft, his lips still dangerously close to yours, “I never thought you were a criminal. Just a little…overly enthusiastic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a genuine, warm sound bubbling out of you. “Overly enthusiastic,” you echoed, shaking your head. “That’s one way to put it.”

“And messy,” he added, his eyes twinkling as they lingered on the fake blood smeared across your face.

“Don’t push your luck, Dr. Reid,” you warned, though the smile on your face betrayed you.

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound melting into the quiet of the car. He leaned in then, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss that felt like a promise—quiet, tender, and full of unspoken reassurance. The warmth of his touch seeped into you, and you closed your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the comfort of his presence.

As he pulled back, he studied you with that signature look—the one that always made you feel like he could see straight into your soul. His brow furrowed slightly, and you recognized that expression well: the one he wore when he was about to ask something important, when he wanted to understand you better. It was a look that never failed to make your heart flutter, even if it made you feel vulnerable.

“Okay,” he said slowly, his tone gentler now. “I get wanting to make the decorations amazing, but why was it so important? Why go all out to the point of, well…” He gestured vaguely toward you, his lips twitching again. “Fake crime scene levels of effort?”

You hesitated, his question hitting you like a wave. You knew the answer, but speaking it aloud felt heavier than you had anticipated. It was as though the words themselves had a weight you hadn’t been prepared to carry. You lowered your gaze, absently picking at the hem of your shirt as you fought to find the right words, your mind tangled in emotions that were hard to articulate.

Reid didn’t push, though. His silence was patient, waiting for you to open up at your own pace. It was one of the things you adored about him—the way he didn’t rush, didn’t demand. He just let you be, trusting you would share when you were ready.

Finally, you exhaled a shaky breath and met his eyes, the vulnerability in your voice clear as you spoke. “It’s not just about the decorations,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s about Jack.”

His expression shifted immediately, his eyes softening with understanding but remaining focused as you continued.

“I just…” You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I want to be the perfect aunt for him, you know? Someone who makes things better, even if just for a little while. He’s been through so much—losing Hayley, seeing my brother juggle everything just to make sure Jack’s okay…” Your voice wavered, and you clenched your hands to steady yourself. “He’s only a kid. He deserves to feel happy and safe and…loved.”

Maybe that last word was too personal, and maybe your boyfriend noticed.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours in a silent offer of comfort. You took his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding you enough to keep going.

“I know I can’t replace his mom, and I’d never try to,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I thought maybe, just maybe, if I did this party right—if I made it something really special—it could be a distraction. Something fun. Something he could look back on and smile about instead of just…” You trailed off, biting your lip as the words lodged in your throat.

He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “Instead of just remembering what he’s lost,” he finished for you, his voice soft and understanding.

You nodded, blinking back the sting of tears. “Yeah.”

The car was quiet for a moment, the weight of your confession settling between you. Then Spencer shifted closer, his free hand reaching up to brush a stray tear from your cheek. The tenderness in his touch made your chest ache in a way that was both painful and comforting.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” he said gently, his voice steady and sure. “You’re already doing more for him than you realize. Just by being there, by loving him the way you do…that’s what matters. Not decorations or parties or anything else.”

His words hit you squarely in the heart, and you let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest loosening just a fraction. “I just wanted it to be perfect,” you admitted, leaning into his touch. “I didn’t want to mess it up and end up in a cell.”

Reid smiled softly, his fingers brushing lightly against your jaw as he held your gaze. “You didn’t mess it up,” he said firmly. “Okay, maybe the decorations were a little unconventional,” he added with a playful glint in his eye. “But your heart was in the right place. And Jack knows that. He loves you and thinks you’re wonderful, just like I do.”

You felt your breath catch at his words, the warmth in his eyes making your cheeks flush despite everything. “You’ve really become good at this, you know,” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “The whole comforting and making me blushing thing.”

He let out a soft chuckle, giving your cheek a gentle tap with his thumb before pulling back slightly. “I might have read eleven books to brush up on a few things and be better,” he said, his tone light but not dismissive.

You chuckled, the sound lifting the tension that had been pulling at your chest. “Eleven books? You really went all in on this, huh?”

His arm slipped around your shoulders, drawing you closer, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against you grounding and reassuring. “When it’s you,” he said softly, “I’d go even further than that.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the weight of the world ease off your shoulders. A quiet thought lingered in your mind, one you hadn’t been able to put into words until now. “But…sometimes, don’t you think I’m weird?” you asked, the vulnerability creeping in despite yourself.

Please say no.

“Weird? No,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “I think you’re perfect.” He paused for a moment, then added with a soft laugh, “And every day, I’m grateful you don’t think I’m weird either.”

You smiled, the knot in your chest loosening, the weight of uncertainty fading as his words settled in. “Guess we both can be a little weird then,” you said, the truth of it comforting you more than you expected.

He chuckled, the sound easy and light, as he pulled you a little closer, holding you in a way that spoke of quiet promises. “It’s perfect for me.”

[ryescapades]

ੈ‧₊༺ 1:43 am ༺‧₊ ੈ

characters: sakura haruka x gn!reader content: fluff a/n: methinks he doesn’t like to ask for it but he lowkey really enjoys listening to you talk so pls do yap to him abt wtv (he might start tweaking if u don’t) ≈ 800 wc

It’s peaceful, blissfully cold, and you’re soundly sleeping when you start to notice two things; something is vibrating, and it’s in the middle of the night.

Well, you assume it’s in the middle of the night since it’s still dark out and no trace of daylight is present at the moment. Not like you can think of anything else either, since you had just been woken up by the former of those aforementioned details.

Groggily and very much grumpily, your hand blindly searches for the source of the vibrating object which you had felt somewhere on the back of your thigh. Snippets of last night appear in your foggy mind, a small reminder of how you had accidentally fallen asleep while mindlessly scrolling through your phone before bed.

Finally managing to get the device in your hand, a low curse escapes from you as the beaming screen blinds your bleary eyes.

‘sakura <3’, the name on the screen reads.

Your eyebrows furrow, confusion evident on your face but you slide a thumb across the screen to answer the call anyway. “Sakura…?”

Across the static line between you two, Sakura closes his eyes as he relishes in the sound of your voice, albeit a little raspy from sleep. Too lost in the familiarity of it, he almost forgets that he hasn’t replied yet.

“Ah - hey...” he greets, slightly embarrassed that he doesn’t have anything thought up to say.

Sakura is by no means a frequent caller nor a texter— heck, he barely even touches the damn device he’s holding in his hand right now. But it’s past midnight. His body is tired, his mind can hardly keep up with how much he’s been thinking of you, and the next thing he knows, his fingers were already pulling up the number to your contact.

You’re no different than him, of course. Even in your sleepy haze, you can’t stop the onslaught of fluttering butterflies in your stomach just as his voice enters your ears, which unknowingly elicits a sigh from you, quiet and dreamy.

“Is everything alright? You never really contacted me unless it’s something important,” you ask worriedly, turning in bed as you try to get comfortable again under your blanket.

“’m fine, nothin’s wrong.”

“Oh, okay…” You trail off, unsure. “Uhm, is there anything you wanted to talk about?”

From where he’s sitting on the lone mattress in his home, blankets haphazardly tossed aside, Sakura taps his index finger repeatedly out of nervous tension. He feels stupid now; stupidly guilty that he had woken you up from your much needed slumber for - what?

What was he planning to say anyway? That this measly phone call was done out of pure impulse? That he had been kept awake all night because the only way he could fall asleep is when you’re there beside him? And that he’s been missing you all day?

He almost punched himself at how humiliatingly needy and deprived that sounds.

“No,” he opts instead, clenching his teeth as he reminds himself to ask any of his seniors for some good beating sparring tomorrow. Kaji, or Hiragi, preferably. Maybe then he could get this idiocy and cringiness punched out of him.

The line goes silent for a few moments. “Then why are you—” Your eyebrows furrow before realization sets in, a soft smile growing on your face. Blankets pulled up to your chin, you lay on your side as you let your phone get sandwiched between your cheek and the pillow.

“Actually, you wanna know what happened earlier today?”

Your boyfriend perks up at that, silvery and golden orbs gleaming in the dark room. He hums in affirmation, and that’s all you need before you start telling him about your day; all the littlest and most random things you found, all the people you’ve met, everything and nothing. Your voice, mellow and soothing, courses through him like a wave gently lapping up the shore, harmonious in its ebbing tide.

Aside from the few replies of acknowledgment, Sakura listens, listens and just listens. He’s carving a special place for your voice at the very front of his mind. Every rise and drop, every lilted word he could get. Like an anchor deep in the bottom of the sea, you ground him from drifting away to that bottomless pit he was once in back then.

It’s not until you stop talking for a second that he realizes he’s been focusing too much on the sound instead of comprehending what you’ve been saying, and you immediately catch on to that. You gently call out to him, and Sakura has to hold in the urge to shy away into the collar of his shirt from how affectionate and nice his name sounds on your lips.

“Sakura?”

“W-what?” He flushes red, though he’s glad that you’re not there to see it.

You bite down on your bottom lip, lightly chuckling in endearment. “Nothing, I just…”

A beat of silence passes.

“I love you, yeah?”

Yup, Sakura is a goner now (if not already).

told yall i’m a sakura girlie heh (< said the person who wrote for some other guy first before her top fave)

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 5

Masterpost Ao3

“So hypothetically,” Superboy begins, glancing over at Robin. “Say I met another meta, and they, like, needed a civilian identity...” He trails off, listening intently. Trying to get anything from Robin's expression is pointless - between his skill at maintaining his composure, and the expression obscuring mask, there's not a lot to be read on his face. Instead Superboy focuses on his heartbeat, which speeds up the smallest amount as Robin turns away from the tablet he'd been working with, and settles his full attention directly onto Superboy.

“Hypothetically,” Robin repeats.

“Yeah. You know, in theory, if that ever happened.” Robin stares at Superboy for a moment, presumably reading everything that's missing from his own face in Superboy's.

“Well. In theory, the Justice League has the means to grant any meta hero a full identity. Is this about you? Because honestly it's insane that they haven't bothered yet, and I will straight up make you one right now if you-”

“No, it's not about me,” Superboy interrupts. “But like, you could do that? Without the Justice League’s support, I mean?. Like, say if this hypothetical person really didn't want the Justice League knowing about them?”

“You met a meta who doesn't like the Justice League.”

“I don't think it's really about the Justice League specifically. I mean, they definitely don't exist, but if they did, then I would say that the second I showed up they were bracing for a fight. Like before they even saw who I was.” Robin sets his tablet to the side without looking, and leans just a touch towards Superboy as he talks. It's honestly wild, he thinks, how the other boy can manage such intense eye contact through white lenses, but, well, that's the bats for you.

“Theoretically, I could absolutely make this person an identity, if they did exist. But I would want to meet them first.”

“Cool, cool,” Superboy says leaning back into the couch. “I offered to introduce you and they said they'd consider it. I think, maybe they don't trust adults very much, bc they asked if you were our age.”

“Theoretically?”

“Exactly.”

* * *

Though the specific details as to when the founding member first became acquainted, it was only after multiple incidents of near-worldwide devastation that they realized the necessity of an organized front.

The details of the forming of the Justice League should be fascinating, if only for the revelation that world-ending disasters are, apparently, relatively common in this universe. In a way, it’s a comforting thought. Memories of Dan sit as heavily as ever in Danny’s mind, especially now that he’s effectively lost his family, just like in Dan’s timeline. Of course, here there’s presumably no risk of him getting fused with Vlad, so probably that specific threat isn’t likely, but - well, if it comes to the worst and Danny does go mad, there’s at least a reasonably good chance that the heroes here will be able to stop him.

On the other hand, this also means that if the heroes turn out to actually be evil or whatever, he has less chance of getting away. Of course, Superboy hadn’t really seemed evil, but Danny really has no clue if he would even be able to tell. Sure he’d known Vlad was a nightmare from a mile away, but Vlad wasn’t exactly subtle about his obsession with Danny. Evil steeped in calculation would surely be harder to spot, wouldn’t it?

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” someone says from behind Danny. “But are you going to be using that computer for much longer?” Danny blinks, staring back at the teen who’s looking at him nervously. Danny glances over at the clock, but it’s now reading 2:30, which means that he’s been here for like three hours already,and he really hasn’t read much of anything in all that time.

“You can have it,” Danny says, pulling back to shove his notebook into his backpack.

“You sure, man? I don’t wanna chase you off, but I really could use it. Physics project, you know?” 

“Yeah, I get it. Wasn’t really making much progress anyway. Might as well take a break.” Danny says. He never got to take physics in school, but he remembers struggling with lit class enough to understand the sentiment. And he really isn’t making any progress, if he’s been staring at the same Justice League page for multiple hours.

“You working on a history project or something?”

“Yeah.” It’s close enough to the truth.

“What teacher d’you have? It’s pretty cool that they’re letting you do it on the Justice League.”

“Oh, uh,” Danny quails for a moment, focusing on closing the tab so he doesn’t tell the kid he’s not going to school. After all it’s probably reasonable to assume the laws about delinquency are the same here. “It’s more about the meta protection acts than like, the Justice League itself. And I’m not really local, so...”

“Ah, that explains why I don’t recognize you,” the other teen grins.

“Yeah,” Danny says, stepping back so the other teen can take over the computer. “Well, good luck with your physics project.”

“Thanks, man, and good luck with your meta-acts essay.” The other teen turns his attention to the computer as Danny steps away, heading for the library exit. Clearly research isn’t going well today, and Jazz would definitely yell at him for trying to force his brain to focus when it clearly doesn’t want to. He pauses outside for a moment, trying to remember what Jazz said to when your focus was shot. Obviously part one was to take a break, but he’s certain that she’d had more to say than that.

He thinks he remembers her going on a rant about monotony, and boredom, but he doesn’t really feel bored. Actually more than anything he feels wired and anxious. And anxious means he should...

“Turn slow tigers into fast tigers,” Danny mutters, gaining a deeply confused look from the couple other patrons standing outside the library. He ignores them, though, and starts heading for the nearby park, so he can do some stretches. Fast tigers means he has to exercise, which he would usually complain about but- well, his routine has definitely been a lot less active since he got here. Other than the train crash the other week, Danny’s been spending most of his time sitting and reading, and while it’s been insanely nice to have nobody hunting him, honestly the idea of exercise sounds almost horrifyingly nice.

He does his best to run through the kind of stretches he remembers doing in PE, warming himself up as best he can before starting to jog the little looping path. The jeans make it a little more annoying than he remembers in PE, but luckily they’re kind of loose, so they’re not too terrible to run in, and Danny has no intention of going very fast. There’s too many people around even if he wanted to, and he does his best to be polite and not in the way as he jogs. it doesn’t take long for his breathing to go heavy with exertion, and as he finishes his second circuit, Dannyt relaxes into it, and just lets himself run.

Thirty minutes later, Danny is feeling markedly more tired, and he lets himself slow to a walk. His heart is thudding rhythmically in his chest, the occasional stutter only more prominent in the heightened pounding, and his legs feel a little wobbly, but he keeps walking, The sweat he’d worked up feels gross against his clothes, so probably he could’ve gone about it better, but Danny figures a whole thirty minutes without worrying about his existential situation is more than worth feeling gross for a bit. His usual tactic of sneaking into the local gym while it’s closed isn’t gonna cut it during the day, so he’ll have to wait to shower, but in the meantime, he can walk off the remaining adrenaline, and decide what to do for dinner.

* * *

“Hey, did you really mean what you said about me having a civilian identity?” Robin looks up as Superboy sits in the air beside his work desk.

“I have four different identities, ready for you to choose from,” Robin says.

“Wait do you just keep possible identities around in case anybody needs them? Is that, like, a Bat thing?” Superboy leans over to examine the tool Robin had been working on. Like everything else he uses, it’s emblazoned with a bat insignia, not that the marking does anything to help identify what the little machine even does. It’s ridiculously small, definitely not any kind of weapon, unless Robin’s been tinkering with the idea of murderous nanobots, which honestly wouldn’t be that shocking. Of any hero Superboy’s ever met, Robin seems uniquely predisposed towards mad scientist-type stuff.

“I keep exactly two emergency identities on hold, but those are separate. I was talking specifically about identities for you.” Superboy freezes, turning his eyes back to Robin, who looks at him like this is a perfectly normal thing to say. Superboy is at least ninety percent sure it isn’t, but what the hell.

“What the hell,” Superboy echoes his own thoughts. “Why would I ever need four identities?”

“You don’t need four, you need options. There’s no point in giving you an identity you hate.”

“Okay, but people don’t get to choose their names? So why would I care.”

“Most people don’t choose their names because most people receive them when they’re babies, but everyone has the ability to change it later if they decide they don’t like it. You have the unique advantage of being cognitively developed enough to have a say from the beginning, and you should have the opportunity to use it.”

“Huh...” That’s actually kind of sweet. “Do you like your name? I mean, like, that’s not why you don’t want to tell us, right?”

“My name is adequate,” Robin answers slowly. “It’s mine and I am... accustomed to it. The reason I haven’t told you my name is because it... implicates the other bats, and Batman considers that to be a significant security risk.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess that’s fair. Could I see the names you were thinking of?”

“Certainly,” Robin says, pushing back from the desk. “Let me get my tablet.”

* * *

“Uh, Superboy?” Danny shouts, trying to ignore how fucking ridiculous this feels. “Are you, like, free to talk? I think I want to meet your friend.” He’s hovering in the sky about a mile out from his town, in as close to the middle of nowhere as he could manage. He’d done a bit of looking into Robin this morning, before making his decision, and what a wild discovery that Robin was a name that had been held by multiple individuals. It makes him think of Dani, and he almost hopes that wherever she ends up, she might use the name Phantom too. After all, if anyone else rights to it, it would be his genetic clone.

Danny has no clue if time is flowing the same here as back home, but with any luck his friends have managed to orchestrate Dani’s escape too. It was always going to be a little more dodgy than Danny himself- his death being inherently tied to the portal had meant it was a bit more responsive to him than it otherwise would be, and that detail had been pretty quintessential to the rewiring that had needed to be done in order to send him to an entirely different universe, but they’d been hoping that her nature as a post-portal clone would mean that she had a close enough tie to the portal to send her through as well. Not that Danny would likely ever get to know for sure.

The soft rush of air alerted Danny to someone’s arrival, and he just managed to keep himself from falling into a defensive posture as he turned to look at the newly arrived Superboy, and the other teen being carried in his arms. Danny recognized the other boys outfit as that of the current Robin, who was now staring at Danny through a pair of disconcerting white-lenses set into a domino mask.

“We were free so I figured we’d just come meet you?” Superboy says with a nervous grin.

“Yeah, that’s, um, kind of obvious. Should we land?” Danny’s pretty sure that none of the Bats have flight, and like, as much as flying is cool as hell, Robin doesn’t look particularly impressed by it.

“That would be preferable, please,” Robin says, confirming Danny’s thoughts. He nods, and heads for the ground. Superboy follows just as quickly, and a moment later they’re all gathered on a gravel road in farmland.

“So, uh,” Superboy begins, once he’s deposited Robin on his own two feet.

“You told him about me before,” Danny says. Superboy may have had plenty of time to fly over here, but there hadn’t been enough of a delay to have explained the situation to Robin just now.

“It was an entirely theoretical conversation,” Robin offers dryly, before Superboy can respond.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that he was asking if I could theoretically help a meta acquire an identity if they were uncomfortable with the Justice League. Nothing of it was mentioned to anyone else and he told me no details about who any theoretical metas might be.” Danny blinks, taking a moment to process Robin’s explanation. In a way it makes sense, and he can see why Superboy would want to make sure that what he was offering was even possible.  Besides, it’s pretty obvious already that they both really trust each other.

“Okay, sure. I guess I get it.”

“I would like to know why you’re concerned about the Justice League, though, if you’re willing to share. If there’s anything illicit happening-”

“Oh, no, it’s not like that,” Danny cuts in as soon as he realizes where Robin’s going. He’s suddenly glad he’d already decided to explain his situation in more detail. “It’s like, I’m not from here so my shit is entirely unrelated? It’s just, they’re -you’re?- associated with the government, you know?”

“And your government is a threat to you.”

“Honestly, everything was. But they can’t get to me here. It’s why my friends- that’s why I’m here.”

“Okay, but are you sure you’re safe? Because like, space travel is a thing, and if you need protection...” Superboy trails off, looking concerned.

“I mean, it should be fine? Even if the GIW did manage to figure out inter-dimensional travel, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to figure out where specifically I went, so yeah.” Danny really doesn’t want to think about a GIW that’s gone inter-dimensional.

“Well if they did manage to make it here, they would be breaching the meta protection acts if they tried anything, so I hope if that does happen you inform myself or Superboy.”

“Yeah,” Danny laughs. “It’s honestly been kind of crazy trying to wrap my head around the idea I have protections here?”

“That’s understandable. Plenty of meta-individuals have complicated feelings about them, even if they grew up here.”

“Oh?”

“Well, just because it’s illegal to exploit or discriminate against someone doesn’t necessarily mean it doesn’t happen. And metas who have been treated poorly often have trouble trusting in the protection acts.”

“Or sometimes you just didn’t get that info programmed into you and then you have to adjust to your understanding of history being manufactured,” Superboy mutters under his breath. Robin doesn’t react at all and Danny’s pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it either. The implications are a bit concerning, but Danny’s not about to press him on it.

“Yeah, I mean that’s kind of where I am, I guess. I think I’d like it if you’d be willing to make me a legal identity? I’m basically homeless at the moment, so I’d like to be able to get a job or something. But I’d really rather not end up on the Justice League’s radar yet. You guys seem nice, but databases are- a lot.”

“Easy enough. I can actually do it all with my personal resources, so the info never goes anywhere near the Justice League’s databases. We just need to determine what name history you want to have.”

“I mean, I’d like to keep my name, if possible?”

“Sure, What’s your name?” Robin tilts his head.

“Danny Fenton.”

[daisymbin]

Oh sorry i forgot to mention the genre i meant #15 fluff with wonwoo thank youuu🥰

thank you for coming back to clarify!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

fluff prompt #15: "you're my favorite person, you know that?

the night was unusually cold, the chill creeping into the room despite the thick blanket draped over both of you. the only light came from the faint glow of the lamp on the nightstand, casting soft, golden hues over wonwoo’s face as he leaned back against the headboard.

you were curled up beside him, a book forgotten in your lap. the quiet was comfortable, filled only with the sound of his steady breathing and the occasional rustle of the blanket.

“it’s nice like this,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

you turned your head slightly to look at him. “what is?”

“just… us,” he said, his gaze dropping to where your hands rested against his arm. his voice was quiet, contemplative. “being here with you. no distractions, no rush to be anywhere.”

“you’re not usually this sentimental,” you teased gently, though your heart was already starting to race.

he chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “maybe you just don’t notice it.”

“or maybe you hide it well,” you countered, a smile tugging at your lips.

“maybe,” he said, his tone light, though his eyes were serious as they flicked over to you.

you could feel the shift in the air, the way his words hung between you like something unspoken. “wonwoo,” you said, your voice soft.

“hmm?” he murmured, his gaze meeting yours.

“what’s on your mind?”

he hesitated for a moment, his fingers brushing against yours. “just thinking,” he said finally.

“about?”

he looked down, his thumb tracing lazy patterns against the back of your hand. “you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

your breath hitched, and you tilted your head to get a better look at him. “me?”

he nodded, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the sheets. “yeah. i was just thinking about how… about how much i like this. how much i like… us, & how different everything feels with you. better, i mean.”

“better?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

he looked up, meeting your gaze again. “yeah,” he said, his voice steady despite the way his heart was racing. “like, even when everything else is a mess, when i’m with you, it doesn’t feel so bad. it feels like… like i can breathe.”

your expression softened, and he saw the hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “wonwoo…”

“i mean it,” he said, his tone earnest. “you make everything better. you’re… you’re my favorite person, you know that?”

your breath hitched, and for a moment, you just stared at him, your eyes searching his face.

“your favorite person?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

he nodded, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “yeah. you’re the person i want to talk to when something good happens, and the person i want to see when things are hard. you’re the one who makes everything feel a little less heavy.”

your lips parted, but no words came out. he watched as your eyes shimmered, and his chest tightened.

“sorry,” he said quickly, pulling his hand back. “that was probably too much—”

“no,” you interrupted, your hand darting out to grab his. “it’s not too much.”

he stilled, his gaze dropping to where your fingers curled around his. “it’s not?”

you shook your head, your grip tightening slightly. “no. it’s… it’s exactly what i needed to hear.”

he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, relief washing over him. “yeah?”

you smiled, and this time, it reached your eyes. “yeah, and for the record, you’re my favorite person too.”

after a moment, he spoke again, his voice softer this time. “sometimes i wonder what i did to deserve you.”

“wonwoo…”

“i’m serious,” he said, turning his head to look at you. “you make everything better, just by being here. i don’t think i’ll ever stop being grateful for that.”

your chest felt tight, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite put into words. “you don’t have to deserve me,” you said finally. “we’re just… us. that’s enough.”

he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “yeah,” he said softly. “it is.”

you rolled your eyes playfully, but the affection in your gaze was undeniable. “come here,” you said, tugging on his hand.

he didn’t hesitate, shifting closer until there was no space left between you. you tucked yourself against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“thank you,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“for what?” he asked, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head.

“for being you,” you said simply.

he smiled, his heart feeling impossibly full.

[xoxochb]

percy dry humping aphrodite!reader??

hriejdbkxdjnfbdbd deceased!!!!! need this so bad :(

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“perce, we shouldn’t—” your sentence is cut short by a strangled moan, the friction between your soaked panties and percy’s boxers sending your head into a spiral.

it’s not that you want him to stop, but at the same time he kind of has to stop for the sake of both of your reputations. your siblings were only out of cabin ten for lunch, you knew they’d be back right after, but somehow percy had managed to get to you clothed at the very least. turns out he’s more persuasive than you think because you gave into him unfortunately.

“jus’ lemme take care of you, sweet girl. you gonna let me do that?”

obediently, you nod. though at the moment you can’t seem to find it in yourself to disagree— or as a matter of fact, you can’t do much as you feel his hardness rubbing against your clothed clit, it has you dizzy and in an almost limp state. you tear between stopping him and telling him to continue. in fact, in mentions of that, his pace along you quickens, perhaps he has taken your thoughts into his own brain and realized that shit your siblings will be back soon, you were right.

and you know for a fact that there’s no way in hell percy would simply stop everything right now just because of a possibility, no, what kind of boyfriend would he be then? in his opinion, a pretty shitty one. even through your soft whimper when his hips roll firmly against yours, this only makes him want to keep going further.

“please, we- can’t- we have to-”

you don’t even know what you’re saying. or thinking. your mind is too fuzzy to concentrate on anything at this point. but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to beg percy to stop, you have to before your siblings—

shit. holy fucking shit.

if your poor panties weren’t already drenched to the brim they sure as hell were now! you’re hit with the sudden pleasurable sensation like a freight train. and you thank the gods you came quick within these few minutes because sooner or later you would’ve forgotten how to speak entirely. then you would’ve have been entirely done for.

though you’re starting to think, with the at you feel now, that you already are.

[pandapetals]

Couple Questions

You and Logan answer some cute couple questions!

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, your an english professor, logan is a history professor

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

a/n: not the usual update but I saw some couple questions on pinterest and thought you know what…im gonna do this because it’s cute. i may or may not also have headcanons for them lol.

What were your first impressions of each other?

You : grinning "I thought he was rude. He barely said hello when I first arrived at the mansion, just mumbled something and walked away like I wasn’t worth his time."

Logan : smirking "To be fair, I had a lot on my mind."

You : "But then I caught him staring at me in the library one day, and I thought, ‘Huh, maybe he’s not as grumpy as he looks.’ Turns out I was wrong—he’s grumpier.” teasingly nudges him

Logan : chuckling "You done? ‘Cause my first impression was that you talked too much."

You : mock gasp "Excuse me?!"

Logan : shrugging "But you had this fire about you. Didn’t take crap from anyone. Thought that was… different." pauses, his voice softening "And your laugh. First time I heard it, I couldn’t get it outta my head."

Describe the moment each of you knew you had feelings for each other.

You : thoughtful smile "I think it was when Jean told me Logan liked me. It just… clicked. All the banter, the little glances, the way he’d hover nearby even though he pretended not to care—it all made sense. Once I realized it, it was like… yeah, I like him too. It was terrifying and exciting at the same time."

Logan : scratching the back of his neck, pretending to look annoyed "She’s makin’ me sound soft already."

You : "You are soft."

Logan : ignoring her "For me, it was probably when I realized she wasn’t offended by my attitude. That’s when I knew she wasn’t just anyone. She was my someone."

Did either of you fight your feelings, or was it easy to accept?

You : snorting "Oh, we both fought it. He avoided me a lot of the time. I overthought everything —does he like me? What if I’m imagining it? What if I ruin our friendship?"

Logan : dryly "You do think too much. Me? I didn’t avoid you."

You : glaring playfully "You literally avoided the library for two weeks, and that’s your favorite place!"

Logan : grinning faintly "Alright, fine. Maybe I fought it a little. Was scared I’d mess things up. Didn’t think someone like you would want someone like me."

You : softly, brushing his hand "You’re an idiot for thinking that, but you’re my idiot."

When was the first time you said “I love you”? What prompted it?

You : "It was after a nightmare. Logan woke up in a cold sweat, muttering apologies for scaring me. But he hadn’t scared me—I just wanted to comfort him. And in the middle of me rambling about how it was okay, it just came out: ‘I love you.’"

Logan : quietly "Didn’t think I’d ever hear those words from someone. But when she said it, I couldn’t stop myself. Told her I loved her right back."

You : smiling softly "And then you called me a ‘damn fool’ for putting up with you."

Logan : shrugging "I stand by it."

Who is the big spoon, who is the little spoon?

You : "Oh, Logan’s the big spoon, obviously. But sometimes I’ll be the big spoon when he’s had a rough day. He pretends to hate it, but I know he secretly likes it."

Logan : grumbling "I don’t need a damn cocoon, sweetheart."

You : grinning "But you still let me."

What’s your favorite quality about each other?

You : "Logan’s loyalty. He’ll protect the people he loves with everything he has, even when he doesn’t think he deserves to be loved back."

Logan : looking at her, his voice softer "Her heart. She’s got this way of makin’ everyone feel like they matter. Like they’re worth somethin’. That’s rare."

You : teasingly "Stop, you’re gonna make me cry."

Logan : smirking "Good. Payback for all the times you make me feel stuff."

Who is the messiest?

You : raising her hand immediately "Me. Absolutely me."

Logan : snorting "Finally, somethin’ we agree on."

You : "Hey, at least I know where everything is in my mess. Your ‘organized’ piles confuse me."

Logan : "It ain’t hard, darlin’. One pile’s for weapons, the other’s for books. What’s so confusin’?"

Who sings in the shower?

You : grinning mischievously "Logan does. And he doesn’t even realize it half the time. It’s adorable."

Logan : deadpan "I don’t sing in the shower."

You : "Oh, so the other day when I walked by and heard you mumbling ‘Sweet Caroline’ under your breath, that wasn’t you?"

Logan : grumbling "I was hummin’ it. There’s a difference."

You : sarcastically "Sure, tough guy. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Who likes horror movies? Who likes romance movies?

You : grinning "Logan likes horror movies, obviously. He’ll sit there, all serious, like nothing phases him. But I swear I caught him flinch once during The Exorcist ."

Logan : gruffly "Did not."

You : "You did. Anyway, I like romance movies. Logan pretends to hate them, but he always ends up watching them with me."

Logan : smirking "That’s ‘cause I know you’ll cry, and I gotta be ready to hand you tissues."

You : rolling her eyes "And yet, who was tearing up during The Notebook last week? Hmm?"

Logan : groaning "Alright, fine. I might like some of ‘em. But don’t go tellin’ anyone."

You : "Oh, your secret’s safe with me. But I’ll totally remind you next time we watch Pride and Prejudice ."

Logan : grinning, pulling her closer "You’re somethin’ else, sweetheart."

What’s your favorite memory of us?

You:thoughtfully smiling “That’s hard to pick. But… I think it was when you planned that romantic getaway for my birthday—you bought me that dress. Or when you wrote that for me poem and gave it to me for Christmas.”

Logan:grinning faintly “You mean the one where you cried ‘cause I wrote you that little poem in the book?”

You:mock gasping “You wrote me a poem , Logan. Of course, I cried! I still have that dress, by the way.”

Logan:chuckling, his voice softer now “That was a good one. But for me? I think it’s our wedding. Just you, me, and those vows I wrote on a scrap of paper. You called me an idiot for cryin’ halfway through.”

You:sniffing dramatically “And I’ll call you an idiot for it again, but only because you cried first. You set me off.”

Logan:smirking “You weren’t even gonna cry ‘til I pulled out that damn lucky pen you gave me.”

You:“Well, yeah, it’s our lucky pen, Logan! What did you expect?”

Hugs or kisses?

You:grinning slyly “Kisses. Definitely kisses.”

Logan:raising an eyebrow “Really? I’d say hugs.”

You:blinking in mock surprise “Logan Howlett likes hugs? Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

Logan:shrugging, smirking a little “What can I say? There’s somethin’ about you wrappin’ yourself around me that just feels right.”

You:melting a little before recovering quickly “Okay, you win that one. But kisses still come with extra perks.”

Logan:grinning wickedly “Oh, I know.”

Who finds it harder to admit they’re wrong?

You:“Oh, Logan. 100% Logan.”

Logan:gruffly “What? That’s not true.”

You:glaring playfully “Logan, you once argued with me for three hours about the best way to cook eggs—only to realize you were wrong and never admit it.”

Logan:grumbling “That’s ‘cause your way still doesn’t make sense.”

You:crossing her arms “Oh, it makes perfect sense, tough guy. You’re just stubborn.”

Logan:grinning faintly “Alright, fine. Maybe I don’t like bein’ wrong.”

You:“Maybe?!”

Who’s the boss in the marriage?

You:smirking, pointing to herself “Obviously me.”

Logan:laughing softly “Yeah, you think so, huh?”

You:“Logan, who does the meal planning? The laundry schedules? Who makes sure you actually remember birthdays and anniversaries?”

Logan:grinning “Alright, you. But who fixes stuff when it breaks? Who makes sure no one bothers you when you’re havin’ a bad day? Who makes the coffee in the mornin’ exactly how you like it?”

You:softening, smiling sweetly “Alright, fine. We’re both the boss in different ways. But let’s be honest—when it comes to arguments, you fold first.”

Logan:mock scowling “Only ‘cause you give me those damn eyes. Ain’t fair.”

Who has the best jokes?

You:grinning smugly “Me. Hands down.”

Logan:snorting “Yeah, okay. But only ‘cause your jokes are so bad, they’re funny.”

You:“Excuse me?!”

Logan:grinning “Sweetheart, half your jokes are puns. Don’t get me wrong, I love seein’ you crack yourself up, but best jokes? Nah.”

You:frowning in mock offense “Fine, then let’s hear one of your so-called ‘good’ jokes.”

Logan:deadpan “Why’d the history book break up with the science book? No chemistry.”

You:blinking, then laughing despite herself “Okay, that was actually pretty good. Damn it.”

Who is grumpier?

You:“Oh, Logan. No contest.”

Logan:shrugging, unbothered “Yeah, probably.”

You:giggling “You’re basically a walking thundercloud until you’ve had your coffee. And even then, you’ve got about an hour before you start growling at people.”

Logan:smirking “That’s true, but you’re no ray of sunshine when you’re hungry.”

Who gets angry when they’re hungry?

You:immediately “Okay, fine. That’s me. But in my defense, you always know when to feed me before I get too hangry.”

Logan:chuckling “Damn right I do. Learned that the hard way on one of our first dates.”

You:giggling “Oh, you mean the time you forgot to feed me after making me hike five miles, and I almost bit your head off?”

Logan:grinning “Yup. You didn’t even wait for the food to hit the table before tearin’ into me. Thought I was gonna lose a hand.”

You:grinning sheepishly “Hey, at least you didn’t run for the hills.”

Logan:softly, leaning closer “Nah, sweetheart. I’d take your hangry self over anyone else any day.”

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer takes care of you after a serious accident.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: hospital, rehabilitation, neck and brain injury, nud1ty

𝐚/𝐧: this is one of the potential endings of my fanfiction "with the light off" which officialy remains open up to your own interpretation. this version written to comfort all the hearts i've broken <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

Spencer felt embarrassed by how, just an hour after leaving the apartment, he already wanted to call her.

She had already occupied a near-constant presence in the back of his mind, slipping in like a shadow—elusive and playful—darting between his thoughts, flitting from one corner to another whenever he tried, even briefly, to forget about her. But now? After that night they had spent together?

Spencer knew a lot about obsession. He understood the weight of the word and was acutely aware of its gravity. Yet he couldn’t deny it—he was obsessed with her. Physical contact had always been a sensitive yet profoundly significant subject for him. He didn’t allow many people that close. 

For him, touch was the ultimate proof of closeness and trust. Intimacy bred attachment. This wasn’t about desire in its rawest form—it was something else�� though he wasn’t entirely sure what. He couldn’t define the bond they shared.

He felt bored, detached from the world when she wasn’t in it, and the only thing keeping him tethered to some semblance of normality was the thought—the imagining—that at this very moment, they were breathing the same air.

He was starting to think he might be losing his mind.

He held off on calling her precisely to avoid coming across as a lunatic in her eyes. He managed to restrain himself only once he was at work, where the seriousness of his profession demanded it. In a way, though, he felt lighter. Throughout the day, he was buoyed by the thought of their upcoming meeting, the excitement it brought—and the nerves. That mixture of emotions was enough to make the entire team glance at him with curiosity.

Garcia was handing out case files, her hair recently dyed a vibrant shade of red. Rossi, instead of opening his folder like everyone else, was watching Spencer from across the table, leaning on his elbow.

“Did you win the lottery or something?” he asked, so unexpectedly that Spencer glanced around at the others, unsure who the question was meant for.

When he realized the question was directed at him, he swallowed hard. Morgan’s raised eyebrow seemed to challenge him to a duel.

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Because you’re practically glowing, sweetheart,” Penelope chimed in with a sly smile. “Don’t think you’re getting away without telling me everything later. I’ll get it out of you, don’t you worry. But for now, let’s get started…”

They immersed themselves in the case, but a few hours later, during a brief moment of downtime, he realized he was looking for an excuse to call her. Was a simple desire to ask what she was up to reason enough?

He wondered if she was still at his apartment. He hoped she was. He knew she’d eventually have to leave to prepare for the shift she was starting later that afternoon, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him about the whole situation with her roommate’s ex-boyfriend.

Realizing he’d been staring at his phone for far too long and that he’d soon need to get back to work, he made a snap decision and called.

But no one answered.

Logically, he reasoned that mornings were probably her time to sleep. Afterward, he tried sending a text message. But by late evening, when he finally returned to his apartment, he was starting to feel genuinely worried.

The question nagged at him: could it have been about the previous night? Maybe he’d done or said something wrong, something that had put her off completely?

Slowly, he walked into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway as his eyes landed on the perfectly made bed. It definitely hadn’t looked like that when he left it.

Then his gaze fell on the slightly ajar safe, and he froze. The combination was incredibly complicated, so he must have left it open when he took out his gun and badge. Besides those items, there was one more thing inside.

He had once again fallen into the trap of keeping Dilaudid close, even though he wasn’t using it. Was it possible she found it, and that’s why she hadn’t reached out?

It wasn’t that he had lied to her about being clean. She had seen how much effort it took for him to talk about it, so she approached the subject with incredible subtlety, never asking directly, but watching him closely, carefully, yet without pressing.

If she had really found it in his safe, she might have felt betrayed. Or maybe she decided she didn’t want to get involved with someone who had such a problem. Perhaps she had seen the whole previous night as one big mistake and then decided to throw him out of her life. Spencer, though it pained him, couldn’t help but feel that he deserved it.

He sat on the bed, crushed by his own thoughts. Something didn’t sit right with the version of events he had imagined. First and foremost, she wasn’t the type of person who would turn him away because of this. Her heart ached to help others; she couldn’t ignore someone else’s troubles. Even if he had hurt her, her immense capacity for understanding would have remained intact. Empathy was imprinted on her, like a deep, unshakable mark.

Driven by a hunch, he reached for his phone to call her again. That’s when he noticed two missed calls from an unknown number, just fifteen minutes ago.

He pressed the phone to his ear, his brow furrowing in confusion as he heard the first sound on the other end… a sob?

The sound went on and on, and Spencer was too confused to utter a single word.

“Who am I talking to?” he finally asked. Unable to stop himself, he stood up. He didn’t even know what was going on or who he was talking to, but he sprang to his feet anyway. His body compelled him, his insides twisting with unpleasant spasms.

It could just as well have been some stupid prank. The problem was, it wasn’t.

“H-hey, it’s J-Jude,” a voice came from the other end. Female, shaky, and choked with sobs so severe that if he didn’t already know her name, he would never have guessed he was speaking to her roommate. He stopped pacing the room. “I-it was me…I called earlier. S-she doesn’t have any…any family, and I didn’t know…I didn’t know who to inform…I can’t handle this on my own…they just took her away again…”

It wasn’t as if the world suddenly came to a halt. It simply became both sharper and blurrier at the same time. Spencer could see that single, bright strand of hair on the pillow with perfect clarity, yet his own legs seemed out of reach. When he looked down, all he saw was darkness stretching below him. Somehow, he was still breathing.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. Later, he couldn’t explain how his voice—those first words—had sounded so composed. “W-who took her… where… and why…?

“I have no fucking idea!” she shouted, followed by a long silence during which Jude took a desperate gasp of air. “I mean, I do, I do know! They just brought her in, but... but suddenly they took her back because there was some kind of…bleeding…”

“...ding?” he blurted out, the first syllable swallowed entirely by his panic.

“No, I don’t want anything to calm me down, I am calm, can’t you tell?” Her voice grew distant, as if she’d pulled the phone away from her mouth. Then it came back, clear and pleading. “Please, come here…”

She hung up. The phone slipped from his hand as if it burned him. In a frenzy, he bent down to grab it, only to drop it again. Finally, he fell to his knees, managing at last to pick it up. As he stood, he felt as though some substance was spreading through his brain—black, toxic, and utterly destructive. Its effects left him barely tethered to reality. He could hear and see, but everything was overlaid with Jude’s words, looping in his mind like printed text on a screen.

The next thirty minutes were a blur.

How could it be logically explained that, in a state of complete detachment from the outside world, he somehow managed to figure out, based on the map of the area imprinted in his memory, which specific hospital she was in? How did his panicked, trembling hands manage to cover that distance by car without causing an accident?

The only thing he knew was that he ended up at the nearest hospital, wearing just a shirt with no outer layer. It was shocking that he even had shoes on. 

He should have been looking for the woman who had called him, demanding every bit of information she had. But somehow, instinctively, his eyes searched for someone else—a familiar face. He prayed it was all some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe he was fooling himself, hoping to spot her among the people passing by. A part of him simply refused to accept the possibility that anything could have happened to her.

Nothing had happened.

She was fine.

Her blue eyes were soaking in the surroundings, their gaze carrying that faint sparkle that always appeared at night. Maybe there was even a smile on her lips. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow himself to imagine what might have happened to her. It felt as though the universe itself should be ashamed for ever entertaining the thought of harming her.

"Are you family?" the man at reception asked. Spencer nodded. "I'm sorry, but I can't provide you with any information,"

"Just tell me, is she alive?"

"I can't…"

"Just fucking tell me…"

"They’re operating on her right now," a voice spoke from behind him. Spencer turned and blinked. Only then did he realize he was in a hospital. Before, he’d only had a goal—an urgent need to get there. The surroundings were just beginning to take shape in his mind. He had never seen this woman before, but he guessed it had to be Jude. Her face was swollen from crying, but she seemed less shaken than during their call. She had probably accepted the sedatives. "Again. First, they spent almost four hours working on her neck… they said she was stable, asleep, but then suddenly there was that bleeding… I watched them take her out of the room right in front of me…"

“Did you see her?”

Unexpectedly, she hid her face in her hands.

“I didn’t know who to call. She mentioned you a few times, and I had your number, and I didn’t know what to do…” she began explaining chaotically, as if it mattered at all. “It’s my fault, you know, all of this is my fucking fault…”

They were standing right in front of the receptionist, blocking his access to others who needed help. Spencer snapped back to the moment, pulling her a few steps aside.

“W-what did you say? That they operated on her for four hours?”

“Yes, the first time…”

So, she had been there for at least four hours. Longer, considering the time needed after surgery before visiting a patient. Pain spread across his chest. While he was wondering why she hadn’t answered his calls, coming to various conclusions, she had been fighting for her life?

He... had been at work, moving around, talking to others, living, while all of this was happening? He felt as if... as if he had betrayed her. It was absurd, even he knew that. Despite the state he was in—tragic, to be precise—he understood just how absurd that thought was. But he couldn’t stop the guilt and shame that washed over him every time he tried to imagine her on the operating table while he had been completely unaware of her condition.

“I need to sit down," Jude muttered, and after a moment, they found themselves on narrow chairs lined along the hospital walls. Spencer barely managed to force his knees to bend, his body to settle into the seat.

He was only beginning to adjust to the foreign gravity that was pressing down on him.

In his head, there was only one thought, one resolution, one desire. The only thing that could save him from losing his mind in this waiting room.

"I need to see her."

"We have to wait," Jude replied, pressing her hand to her forehead. More tears appeared in her eyes. She wasn’t just terrified, she was completely falling apart. "We... we once gave each other permission to access information about our health. You know, in case of an accident. The doctors told me everything. A neck sprain. A concussion. Two broken ribs and a broken forearm." Although her speech had been unclear earlier, when she listed the injuries, she sounded like a movie announcer.

Spencer quickly realized that these words must have been echoing in her head since they were first told to her. The same thing had been happening to him. Each word was like a blow delivered with full force, and his extensive medical knowledge wasn’t helping him avoid panic. He was too aware of the danger and too aware of the suffering her poor body must have endured.

They both squeezed their eyes shut tightly. Spencer felt as though his temples might explode. Waiting. Was there anything worse in the world than waiting? Being stuck in ignorance, teetering between uncertainty, relief, and utter despair? Feeling all of it at once?

"How did this even happen?" he asked the woman sitting next to him.

He was sure he already knew the answer to that question. She didn’t even need to say it. It was enough to see how she dropped her gaze, heavy with pain, and how tightly her jaw clenched.

“She... fell down the stairs.”

Spencer wanted to scoff at the understatement. The real version of events couldn’t pass Jude’s lips, but in some way, he considered that a blessing. If Jude had openly admitted that she had been pushed, he might have crumbled under the weight of the fury flooding him. But for now, his anger didn’t matter. Only the passing time did.

He felt as if he hadn’t taken a single breath since leaving his apartment. Leaning his head back in his seat, he endured what felt like two whole days, then glanced at his watch only to realize that exactly forty-seven seconds had passed.

Time—a relative concept. In physics and in human perception. Einstein had proven it, and so had that particular moment.

He started to fear that he might never leave the waiting room. Memories and emotions began to blur together. He formed a theory: that he had been trapped there for quite some time—weeks, perhaps. Back when another loved one had been on the operating table, and he’d been losing his mind in much the same way.

Could it be that, under the strain of this torturous waiting, he’d lost his sanity? That his brain, desperate for relief, had simply imagined everything that followed? The trip to the library that night, finding himself at her door, the string lights on the Christmas tree, the Venus flytrap, the bar, opening the door that night and seeing her on the stairwell—at once flushed from a night spent at the club and chilled from the December air?

And now that illusion had simply shattered, like a fragment of broken glass. He was back in the waiting room again, waiting, hurting too much—and yet feeling as though he had no right to. His pain was nothing compared to what she was going through. He should be doing something, anything, to make himself useful, to not succumb to the weight of his own helplessness.

When the doctor finally approached them, Spencer almost knocked over his chair in his haste to stand. The doctor, however, focused solely on Jude as he delivered the update, leaving Spencer questioning whether he even existed.

“We managed to stop the bleeding. That’s the good news,” he began, his dark eyes unreadable—at once cool and concerned, with the practiced composure characteristic of people in his profession.

“Thank God,” Jude whispered, rubbing her chest as if trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt no relief. Not even a sliver.

"‘That’s good news,’" he repeated the doctor’s words, drawing the man’s gaze to him. ‘But… but is there something bad?’

That brief moment before the doctor answered felt longer than nearly the past two hours of waiting.

“Due to suspected brain swelling, we had to induce a coma.’

“What?’ Jude mouthed silently. “How… how could she be in a coma? Why? Was that necessary?’

“They needed to reduce the intracranial pressure,’ Spencer replied, the words spilling from his mouth without him even realizing he was speaking. ‘The coma prevents further damage and minimizes the brain’s oxygen consumption. But will she… how long will she…?’

“Only for a few days,’ the doctor assured him, understanding the question he couldn’t quite form. “As long as there are no further complications or additional bleeding. But I can reassure you for now: there’s no indication of that. Her condition seems stable. She was… incredibly lucky. It was a serious accident—a miracle, a sheer miracle—that she didn’t break her spine.’"

For a moment, he couldn’t utter a single word, his throat still tight, and the relief never came. He knew he wouldn’t feel it until he saw her, fully conscious and awake. Until that happened, he would grimace every time he heard the word miracle. 

"When will I be able to see her?" he asked, surprisingly calm and composed. The question was so important to him that his voice didn’t tremble even once. In fact, it was the only thing that mattered right now.

"You’ll need to wait a few hours before visiting. We have to make sure there’s no risk of a sudden deterioration in her condition. Also, only authorized individuals can visit her."

The last part of the doctor’s statement felt almost like a slap in the face.

"How many hours?" he pressed, impatience creeping into his voice. "Two? Four? Six?"

"Please, calm down," the doctor asked, making a gesture with his hand.

“Eight?”

His voice grew increasingly sharp, desperately demanding an answer. The doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Jude interrupted with a question.

"As an authorized person, can I, on behalf of the patient, allow him to visit?" she asked, catching Spencer’s gaze for a brief moment before quickly turning away. "She would want this, I know it."

The doctor shook his head in refusal, providing them with a few more details about the surgery before turning to leave. Spencer watched him leave, something in him wavering between a sigh and a snort. So they wouldn’t even let him visit her? He understood the hospital procedures and rules perfectly well, but when it came to his own case, he hated them with all his heart. They wouldn’t allow him to see someone who meant so much to him, simply because they weren’t bound by blood or a ring on his finger. A ring on his finger… maybe he should lie and say they were engaged?  Although, would it really make any difference in the eyes of the hospital staff?

Before the loose fragments in his mind began to form a plan, he noticed that Jude was staring at him. She had sat down again, pressing her back tightly against the chair's backrest. She hadn’t cried for a while now; a certain relief had settled on her face when she heard the surgery had been successful, but then the old devastation returned, stronger than ever before.

"I won’t be able to visit her," she said, her voice hollow. "Not even while she’s unconscious. And when she wakes up, look her in the eyes. Tell me, how could I do that after everything? After all of this was my fault?"

Spencer turned away and walked off.

He knew that if he didn’t, something inside him would break. He couldn’t stop the anger he felt toward Jude. From what he knew, she had repeatedly refused to report her ex-boyfriend to the police, perhaps more or less aware of the danger he posed. She had the right to do so, theoretically. But that didn’t change the fact that someone else had suffered because of her foolish decision.

In his eyes she deserved the guilt she felt.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he found a place far from her, far from anyone, where he spent the next few hours, hardly moving. Sometimes he observed the relatives of other patients in the hospital, also broken, but he had some selfish feeling that even they wouldn’t understand what he felt. He placed himself on some distant, elite orbit of suffering and felt almost embarrassed by it. 

Pain always makes sure that a person feels as lonely and misunderstood as possible in it. That is when it has the most power over them.

He kept away from the windows, the darkness outside, slowly losing its intensity, putting him into a state of shock and contemplation. Maybe time was a relative concept, but that didn’t change the fact that it existed. Somewhere far away, there was light beyond this waiting room.

For some time now, he had been occupied with a certain task. He was aware of the hours passing and how, with them, his desperation grew. He felt he would go mad if he didn’t see her. The designated time during which the patient should be ensured complete rest after surgery had ended, yet he knew they wouldn’t let him in to see her. But he had a brain for a reason, right?"

He found the room where everything that mattered to him at that moment was. A young doctor was just leaving.

"Excuse me, ma'am,” he approached her politely, trying to appear calm, though his appearance and trembling hands clearly suggested otherwise. “I need to visit this patient.”

“Are you a relative?”

“No, actually…” He knew this was a desperate move and resorting to a lie, but he didn’t care. What was morality in his situation? Just a word. He reached for the badge he had with him and cleared his throat. “I’m with the FBI. I’ve been assigned to see this particular patient; it’s a matter that cannot be delayed."

Believe it or not, but people often lost their minds at the mere mention of the FBI. Spencer suspected that such a young doctor might have some gaps in experience and not know what procedures were in place in such a situation.

The surprised woman took a half step back.

“But she’s in a coma…” she said uncertainly, turning toward the room. “Are you sure it’s this patient?”

“Absolutely. And as I said, there’s no time to waste.”

He didn’t put his badge away, still holding it raised, with a serious expression on his face, as if he were interrogating someone. It was clear she was torn with doubt, but fortunately for him, she decided to give in without consulting the decision.

Spencer almost ran into the room, unable to hold back his impatience any longer. At first, he felt as if in a dream, one where you achieve your greatest goal. However, it quickly turned into a nightmare, all because of what he saw.

Whatever he had imagined, he was not prepared for this sight. 

Especially because before he even noticed her face, the face he was so desperate to see, he first noticed everything else surrounding it. The hospital equipment, the machines and devices monitoring her vital signs. The wide orthopedic collar tight around her neck. The sterile whiteness of it all, obscuring her and making her almost disappear against its backdrop. It wasn’t until he approached the bed, his legs weak and unsteady, that he started to look at her, but again, not specifically at her, but at the injuries. The sight of swollen temples, the sunken eyes, pale and dry lips, skin like a sheet of paper. Every injury on her body caused him unimaginable pain, so intense it almost stopped him from breathing. He felt so much anger and injustice that she had to go through this that he almost wanted to fall to his knees and apologize to her, beg for forgiveness. For what? He couldn’t decide. It wasn’t a need driven by logic, it was something deep inside him.

And that’s what he did, even though there was a place beside the bed where he could sit. He slowly knelt down, his hands touching the edge of the bed, but not her body. After all, he wasn’t about to risk causing her any pain due to his lack of control. But he had such an overwhelming desire to take her hand, the one whose fingers shyly peeked out from under the cast.

"I should have gone with you," he said, after about five minutes spent in complete silence, undisturbed even by his breath, which he was holding back. "I should have. Walked you to the door and made sure you got inside safely. I’m sorry…"

He felt that with his pitiful apologies, he was disturbing her peace. She needed it to fully rest. So, he fell silent again, alternating between looking at her with furrowed brows in tender concern and resting his forehead against the edge of the bed whenever the sight became too painful. While before, time seemed to crawl at the slowest possible pace, now it was racing forward wildly.

In his perception, barely a minute had passed when someone’s presence appeared behind him. He turned over his shoulder, noticing the young nurse who had let him in, and it took him a long time before he even realized it. After all, he had lied to her, saying it was some professional matter, yet she had found him kneeling by the hospital bed.

He quickly got to his feet, nervously rubbing his face.

“For the patient’s well-being, no visits should last longer than twenty minutes,” the woman said surprisingly gently, leaning slightly against the door with her shoulder. An unidentified expression lingered in her eyes, making them seem...warm.

He didn’t answer, just nodded. He no longer felt the need to play that little charade that had helped him get inside. He allowed himself one last long moment, looking at her face, peaceful in sleep. He passed the doctor in the doorway, feeling her eyes turn to him, and he did the same, out of curiosity. She smiled, sadly and with compassion.

"This had nothing to do with any FBI assignment, right?”

Her understanding seemed almost touching. However, Spencer, caught in the moment, quickly withdrew, once again making his way down the hospital corridors, now completely unsure of what to do with himself. He leaned against one of the walls, slowly feeling the fatigue from the entire night spent waiting to see her. He found his phone in his pocket, realized it was already morning, and that… Hotch had called him.

It was a quick collision with the outside world. He called back, as nothing else came to mind that he could focus on.

"Reid," the serious voice of his boss came through on the other end. "Why aren’t you at work, and why aren’t you answering?"

He needed to take a breath before he could respond.

"Sorry, Hotch," he said, trying not to sound weak, but that’s exactly how he sounded. Weak, a little pitiful, and on the verge of exhaustion. "Something... something really important happened, and... I... I won’t be able to come in today..."

Spencer realized he had no idea how to explain himself in this situation.

"I can’t remember the last day you were even late. What happened?" He didn’t answer. "Where are you?" Silence. "Spencer."

"It’s... a personal matter."

There was a brief silence from his boss, and Spencer could almost imagine how he furrowed his dark brows in confusion.

"I understand." His voice was tense, but not with disapproval, which surprised Spencer. More with... concern. Had he managed to read the seriousness of the situation just from his voice? Probably, after all, he was the best profiler Spencer knew. "You’ll need to explain later, but for now... take care of yourself. Do you need any help?”

He assured him insincerely that everything was fine and found an empty chair to sit in, hunched over. A strong pressure formed in his head, amplified by the helplessness and uncertainty about what he should do next. She was in a coma, and according to the doctor, she would be in it for the next few days. And what was he supposed to do during that time? He felt that physically, he could spend another hundred hours on that specific chair. Occasionally stretching his legs. It was his plan, one that seemed more real with every passing minute. At least, until a figure cast its shadow over him.

"Reid," a familiar voice spoke.

He looked up, surprised, at Morgan. His mouth was slightly open in confusion, his forehead deeply furrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

"How... how did you know where I was?" That was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Penelope. How she knew, I have no idea, but I’m starting to suspect that her joke about having us all chipped wasn’t really a joke. But anyway, what’s going on? Hotch told me you called, and you sounded... unsettling."

His friend was watching him closely. His wrinkled clothes, his tired face.

"So... Hotch sent you to find me?"

"Reid, you’re our friend. Did you really think we wouldn’t be worried about you?"

Spencer lowered his head, listening to his words. Derek was silent for a moment, his hands resting on his hips, his tense face scanning the surroundings. After a while, he focused his gaze back on him.

"Who is the person you’re visiting?"

He hesitated before answering, not because he didn’t want to share the information, but because he wasn’t sure how to refer to her. What should he call her? After all, it wasn’t like they were in an official relationship, and the word friend seemed to leave something unsaid.

“Someone... someone very important to me. She had an accident. She has... a cervical spine injury, and the doctors, suspecting brain swelling, decided to put her into a coma for a while.”

Morgan's eyes widened.

“Damn, Reid. I’m so... I’m so sorry.”

He sat down on the empty chair beside him, his face still showing shock. Exhausted, Spencer simply rested his head on his knees, no longer able to keep his posture straight. He felt drained, yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to leave—couldn’t leave her…

Morgan’s hand fell onto his back, and finally, then sighed.

“Come here, man.”

With a firm pull, he drew him into an embrace.

Spencer found it hard to admit, even to himself, how much he needed this. No words left their mouths for a long while; only that brotherly, supportive embrace remained between them.

“Have you seen her?” Morgan asked after a while.

He confirmed, but didn’t reveal the circumstances. His friend paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“Okay, listen to me. You need to get back to yourself.”

Spencer scoffed and shook his head, ready to argue.

“Let me finish. I know you don’t want to leave her right now, but with all due respect, you look like death. You need to eat and get some sleep.”

“I can’t,” Spencer replied firmly.

“You’re going to collapse soon. You said she’ll be in a coma for a few days. You won’t make it sitting here, think realistically. No one’s asking you to go back to work, you just need to rest.” He looked at him seriously, knowing how hard it would be to convince him. Finally, he sighed once more. “Do it for her, alright? Do you really think she’d want you to wear yourself out like this?”

He had no ready answer for that. Well, he did, but it sounded like no, she wouldn’t want that.

“I’ll take you home. For God’s sake, you came here without even a coat?”

It's a strange feeling to let someone take care of you. Completely. Derek not only drove him to his apartment but also came inside with him. There was no emotional discussion between them, which he found to be a relief. Silent support, he thought.

His relationship with the other team members had been tested after Emily's death—or at least, that's what he had thought up until now. He had begun isolating himself, not wanting to intrude on their grief or burden them with his own problems. But in reality—something he hadn’t seen until now—it had been the opposite. It strengthened their bond.

The next few days revolved mainly around hospital visits. Somehow, he had managed to gain visiting rights, and the time spent by her side filled him with a certain sense of calm. He could see how stable her vital signs were, and he clung to the doctors’ reassurances that she would regain consciousness in just a few days.

He once read a series of articles and interviews with people who had been in comas. Their accounts sometimes contradicted medical facts and often included embellishments, but a significant number of them mentioned remembering the voices of loved ones and certain sounds.

He didn’t want her to remember only the sounds of medical equipment from this period. But he also wasn’t sure what he could talk to her about. Would she want to hear about the overly salted carbonara that Garcia had forced an entire pot of on him? Or about the abstract mural being painted across from his apartment—something he was sure she would have liked?

In the end, he decided to read to her, though choosing what to read proved challenging. Sleeping Beauty seemed too ironic, even though she would probably laugh about it later. She had once told him Girl, Interrupted was her favorite book, but its hospital setting made him suspect she might prefer something that let her escape this place, even if only in her imagination. The Silence of the Lambs referenced one of their past conversations, but if a doctor overheard him reading it to her, he would surely be banned from visiting altogether.

“All right,” he began one day, sitting down in the chair by her bed. “I know you’re not a big fan of fantasy. And yes, you’ll have every right to call me out on this when you wake up. But still, I hope you’ll like it.”

Arabian Nights was a collection of tales and stories originating from the Middle East, India, and Persia. Somehow, he assumed that the mysterious, often nocturnal atmosphere might resonate with her, even soothe her. After all, night had always been her favorite time of day—the backdrop to so much of her life.

That day, as he was about to leave, he leaned slightly over her bed, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Tomorrow, I'll read you a romance, how does that sound? But I’ll have to go to the bookstore because, despite your beliefs, I don’t have any in my collection. I wish I’d had more time to get to know your reading preferences better."

During none of his previous visits had he touched her, afraid it might disturb her peace in some negative way. Besides... in the state she was in, she looked so fragile and delicate that he feared even the slightest touch could hurt her. But that time, he simply couldn’t hold back. After a long internal struggle, he placed a very brief kiss on her forehead.

Spencer couldn’t keep his promise. While he did buy a romance novel recommended to him with enthusiasm by a young bookstore clerk, he never had the chance to read it to her.

The next day, he received a message. 

She had woken up. 

*

You didn’t remember much.

Only fragmented scraps. The memories began with a brief moment of complete physical helplessness, a terrible pain in your neck, and a series of flashing lights mingling with raised voices—even shouting. Then came silence, vile and terrifying.

But that wasn’t the end. Something came after the silence.

Softly spoken stories. For some reason, they were comforting. In your mind, only a few blurred images remained—no clear events or words. What you remembered most was that soothing, calm voice. It felt like an embrace, like warm bedding, the first rays of cosmic light piercing through clouds, or the gentle chill of evening air.

It was… beautiful. But it couldn’t last forever. After an indeterminate amount of time, your body decided to reject that comfort and tried to open its eyes. It was an excruciating effort. You sighed with the strain. The first colors and surreal shapes began to appear before you. Slowly, you started to become aware of your existence, yet at the same time, you felt suspended somewhere outside your body and mind—alone and terrified.

The sensations were both faint and overwhelmingly intense, making you want to hide, to somehow cut yourself off from them. Yet you were equally afraid to close your eyes again. You muttered things that made no sense. You remained in this panicked state until two tiny brown points hovered above you, widening with concern. Only then were you able to calm down—at least enough to stop straining your body with attempts to move. Attempts, because your body seemed entirely unwilling to follow your commands.

The fear buried itself deep within you, drilling into your chest. At first, it suffocated you, but eventually, it began to weaken and fade.

This was how the first hours after waking from the coma unfolded.

Weakness, disorientation, mumbling, pain, discomfort, and light sensitivity.

It took a long time before you regained awareness of being in a hospital. Even more time passed before you remembered why. And then, your own condition and state.

You were so incredibly weak that it filled you with disgust, terrified by how much effort even the smallest movement required—like the twitch of a finger or the blink of an eye. Frustrated by it all, you cried, and he cried too. But his tears were born of relief and joy.

Those two specific emotions reached you the latest—only after they transferred you to a different ward, and your thoughts began to clear. Relief and joy. Hand in hand with fear and anxiety. 

It felt so unreal, yet it was real—real like nothing else, and it held you tightly, exactly the way you needed it to.

*

Spencer was aware that her awakening was just another step in a very long journey.

His medical knowledge, modestly speaking, was fairly extensive, and he understood the gravity of the injuries she had sustained. Their first meeting after she had opened her eyes for the first time was nothing like a scene from a movie. She was confused, still drowsy, and as she slowly started to comprehend everything, she was primarily terrified. Her body, after the time spent in the coma, though brief, was extremely weak, and every little movement exhausted her as though she had just run a marathon.

The fear on her face pierced his chest.

He had the impression that none of the words he spoke, almost whispered in an attempt to calm her, were having any effect.

"I... I can't move," she stammered as one of the first things she said. Her eyes intensely focused on his face, searching for safety in it, and he feared he wouldn't be able to provide it for her.

"It's just temporary," he reassured her gently, leaning over her bed and trying to smile, but it came out uncertain, he was too worried about her condition. "The doctors say so, and that's the truth. Your body is just very weak right now."

"Will... will it be like this forever?"

"No, no, it will pass. I promise, it will pass," he nodded fervently. She hesitated and took a breath, as though discovering an entirely new action. But as soon as she did, out of fear, it became fast and irregular. He was terrified that his touch might cause her pain, but he didn't know what else he could do to help her. Gently, as gently as he could, he placed his hand on her cheek, barely grazing it with his thumb. "You'll feel better soon. Really, it won’t be long now. For now... just don’t overexert yourself, please, breathe."

At first, she flinched. He wanted to withdraw his hand as quickly as possible, but then he felt her press her face against it, almost nuzzling into it. A shy tear danced in one of her eyes, barely noticeable.

"It’s good to see you," she said after a brief silence, a soft sigh escaping her lips—almost like a laugh, though it didn’t quite make it. Her breath was still shallow and uneven, but with each passing moment, it seemed to steady as he held her close.

And in that moment, seeing her like that, feeling her presence so close, a smile spread across his face—a smile so genuine, so long-awaited—and with it came the tears he’d been holding back for what felt like forever.

"I feel the same," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much."

*

The orthopedic collar pissed you off like nothing else.

It wasn’t even the discomfort that bothered you, it was just... the collar was such a painful reminder of your condition, a testament to what you had been through. And you were supposed to wear it for another six to eight weeks.

Two weeks after waking from the coma, preparations for leaving the hospital were beginning. The risk of brain swelling had subsided, the injuries were healing, and the concussion still made its presence known, but the pain was no longer as intense. You could even have a normal conversation, which you seized almost immediately, striking up a chat with the teenage girl in the bed next to you, her sad expression tugging at your heart.

Few people visited you; you preferred that the two most important ones could spend as much time with you as possible, rather than inviting coworkers or acquaintances you hadn’t spoken to in months. The two most important people.

Spencer had been with you since the moment you woke up, and as the doctor confessed to you with a small smile, he had also stayed by your side while you were in a coma. You were in shock. Not because he had done it—it made perfect sense, given his caring nature. The shock came from the simple fact that one person could care so deeply about another, about you.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the moments when he visited you became your favorite part of the entire day. And not just because they revolved around checking your condition, tests, and the first, incredibly light rehabilitation exercises. You simply found yourself waiting for the moment he would appear in that doorway again, holding his coat in hand, smiling.

"Hello, handsome stranger," you greeted him one day, the first day you were starting to feel better.

 Spencer stopped at the sound of that term, tilting his head with an even wider smile.

 "How else did I used to call you?" you mused aloud. "Ah, I used to call you Mr. Mysterious. But I suppose that's no longer fitting, you smile too much to seem mysterious."

 "Because I have a reason," he replied, stopping beside your bed and glancing at the flowers placed there, the ones that had greeted you when you woke up that day. "But in that case, 'Handsome stranger' doesn’t fit either, since you know me now."

"But you are handsome. Half of it fits, so I have the right to call you that. Who... who sent me these flowers?"

"Better question would be, who didn’t send you those?" he muttered, referring to their large number. You could only admire them—the beautiful, colorful arrangements—but you hadn’t had the chance to read the notes and messages attached. Spencer glanced at one of them, his smile fading, though not in a bad way... somehow, the expression that appeared on his face was even more pleasing than his smile. "This... this one’s from my team."

You were simply speechless.

 "They... they even know I exist?"

 "Of course they do, how could they not?" Spencer paused for a moment, looking at you thoughtfully. "They... they were with me the whole time you were in a coma. They helped me keep my head together."

 "Don’t exaggerate," you tried to dispel the sudden serious mood. You didn’t want to delude yourself into thinking he had been that worried about you during that time. 

 "It’s not an exaggeration," he replied briefly and seriously, his face almost motionless.

For a moment, you fell silent, your hands resting on the blanket in front of you.

 "Sorry, Spencer. I just realized I’ve never thanked you for this..."

"What?" he asked, surprised, his brows furrowing. "This isn’t something you have to thank me for..."

"But I feel like I have to. This... this isn’t some small, silly favor. You really did so much for me... I still don’t fully understand why..."

 "You don’t understand why?"

"Yeah," you sighed uncertainly, not sure how to put it into words. "Don’t get me wrong... I’m so grateful to you, it’s just... look at it this way. We didn’t know each other that long, we saw each other rarely. We slept together once. It’s not like you were…obligated to help me."

"I didn’t have to be obligated to do it," he said after a moment of hesitation, circling your bed and sitting on the edge, just barely touching it. "And I didn’t have to know you for years. I just wanted to do it because of how much I cared about you. And if that explanation doesn’t convince you... then..." He swallowed hard. "Remember, you were there for me during one of the worst moments of my life."

“It’s not the same...”

 “Oh, but it is. For me, it is. But I don’t want you to think that I was there for you because I felt like I owed you something. Or that I had to... I don’t know... repay you in some way. That’s not it at all.”

You didn’t answer, something tight gripped your throat. You just tilted your head, overwhelmed with emotion, speechless. The only thing you truly wanted to do was stretch out your arms and drape them around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder. Spencer sighed, surprised and tense. It wasn’t until a brief moment passed that his hands gently touched your back.

“How much longer are you going to act like I’m made of glass?” you asked.

You knew his caution was justified, but Jesus. You just really wanted to hug him properly.

“Probably forever,” he replied, to which you rolled your eyes.

He was the one to break the hug, but in compensation, he quickly kissed the top of your head. You leaned back against the bed, feeling a pleasant sensation in your stomach. Spencer returned to the flowers to tell you who had sent them all.

“So these are from my team,” he picked up the lost thread, pointing to the arrangement of white and pink carnations. He chuckled. “And I’m pretty sure Penelope picked them out, not just because her name is listed first. White represents perseverance and strength. Pink stands for admiration and respect.”

“That’s really thoughtful. And beautiful. I’ll have to thank them. And these tulips?”

Spencer took the note attached to the mentioned flowers between his fingers.

“From... Jerry.”

“What? My husband sent me flowers?”

 “What?” He jerked his head up in surprise.

You laughed so hard at the look on his face that it made you wince in your ribs.

 “I’m fucking kidding, you fool,” you replied, clutching your side with a groan. “Jerry is the librarian. You should know him. He once asked me what flowers he should buy for his wife, and I suggested yellow tulips. By the way, it's so nice of him”.

You said it affectionately, but it sounded incredibly weak. Along with the pain in your ribs, a headache joined in, and suddenly all the energy you'd had earlier evaporated.

“What's happening? Should I call a doctor?”

“No,” you shook your head in refusal. “I just need to lie down for a moment. Come here.”

Spencer followed your request and sat beside your bed, his body a little stiff, as if in guilt.

"I'm sorry I made you laugh."

"That's probably the strangest thing you could apologize for," you muttered, lying down in the position that was best for your neck, one you almost hated as much as the orthopedic collar. "Well, I guess I could come up with something stranger. Sorry I left that million dollars in your nightstand. It won't happen again."

"I'm not sure if this kind of chatter is particularly good for your condition."

"It helps me mentally, and that's what matters most. Besides, stop complaining."

"How could I possibly dare?"

He fell silent, simply watching you with quiet concern. You closed your eyes for a moment, unsure if you might accidentally drift off. After spending a week in a coma, your sleep routine had become completely erratic. You slept through the nights, mostly because there was little else to do, and you didn’t want to disturb the other patients in the ward. During the day, Spencer would visit, and you wanted to be as rested as possible when he was around.

When he wasn’t there, you sometimes napped during the day as well. According to the doctors, it was one of the best things you could do for your recovery—sleep and rest as much as your body needed.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

You hesitated for a long moment, because yes, something was weighing heavily on your mind. Had he guessed, or had he read it on your face?

“It’s just…” you began with a sigh. “You know Jude barely visits me? I mean, she shows up every day, but… she’s so tense and distant when she’s here. She doesn’t say much, and she won’t look me in the eyes.”

"She’s blaming herself," Spencer said softly.

“God, that’s so stupid,” you muttered.

You had a strange relationship with the accident. You thought about it as little as possible, keeping it at arm’s length. You knew Richard had been arrested, but you didn’t want to know the details of his sentencing. In no way did you see any of it as Jude’s fault, and it hurt you deeply to think that she did.

You spent a quiet moment together before Spencer leaned over you again, intending to kiss your forehead.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go now,” he said, to which you nodded in understanding.

But then you shifted your head, pulling back just enough to stop him from brushing his lips against your forehead. He looked at you, puzzled, since you’d never minded it before.

This time, though, you wanted him to kiss you on the lips.

He kissed you slowly. You had almost forgotten how he tasted.

After that, you didn’t bother opening your eyes again. You let yourself imagine that he wasn’t leaving at all, and with that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep.

*

Spencer had felt strange since the morning.

 Energized and excited. In the absolute best possible way.

That day, he could finally take her home. Well, to his apartment. She needed someone to take care of her, and he felt honored to be that person.

The day before, he had made a very important, yet difficult decision. He invited JJ over and confessed everything to her—about the past few weeks and his struggles with relapsing into addiction. He needed to rid himself of that burden. Besides, he had promised himself that as long as she was living with him, not even the smallest dose of Dilaudid would find its way inside. Never again.

In his worst moments, he imagined that his friend would react with disgust—pure, painful disgust—and push him away. Instead, her eyes filled with something strange the moment he began to speak about how he had felt after Emily's death. Over and over, she whispered apologies, as though she were the one responsible for it.

He still missed Emily, of course, and he knew he would always miss her. That was just the way of things—people left, and it was up to you to decide whether you would remember them with heartbreaking despair or with a wistful sigh. In fact, these were merely two ends of the same spectrum, and it was very easy to get stuck at the beginning, unable to move forward.

She was surprisingly quiet in the car and seemed depressed. Actually, it was hard not to blame her. She had spent a long time in the hospital, gotten used to that routine, and the change made her feel lost. Sitting in the passenger seat, she kept her gaze fixed ahead, but not on the road. She couldn’t see where they were headed, which made it difficult for Spencer to tell her something… at least important.

 When they stopped, she furrowed her brow in surprise.

 “Why are we here?”

They were parked under his apartment, and she had been under the impression they were heading to her place.

 “Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier, I really apologize,” Spencer blurted out in one breath, chaotically. “I absolutely realize that this is like putting you in a situation you didn’t expect, but… but when you were in the hospital, Jude found herself a new roommate. She didn’t really know how to tell you, but she had to do it because she couldn’t afford the rent on her own.”

For a long moment, she stared at him in silence, her face a mixture of shock, followed by understanding. She took a deep breath.

 “Okay,” she muttered. “I understand her, I just… I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me this herself.”

Their relationship still remained deeply complicated, put to the test by guilt. Spencer couldn’t say much about it. It was something between the two of them, and he hardly knew Jude at all.

 “I’m also sorry for asking you this so late,” he continued after a moment. “But… you can’t live alone, you know that. Someone… someone needs to be with you over the next few weeks and… I’m willing to be that person.”

Her lips remained slightly parted for a moment.

“You want… no, wait, you want me to move in with you?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, because before he could answer, she started shaking her head. “Spencer, I can’t. I can’t be that burden for you.”

“A burden? You’re not…”

“But I will be. In the next few weeks, I definitely will be.”

He took his hands off the steering wheel, placing them loosely on his knees.

“Can you… can you look at me for a moment?” he asked.

It took a moment before she hesitantly met his gaze. Her eyes were filled with embarrassed tears, tears full of unjust shame. Seeing this, pain spread through his chest.

“If the accident hadn’t happened, would you want to live with me?”

 Her lips remained pressed together, and she sighed.

 “It’s a big decision. Aside from the fact that if it weren’t for the accident, I wouldn’t even have to consider this option…”

“I just want to know if you would want to. Don’t think of it as an option, just as… a completely normal, life decision. Do you think you’d be able to handle having me around every day?”

She couldn’t help it, and her lips curled into a slight smile.

“We could try,” she finally replied.

Spencer straightened his arms.

“In that case, let’s go inside.”

 “No, wait, it’s not that simple! My opinion shouldn’t matter; it’s you who needs to think about whether you want this…”

 “I do.”

She snorted, resigned, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t even tie my own shoes,” she tried one last time.

“I’ll gladly do it for you. What’s more, I know all kinds of knots. Simple, sailor’s, Chinese…”

“Spencer Reid, you’re impossible.”

For the rest of the day, she tried every possible way to talk him out of his decision. But when she finally accepted it, she struggled to accept his help with tasks she couldn’t do on her own.

 It wasn’t until later that he realized how much she had been pretending in the hospital. He had only seen her for a fraction of her day, and she seemed so positive then. But this temporary disability had really taken a toll on her mentally. He could repeat and assure her, completely sincerely, that she wasn’t a burden to him, but deep down, she still believed otherwise.

So, when two days later, she timidly appeared in the bedroom doorway with the question of whether he could help her wash her hair, Spencer felt like he had won the lottery.

“Sure,” he agreed, probably a bit too enthusiastically, jumping to his feet so quickly that he almost tripped.

She pretended not to notice.

In the bathroom, he slowly helped her pull the shirt over her head, careful not to catch it on the collar still around her neck or accidentally cause her any pain. 

“Be careful not to tilt your head too much, okay?” he asked, wetting her hair with the showerhead. She closed her eyes when a few drops of water splashed onto them. “Sorry!”

“For god's sake, Spencer, you're doing it more carefully than I would have done myself.”

It was true; he was acting as if he were performing some task at work that required absolute precision. He shrugged, massaging the strawberry shampoo into her hair. Foam quickly appeared, smelling sweet.

Suddenly, her hands tightened around the front of his shirt.

“Sorry,” she whispered, loosening her grip. “I got a little dizzy.”

Spencer immediately pressed his hands, still covered in shampoo, to her waist, afraid she might fall. He stared at her face for a long moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

And just then, her body suddenly went limp, falling forward.

Terrified, he let out a strangled cry.

“Hold on, please, don’t fall!” he kept repeating, doing everything he could to keep her upright.

Her hands hung limply on his shoulders, the foam and water soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t care at all.

“I’m right here, hold on to me as much as you can. C-c-can you hear me at all?”

He wondered whether it would be better to stand her up or lay her down while he could get to the phone and call an ambulance, when suddenly her weak touch grew stronger, and she let out a soft groan.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologizing. I’m still holding you, can you hear me?”

His heart was pounding incredibly fast as she gently pulled her head away from his chest. He, of course, didn’t let her stand on her own, constantly supporting her body, protecting her from a fall that could be disastrous.

Together, they left the shower cabin, her hair still covered in foam.

“Are you aware that this is how it’s going to look now?” she asked seriously.

Completely unfazed, he wiped the foam from her forehead, which was dangerously close to her eyes.

“I’d rather have you lose consciousness in my bathroom, right next to me, than risk… I don’t know, cracking your head open.”

For a moment, she was silent, the color beginning to return to her pale face, her gaze becoming more alert. He had a strange feeling that she was about to start crying, and since he really didn’t want that, he pulled her close again, in his usual protective gesture. Everything around them smelled of strawberries.

“Do you really have to be this good?”

Spencer snorted.

“I’m afraid it’s just my curse.”

*

“Are these people really arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable?”

Sitting on the couch, you jumped when a voice spoke right behind you. At the last second, you caught your laptop before it slipped off your lap. You had been reading some absurd discussion on an online forum you stumbled upon completely by accident. And yes, these users were indeed arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable.

“Damn it, Spencer!” you shouted, putting your hand over your heart, which was pounding in an agitated rhythm. You looked at your boyfriend with a scowl. “You almost gave me a heart attack. How is it possible I didn’t hear you come in?”

He shrugged. Leaning his elbows on the back of the couch, the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt revealed the skin of his forearms. In that position, he had a perfect view of the screen on your laptop. He had just returned from work, a rainy July evening, his hair slightly damp.

“I wasn’t sneaking around. You must’ve just been lost in thought. Want to tell me what’s occupying that beautiful mind of yours?” He leaned in to place a kiss on your temple.

“Beautiful mind, huh?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Just a few days ago, you told me that if a 19th-century priest heard even one thought from my head, he’d go into anaphylactic shock. Whatever that was supposed to mean.”

"In a big simplification, what I meant is that even though I love you, sometimes your way of thinking scares me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"By the way, I bought land for Alexander."

Alexander was your new flycatcher, which had grown so much that it completely prevented the other flowers on the windowsill from growing. Due to its conqueror tendencies, you decided to name it after one of them.

"Do you want to repot it into a new pot now...?"

"No. Now you need to come to me."

You set the laptop aside and waited for him to take a seat on the couch. Before fully snuggling into him, you untied and removed the tie from his neck, then unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, just the way you liked.

You sighed almost instantly; his body was more comfortable than a pillow. Warm, with your favorite scent. You rested your head on his chest as his fingers gently combed through your hair.

In the first few weeks after you were discharged from the hospital, you couldn’t even sleep in the same bed. There was a risk that, in his sleep, he might accidentally bump into your neck and cause damage. Spencer enforced that rule strictly, as he did with every precaution related to your health.

Six months had passed since the accident, and for the past four months, you hadn’t worn a neck brace or needed help with daily tasks. But that didn’t change the fact that, sometimes, when you showered together, he would wash your hair just like he used to. Anyway, you were still attending rehabilitation and would need to for a long time, but despite that, you felt like you had fully returned to normal life.

You lifted yourself slightly to look at his face.

"I was walking to the bar today," you began.

You’d been considering going back to work for a while now, and the doctors had assured you there was no reason you couldn’t. You wanted something to occupy your hands and craved the sense of purpose that came with a task. You’d mentioned it to Spencer long ago, so he didn’t seem surprised when you brought it up.

"And? Will they take you back?"

"No. I mean, it’s not that they don’t want to, I just didn’t get there. That’s why I said I was walking and not that I went to a bar. Are you following?"

"I'm trying."

"So, listen to this. I took the subway and got off at that station near the room I used to rent."

The landlord had asked for the keys back shortly after your accident. Your arrangement had been that, in exchange for using the space, you cleaned it daily. Of course, you hadn’t been able to keep up with that anymore.

"...And I don't know, I was overwhelmed by this strange feeling, like I wanted to go back to it. Helping people."

"You help people all the time," Spencer reminded you. "All our neighbors come to you to vent about everything happening in their lives."

"That's true, but I mean, you know, professional help," you said, taking a deeper breath. You couldn't decide whether you were more excited or nervous about the decision. "I've been thinking about going back to uni, Spencer."

He straightened up, almost causing you to slide off his chest. Filled with tension, you watched his reaction closely. You’d spent the entire day wondering what he might say. Would he share your enthusiasm and support your plans, or would he try to talk you out of it, reasoning that you’d dropped out of school once and might not manage it again?

These thoughts were incredibly silly. Spencer—knowledge-obsessed, ever-curious Spencer—would never say something like that.

Instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering how incredible the idea was. You melted into it completely, feeling more elated than ever and unable to stop thinking about the crazy chain of cause and effect that had led to this specific moment, this particular relationship, and above all, this exact happiness. 

do you accept this overly sweet ending as my apology? :> tagging: @nightfullofparadox @lillaberry @fortheloveofgubler @opheliahotchner @cowboy1ikereid @penelopegarciaismygf

sorry if i forgot about someone!

[felassan]

David Gaider on Shale, under a cut for length:

"Oops! I realized I'd moved on from DAO but missed one of the companions I'd written. Which checks out, honestly, because I almost didn't write Shale and, even after I'd written her, she almost didn't happen anyhow. Then she did. Prepare yourself for... PIGEON QUEST. 🦤 So... I'm wracking my brain, but I don't recall how Shale began. I have this vague memory of us wanting a "weird" party member who didn't conform to the normal classes (this was back when Dog didn't need to be in the party), and I think my mind drifted to an old indie comic character named Concrete."

"Now, your reaction to that is probably "who?" That's OK. When I explain that HK-47 in KotOR was inspired by an old Canadian TV show called the Littlest Hobo I get the same perplexed response. 😅 In short: Concrete was just a regular dude. Who happened to also be a walking hulk of rock. Cue hi-jinx. The problem here is I don't remember whether the Concrete thing was part of the original inspiration or something I thought of at the point when I started writing the character. Because I didn't, at first. That was later. Shale was initially taken on by Jay Turner, then one of our junior writers. Jay had an idea to make Shale more of a robot, an emotionless automoton killer... think HK-47, but without the layer of sarcasm. I was leery, and told Jay he'd have to be very careful. "Emotionless" can very quickly turn into "boring", after all, unless you're VERY careful. But Jay was determined. Sigh. This was a fail on my part, as his lead. There's been a couple of times in my career when I've let a junior convince me with their enthusiasm to take on something my experience said they shouldn't. And then watch their confidence crumble despite every effort I made to reassure them it was OK. This was one of those times. Jay, no idea if you'll read this but: I'm sorry. Even an experienced writer would have found that a daunting challenge. Tonia, my other Big Fail on a similar situation in DAI: I'm sorry. Both times, I should have known. You did your best, but I set you up to fail. 😔"

"Jay did his best, and this version of Shale was certainly interesting... but, when he was done, it was one of those peer reviews where every writer had that look of "I'm REALLY sorry to say this..." It felt flat. Jay tried numerous revisions, but the issue wasn't his ability - it was the concept. I only allowed my writers a certain number of tries before I take it away. This hearkens back to an earlier time at Bio when writers would hack away at something that wasn't working 6, 7, 8 times or more until finally their soul was dust. Mike Laidlaw can attest. Revision isn't always the answer. So I moved (a much relieved, I think) Jay onto something else, and the question arose: what do we do with Shale? Do we cut it? It was already very late. Then Shale dropped in my lap. I don't remember if it was me refusing to let it go or maybe Brent (Knowles, Creative Director) giving it to me. I suspect it was the latter, because I recall being a bit bitter about the whole thing. WHAT am I going to do with this character? At the time, they'd moved me out of the writers pit to instead be in a big office with the other leads. I had this corner desk by a window (yay) with an awful view (ugh) What was so awful about it? It looked out onto the neighbouring roof, where there was only an HVAC unit to see. In the winter, pigeons would gather around it. They pooped all over everything - there was this alcove around the access door, right? The pigeons roosted there and it was POOP FAUCET city."

"Not only that, the pigeons used the HVAC like some kind of sex den. Angry, ugly pigeon sex. The only respite was when a hawk would appear and the pigeons scattered. Then I'd get maybe a day when there was a single pigeon corpse, like an exploded ball of down, to act as a scarecrow. Good days, those. What does any of this have to do with Shale? Well, there's me, staring out the window trying desperately to think what I'm going to do. But I CAN'T stare out the window because, gross. But what else am I going to stare at while I think? It was making me furious. I hated those pigeons SO SO MUCH. And then it hit me: Shale is basically an animated statue, right? Something that pigeons are rather notorious for also gathering on? And so I wrote. I wrote like the angry, angry wind. I had zero time to do this so it was basically me vomiting all my annoyance at everything into a single character. Not that it helped much. There was a battle going on over Shale - first, as I recall, it was the art team. They were going to make every doorway in the game EXTRA HUGE because they were worried that Shale was too large and might clip. So, yes, let's alter the whole world to fix that. Good idea. 🙃 Eventually, they compromised by making Shale smaller. Sten-sized. Or Brent went Akira mode, but I don't really know. This was a battle happening above my level. Yet Shale got cut anyhow. There wasn't time to do her abilities and we were short on cinematics time. There was never enough time on DAO."

""Oh well," I thought. "That's that." I did what I could, but cut content is almost never resurrected. The idea was floated of making Shale into a DLC but I scoffed. Yeah, right! But... it happened. That's why the "almost" is there. Enough of the team liked Shale they made it happen this one time. This meant I could finish up the writing once we'd more or less wrapped DAO, and the rest of the team (cinematics, in particular, who were pressed the hardest for time) could move onto the Shale DLC once they were ready. It was supposed to come out well after release, but you know. Shenanigans. This particular shenanigan was EA deciding to sit on the finished DAO a few months in order to delay the release. Why? Again, not my level. To get closer to Christmas, maybe, or maybe for sim ship. It did mean Shale ended up being ready for release day. Unexpected confluence of events, honestly. Cue some fans getting upset that "cut content" was sold to them separately, which... fair, I guess? The alternative would have been that Shale was simply cut, period, and it just worked out this way but... yes, fair. This was back when DLC was the main beef of hardcore gamers. Oh, the good old days. Overall? I have a soft spot for Shale. She has no soft spot for anyone, being... you know... made of rock. It's why I put her in Asunder, and why she was also going to be in the - apparently now notorious for its Fenris murder - cancelled fourth DA novel. Also, if you're a pigeon fan: not sorry. 😇"

[source thread]

[revelboo]

Everything is Alright Pt 68

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• “Little one.” Head lifting at the sound of his voice, you smile but it doesn’t manage to reach your eyes. Can feel your anxiety twisting and snarling through you, becoming his anxiety. Because if Megatron disciplines the Seeker, you’ll come apart. You’re barely holding it together now as it is. Reaching to touch your cheek, you cling to his servo. Insisting you’re okay when he knows you’re not. And he picks you up to cradle against him, holding you against the mesh of his neck.

• Vortex and Thundercracker are outside Megatron’s throne room when Starscream approaches. Can feel the bond warm in his spark still, the sensation soothing. But as Thundercracker turns and very deliberately vents, his steps falter. Your scent on him. He’d been so wrapped up in the new bond it hadn’t even occurred to him to stop at the wash racks. Thundercracker is turning, a hand out but Vortex is already opening the massive door to announce him. And there he is, sprawled inelegantly across his throne, red optics glowing in the shadowy room. “Starscream returns. I had rather expected you were probably dead,” Megatron murmurs, sitting up. Waiting.

• There’s no relaxing despite Soundwave’s attempts to take your mind off the situation. Do they think you don’t realize the danger Starscream is in all because of you? That you don’t remember Starscream’s complaints about their boss and how vicious he is? He’s returned to your beat up enough times for you to guess who’s responsible. Wishing there was anything you could do to help. That you weren’t so useless.

• You’re hurting and it hurts him. Not sure what to do to fix it. He almost doesn’t notice when Frenzy finally returns. Alone. “Query: Rumble?” He asks and you look up at him, then down at Frenzy. Seeing the grimace on the cassetticon’s face before he looks around for Ravage and Lazerbeak as if searching for help. And Soundwave swallows a growl, because he doesn’t need more complications even as worry for Rumble has him stepping forward. If he’s hurt, whoever did it will know pain.

• “So about that,” Frenzy spreads his hands wide, refusing to look at you cradled against Soundwave or the mech himself. You’d never quite figured out the relationship between the cassettes and Soundwave. Deciding it was somewhere between them being his kids to being symbiotes. You’re not sure which is less strange. “Rumble may have gone home with a human after fragging them?” And Soundwave makes a noise you’ve never heard him make before as you wonder what fragging is. But you’re almost positive that you already know all too well.

Previous

I ordered some pins from DarlsDraws’ Etsy shop and got two bonus stickers… that Tarn is obscenely lovely

Started on the full version of Everything is Alright. Chapter One up on Kofi and AO3. Apparently there’s a character limit in posts here

Everything Is Alright- Expanded cut - RevelBoo - The Transformers (IDW Generation One) [Archive of Our Own]

[theloveinc]

Being the on-call masseuse at pro-hero dynamight’s agency who he’s weirdly vulnerable with because you’ve already seen him naked

[hayatoseyepatch]

What are the windbreaker boys' doing for no nut november lol

OOO HOW MUCH FUN IS THIS???

Also anon I am so so sorry how long this took me to get to, with my hiatus and the big sad I’m getting through everything now thank you for your patience MWAH.

No nut November for the windbreaker boys, I think can be broken up into a few categories (I hope it’s okay I did this kind of format I just wanted to include ALL the ones I could). SMUT under the cut.

Failed (lasted a week or less):

This man started it to join in on the challenge. He was absolutely so confident so absolutely CONVINCED that he could make it the whole month without finishing. However, when you walk into your shared living room in nothing but one of his shirts and a pair of panties he can swear that he could hear his heart racing in his ears. He swore you never looked more beautiful than you had in that moment. He felt faint, felt like he hadn’t had your taste on his lips in months (it had been three days). He craved you. It was then and there that he realized he made a grave mistake, he knew there was no way he was going to make it out of this month alive.

He tries, he tries to rush off to the bathroom, flushing his body with cold water or thinking of the most un-sexy things that he could, but he felt like it was putting a bandaid on a bullet hole. His cock ached, he craved you far too much. As he stood under the cold water of the shower, he wondered what he was doing this for. Some bragging rights? Yeah. Fuck. That. He is leaving that shower and walking right up to where you stood, not caring that his skin was cold and damp. His lips attaching to the skin of your neck in frenzied kisses.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you doing your challenge?”

Your words fell on deaf ears, any further ones would be silenced as his mouth claimed your own. Tongue invading your mouth before you had a chance to even string a coherent thought. Large hands hoisted you up on the counter, slotting himself between you parted thighs to deepen the kiss. One hand steadying you with a grip on your hip, the other still placed on your thigh to pull you as close as possible to his body.

“Fuck that dumb ass challenge, cant go another moment without having you, baby.”

(HAJIME UMEMIYA, Akihiko Nirei, Choji Tomiyama, Taiga Tsugeura, Teruomi Inugami, Minoru Kanuma & Kanon Banjo)

Failed (almost made it to the end of the month):

He was confident, too, had already lasted over half the month. Maybe even into the third week of the month. He could see, though, how it was affecting you. The way he had seen you rubbing your thighs together, the way you had curled around him in your sleep, you were being deprived of pleasure. That because of a challenge he decided to participate in, he inadvertently has force you to participate in as well. So he made the decision, confident enough in the control he had to at least pleasure you, without finishing himself.

So here he was, settled between your thighs. His tongue lapping at your clit, with two fingers buried deep within the gummy walls of your cunt. Gods, how had he gone without you this long? His mind was hazy, lost in the euphoria of tasting you on his tongue for the first time in weeks. Missing the delicious squelch that your wetness made when he pulled his fingers inside your pussy. So lost in the way you tasted on his tongue. The way your walls hugged his digits. The way your thighs wrapped around his head. He was so lost in you that he hadn’t noticed the way in which his hips began to rub against the plush mattress beneath him.

“Fuck baby, taste so fucking delicious.”

His words came out muffled into your cunt. Mouth greedily devouring your cunt as if he needed you like the air in his lungs. He craved this, craved you. His ministrations were making his own head fuzzy, so pussy drunk he couldn’t feel the coil tightening in his stomach. Couldn’t realize that the way he was rutting his clothed cock into the mattress below was bringing him to release. He was so sensitive after weeks of having not even a touch to himself. Before he realized what was happening he was spilling into his boxers at the same time you were riding out your own orgasm on his tongue. After you both come down from your high  and he realizes what he’s done, all he can think is “well I already lost, might as well make it worth it”.

(Haruka Sakura (only participated because he heard 'challenge' and that was it),  Jo Togame, Hiragi Toma, Tasaku Tsubaki, Shuhei Suzuri, Yukinari Arima, Yuto Kusumi, Uryu & Seiryu Sakaki)

Succeeded:

These men are extremely strong-willed, able to make it to the end of the month. Though not without some challenges, the was you had tried to make him crack throughout the course of the month did not go unnoticed. The short skirts, wearing his clothes around, foregoing the use of panties with making him aware of such, and overall just sauntering around in any state of undress within the walls of your apartment. He’s been using all those moments, committing them to memory for when the month was over. So when December 1st is here you better hide. Because the moment the clock hits midnight on December 1st he is on you before you can so much as think to try and escape him.

“You thought you were so cute this past month, didn’t you baby? What was that, hm? I can’t hear you.”

You were unsure how he expected you to be able to utter a single syllable. Not with the way his cock was bullying your insides. Not with the way your knees were pressed to your chest, they had at one point been over his shoulders, but with the way he took to devouring your mouth with his own they were placed as they are now. He didn’t know how he could have even succeeded in this, not with the delicious way you felt suffocating his cock with your cunt. He most certainly would never be doing this again. Never depriving you both of the pleasure of losing yourselves in each other’s bodies. Especially not with the way you called his name, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes so full lust like he was the only person to exist.

Yeah, no, he was never doing this again.

(HAYATO SUO, Ren Kaji, Mitsuki Kiryu, Saku Mizuki, Kota Sako, Akihiko Miyoshi & Kanji Nakamura)

Did not try at ALL:

There was nothing that he could think of that was stupider than this challenge. Couldn’t think of why on earth he would deprive not only himself, but you, of physical pleasure. He could not fathom why he would miss out on the way your gummy walls felt when they clung to his cock with a vice grip. Watching the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he fucked into your tight cunt. Or the way your mouth felt wrapped around his cock, the tears coating your lashes as he fucked that cute little throat. So, yeah, he thought it was stupid. He relished in he tortured looks of his friends as they struggled through the month, all while knowing he was going to be going home and spilling inside you the moment he could.

He shook his head, wondering if any of these guys even so much as asked their partner if they wanted partake in this dumb ass challenge. If they were okay with the decision to deny their pleasure from their partner for an entire month. All he knew was that wasn’t something he would every do to his partner. Instead when he got home, he trailed kisses up your spine, before settling in the crook of your neck. Being sure to leave a mark in his wake that would let anyone who saw it know that he both of you couldn’t care less about the challenge. His hands gripping firmly on your hips, rocking you back on him, eyes glued to the way his cock disappears within your depths.

“Fuck baby just like that, doing so fucking good for me.”

He emphasized each word of his sentence with a snap of his hips angling to hit deeper with every thrust. Head thrown back as he lost himself in the way you felt. Hips continuing their steady pace, chewing on his bottom lip as he fucked into you. Hips slapping against yours the wetness of your skin causing it to echo against the tile walls of your shared bathroom. He lets his fingers finally curl around your throat squeezing just enough to make gaining air flow a bit difficult as the other's thumb begins rubbing slow dragging circles against your puffy clit. The way your walls began to spasm around his cock made him all the more satisfied in his choice, because there was no way he’d be missing out on this for a whole month.

(YAMATO ‘why the fuck would I go an entire month without touching my partner’ ENDO, Haruka Sakura, Takiishi Chika (thinks it is stupid and does what he wants when he wants), & Kotaro Sugishita.)

[m0rkl]

The People We Become || Portal!Stanley AU

Hi, mom said its my turn with the Portal Stanley!AU. I have no art skills to accompany, but I sure can yap about it.

The Portal Incident

When Stan pushes Ford into the portal, he grabs Ford's sleeve, trying to yank him out. He's successful, but stumbles into range of the portal himself and is pulled in. Ford screams for him and runs to try and shut down the portal. Stan tries grabbing onto anything he can to save himself, but starts yanking at wires, causing the portal to go haywire. It explodes as he's pulled in, knocking out Ford in the process.

When he wakes up, the portal is in ruins and Ford has no idea if Stan made it through or died in the explosion.

He panics, unsure of what to do and realizes he'll have to more or less start the portal from scratch if he wants to save Stanley.

While this is all going on, a little ways away, Fiddleford is on his own, contemplating erasing Stanford and their work together from his mind completely. When he feels the explosion, he rushes to the lab and finds Stanford panicked and distraught. He hastily explains what happened and tries to get Fiddleford to help him build the portal again so they can save Stanley, but Fidds knows he can't. It's too dangerous.

They end up getting into a huge fight and Fiddleford erases Ford's memory of the past month. The last thing Ford remembers is realizing he was wrong about Bill and his research needs to be taken away. Fiddleford tells him he already destroyed the portal and its over. Ford, being injured and unwell from everything leading up to the incident as well as the explosion, figures Fiddleford is correct and just passes the hell out.

Fiddleford locks up the basement and locks away the memory gun away, feeling guilty for erasing Ford's memories.

As he's taking care of Ford, Fiddleford hides away any evidence that Stan ever came and puts his car in the junkyard, thinking its all for Ford's own good.

Stanley Enters The Portal

Stan enters the portal and is immediately lost to the space between dimensions. However, he has Ford's journal with him still. As he's floating through space-time, Bill notices the blip of the portal opening and comes to his location.

He tries to con Stan, saying the journal was something he and Ford wrote together. Bill says if Stan gives him the journal, he can take him home! Of course, Stan knows all too well that if a deal sounds too good to be true, it usually is. He tells Bill to fuck off and when he doesn't Stan punches him in the goddamn eye. Bill is momentarily more shocked than anything and Stan goes tumbling into another section of time-space.

He ends up in a sort of central hub for interdimensional travelers and is pretty much immediately arrested for not having any type of identification or trans-dimensional travel authorization. Is it fair? No, of course not, but when has any kind of law actually been fair?

Stan ends up in interdimensional-space jail, but criminals are criminals where ever you go and Stan is more or less in his element here. He charms enough people to get in with a crew and they eventually break out.

Stan gets some illegal documentation to keep him from getting arrested on the spot again, then goes on to continue the same type of life he was living before, just this time ✨Sci-Fi✨

I have a lot more on this, talking about how Ford and Stan's personalities are affected by their different lives and the various differences in relationships. Also all of Stan's adventures across dimensions! ...I would like to name this AU but I have no idea what to call it yet

[earthlyangelbby]

I think my roommate cares more about me than my boyfriend ever did.

Sfw for now. The next one will not be. MDNI 18+

Cw: mentions of a break up, roommate!Eddie, College!Eddie, Eddie comforts you, Usage of weed and alcohol.

1.9k words

The landline phone on the kitchen counter rang, its sharp tone pulling you from your thoughts as you struggled to focus on the mountain of homework in front of you. The red numbers on the clock read 8:45 p.m., and you had a sinking feeling it was your mom. You and Brian had been trying to make the long-distance thing work for a while now, but recently, the calls from him had been fewer, and his letters, the ones that used to come weekly, were starting come in more like monthly. Something had been off for a while, but hearing this was like a punch to the gut.

"Hello?" you answered, your voice betraying the exhaustion that had been slowly building up for days.

"Honey," your mom's voice came through the receiver, calm but laced with concern. "I just saw Brian in town with another girl. They were kissing. Holding hands. Everything. He wasn’t even trying to hide it."

Your stomach dropped. The rest of her words blurred as your mind scrambled to process what she had just said. Sure, you’d noticed the late-night calls growing sparse, the missed visits, and the feeling that he was becoming more and more distant. But this? This was something else entirely.

"Are you sure?" you whispered, though you already knew the answer, deep down.

"I wish I wasn’t, honey," she said softly. "But I had to tell you."

Your fingers tightened around the phone, your chest tightening not from heartbreak, but from the realization that someone you had trusted so much had been hiding something from you. It wasn’t even about losing him anymore. It was the disrespect.

"Okay," you said quietly, your voice almost too small to hear.

You didn’t even notice Eddie walking into the room until his hand brushed your shoulder lightly, a soft, comforting gesture. You had left your door open. The world felt strangely muted, your mind still reeling from the conversation. He noticed your face was flushed and eyes teary.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle as he slid onto the bed beside you.

This wasn't out of the ordinary. You and Eddie had a roomie rule: If the door is open you're welcome in. This just helped you not isolate yourselves. Sometimes you want to sit in bed. It also didn't help that he heard your voice crack when your mom told you.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you handed him the phone, still gripping it like it was the only thing holding you together. Eddie took it without question, speaking briefly to your mom, assuring her that you were fine and didn’t need any more details. When he hung up, he turned back to you, his usual teasing grin replaced with something softer, more protective.

"Don't be broken over him. You're not, are you?" he asked, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You shook your head, swallowing down the hurt. "Not him. Just… who the fuck cheats instead of breaking up? It’s like he couldn’t even give me that much respect."

Eddie paused for a moment, studying you. Then, that familiar grin spread across his face, though it was softer now, almost tender. "You know what I think? This is your wake-up call. The trash took itself out, sweetheart."

A small laugh bubbled up despite yourself. "God, you’re terrible."

"And yet you’re smiling," he quipped, his grin only widening. "You’re better off, Darling. And you know it."

---

The next few days felt like a blur. You buried yourself in your homework, but your mind constantly drifted back to Brian and what had happened. You weren’t relieved, and you definitely weren’t just sad. There was a deeper, more complex feeling that lingered in the aftermath of what Brian had done. Being cheated on wasn’t just about losing him. It was about the crushing realization that someone you trusted had shattered the very foundation of the memories you'd built together. The things you thought were special now felt tainted, like they never really meant what you believed they did.

You spent the next few days sulking. The betrayal was more than just an ending. It was a reminder that you weren’t worth enough for him to just tell you the truth, to have the decency to break up with you before he started something new. You felt the weight of that. The sense that he’d never even given you the chance to move on gracefully, to let go before he had already moved on himself.

It made you feel… ugly. Not in the literal sense, but in a way that went deeper. It was the kind of ugly that went beyond physical appearance, rooted in the emotional messiness that crept in when someone you cared about treated you like you didn’t matter. The time and energy you’d spent on him...on waiting for those calls, for that attention, it felt like a waste. You could have been doing so many other things, meeting new people, finding someone who would appreciate you for who you were. Flirting back with your roommate. Instead, you spent it waiting for a boy who didn’t even have the decency to respect you enough to say goodbye.

The thought that all those months, hell, maybe even years that had been wasted on someone who didn’t see your value made the hurt ache even more. There were guys in college, guys who could have been better, who were probably waiting for a girl like you. But you were here, tangled in a past relationship that wasn’t even worthy of you.

The quiet frustration and disappointment gnawed at you. And no matter how much you tried to distract yourself, the feelings wouldn’t let go. Brian had taken more than just your trust. He’d taken a part of you. Something that felt like it might never come back.

Eddie, however, didn’t give you space to sulk for long. He checked in, just enough to let you know that he was there without pushing you too hard. When he noticed the melancholy hanging around you, he showed up at your door, a pizza box in one hand, a six-pack of something sweet in the other, and your favorite movie The Princess Bride, determined to break through your self-imposed isolation.

You didn’t feel like laughing, and you didn’t want to feel better, but somewhere deep down, you also didn’t want to keep spiraling. Eddie’s presence felt like a small thread that might pull you back to something lighter, something that wasn’t so tangled in disappointment.

He never pressed you to talk about it. He just let you be, and in his quiet way, he managed to give you the comfort you needed. A movie, a shared pizza, and him just being there. It didn’t fix anything, but it was enough to make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t entirely alone in all of this.

Minutes later, you found yourself curled up on your bed with Eddie, a slice of pizza in hand and a bottle of something too sweet but just right for the moment. The comfort of his presence started to chip away at the sadness, the heaviness you’d been carrying around. Slowly, you began to relax, and the sounds of laughter, both from the movie and from Eddie’s constant, hilarious commentary, filled the room.

Halfway through the movie, Eddie leaned in close, that mischievous spark back in his eyes. "You know what this needs?" He pulled a crumpled baggie and rolling paper from his pocket, holding them up like a prize.

“Seriously?” you asked, laughing despite yourself.

“Absolutely,” he said, grinning. "I’m just saying, Buttercup and Westley’s love is even more epic with a little help. But only if you’re in."

You hesitated, then shrugged. "Why not? Worst-case scenario, I get hungry again."

“That’s my girl," he said, a grin spreading across his face as he expertly rolled the joint.

The first puff made you cough, and Eddie laughed so hard he nearly dropped the joint. "Oh, sweetheart, you’re adorable. Rookie mistake."

As the high settled in, the tension in your chest loosened. The movie was now ten times funnier. Who thought it could be possible? Every line had you both in stitches, and Eddie’s constant commentary didn’t help.

"Fezzik’s totally the real hero here, no doubt," he said, grinning. "The guy’s got heart, muscle, and a sense of humor. You can’t beat that."

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, snorting as you passed the joint back to him.

“Ridiculously charming,” he corrected, winking. “Don’t pretend you’re not impressed.”

By the time the credits rolled, you were sprawled against him, pizza crumbs on the blanket, your cheeks aching from laughing so hard. You glanced up at him, and for the first time in days, you felt a warmth spread through you not from the weed, but from the way Eddie looked at you. Like he had all the time in the world, like he was just happy to be here, making you smile.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you said softly, your voice sincere. "For this. For you."

His grin softened, and for a moment, there was a quiet sincerity in his eyes. "Anytime, sweetheart. You know that." He rested his head back against the pillow, and the world outside seemed just a little less heavy. In this moment, with Eddie by your side, it felt like maybe everything could be okay.

Everything would be okay. You're not going to sulk anymore. In fact, you may act on some feelings you've been holding down. Maybe it was the sweet drink or the weed, but you felt brave, very brave. Eddie wouldn't have done all this if he didn't at least like you a little. You'd pushed these feelings down to remain faithful to Brian. But you'd be lying if you said you'd never thought about Eddie before. He has a naturally flirty side to him.

My girl. Sweetheart. Darling.

These were things he'd call you in passing. You had hung out with Eddie around people before and he reserved those only for you.

He went out of his way multiple times to hang out with you on those nights you waited by the phone that wouldn't ring. The first couple of weekends this happened he'd go on about his own plans. But he came home too many times for comfort to you teary eyed holding the phone in your hand still waiting on it to ring.

"Oh sweetheart how many weekends are you gonna spend by a phone that won't ring? Come with me to the Hideout."

"Nope you're not doing this again. Mandatory roomie movie night."

"Heard that it's nation ice cream cone day. I'm buying and driving. Get up lets go."

These were just a few of the many excuses he made up to get you away from the phone on the weekends. You were free for the first time to act how you wanted. No reprocusions.

"Hey Eddie?" your voice soft and inquisitive.

Eddie's eyes flicked onto yours. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

"You're not um.. busy tomorrow and you don't need to go to bed soon or anything, right?"

"No, I'm not cleared out my weekend just for you. Had to get you out of this funk. Besides its still early. Only about 7 o'clock" he was checking his wrist for the time.

You nibbled at your knuckles mindlessly. You were nervous but quickly asked your question, "Do you wanna play a game?"

Eddies eyebrows raised and his smile softened "Uh yeah, absolutely. What game?"

Your nerves buzzing "Uh, I don't know just truth or dare."

To be continued..........

[chaosduckies]

Silence In The City (2)

Don’t really know how to feel about this one but oh well the brainrot wanted it. This one is a little heartwarming though! (To me). So uhhh just enjoy another part of the kaiju stories :D

CW: Anxiety

Word Count: 4.4k

2- Devon

When I woke up this morning there were several people effortlessly getting me to my feet. I groaned, unaware of what was happening. Several people were talking as they shoved my forward but my legs didn’t want to move. They kept yelling commands at me as I groggily rubbed my eyes open. “Wha-” I barely choked the words out before being thrown onto an oddly familiar, hard metal floor. My arms were a little shaky trying to keep my body up. My vision was a little blurry, but as I looked around I could tell I was in an extremely dim room. I took deep breaths to calm down. To stop myself from overthinking. Where was I? I thought I was going home today. What was going on? Were they going to kill me? I bit the bottom of my lip, forcing my head up to take in my surroundings. There were huge metal walls, a mirror high above, something black moving… Wait…

My eyes widened once the black, scaly and spiky looking wall in front of me moved along the metal floor. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. This place made everything worse. My eyes felt red and puffy after crying myself to sleep last night, and not to mention how I spend almost every waking moment here anxious and scared. After the experience with Kieran I thought I would be able to go home… apparently not. After all, I was in the same room as him right now. I think. My hands turned into fist as what seemed like their tail lifted up, revealing tired eyes. I jumped, staring. It was Kieran all right. The same purple eyes as yesterday. 

Kieran rolled his eyes, huffing through his nose and moving his tail over me. I placed my hands over my head, a little scared that he was going to crush me. I also had just woken up so my mind was everywhere but thinking about the way he treated me yesterday. Nice and some-what calmly and not the monster that they said he was. After a few seconds, when I realized that I wasn’t dead, I turned my head to see that their tail was surrounding me. Why? He didn’t really seem like he even wanted to be around anyone. Heck, I didn’t even know what time it was. Just early in the morning. 

He stole a glance over at me, holding a silent staring contest. I sucked in a deep breath, rubbing my eyes and yawning. He blinked, doing the same but covering up his mouth. I stared down at the ground. I think I had an idea of why they would cover up their mouth but I wasn’t going to say anything. Even though I was still half asleep I’m sure I would pass out. I’m surprised I haven’t yet. Kieran glared at the mirror, making himself smaller and struggling with how small the room was for him. The horns on his head hitting the roof every now and then. He grumbled everytime, just burying his head into his knees. Was it really that hard just to raise the ceiling a little? It seemed annoying to him. How does he even stand up? I feel like it would cramp up my legs if I was forced to sit down all day. I doubt he could even stretch them out.

I started to lay down before there was a red light blaring above. Kieran turned to me, “You need to get up.” He whispered. His voice still hurt my ears but not nearly as much before. I forced myself back up, even standing on my feet. I was scared of not doing what he tells me to. Especially after thinking of how many times I could’ve died yesterday. Too many. Would today be like yesterday? Why was I here? I yawned again, rubbing my eyes. 

Kieran studied me for a while before looking up at the ceiling, ignoring the flashing red lights. Eventually they went away but I had no idea what they were for. Was something about to happen? It was already hard enough to keep myself from having another anxiety attack. I didn’t have my pills either. I took a few seconds to just focus on something and clear my mind. That usually helps. I hadn’t realized Kieran looking at me confused before I turned back around, a little more calm. I played with my hands before one of the walls started opening, revealing an outside space that was still surrounded by walls that seemed to go on for forever. The sun shone brightly above, even though it was still morning. The place it shone on relished in the light with the many trees and overgrown weeds and bushes. It actually looked kind of beautiful in a way. I guess that answers my question of how he hasn’t just given up on life yet. Though this place kind of looks familiar. I knew this base I was in was by the ocean of course, but where? I shook my head, watching as Kieran crawled onto his hands and knees still somehow managing to bang the back of his head hard against the roof. He winced, groaning out frustration. If I were being honest it was a terrifying sight, chills ran down my spine, but there was no way he’d hurt me, right? 

“Let him die and you’ll regret it.” There was a voice over a speaker that made the spikes on Kierans back flare up. Like he felt threatened. He was right to think that, even her voice made me terrified. Though that wasn’t hard to do. Kieran rolled his eyes, but I could tell that he was fine with letting me come along. He nudged his head outside, as if telling me to follow. I jumped, jogging and slowing down when I ran past one of his hands. This was going to be a lot of work for me. It was too early in the morning to be out exercising. I winced when I rolled my ankle, nearly tripping. I really was a sad excuse for a human. I caught myself, letting out a sigh of relief when I didn’t fall. Kieran tilted his head when I stopped, apparently not seeing how I almost tripped. To be honest I couldn’t be more grateful that he didn’t see. He seemed like the teasing type. Even if he was more alone and annoyed than anything. 

I paused when Kieran started moving, lowering his head and squinting his eyes down at me. He let out a huff from his nose, “This is the last time I’m helping you.” I jumped, shutting my eyes closed and hearing some shuffling before everything seemed to stop. When I looked back, I saw his hand laid flat onto the ground, still huge and looked hard to even climb on to. I looked back up at him, his eyes reading ‘hurry up’. I hesitantly ran over to his hand, struggling to climb on. It was hard and it made me feel uneasy at just how huge he was compared to me. He seemed to grow impatient this way too, but I forced myself up, the muscles in my arms tired. As soon as I was on I rolled onto my back, sighing and looking up, only seeing the ceiling far above me. 

This all felt so strange. This wasn’t my first time in his hand and yet, it felt so different. Instead of trying to keep me in a fist he just kept his palm up, fingers a little curled as if creating a border. My heart was racing. What was I thinking? The one time I’m not thinking and this is what happens. I’m completely at his mercy. He could drop me and not even know. Forget that I’m there. I heard my own heartbeat beat through my ears, my vision growing a little stretched out. I sighed, sitting up and taking long and deep slow breaths. They didn’t give me the chance to grab my pills… or even take them beforehand. I’d have to go through the day without any help.

Kieran tilted his head in confusion, not giving a warning before bringing his hand up, giving a small glance to make sure I was okay before crawling through the door. It was weird. I was high up, but I know he wasn’t standing up. Was it for me? There was no way. He seemed a little annoyed already that he had to help me again after saying he wouldn’t do so anymore yesterday. I still have no idea what that meant.

It would be crazy to say that I wasn’t terrified. Who wouldn’t be in this situation? Going to an unknown abandoned part of a city, only having a half-human half-kaiju looking out for you that had very hard emotions to read. Seriously, I couldn’t tell if he was happy that I was forced to be in here or just annoyed. My fate had seemed to be between his palm or a deadly fall. Not sure which I trusted more. Even though Kieran seemed to prove that he really wasn’t harmful at all. At least to me. 

Kieran brought us both to an empty space that looked like he stayed here often with how everything was moved around for his convenience. We both turned to each other, as if he was trying to figure out what to do with me. My anxiousness couldn’t take it as I gripped the hem of my shirt and fidgeted with my shaky hands. What was he going to be doing with me? I hated how he waited so long before lowering his hand to the ground, slightly tilting it so it was easier to slide down. I stumbled off with a yelp before eating a mouthful of thankfully soft grass that broke my fall. I groaned slightly, hearing Kieran very softly laugh above me before apologizing, “Sorry.” It was unsettling that he could see me. Not even mention hear me. Like I wouldn’t be able to escape even if I could. He’d easily found me. Or… maybe that’s how he noticed me in danger? Besides seeing the Kaiju that was running through the streets, how would he have known I was trapped and needed help? I guess having good sight and hearing was a good thing. The pros outweigh the cons apparently. 

He moved, the ground shaking slightly as he did and laid down in the clearing he had made for himself, a pair of arms being used as a headrest and the other two tucked away underneath his stomach. The sun was barely going to start rising, meaning it wasn’t even six in the morning yet. I rubbed my eyes, yawning before sitting up, cleaning the dirt off of my clothes. What was the purpose of me even being here? Should I ask Kieran? Would he know? He does word things a little weird. Like he’s not going to help me anymore? When would he have to after this? My parents would probably want to move away from the coast like they always have. I think the only reason we stayed was because I absolutely loved the beach. So was it my fault we were in this mess in the first place? I shook my head, trying to take my mind off of it. I can just ask my parents when I get home, right? 

When I looked back up to Kieran, his eyes were closed, his breathing slow. Should I ask  him now? While he’s not in such an anguished mood? Was it a bad idea? Would he do something if I bothered him? Would he try to scare me off again? A million thoughts raced through my head. It was hard to choose between which one, or the many outcomes. He might not even wake up! Should I raise my voice a little? Could I even manage that? It didn’t seem very likely if I were being honest. 

“...Will I be g-g-going back home?” I nearly choked on my words, unhopeful of an answer. I was too quiet. Kieran had to be asleep- his head lifted up almost immediately. I couldn’t tell if he was shocked or just trying to catch my own reaction. He sighed, letting out a huff of air from his nose, ruffling my hair. “No. Probably not.” I didn’t know if it was just me, but I couldn’t help but catch the sad hint in his voice. The words hit me twice as hard then. I… Wouldn’t be going back home? Why? I thought they said I would be! I heard my heartbeat ring through my ears, my breathing seeming to slow down. I couldn’t cry here! It would be pathetic! Were the scientists watching? 

“L-look,” He stuttered, “I didn’t mean to say it so harshly, but they’re probably not going to let you go back after doing what they asked you to. That’s why I tried to scare you off yesterday but… you’re very hard to be annoyed and mad at.” For once, I could read his emotions clearly. He was sad. Worried. Almost like it was directed for me. My lips quivered. So if I had run from him yesterday I would’ve been gone? Back home? Why did I have to be so stubborn? Why did I always make the wrong decision? I wanted so badly to run but I didn’t. I wiped away the incoming tears. He really wasn’t trying to be mean. He was just trying to save me. To send me back home. So why did he react that way? Why was it so hard to get mad at me? It seemed to be the complete opposite with other people. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Maybe he didn’t want to be around me anyways. Was that an unspoken reason? I shouldn’t have even been outside that day. I should’ve just forced my way into the underground bunkers like my parents had done. Kieran shouldn’t have had to save me in the first place. Then I would’ve been fine and probably still living out my depressing life. 

Another huff of air hit me, “I don’t know why you’re apologizing. It was my fault why you’re stuck here anyways,” He winced, propping his head up with one of his hands, “I should be the one sorry, and I am.” This was probably the most he’s ever talked to me. A little loud for my ears even though he was whispering, but there was nothing I could do about that. I stayed silent for a while. What else was there to do? I was here for Kieran! Heck, I didn’t even know why they brought me here. But another question popped into my mind.

“Why d-did you s-save me then?” I fidgeted with my hands. That kept the both of us quiet for a while. Neither of us knew what to say. Like even Kieran didn’t know why he saved me. I mean I’m extremely grateful that he did but if he knew that this would happen then why do it in the first place? 

“You needed help. I saw you. And, well, I didn’t want you to die. So I just helped you out.” Kieran stared, his full attention on the next words that leave my mouth. What was I supposed to say? It was nice of him to help just because I was in danger but why did he emphasize that he didn’t want me to die? Were they telling him otherwise? I wouldn’t be shocked if that were the case. They didn’t seem to have any regard for anyone. What was one death going to do anyways when you could save millions of other people? I guess a lot of people thought the same way. 

“Th-thank you.” I turned and looked away. I already said thank you, but it was all I could think of to say. Kieran rolled his eyes, though I could see the slight smile on his face,“Now it’s my turn,” His voice was a lot softer as he moved closer to me, though I instinctively moved a little bit away. He didn’t show any reaction to it, but I could tell he was going to say something. 

“Why are you still here if you’re scared?” He pointed a finger out into the city, the sun rising above it finally. I flinched ever so slightly, but of course that caught his attention and made him frown just a tiny bit. 

“U-um, it’s uh-” I didn’t actually have a reason for staying. Because I didn’t want to be alone? Because it was the right thing to do? It was a hard question to answer. I knew it was easy to see that I was afraid, but if I were being honest I’d rather take my chances with Kieran than going off somewhere else. Plus, I was still confused why the scientists said something about me dying. What did it mean? Was there something else in here? I was tempted to ask Kieran but it was their turn for questions, and I couldn’t even answer one. 

“I just feel safer here. Even though you’re huge.” I move my hands out apart to explain my point, trying to calm my racing heart. Did I answer it right? Was that what he wanted to hear? Kieran stared with curious eyes, only to let out a playful huff through his nose, full on laughing. I had to cover my ears to make sure my eardrums wouldn’t bust, but I laughed lightly with him too. I admit it was funny, but to Kieran it might be for a different reason. 

“Ah, sorry that was loud,” He apologized, quieting his voice to a whisper that was still a little loud for me, “You feel safer with someone you’re scared of? You’re just strange. But in a good way I guess.” A good way? What did that mean? Was there even a good version of being strange? In my book there wasn’t if people say you’re weird then you’re weird. That’s just how it worked. But I guess in a way Kieran knew things others didn’t. Obviously things I didn’t either. 

Kieran sighed, seemingly focused on something that wasn’t here. I lowered my hands back from my ears and began playing with them. What should I do? I was terrified of going off on my own, but I also didn’t just want to stay there doing nothing. Then again, did I really have a choice? Ever since I’ve been here I haven’t been able to do what I’ve wanted to. I didn’t have time to grab my pills, I haven’t eaten in over a day, pretty much everything hurt, I’ve had several breakdowns and it hasn’t even been a full day here. I’d say things were going pretty bad. 

“You know you don’t have to stay here. Just watch out for the small kaiju. They have them out.” Kieran explained. My eyes widened, my heart slightly beating faster. I could even hear it ring in my ears. Small kaiju? Like the ones that are as big as a large dog? I don’t even think I could handle those if I were being honest. I’ve never had to fight back against any kind of kaiju. Heck, I’m pretty sure I’d just pass out. It would be pathetic to say that to Kieran though. Even though he probably already thinks that about me. No surprise there really. 

I stayed silent, even moving the slightest bit closer to Kieran despite my heart beating rapidly. He stared for a long while before sighing through his nose, ruffling my hair a bit, “Whatever  you want.” He shrugged his shoulders, turning back towards whatever was going on. It was still early in the morning, and honestly I was tired and hungry but my anxiousness kept me distracted. There were kaiju in here that could kill me. Was that why they had said I could die? I thought they had just meant that Kieran would be the one to kill me, but apparently it was the complete opposite. He was the one protecting me. 

I jumped when I heard something distant, like something falling and crashing. The Kaiju? Were they coming here? My heart rang faster through my ears as I turned around. There was nothing there, but there was no that whatever fell did on its own. “U-um, is that them?” I wasn’t sure he heard me, but he just sighed, “Annoying….” My eyes widened? Was I annoying? Should I stop talking? What was he going to do? Was I in trouble? I mean of course I was in trouble but that didn’t help figure out what he was going to do! I knew I was annoying but did it have to be now to say it? Right when I was already anxious? 

Kieran held his head up with one of his hands, the other moving right in front of me, like he was waiting for something. I looked around, seeing that his arm was covering my last escape route. To go along with that, there was a not so small Kaiju rounding the corner. Okay, maybe small for Kieran but for me? It was twice the size of a bear, looked kind of like a really scaly dog. What really caught me off guard was the extremely sharp fangs. I jumped when it growled and charged towards me, baring its sharp teeth at me. My body was too terrified to move, let alone even scream. Kieran let out a huff through his nose and just simply moved his hand towards it, making them whine exactly like a dog would. I caught the smirk on Kieran’s face looking like he was pleased with himself. 

I hadn’t realized that I was breathing fast until I felt the air in my lungs give out on me. I took a few seconds to calm down once again. This was way too hard without taking my pills for the day. Just the constant worry and stress was too much to handle while out here. Didn’t I tell them about it? So why was I forced to be here? Kieran side-eyed me, probably to make sure I was okay. I probably looked like it since he looked away almost immediately, but I most definitely was not. Was I really annoying to him? Or maybe he was talking about the kaiju? He hadn’t even done anything to that one and they ran off. Does he deal with them everyday? If they knew he didn’t like them near then why even go near him? None of it made sense at all, but I couldn’t be more grateful that I wasn’t the one he threatened and instead the one he saved. Multiple times I might add even after he said that he wouldn’t anymore yesterday. 

“They’re annoying, not you. Don’t worry about it.” He explained. How did he know? Every. Single. Time. It’s like he could read how I felt or something. Like an empath. I couldn’t do that and I was freakishly good at reading people. How does he keep doing this? 

“They stay away from you?” I forced myself to stand up on shaky legs, walking over to his hand that had scared the one from earlier. Somehow it was a lot easier to talk to Kieran now. Like I was growing used to it? Should I? If I’m not going home, is that a good thing? I had no idea.I tried my best to ignore the lingering fear of being this close to Kieran, hiding behind his hand while peeking out to look for more of those kaiju. Kieran had waited a long time to answer. Like he was nervous or something. Though I was patient, taking a few shaky steps back when I heard another one. 

“Um, y-yeah,” He paused, his voice sounding a little nervous while moving his hand so I was hiding behind it again, “But you’re here so they kind of just want you.” His voice went back to being deep and short. Why did he sound nervous at first? I didn’t pay too much attention, too focused on the threat that minded its own business. Kieran sighed, “Kind of boring out here isn’t it?” My eyes widened. Was he actually starting a conversation with me? A mixture of emotions hit me. Excitement, a little bit of fear, but that didn’t stop me from replying like normal, “You mean besides the murderous dogs coming after me? Y-yeah I guess it is.” I tried to sound funny, and obviously it worked because we both started laughing, Kieran making sure to laugh quieter for me. 

It made me feel happy for once that I could make someone laugh besides my parents from time to time. I haven’t really felt this way in a while, and it's strange that I’m sharing it with someone who’s only partly human. Kieran stopped laughing and started to hold himself up, placing both arms underneath him. The silence stretched between us before my stomach growled quietly. I tried to muffle the sound so Kieran wouldn’t hear, but it was pretty much useless. He extended a hand out, “Let me guess, they didn’t feed you?” I nervously backed up, clutching my stomach and nodding my head. What did he think of me now? Just a few seconds we were having a little laugh but of course I had to ruin everything. 

“C’mon. They’ll probably give you something.” He waited for me to get onto his hand, a tired look on his face as always but there was something else that I couldn’t read. Why was he so confusing? Or maybe that wasn’t the right word.. Closed off? Maybe that was it. He didn’t make it easy to read any of his emotions at least. 

I walked over to his hand, trying to climb on but failing miserably as usual. It was just hard since I couldn’t get my leg over, but eventually I got the hang of it. I rolled over onto my back, sitting up and catching my breath. I really was small to him. I couldn’t even get onto his hand without trouble. I sighed hopelessly, clutching my stomach in case it decided to make the most embarrassing noise ever again. I just laughed softly in the end though , “What happened to not helping me again?” 

Kieran’s eyes shot open wide like he had forgotten his own promise. He huffed through his nose and rolled his eyes. For a second I thought he was actually mad at me before he laughed along, “I guess I changed my mind.” 

How could these people have treated him so horribly?  ——————

Again, don’t know how to feel about it and I think I mainly wrote this to satisfy my brainrot (I only want more now so that kind of backfired) But these two are definitely my favorite OC’s! Yes I am a still a little sick, but I’m working on editing all of the writing I did and will probably post them throughout the week!

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