#idk you see your best friend one day then two weeks later she’s built a whole life without you!!!

[scionshtola]

i think it’s probably a big shock to cori when they get to rak’tika and shtola has lived a whole 3 years without them…

[maximoffwitch]

Not Your Cup of Tea?

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

warnings: none

summary: Natasha keeps making you coffee, little does she know that it’s not your cup of tea.

word count: 2k

a/n: idk what this is lol but here you go! also if u sent me a request, don’t worry i see it. i just like to keep it so i don’t forget and can reference them :)

Your phone buzzed against your night stand, pulling you from your slumber. Rolling over, you internally cursed whoever was calling you. You had specifically not set an alarm, hoping you’d get to sleep in for the first time in weeks, seeing as you’d just gotten back from a long mission.

“‘llo?” you grumbled, your eyes still closed, as you answered the phone.

“(Y/N)?” Steve’s voice sounded through the speaker. “Where are you?”

“In bed,” you answered, finally opening your eyes, confused as to why Steve was calling.

“You’re late,” he deadpanned.

“For what?” you racked you brain for anything you could be forgetting but came up empty.

“Debriefing,” Steve responded, causing you to close your eyes once again, this time in frustration.

“But, Cap,” you whined, “we just got back last night, and it’s,” you pull the phone away from your ear to check the time, “8:42 in the morning.”

“Sorry, (Y/N),” he said, sounding at least slightly apologetic. “Be down in 15 please.”

Before you could further argue, Steve hung up the phone.

Sighing, you begrudgingly got out of bed, slipped on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, not bothering to change out of your pajamas.

You decided to stop by the kitchen and grab a quick bite to eat before being submitted to long-winded lectures from Fury and piles of paperwork.

“Morning, Nat,” you greeted the redhead, who was making herself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal.

“Hey, (Y/N),” she smiled softly at you. The two of you weren’t the closest, considering you were a fairly recent addition to the team. “How’d the mission go?”

“Good,” you nodded, moving to grab a bagel, “only a few scrapes and bruises.”

Natasha snorted with amusement. “That’s good.”

“Now, I gotta go do,” you were interrupted by a long yawn, earning a small chuckle from the other woman, “the worst part of the mission.”

“Here,” Natasha slid over the freshly brewed cup of coffee over to you, “you look like you need this more than me.”

You raised your eyebrow and smirked. “You saying I look like crap, Romanoff?”

“What? No,” Nat sputtered, her eyes widening. “That’s not what I meant. I was just—,”

“I’m kidding, Nat,” you chuckled, enjoying the edge you had over the normally calm and composed assassin, even for a brief moment. Accepting the warm drink with a tiny sip, you gave her a little grin. “Thanks for the coffee.”

—

A couple of days later, you find yourself back in the kitchen on another early morning, this time wanting to get a proper breakfast before your training session with Wanda.

As you enter, you see Natasha perched on the barstool, reading the newspaper and sipping on a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” she laughed at your tired state. “I made you a cup of coffee, seeing as you’re clearly not a morning person.”

“Thanks, Nat,” you brought the mug to your lips, allowing a small amount of the warm drink to enter your mouth. Quickly, you put together a piece of toast and grabbed a hardboiled egg from the fridge before joining the redhead at the island.

“You always up this early?” you asked, as you took a bite of your food.

“Routine,” she answered with a shrug.

“Probably should get myself one of those,” you joked, earning a small chuckle from Natasha.

“You have training?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, still chewing. “Wanda and I are going through the new ropes course today,” your eyes lit up with excitement.

You and your best friend had been begging Tony to try out the newest agility course he’d built, but the billionaire kept putting off the final fixes he had to make. Though when the team finally got a small break in their long streak of missions, Tony finally finished it, allowing you and Wanda to have a go.

“You’ll have to let me know how it goes,” Natasha said, trying to hide her smile at your eagerness.

“Of course,” you took the last bite of your breakfast, finishing the coffee gifted by Nat to wash it all down. As you put your dishes in the sink, you turned back to her and smirked, “Though I doubt you’ll be able to beat my time.”

“Oh?” Natasha raised her eyebrow at you, a smirk of her own playing on her lips. “I was going to tell you to ‘be careful,’ but now I’m not so sure.”

“Aw, Nat, you were worried about me?” you cooed teasingly, causing her to roll her eyes. Picking out an apple as a snack for later, you toss it up and catch it midair, as you head out for training. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“See ya, (Y/N/N),” Nat shook her head, amused by your sudden energy.

—

From that day on, you and Natasha formed a routine. Natasha would always be up before you and make coffee for the two of you, but when you joined, you prepared the breakfast, which you forced Nat to eat.

“Nat, it’s the most important meal of the day,” you argued, holding out a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

“I’m not hungry,” she retorted, moving to grab her coffee.

“You can’t rely on black coffee to get you through the day,” you pulled the mug away from her reach, replacing it with the plate of food. “Eat.”

“It’s not black,” Natasha grumbled, as she reluctantly picked up the fork and started poking at the pile of eggs. As she took a bite, her eyes widened. “(Y/N) this is amazing.”

You ducked your head to hide the slight tint creeping onto your cheeks. “It’s just scrambled eggs.”

“I’ve never had eggs this good,” Nat took another big bite. “Seriously, what’d you put in them?”

“Now, that, Miss Romanoff,” you set your own plate down in front of you, as you took a seat across from the redhead, “is a secret.”

“Fine,” Natasha shrugged nonchalantly. “As long as you make breakfast for me every morning.”

“Whatever you say, Nat,” you chuckled, starting your own breakfast.

Often times, the two of you would share stories of your lives, as you got to know each other better, and sometimes, you’d just sit in silence, enjoying each other’s company and the stillness of the morning.

You’d be lying to yourself if you hadn’t started developing feelings for the assassin. There was just something about her that interested you, even as you got to know more and more about her life.

Little did you know that Natasha felt the same way. It was unusual for her to be so open with someone she knew hadn’t known for too long, but there was something about you that made her feel safe.

—

Natasha frowned when she still hadn’t joined her for breakfast. While it was still only 9 o’clock, and Tony did throw a massive party last night, she couldn’t help but stare at your untouched cup of coffee, wondering where you were.

Hearing footsteps pad into the kitchen, Natasha snapped her head up, slightly disappointed when it wasn’t you.

“Morning, Nat,” Wanda greeted, as she walked over to grab two mugs from the cabinet.

“Hey, Wanda.”

“Who’s that coffee for?” the younger woman nodded to the full cup sitting on the counter.

“(Y/N),” she revealed, causing Wanda to make a face of surprise and confusion, one Natasha did not miss. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Wanda asked innocently, moving around the kitchen to make some tea.

“That face you just made.”

“I didn’t make a face,” Wanda continued the act, her back turned away from her mentor, as she sorted through the selection of tea bags.

“Wanda,” Natasha warned.

“It’s just,” Wanda gave in with a sigh, turning around to face the confused assassin, “(Y/N) doesn’t like coffee. Like at all.”

Natasha’s lips parted and her eyebrows furrowed at the revelation. All this time she had been making you coffee and you didn’t even like it? An awkward silence hung in the air, as Nat processed her thoughts.

“Is that why she’s not down yet?”

It didn’t take a mind reader for Wanda to tell that Natasha was feeling self-conscious asking your best friend about you.

“No, of course not,” Wanda smiled reassuringly, as she picked up the two mugs. “She actually woke up with a cold, hence the tea.”

“Wait, Wanda,” Natasha called after her before the younger woman could leave, “I’d like to talk to (Y/N), if you don’t mind.”

A knowing grin appeared on Wanda’s face, her plan having worked out to perfection, and she held out the cups of tea for Natasha to take, “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Nat took the drinks with a nod before heading up to your room.

She gently pushed open your door, her heart melting at the sight of you bundled up under the covers.

Hearing the door creak open and soft footsteps against the carpet, you stir groggily. “Wands? Did you find the chamomile? I think Bucky saved me—“

You stopped yourself as you rolled over and saw that the person sitting on the edge of your bed was in fact not your best friend.

“Sorry,” Natasha offered an apologetic smile, “not Wanda.”

“I can see that,” you smirked lazily, your voice coming out raspier than usual.

“Wanda, um, told me that you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you some tea,” Natasha explained nervously, scratching the back of her neck. “Well, actually, Wanda made the tea but I asked to bring it up to you because I wanted to see you and make sure that you were alright but if you want to see Wanda I can—“

“Nat,” you chuckle, cutting off her rambling, as you move to sit up so you could drink your tea, “thank you. I appreciate it.”

Nodding, she carefully handed you the mug, her heart fluttering as your fingers brushed briefly.

“Do you know what kind it is?” you asked, blowing on the steaming liquid in an effort to cool it down.

“No, sorry,” Natasha answered sheepishly.

As you took a sip, you closed your eyes contently, the warm liquid soothing your sore throat. “Mmm, it is chamomile, my favorite.”

“Good, I’m glad,” the corners of her mouth twitching upwards, as Nat hid the forming smirk behind her cup. “So, Wanda told me something interesting…”

“Oh, god,” your eyes widened and a pit formed in your stomach, as you hoped your best friend didn’t expose your feelings, “what’d she say?”

“She told me that you don’t like coffee,” Natasha revealed, the playfulness in her tone now gone.

“Oh yeah,” you chuckled nervously. “It’s just so bitter and the caffeine makes my body go crazy.”

“And yet you’ve been drinking it every morning for the past month?” Natasha arched her brow, both confused and amused, implicitly asking for an explanation.

You nodded bashfully and looked up to meet her watchful gaze. “I didn’t want to be rude and not drink the drink you made me,” you said before adding, “plus I enjoy spending time with you.”

“(Y/N/N), you don’t need to force yourself to drink a drink you hate in order to spend time with me,” Natasha teased, though you could see a faint blush forming on her cheeks. “But I like spending time with you too.”

“Yeah?” you beamed and bit your lip hesitantly. “You think I could take you out to dinner sometime?”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), are you asking me on a date?”

Before you could voice a response, a violent sneeze interrupted you. Natasha carefully took your tea from you, making sure you don’t spill it.

“How about this,” she began, setting down the mugs on your nightstand so she could pull the blankets over you, “you rest up and get better, and then we can talk about that date?”

“Hmm,” you hummed tiredly, as you sunk into your bed, your eyelids becoming heavier by the second, “sounds like a plan.”

“Get some sleep, dorogaya,” Nat leaned over to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[mercy-burning]

Move This Along

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After months of waiting, Spencer decides he finally wants to have sex with Reader. Category: SMUT (18+) Warnings: Language, sex (oral sex- female receiving, virgin!Spence, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie) Word Count: 5.6k

Full Request: “...so a smutty oneshot with like virgin!spencer but im talkling like baby spence. and hes super blushy and cute but then when it happens its rlly raunchy and therws a lot of dirty talk. and like reader doesnt work at the bau but theyre close friends. and like she goes out to a bar with him and the team and they tease him so then she takes him home and literally fucks him after a movie or smth idk...” — @mggscumrag

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

NOTE: It took me forever to figure out how I wanted to do this, but once I did, it came out so quickly! I hope it’s to your liking 🥰

***

The first time she went out to meet Elle's friends from work, Y/N found herself absolutely nervous, and she wasn't sure why. She was always great with meeting new people, but for some reason, the prospect of meeting her next-door neighbor's co-workers seemed to really do a number on her.

She remembers how anxious she'd been, constantly worrying that they wouldn't like her, not to mention they were all probably super smart and strong and intimidating, just like Elle. Anyone who aided in putting away serial killers, rapists, and other monsters had to be just about the most intimidating personality there ever was.

But as Y/N soon learned, that wasn't quite the case at all.

To be fair, they were all intimidating in their own little ways, though it was really easy to forget about that when she was laughing with them, sharing drinks and stories, and exchanging phone numbers to stay in touch.

That's how she and Spencer had come to be good friends. Despite how obviously shy he was whenever they saw each other, the two of them managed to have conversations on just about everything. It usually happened that he talked and she listened to whatever he was teaching her, but she'd always add on the occasional, "Wow, I didn't know that," or "That's really fascinating." All of which she could tell he was surprised at and appreciated.

And since the first time they met at Elle's birthday party, the night she met the whole team for the first time, they'd been practically inseparable. While Y/N was good friends with the whole team, save for Gideon, who always seemed to like it better by himself, her relationship with Spencer seemed to even surpass the bond she'd built with her neighbor-slash-best friend.

Elle even told her as much one Saturday night, as the two of them were driving to the bar to meet up with everyone for a few drinks.

She'd mentioned it as a joke, but Y/N was instantly apologetic.

Elle only laughed. "Don't apologize. Actually, I think it's good that Reid has another friend outside of work. You're good for him. And you know, I think he has a little crush on you."

Warmth rushed to Y/N's cheeks, and she tried to hide it but failed miserably, causing Elle to give her a knowing smile. "Y—You don't know what you're talking about, Elle, it's not like that."

"Oh come on, it totally is. You give him the light of day when no one else does, he talks about you all the time, and everyone at work knows it."

She paused. "They... do?"

"Of course they do, we're all profilers, but it doesn't take one to see how obsessed that boy is with you. I think you should go for it."

Y/N would have been lying if she said she hadn't thought about asking him out. But in the end she had always figured it was a little weird, being that she was friends with all his and Elle's co-workers and she'd kinda been adopted into their family of sorts. But hearing what her neighbor was saying... She started to think differently about it.

"You really think so?"

Elle nodded. "Absolutely."'

"Okay," she replied with an excited smile. "Maybe I will, then."

A week later and the two of them started dating. Y/N always thinks back to the first few weeks of their relationship, how adorably shy and blush-prone Spencer was, even after they'd been together for some time. They spent almost all their free time together, and it still seemed like he was nervous to be around her. He'd assured her on multiple occasions that that wasn't the case, but Y/N still wondered why he hadn't fully warmed up to being around her.

Especially in public. Oh, in public it was worse. Y/N clung to his arm, and his face immediately got red. What confused her the most, though, was that every time she pulled away to make him more comfortable, he pulled her back in, seemingly desperate to feel her warmth.

In the end she and Spencer had grown to develop their own little communication system for public settings, something to let the other know when something was really wrong, and when to ask if the other was comfortable.

One night everyone was meeting after a rough case somewhere in Denver, and Y/N offered to buy everyone drinks once Spencer had called to tell her they were all back. It wasn't out of the ordinary for her to do that, but it had been a while, so everyone was quick to except. Well, mostly everyone— Gideon as per usual went his separate way, and Hotch was eager to get home and see his family.

Y/N was waiting for them at their favorite bar downtown when she heard a loud squeal that sounded a lot like her name. Sure enough, it was easy to spot a very yellow-clad Penelope Garcia headed straight towards her with her arms stretched out for a hug when she turned around. The smile she adorned was instantaneous as her arms came out a well, embracing Penelope with a large hug that almost knocked the wind out of her.

"I missed you!" she exclaimed, still hugging Y/N and swaying them back and forth a little. "I mean, I know I don't ever travel with the team, but because of that we should hang out more."

"Next time I need some company, I know who to call."

Y/N spotted Spencer then, behind Penelope and patiently waiting for a greeting. She smiled at him and whispered, "Hi," to which Penelope must have heard.

She quickly released her from their embrace and stepped out of the way. "Oh! I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from your boy wonder."

She laughed as she transferred from Penelope's arms to Spencer's. He muttered a little, "Hi," into her hair as she squeezed him and shoved her face into his neck. If she had to bet, he was probably red as a tomato right now with how close her mouth was to his neck—it was his weakness and she knew it. And just to tease him a little bit she quickly kissed up his neck, his jaw, and placed a decent peck on his lips before pulling away and grabbing his hand.

Despite the shy smile and the blush adorning his cheeks, he squeezed her hand tight and kept her at his side like they would die if they weren't touching at all times.

Everyone gave little greetings to Y/N as they all made their way to a large booth near the back. Y/N was sitting on one side with Elle to her right and Spencer to her left, while Derek, Penelope, and JJ sat across from them. Y/N got them all their preferred drinks, and a beer for herself, which Spencer couldn't help but find oddly attractive.

He glanced over at her as she took swigs from the bottle as the night progressed, and for whatever reason the sight made his insides all warm and tingly. And when she used her unoccupied hand to grab his under the table, rubbing gentle circles over the inside of his palm with her thumb, he'd never felt more in love with another person. He wasn't even drinking any alcohol, yet his head swam and his heart soared all the same, every bone in his body humming with euphoria at just the mere thought of her.

He must have been staring a little too obviously, because Derek kicked his leg under the table, pulling him from the lovesick daydream he never wanted to leave.

"I can't tell if those are cute ol' puppy dog eyes or bedroom eyes," Derek laughed, and everyone laughed right alongside him.

"Oh, stop it," Penelope said, swatting his arm. "He's obviously just very in love with her, what more could you need to know?"

"Oh, come on, tell me you're not curious to know how they... operate."

She smacked him harder this time, and everyone laughed.

Knowing her boyfriend didn't really care for the spotlight, especially when it came to their relationship, Y/N squeezed Spencer's hand under the table in reassurance. She drew a question mark in his palm, their signal for, "Are you uncomfortable?" And he responded by drawing an "X" in her palm, their answer for, "No." She laced their fingers together then, and set her beer down.

"Morgan, our sex life isn't any of your business," she stated simply.

Spencer felt his stomach churn at the sentence, if only because said sex life was, as of late, non-existent.

He and Y/N had made out a lot, sure, but the one time they did try having sex, he made it about ten seconds being inside of her before he finished, and since then he'd been kind of embarrassed about it. They only ever made out since then, because before it ever got that far he stopped it, nervous that he'd disappoint her.

And now his non-existent sex life was the topic of conversation, and if anyone picked up on it, he would have felt worse about the whole thing.

So, he didn't stop himself from speaking. "But if you must know, it's great."

Y/N's hand tensed up in his, and she looked over at him, shock marinating in her eyes. To anyone else it would have looked like she was surprised he'd even bring it up, but he knew she was most likely more curious to know why he'd lied about it.

Their friends laughed regardless, Elle adding a curious and joking, "Care to elaborate?"

Ready to change the subject, Spencer shook his head. "Nope."

"Yeah, actually I think we're gonna head out early," Y/N added. Spencer was suddenly worried he'd made her upset, but she rubbed gentle circles into his hand that reassured him everything was okay.

He got out of the booth and Y/N followed, as their friends grumbled.

"Oh, come on, we didn't mean to embarrass you guys," Derek said.

"No, that's not it," Y/N said as she threw on a light jacket. "You just reminded me how much I'd like to operate with my boyfriend since I haven't seen him in a few days, so we're leaving. Have a good night."

Spencer felt searing heat rise to his cheeks as he turned around and ushered Y/N out the door, accompanied by low whistles and claps from their friends.

***

The two of them were sitting on the couch now, Y/N having just set down a couple classes of water.

"Sorry if you wanted to stay," she said quietly, playing with her thumbs. "You know we don't... actually have to operate if you don't want, obviously, I was just looking for something to say..."

"Oh, Y/N, I know. Don't worry about it. Really, I... I was the one who even brought it up, I should have just let you handle it."

She looked up at him with a small smile. "Why.. did you bring it up anyway?"

"Well, I... I guess I just felt embarrassed. And I know what we do together isn't any of their business, but I was just... I really was thinking about how much I love you, and when Morgan brought it up, I felt like I wasn't... living up? To your expectations? I don't..." He sighed, unsure how to properly articulate how he was feeling. "I don't know. I just thought about the last time we tried having sex, and I felt embarrassed about it, that's all."

"Oh, honey," Y/N cooed, scooting closer to him and bringing her hand up to brush some of the hair from his face. "You know, you... don't have anything to prove, right? I know how much you love me, and you don't need to be having sex with me to show me, I hope you know that."

Still, he couldn't bring himself to look at her face. "I do," he choked out, pulling at the hem of his shirt. "I'm... I'm sorry."

Y/N's tongue clicked, and she leaned into him, wrapping one of her arms around his neck and placing the other across his lap. She held him tight and kissed the side of his head. "Don't you ever be sorry, unless you cheat on me. Then there will be something to be sorry about."

He laughed at her joke, turning his head to brush his nose against hers. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered, giving him the lightest of kisses on the lips.

When she pulled away, he leaned in again, kissing her a little harder, and she gladly reciprocated. With every passing second, all of his worries started to melt away like the snow to her sunshine. Within every kiss was an emanation of outpouring love and comfort that warmed his soul and gave him the confidence to try something bold.

His hands threaded through her hair as he drew her in closer, and instinctively, she climbed over his lap, resting her hands on his shoulders as he gently probed her mouth with his tongue. The sound of her sigh as she opened up to him and allowed him to fully explore her mouth with his made his stomach bubble and tense.

This would be about the time where he'd stop, telling Y/N that they should slow down, and she'd sweetly oblige and stay cuddled into his side as they drifted off to sleep.

But tonight he didn't want that.

Tonight he wanted more.

While one of his hands remained in her hair, gently massaging her scalp, the other snaked down to her lower back. He gently slid his fingers under the fabric of her shirt and pressed his palm flat against her, pulling her closer to him with a desperation that both shocked and excited her.

Deciding to test the waters, Y/N rolled her hips, feeling him jump slightly underneath her, followed by a whine that vibrated her mouth and sent a low hum of pressure through her stomach.

Still, she pulled away.

Well... She tried to.

When she pulled her face away from him, Spencer used the hand in her hair to bring her back, tilting his head in the other direction and continuing to kiss her with enough passion for the both of them. And it didn't help that the sound she made when he did it spurred him on. She whimpered loudly into his mouth, and the hand on her back involuntarily slid down to grab her ass.

"Hey," she managed to get out when he pulled away momentarily for air. "Hey, you don't... We don't have to really do this if you don't want. I—I don't want you to think that what happened earlier means we have to have sex."

"Y/N..." His hand gently kneaded her ass, and against her better judgement, she rolled her hips again, sighing out against his lips. "I don't want to put it off any longer... Really, I... I want to. I want to show you how much I love you."

She kissed him softly again, bringing both of her hands up to cradle his face. "You already do. Every day."

She was giving him an out, and Spencer appreciated it. But with the way his insides were practically melting away at her presence, he knew more than anything that this was what he wanted.

"I know," he said. "But if you don't mind, today I'd like to show you a little extra." And then he kissed her deeply again.

Her hands tightened on his face, right before they slid up and through his hair. She gently tugged at it, and he let out one of the most delicious sounds she'd ever heard. For future reference, she relished in that sound, in that feeling, and made a mental note to try it out some more when they got further along in their sexual path.

But tonight, she would let him call the shots. He was finally ready to try it again, and seeing how confident he grew in his touches and kisses when she submitted to him, it was the simplest decision.

So she remained on his lap until he made another move, encouraging him with whimpers and languid rolls of her hips against his. Her hands grew frenzied in his hair when he dipped his hand past the waistband of her jeans and underwear, sticking his fingers in only about a knuckle deep. The warmth of his hands against her bare skin sent shivers down her spine, which she let show by involuntarily grinding down on his lap.

Spencer groaned deeply more than whined this time, his grip on her hands gripping tighter to her backside. He forced himself to remove his mouth from hers long enough to breathe out, "Bedroom. Please."

As much as Y/N didn't want to get off of his lap, she knew that what waited for her in the bedroom would be worth the momentary loss of complete physical contact. So she peeled herself away from her boyfriend, grabbing him by the hand, and lead him to her bedroom.

Once the door was closed, he was on her again, caging her face between his large hands and capturing her lips in another heated kiss. They moved backwards until she hit her back against the door, and the second their movement stopped, Spencer used their standing position to press his full body weight into her, their legs tangling together.

Meanwhile, Y/N was trying to figure out where to put her hands. She wanted to brace them on his chest, but it was pressed tightly against hers. So they wandered over his back, but she couldn't decide whether to place them under his shirt or on his butt. Or maybe she wanted to grip his arms to feel the veins as they strained against his skin from holding her face. The possibilities were quite endless.

So endless that they were even surprising—Spencer noticed her wandering hands and promptly decided to place them where he wanted, which was apparently above her head. He removed his hands from her face and pinned her wrists to the door above her head, and she huffed a breath as he pulled away to speak.

"Is this okay? I wasn't too... too rough?"

The concern swimming in his lust-filled eyes drew a little whimper from her throat as she struggled to find the right words. But finally, she settled on, "That was so fucking hot..."

Relief flashed over his gaze right before he grinned. His fingers flexed against her wrists, and even though she couldn't see them, she could imagine how it looked. And it really was fucking hot.

Seeing the expression on her face, Spencer leaned forward again and kissed her one last time. Their lips moved together hungrily, dancing in perfect synchronization, the music being the frantic beating of their hearts.

And then he started to trail his kisses down her jaw and neck, keeping her hands firmly pinned to the door. Usually she was the one to explore his neck with her tongue and teeth, but this time he wanted to try it for himself. Mirroring what he'd felt her do to him hundreds of times over, he soaked in every single sound she made, from the little whimpers of pleasure to the soft, choked whispers of his name dancing over her lips. And when her hips canted forward, searching for any kind of friction, he decided to grant it to her.

As his kisses moved down along her collarbone, his hands gently slid down with him, over her arms and then down to the bottom of her shirt as he kneeled in front of her. He lifted the shirt slowly, each new inch of exposed skin being met with soft kisses until it reached her breasts. He reached up to palm them over her bra while he trailed his kisses downward again.

Even though she was wearing jeans, he pressed kisses to her legs anyway. She squirmed under his touch, and the feeling made his heart soar.

"Please, Spence," she huffed, bringing her hands down to lay overtop of his. She felt the tendons and veins in his hands as they squeezed her, and with everything she had, she tried not to beg him to use them in more interesting places. She wanted to let him take his time, to be a vessel for his exploration, but it was growing harder every second to be patient.

Thankfully he seemed to get what she was feeling, because his hands slid out from under her shirt and rested at her jeans. "Can I take these off?"

The fact that he even asked when she so clearly begged him to do it made her heart swell. "Please do," she chuckled, though it turned into a choked sigh when his fingers actually started undoing the button. And at the sound of her zipper going down, she could have come undone right there.

He pulled her jeans down slowly and helped her step out of them. And she thought maybe he'd take the next step and do the same with her underwear, but he opted to use his mouth instead.

With gentle kisses, he traced the hem of the fabric all the way to either side of her waist. And then he looked up at her with curious eyes and shifted his face, pressing his nose right up against where her clit would be. Her hands immediately went to his hair, but he grabbed her wrists again and laid them at her sides. "Do you want me to move this along?" His voice wasn't teasing as much as it was genuine curiosity.

Still, Y/N resisted the urge to tell him yes. "I—I want you to do whatever feels right. Tonight's... about you. What you want."

"Well, what I want is to make you feel good. So, again... Do you want me to move this along?"

Every time his lips moved, they brushed up against where she desperately wanted him. And it was killing her. So, she nodded vigorously. "Yes, please," she whispered.

And with that, Spencer released her hands and used his fingers to gently rub her over the fabric. The contact made her shiver visibly, and he took that as a good sign. So he wasted no more time and replaced his fingers with his tongue, fluttering his eyes closed at the taste of her. And he knew that once the thin fabric was gone it would be stronger, but even then he was thoroughly wrecked.

He kept lapping his tongue over her, feeling her panties get wetter with ever second, and he only finally removed them when she started grinding her hips closer to his face, desperate for more.

When he did finally bring his tongue to fully taste her for the first time, they both let out the filthiest sounds, months and months of build-up starting to come to a head. He tasted her like he would an ice cream cone, and for the first few moments his eyes remained closed, all his focus on this brand new sensation. But he wanted nothing more than to see her react to him. So he opened his eyes and continued his ministrations, pupils blowing wide at the sight of her above him.

She was panting, her mouth hung open and her tongue just barely peeking out over her bottom lip. Her eyes remained shut, though Spencer could tell she was struggling to open them. With a tentative flick of his tongue over her clit, he took notice of the little gasp she made, and he knew he'd found it. So he repeated his action, providing small kitten licks to her clit as she picked up her breathing and clenched her hands at her sides.

He picked up the pace then, taking note of every little thing that made her cry out or jump with pleasure until she was clutching his hair. He was sucking on her clit now, his middle finger gently sliding in and out of her when she spoke.

"Oh, fuck, keep doing that. I'm... I'm almost..."

He felt her tighten around his finger as she started careening off the edge, and he did his best to keep his eyes on her face, because it had practically been haunting him, wondering what it would be like to see her come undone at his mercy.

To say it was better than he could have ever dreamed was a severe understatement.

Y/N's head leaned back against the door, her chin jutted out so he could see the beautiful contours of her chin and neck. He saw her throat contract as she moaned out his name, saw her chest heave as she struggled to catch her breath, and best of all, he felt her flutter around his finger and mouth. And if that was high inducing, he couldn't wait to feel wat it would be like to replace them with something else.

The mere thought had him trembling.

He pulled back when she huffed out an over-stimulated, "Okay, please, please stop, oh..."

Though it could just as easily have been a painful sentiment, the hungry, dazed look in her eye suggested otherwise.

Spencer stood up and brought his finger to his mouth, still caught up in her taste before she ripped his wrist away and kissed him, threading her fingers through his hair and moaning into his mouth.

Before he could get lost in it, though, she pulled away and nodded. "Okay. I think you're wearing too many clothes."

He tilted his head down in a little flush, and with the help of Y/N, his shirt peeled away from his body and joined her pants and underwear on the floor.

Y/N mirrored his actions, kissing gently down his jaw, neck, and then down his torso. Her hands wandered his bare back as she sunk to her knees. But when her hands moved to his belt, he stopped her.

"W—wait."

She peeled her hands away and looked up at him. "Are you okay? Do you want to slow down?"

He visibly swallowed, and she could read that look on his face that he got whenever he was embarrassed to tell her something. "N—no, I... I want... the opposite, actually."

"I don't follow..."

"Well, I know that... if you return the favor, I won't last very long, a—and I... I don't want to wait anymore."

Y/N smiled, standing again and bringing her hands to rest on his shoulders. "So you're saying you... want me to move this along?"

Spencer smiled at her recollection of his words. "Yes, please."

They travelled to the bed then, Y/N taking off her shirt and bra when they got there, and leaving her completely bare to him. She sat down and reached for his belt, looking up at him as he stood.

"I'm clean and on birth control, do you still want to use a condom? I have some in my table drawer."

He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. "As long as you're sure."

Y/N undid his belt quickly and threw it to the side, making work of his button and zipper with a smile. "Oh I'm so sure..."

The way she said it made his dick twitch, images running through his mind of how it would look seeing her filled and dripping with—

Her hand was palming him through his underwear now, and it was all he could think about. He had already been hard before, but now it was tilting on the precipice of painful pleasure. So he stopped her, taking a deep breath.

"Lay down?"

"However you want me," Y/N answered, positioning herself on the bed so she was leaning back, her head nicely laid out on the pillows.

Spencer swallowed and removed his underwear before climbing on the bed and kneeling over her. Her legs were already wide, feet flat on either side of him as he positioned himself and got ready.

She reached out and gently grabbed his forearm, a gentle smile on her face. "You ready?"

"Mhm," he answered with a curt nod, bringing himself forward to run the head of his dick through her wetness. They both sighed at the feeling, and Spencer knew he was in trouble.

It was finally happening, he was getting another chance to have sex with her, and if he didn't last long again, he was going to—

"I love you," Y/N said reassuringly, rubbing circles into the hand that rested on the inside of her thigh.

He looked into her eyes and saw that love radiating from them. It warmed his insides and gave him the confidence he needed to finally, slowly push into her as he whispered, "I love you, too."

Once he was fully sheathed inside her, he let out a large breath, leaning down to brace his arms on either side of her head. The pressure of her clenched around him was overwhelming in the best way possible, and he never wanted to move.

But he had to.

She stroked his hair, pressing soft kisses all over his face, and whispered, "I love you."

With those three words, Spencer had the courage to pull back and then forward again, testing the waters and more accurately, his limits. He picked up a slow pace that burned him from the inside out, every muscle and vein in his body on fire with the knowledge that he was finally, properly making love to the woman he was pretty sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

But he was holding back. Y/N could tell. He glided through her with ease, sure, but his eyes were squeezed shut like he was concentrating, like he was pacing himself and trying to hold on to this feeling.

She moved her hands down to his back and lightly ran her fingernails over the skin, feeling him tremble under her touch.

"You feel so good, Spence," she whispered. "So perfect for me..."

The words made his hips stutter just a little, and Y/N knew then what the hesitation was.

He wanted to go faster.

So she moved her fingers lower, cupping his ass and scratching featherlight circles into the skin as she moaned. "You like when I talk to you, baby? Does hearing my voice help you out?"

Spencer choked out a groan as he opened his eyes and saw how feral she looked. Her pupils were blown wide, her mouth was pouted cutely, and she smiled as soon as she saw him bite his lip.

"You wanna go faster?" she cooed, digging her fingernails a little harder into the flesh of his ass. "Hmm?"

"F—fuck, Y/N... I..."

"You fuck me however you need to, baby. Don't hold back. Just let it all out."

He groaned out then, his hips picking up speed. She felt the relief and the tension rolling off his body as he finally gave into his urges, and it was just about the sexiest thing she'd ever witnessed.

"That's it, baby... Don't stop... Give it to me, let me feel you..."

He leaned down and kissed her then, pumping into her harder and harder with every second. She moaned out against his mouth, swallowing all his breaths and grunts. Meanwhile her fingers gripped his ass harder, relishing in the feeling of his muscles as they aided in fucking her.

His mouth pulled away as he shoved his face into her neck, and she sighed. "You're doing so good, baby. Fuck... " His hips kept moving, and she clenched around him hard, hoping to gauge his reaction.

Sure enough, he groaned against her neck and canted his hips harder. Every thrust forward now was so deep he hit her g-spot, and the sensation made her sigh with a smile. "That's fucking right, baby... Just like that, don't stop, don't stop. You fe—el so... ohhh."

Her words lit this fire in him that was impossible to put out. His body was hers for the taking, and so he'd give her everything he had. Which is why he picked up the pace and fucked into her as hard as he could, dangerously close to finishing.

"Fuck, Spence, I'm gonna... —na..."

Y/n's moans turned into a quiet scream as she came, clenching tightly around his dick and digging her fingernails into his ass. Her eyes squeezed shut with the swirling patterns of fireworks exploding behind them, meanwhile he twitched inside of her and lost it at last. As she came down, she helped him hold himself there, deep inside her as his cum spilled over in warm increments. They both moaned out at the feeling, all their tension easing and dissipating.

By the end, all that was left between the both of them was a thin sheen of sweat and murmured promises of "I love you."

They could have fallen asleep right there. Y/N's hands slid up his backside, over his arms, and then to the back of his head, combing gently through his disheveled hair as he pressed loving kisses to the patch of skin where her neck met her collarbone. He was still inside her, unwilling to leave the warmth she provided, and she did nothing to object.

"How are you feeling?" she finally asked, opening her eyes.

Spencer tilted his head up to look at her, his heart once again swelling at the adoring look in her eyes. "I'm great."

She laughed, and he laughed with her. And they were silent for a few moments before he spoke again.

"So, uh... What we just did is what we're counting as our real first time together, right? Like, the other time doesn't count?"

Y/N laughed again, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "If you want to count this as our first time, then yes. I'd be more than happy to agree with you."

"Good. This was much better."

Even though she would never hold their first first time together against him, she was inclined to agree.

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[fangurk]

She’s Always There (Paul Lahote x Reader)

Key:

Y/n: Your Name

Y/l/n: Your Last Name

Y/n/n: Your Nickname

Y/e/c: Your Eye Color

Y/h/c: Your Hair Color

Prompt Given To Me By @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghhhh.tumblr.com: hey!! so the reason I'm messaging is because I wanted to request something but can't fit it all into an ask lmao. anyways could i please request a Paul Lahote x reader where the reader has been super close to the whole pack for years and has been Paul's imprint but doesn't know it (bc Sam thought it would be best to keep u away from it all) and they decide to finally tell you about being shapeshifters and being Paul's imprint and you're so mad about them not telling u earlier and there's a huge argument and they and Paul tries to calm you down but you say stuff like 'leave me alone' and things like that and it sounds like you're rejecting him/the bond in ur angry breakdown. anyways Paul is heartbroken and can't get out of bed or eat or anything so the guys finally convince you to come back bc they and Paul need you and it's just the reader cuddling with him and getting him out of bed to take a shower and eat and he realizes that you're not going anywhere and it's just like healing the imprint bond? sorry for this WALL of text, I've just had this idea stuck in my head for a while lol. if you don't want to do it, that's completely fine!! thank you for your time ♡

ok so my guy,, bc this fic has been stuck in my head for a bit, some scenes have developed? so idk i hope this isn't too much, but if u do write it, would u be willing to add like some angst to it, obvi, and maybe a scene/part lol where when the reader tries to get him to shower (bc the misinterpreted rejection made him like super depressed and he just felt low about himself) he won't shower, because he doesn't want to come out and the reader is gone. so either they shower together (not smutty just angst&fluff) or she sits like in the bathroom while he showers LOL. and when he feels a bit better, they go down to eat and he's touching some part of her at all times. if this is too much to like,, include then that's a-okay. i just need to get this OUT of my MIND ugh lmao!/!

Reader Gender: Female

Summary: The Reader has been friends with most of the pack members for her whole life. Which is why, after months of silence and strange changes, she was willing to let them back into her life— until she finds out she’s been told lies that leave her in danger, of course. After a big freak out and two weeks of avoiding them, the boys come begging for her help; it turns out that Paul has some wolf-y claim on her, and whatever she said to him has left him worse for wear...

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Nudity, Angst, and Cursing.

A/n: this is literally like a whole novel I’m so sorry I got carried away. this is kinda based on a lot of fics I read where the imprint has the potential to really hurt people and I named Paul’s dad.

Word Count: 2.9k+

“The legends are real!?”

Y/n Y/l/n hasn’t ever been so disturbed in her entire life.

After weeks of radio silence, Sam Uley’s little ‘gang’, mostly consisting of people she’d known since childhood, had slowly trickled back into her life. What started as a grocery run with Paul or a movie with Jared had turned into big bonfire parties including Jacob Black and his gaggle.

But that was months ago. Months. And now, as she sits by a fire, surrounded on either side by them, they decide to tell her their little secret?

“Y/n.” Sam says as she abruptly stands, eyes stern and hand raised placatingly.

His actions only served to upset her more and her skin bristles with irritation. Sam was acting as if she, a human surrounded by shape shifters, was the unstable one. As if she could do any damage to things built to kill vampires.

“Don’t you dare, Sam.” She clenches her fists, glaring right back at him. “It’s been months- months- and you’re telling me now?”

“It’s not exactly an easy thing to bring up.” He reasons, voice a little less demanding. “We all wanted to be sure that you were ready to know.”

“Ready?!” Y/n laughs mirthlessly, y/e/c eyes wide with disbelief, “When was I supposed to be ready Sam? W-when one of you gored me? When a cold one ripped me apart?”

Her hands shake as she puts them on her forehead, blinking back tears. Growing up all she’d ever heard were stories of humans getting dragged into fights between wolf and vampire, and she couldn’t bring herself to look Emily in the eye because it was suddenly apparent that wolves alone could hurt people too.

It was so bad, whatever happened to Emily, that they said a bear mauled her— Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s not like that, Y/n/n.” Embry chimes in, reaching out to grab his friend's arm.

She yanks her body out of the way and gathers her belongings quickly.

“What is it like then, Call?” She holds her bag to her heaving chest, “because it seems to me that you all have the ability to turn into giant, slobbery freaks that are built for killing vampires and, after completely dropping me for weeks, you decided to keep it secret from me for months. Did it even occur to you that I would’ve been better off knowing right off the bat?!”

No one says anything. Eight shifters and two of their girlfriends sit there, just staring at her like she was speaking a different language.

“You know,” Y/n has to clear her throat to steady her wavering voice, “had you guys really been souped-up on drugs like everyone says, maybe I could’ve handled the lying. But my life was clearly potentially in danger, and you let me hang around without saying anything. I- God I don’t want to see you people right now.”

She leaves with that, stepping over logs and storming back down the beach with determination. Faintly over the roar of her heartbeat, she can hear someone scrambling to stand behind her.

“Wait!— shit, sorry-” Paul grunts, jogging to catch up with her- “Y/n-“

With an unusual gentleness, his warm hand wrapped around her forearm. For a moment, deep in the back of her mind, a foreign feeling tells her to stop, to listen; but that small voice is quickly smothered by the rational part of her brain, and she wrenches her arm from his grip.

“Don’t touch me!” She snaps, lowering her voice, “Leave me alone- I need to be alone.”

Paul stands there, dumbstruck, an unreadable look in his eyes as she walks away. And he’d continue to stand there, looking like a kicked puppy long after her retreating form became a blur amongst the darkness of the beach.

“Paul?” Sam is hesitant, hand hovering over the younger boy’s shoulder a minute before he touches him, “You okay?”

Shrugging his leader’s arm off his shoulder, Paul sighs. “No...I...I’m just gonna head home.”

Instead of going in the directions of the cars, the wolf stalks off toward the woods; Emily stands from her seat, wrapping her sweater more around herself as she watches Paul leave. Concern is written all over her features.

“He’ll be fine, Em,” He pulls her in for a hug, “it’ll all work out eventually.”

ஓ๑♡๑ஓ

Y/n does a good job of avoiding them for a while.

She turns her phone off a few days in and avoids going to First Beach, even when Washington gets a rare, warm summer feel. Books that have sat long forgotten on her shelves get read and TV shows she’s always meant to catch up on get watched; it’s boring and she runs out of options, at one point thinking of dying her hair y/f/c just to spice things up, but it allows her to think. (Or at least it allows this strange little voice in the back of her head to tell her that she needs to go back to them.)

The next time she sees any of the boys is exactly two weeks after the bonfire incident.

She’s curled up on her couch, picking at some of the Clearwaters’ fish fry and barely watching an episode of ANTM, when a fist comes banging down on her door. Turning off the TV, she tiptoes to the window, peeking under the curtain as carefully as she can.

As she expected, Jared Cameron and Embry Call are on her porch, the former standing in front of her door with his hip cocked, the other rooting around in her mother’s plants for something. Cringing, she hopes if she’s quiet enough that they’ll just go away.

Her front door opens within minutes, however, and she realizes her hoping is fruitless.

Should’ve known you can’t hide from wolves, she can’t help but think bitterly.

“Y/n?” Jared calls out through the house, “we know you’re here.”

“Yeah, and you guys should probably move your spare key,” Embry tacks on, flicking the light switch to the living room up, “I've known you forever and it’s still in the same place.”

From her spot by the window, the y/h/c haired girl glares at the two boys, arms crossed over her chest. Embry gives her a lopsided grin and holds the key out to her, his bud plopping down on the couch and pulling her abandoned plate into his lap.

Y/n extends a hand to take the key.

“Has it really been in the same place?” She sounds a little more defeated than she’d like.

“Yeah, it’s always been in your mother’s cornflower pot.”

“That’s...kinda sad.” She wrinkles her nose, pocketing the key with the intention to hide it better later, “but uh, I’ve been ignoring you for two weeks for a reason. Peacefully breaking into my house kinda furthers my need for space.”

Embry scratches the back of his neck.

“Well,” He says, “we need you to come back, man. Paul won’t talk to anyone- Sam doesn’t know if he’s eating, and he won’t even get out of bed for patrol! He needs his imprint-”

“His what?” She cocks her head to the side and Jared snorts from the couch.

“She left before we got there, nimrod,” Jared mocks through a mouthful of food, “she doesn’t know what an imprint is.”

He lets out an indignant “Hey!” as Y/n walks by, snatching her plate back from him on her way to the kitchen. Embry chases after her, a grumpy Jared jumping up from the couch to follow.

“You’re his imprint— you’re basically his soulmate!”

“Really?” She says warily, sealing the fish and putting it back in the fridge.

Both boys nod clumsily.

“You remember a few weeks ago when you saw each other for the first time again and he kinda just stood there like an idiot while you talked?”

“Yeah? Oh!-” She brings her hands up to her mouth, brows furrowed as she recalls.

It was exactly Jared had said. She and Paul had seen one another for the first time in a long time and the minute her y/e/c eyes looked into his, it was like he’d been struck dumb.

Embry gives her an encouraging look, “An imprint is...It's not like love at first sight, really. It's more like… gravity moves… suddenly. It's not the earth holding you here anymore, she does… You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that's a protector, or a lover, or a friend. When you snapped at him last week he thought you were rejecting him….”

A part of her thought about how absurd it was that he knew that whole speech. But the bigger part of her came to a realization that made her stomach churn.

“So he's all depressed… because… of me?” She whispers, leaning back on the counter.

Embry, always a rather sympathetic person, opens his mouth to comfort her, but Jared cuts him off.

“Basically. So are you going to come with us so we can help Paul or are you going to continue being petty?”

In any other circumstance, Y/n probably would’ve thrown something at her for calling her petty. She felt she was completely justified in her actions. A part of her wonders if she can really believe them— they’d spent months lying to her after all. But a larger part thinks about Paul, curled up in his bed, slowly desecrating because he thinks she rejected him.

If it were really all some ploy to get her to listen to them, then she’d at least be the person who chose the well-being of her friend over a petty disagreement.

“I’m coming.” She affirms, pushing herself off the counter, and letting the boys lead her to the car.

ஓ๑♡๑ஓ

Jared and Embry drop her off in front of the Lahote household. They tell her something but she can’t really hear them over her heartbeat, she doesn’t even know they’re gone until it’s too late to turn back.

Getting into the house wasn’t the hard part. Paul’s father, Cyrus, had been leaving as she arrived, and, after he watched her stare at the house with a fearful expression for a few minutes, he happily let her in. The hard part was willing her legs to take her up the stairs to Paul’s room, and then it was opening his bedroom door.

Y/n has known Paul since they were eight, but she was afraid of him until they were eleven. He wasn’t mean, per se, but his anger made him do mean things; she wasn’t entirely happy with puberty and it’s monthly gifts, but whatever it did to make her suddenly un-afraid of him she was grateful for. But now, standing in front of his bedroom door, she had a nagging fear that Paul would revert to that eight year old boy who threw lunch boxes and twisted arms behind backs until people cried.

The door creaks slightly as she struggles to push it open.

His room is almost completely dark except for the light coming from the hallway behind her. Trash and dirty clothes have formed a compact layer on his bedroom floor, foot sized holes leading up to the twin sized bed in the corner. On the bed, amongst the blankets she’s sure he doesn’t need, is Paul— or at least, a Paul sized lump.

As gross as it is, she’s kind of relieved he’s been eating.

“Paul?” She whispers tentatively, stepping toward the bed.

The lump flinches and turns toward her.

“Y/n?”

If the room and the description of his state weren’t heartbreaking enough, his voice definitely was. Hollow, rough, and small, everything it never was, everything Paul wasn’t.

“Is that you?”

“Yeah...it’s me..”

She carefully steps over to the bed, and Paul slowly sits up, pushing his blankets to the side. There’s a beat of silence as she stands between his legs, his reluctant hands coming to rest on her waist after a minute. Y/n let’s him have another to gather his thoughts.

“You really came…” Tears well up in his eyes and loops his arms around her back.

She runs a hand through his hair. “I did, and I’m so sorry, if I had known—”

Paul nuzzles her stomach, “S’fine, you didn’t know, and you’re here now.”

There’s a sort of cute, euphoria lacing his voice and he’s visibly much more relaxed.

“Just don’t ever say that again…”

“I won’t, I promise.”

She’s surprised when he manhandles her into his lap, but she doesn’t really mind. He’s warm and strangely familiar and something about it just— clicks.

“When was the last time you spent, I dunno, a minute or two out of your room?” Y/n asks softly, y/e/c eyes glancing about the room.

The shifter’s only response is a shrug, too busy nosing around her neck with vigor. When he finds a certain spot, it makes her squeak, and this seems to excite him like a puppy finding out its favorite toy makes noise.

“You need to bathe, eat something substantial,” She intertwines their fingers, “and the...pack...they’re really worried about you— are you even listening to me?”

He looks up at her then and flashes her a sheepish smile, answering her question. Pursing her lips, she pulls his arms from around her.

“C’mon, Paul.” She stands up and takes his hand. “We’re gonna get you cleaned up.”

She moves toward the door, urging him forward, only to be jerked to a stop as he stays put. He looks a little distressed when she turns back to him, brows furrowed, almost like he’s in pain.

“Paul?”

He grunts, jaw clenched as the cogs turn in his head. Y/n cocks her head and reaches out for his other hand. It felt like some sort of supernatural intuition, one she’ll blame on the imprint and ask Emily about later.

“Paul, hon, why won’t you come shower?”

“I’m afraid you'll leave,” He says bashfully, “it’s stupid, I know, but part of me is afraid you’ll leave while I’m in the shower.”

Y/n couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken at his confession. Paul was part wolf, and part of being part wolf was imprinting— she almost wishes she’d have stayed long enough to listen, or been able to focus as the boys debriefed her on the ride over because only being able to speculate how much she’d actually hurt him was eating her alive. He wouldn’t even shower, something he desperately needed to do, because of what she’d said.

Taking a deep breath, she barely registers the words she’s about to say.

“I’ll wait with you, I’ll sit on the toilet, you’ll see me there.”

And true to her word, Y/n does sit on the toilet while Paul showers, reading the information on soap bottles to distract herself from the fact that he was there next to her, very naked. Occasionally he asks her what she’s doing, and she reads the ingredients out loud to the best of her ability, and he laughs a little— she tries to hide her smile, but she was too happy he was laughing.

She closes her eyes when he gets out, letting him dry himself off and pull on some clean shorts. He throws the wet towel at her when he’s done, eliciting a “Hey!” that makes him laugh again.

Now that he’s clean, the two of them descend into his quiet house. Y/n navigates the kitchen, her wolf attached to her hip and being less than helpful, and makes them both something to eat— he doesn’t do much more than stand behind her, wrapped around her, making her life more difficult.

“I’m so happy you came back.” He says, watching her work.

“I was always going to.” Y/n responds, her voice sure and steady.

They talk as they eat, sitting across from one another at the too big table in the Lahote household. Talk about how this was going to work, admitting feelings that always lingered, and everything in between; she hooks her leg around his, watching him scarf down his meal with a wrinkled nose and fondness glittering in her y/e/c eyes.

He’s...gross...but he’s hers, she’s kind of stuck with him.

A date is planned. An actual date.

Paul promises to take her to the local diner (and to wear a shirt, for once.)

“I’ve been saving up for something like this.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and you can get that dessert you like.”

Y/n laughs softly, but heat spreads up her neck and settles in her ears and cheeks. It’d been a long time since that had been her favorite food, but it was the thought that counted...

When Cyrus Lahote returns from work later that night his son and the Y/l/n girl are awkwardly situated on his couch— him on his back, snoring, her lying on top of him, face tucked into his neck, also fast asleep. The older man turns off the TV and tosses a blanket over the pair, ascending up the stairs with a smile on his face.

Y/n Y/l/n was trustworthy. She’s always there when Paul is in a rut too big for him to handle...

[orionwhispers]

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals. 

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

[phoenixyfriend]

Thoughts on “Auntie Soka and Little Leia” now that I’ve actually got it posted:

Call it a director’s cut! The process of actually writing the thing, and also jokes made along the way. Link to the actual fic.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy for image descriptions, even the text screenshots. Might come back that later. Most of this was DMs with @atagotiak​.

This was an entire thing before I even started writing:

Before I decided on ages and stuff Ahsoka, to Jango, who has had zero contact with Kaminoans: Okay I know I'm a Jedi kid so you hate me but this toddler is your clone from the future. Jango, tired: What the FUCK are you talking about. Rex, barely able to talk: Don't you dare leave me with him, Commander! Ahsoka: I'm not going to leave you I just--I'm so tired I'm so fucking tired I haven't slept in five days and someone tried to kidnap Leia two days ago I am so fucking tired I need help

Ben: [twenty years of depression followed by a 'now I'm safe' breakdown over the course of weeks] Sokari: [whatever the FUCK this mess is]

When Ahsoka mentions there only being three other Jedi at the time of her death,  I was thinking Kanan, Yoda, and Obi-Wan (Leia told her about the latter two living past her). She's not counting anyone that received training after the Temple fell, and she didn’t know about Cal.

When Leia says  “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

Depa: I'm no therapist but I diagnose you with "incredibly fucked up." Ahsoka: yeah, that’s fair

"Why did you pick Depa for--" She's pretty and I'm gay. Also because of the Kanan thing But mostly I'm gay "It's not a visual medi--" GAY

Empty of context beyond general post-fic AU: "Hey Sokari, we need to engage in psychological warfare against this individual and--" "I'm going to break into his office and leave a threatening note on his desk and leave no other sign that I was there. He'll see that his security is nothing and the only reason he isn't dead is because I'm too nice to kill him." "...okay, not what we were planning, but that works. Why is that your first choice?" "I really like breaking and entering, it's soothing." Ben just standing there with a bland smile like This Is Normal.

"We need someone to infiltrate a highly guarded facility in hostile territory." "So we're sending the Torrent kids?" [sigh] "We're sending the Torrent kids."

Rex and Sokari insist on both going by "Torrent" even though Rex could be a Fett. Jango really wants him to be a Fett. Rex has too many grudges to agree to being a Fett for... a while.

I really hope it's blatantly obvious that Ahsoka's not a reliable narrator for some things Ahsoka: Fett could care less if I died Jango: jfc even if you are older than me I can see you're fucked up. Drink your hot chocolate. Hells. She's got good reason to expect him to hate her as a Jedi! BUT. THAT IS NOT REFLECTIVE OF REALITY

We don’t get a lot of actual characterization for Jango, but the way I played him out here is he has never really parsed that Jedi are people before all this. It's a lot harder to treat them as a monolith when the traumatized former child soldier is having regular breakdowns in your shitty little kitchen

Fett: I respect you Ahsoka: No, don't do that

Ahsoka’s vigilantism is something that, in my mind, she's associating heavily with Zygerria and then the clones.

I figured that she never bothered to learn Quinlan’s teacher’s name but in the process of looking up some basic facts (whether he had a surname), I found that Wookiepedia was forced to give us a VERY wide range of possible death in Legends.

Please take a moment to imagine Quinlan's FACE when Ahsoka initially dismisses him. Quinlan has put a lot of effort into being rogueishly charming! It's very useful for his line of work! He knows to expect either irritation or a return flirtation when he acts like this with people his own age! Ahsoka is not flustered OR rolling her eyes and insulting him, she's just ignoring him and it's a bit of a blow to the ego

This just makes me really happy:

This was the initial comment I made, as a joke What if Maul is just. There. On one of the planets they make a pitstop at. What if Maul exists as the walking problem he is, but fifteen, and Ahsoka immediately tries to kick his ass and drag him back to Coruscant. I do not have room for this plot but What If

Despite not having room for this plot, I proceeded to write this plot.

Maul is kidnapped and it’s the best thing that ever happened to him HE'S FIFTEEN HE'S DUMB AS SHIT AND HAS A BAD ATTITUDE AND YEAH HE'S A DARKSIDER BUT HE'S FIFTEEN

Ahsoka: I sense... Maul [takes off sprinting] Rex: [immediately takes Jango's blaster and runs after her] Jango: Wait who Tholme: Who Quinlan: Who Jango: [looks at Leia] Leia: I don't know who that is either! Ahsoka, already wrestling a teenager to the ground: Oh no, you're a child, REX STUN HIM AND GRAB THE CUFFS, I'M SURE FETT OR THOLME HAS SOME

Fighting him isn't even legal, they have NO evidence of criminal wrongdoing, so first she needs to yell until he admits to something she can fight him about

Ahsoka: When I see Maul, it's on SIGHT Maul: WHO ARE YOU

Ahsoka: The Force didn't give me hands just to NOT throw them when I run into That Crafty Son Of A Bitch

Ben, when they arrive, after the tearful reunion: You... you brought Maul. Ahsoka: Well, yeah, he's fifteen and kinda dumb. I figured we could drag him here and force him into therapy, see what happens. Ben: I can't quite tell through the gag, but I think he's threatening to feed you your own spleen. Ahsoka: Lol, yeah.

Ben is absolutely on team "get Maul therapy" and will fight the Council on rehabilitating the baby Sith But also it's like. Here's your daughter! And your niece! And your daughter's QPP! Also your best friend, but baby, and his teacher, and the biological origin of a number of people you cared for deeply! AND ALSO THE GUY WHO SPENT LITERAL DECADES CRAVING YOUR DEATH, FOR SOME REASON

I just really want Ahsoka lovingly bullying Maul She gives him noogies and the horns don't protect him because girl has reinforced gloves

Maul's only allowed a low-power training saber and his fights with Sokari involve Much Taunting by her and Eventual Screaming by him, and everyone pops by to see: 1. Sokari doing the most absurd flips, for fun. 2. The bullshit that is ataru-shien reverse-grip jar'kai in the hands of someone who makes it work 3. What a Sith lightsaber form looks like 4. Just the general nonsense that is the way these two fight

Tia said “Wrt ridiculous flips. I'm remembering that time she beheaded four Kryst'ad at once.” and I just Rex brings up the quadruple beheading at one point to get someone to stop asking questions and the awkward, horrified silence almost makes him regret it. And then Sokari just snorts and makes a joke about how Rex once speared a slaver point-blank and everyone's just like hello??? "are you two okay" "no"

Maul absolutely starts crushing on Sokari after a 'sword under chin' moment and she's just very "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you're fifteen, bye" GO MAKE PUPPY EYES AT OBI-WAN OR SOMETHING

The crushes are the worst part of everything, really, she's an attractive young woman that can kick a lot of ass, and a lot of people are into that! Unfortunately, most of those people are a decade younger than she is, mentally, because all the people her actual age look at her and see a child on account of the 17yo body.

It’s almost a good thing she’s in no place mentally for a relationship.

I just want Ahsoka to wear beskar.... I think that would be Nice........

This AU is also what caused this post.

I'm deeply enamored by the idea that Ahsoka can win fights against "older" padawans pretty much unilaterally, even when they team up 2v1 And then she offers to fight 5v1 "But only if I have permission to fight dirty." Ben approves it, a horror show full of "I fought many wars and will scream in your face or kick you in the balls if that's what it takes" follows She wins. There are no permanent injuries, but her reputation certainly gets weirder. Nobody under the rank of Knight agrees to let her fight dirty again. She just lets that stand because, well, she's not actually a padawan, she's thirty-three.

I’m not going to write this but my brain was EVIL and suggested it:

IT WOULD BE REALLY SAD IDK maybe 9yo Anakin has nightmares about what's happening to baby Ahsoka because bullshit about time-traveling force bonds IDK ANYWAY he cries to Sokari about the nightmares and she's like "oh shit" and it's time to go rescue herself from motherfucker unlimited

It's either that or she's like, expecting to welcome mini-me aaaany day now, for like, several months, before she realizes Something Went Wrong. Anakin’s dreams could even start right as she’s starting to realize something’s off.

Obi-Wan has never had a padawan that doesn't at some point bite Even Luke will, when pushed

OH also once the twins get Baby's First Lightsaber (training sabers, not real kyber), Sokari begs to borrow them for a dumb joke and tells Rex to get on her shoulders for a "Grievous Greeting" and they do The Thing

Jango and Ahsoka wrt Quinlan is just “Do I need to beat him up for you” “You realize I’ve beaten up sith lords before?”

JANGO'S TRYING He's just. "Can we be friends? Can I--can I be the guy that just noticeably gets in the way of a creep on the subway so you can be more comfortable without someone making a scene? I'm fucking trying here, give me a hint."

We didn’t actually figure out Jango’s age until this point. The only reason Fett's age matters is for Quinlan making a Wild Oats quip after Jango says he didn't know about Rex until a few weeks ago, and Fett going "How old do you think I am? And how old do you think the kid is?" and Quinlan getting Very Awkward as he does the math. Rex overhears and lets Quinlan sweat for a bit before saying "I'm a genetically-modified clone someone grew in a tube, he didn't know or have reason to know until he saw me with Sokari." Which is like. Eight additional layers of WTF, obviously, but at least Jango gets to avoid awkward wild oats jokes

Like, you’d expect the rebuttal to be ‘he’s my brother just with a biiig age gap’ or ‘he’s my nephew’

I find it very unfortunate for Quinlan that I've decided his defining characteristic in this context is going to be repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth

He’s trying so hard but "That sounds like a cool thing, maybe I'll ask ab--and it's another fucking trauma."

I'm doing Ahsoka&Jango t w i c e (there’s another fic where I’m doing it)

It’s just a fun dynamic! So much resentful respect.

Like she's twenty seconds away from calling him a bitch at any given time and he's just there like "I don't like you but I do see you move like you're about to tell an entire building to get on their knees with their hands in the air and I can respect that" Also she's probably much less judgmental about using blasters than Obi-Wan is The Maul subplot actually started with me daydreaming about Ahsoka grabbing a blaster for Reasons

I like the idea of Jango just deciding the most Useful thing he can do is help teach the Smol how to fight. He's AWKWARD around Rex and Soka because he doesn't know if there's anything he CAN teach them.

I didn’t actually plan for Tholme to figure out the age thing, he just SAID it and I had to sit there like Wait.

Ahsoka, Rex & Leia: ahhh, children Tholme: you say that like you aren’t children

I liked getting to write Rex's little "I have worked with all of them, and they're all Terrible" He loves them But They once got stranded on a planet that didn’t exist and Ahsoka died and Anakin killed a god.

There was research and discussion as to whether Ahsoka could win against Tholme but seeing as she held her own against Vader, and fought Grievous at that physical age without dying, etc.... yeah, the only thing holding her back was her body not being what she was used to, and she’s had a few weeks go adjust.

“I miss being able to just jump off skyscrapers” is such a jedi thing

Jango: I'll take the gun back if he tries to leave, they can't get far before--WHAT THE FUCK He knows Jedi are scary but he’s still not really used to just how over the top ridiculous they are He knows how to deal with Jedi in battle, not Whatever The Fuck These People Are Doing

Rex isn't even a Jedi, he's just so used to working with them. “Oh yes time for free-falling without a parachute again, same shit as always.”

Tia: I’m imagining Jango freaking out and Quinlan and Tholme being like. Concerned but mostly exasperated Clearly if they’re jumping off buildings it must be serious? But jfc they could’ve maybe communicated a bit more?

Leia: I want to finish my juice Tholme: Quin, stay with her while we go figure out what those two are doing. Quinlan: Wait what

Jango: Oh now he’s jumping off a building too??? Tholme: Sokari, you are not registered! You can't legally jump out windows yet! Jango: What the hell is going on? Is this normal?

We don’t necessarily know how often Ahsoka and Maul ran into each other after Mandalore. There was the later thing on Malachor, but other than that I'm just going with the idea that they ran into each other every year or two and just went for the eyes like feral cats

Ahsoka: I need to kick ass and you're coming with me. Rex: Yeah, okay. [several minutes later] Rex: Whose ass are we kicking?

Ahsoka and Rex

Neloms aren’t a SW fruit to the best of my knowledge, I just wanted to mess around with lemons/melons

Jango: you didn’t think any of this through, did you? Rex: you were there, you know we didn’t "When the Jedi says to jump out a window, I jump out a window."

Tholme’s real composed about stalking the ancient nigh-mythical enemy of his people, very “Life is already so goddamn weird”

This fic has been so heavy on the trauma but then I introduce Maul and suddenly it's the worst kind of comedy Nobody is competent, everyone's a little dumb, the bad guy is just grocery shopping

My propensity for banter has turned this into a six-person buddy cop comedy about Maul buying grapes They spend a significant amount to time ineffectually stalking Maul before Quin suggests the sensible option Quinlan just "You remember this is my literal job and specialty right"

Ahsoka sees Maul and all her brain cells go out the window except "Fight good" Usually she doesn’t need to worry about doing things legally. Maybe she needs to worry about someone seeing her do illegal things but she spent the past 15 yrs in a place where her existing was illegal

I feel like he’s also maybe kinda wanting to reassert that yes he is competent. Bc like. Ahsoka’s been kinda condescending this whole time and also can beat everyone up so. It's not his fault that he's actually the youngest person there, but.

Jango is finding this whole being friendly to Jedi thing a lot more overwhelming than he thought it would be. And overwhelming in different ways.

Maul usually signifies things getting worse and more horrifyingly tragic but he's just a dumb teen that they needed to arrest for his own good.

Quinlan: Look, I'm useful! Ahsoka: I've been through hell, wanna hear? Quinlan: NO. I DON'T. WHY.

Quinlan: I understand the concept of joking about your traumas, I do it sometimes myself! But sith hells that’s a lot of trauma.

Quinlan just wanted her to treat him as a Competent Individual, and here she is whipping out stories about Dying and Gods and the Force insists it's the truth and he just???? And apparently emo darksider over there is a Sith. And just, sure. Why not

A lot of people’s interactions with the time travelling disaster lineage is just

Tholme and Fett arguing and  Ahsoka's just waiting for a moment to pop in with "Hey, when's the last time either of you worked with the other's culture before this mess? Yeah, that's what I thought."

Much like Leia and Ahsoka hurting each other earlier, and Tholme figuring out the de-aging, we ALSO have Fett’s confrontation with Ahsoka being something the characters just did, rather than something I planned.

FTR the only time I managed to trigger myself while writing this fic was the “your behavior isn’t actually acceptable and we’ve all been trying really hard to give you room to recover but you have to at least make an effort to not be a bitch”

Writing about people having PTSD and symptoms of such: Yay! Writing about people having PTSD and engaging in toxic behavior to cope: Shit Ahsoka had... basically my exact reaction. It's "remind yourself that you're in the wrong, that they have a point, and then be overly formal in the apology because fuck if you accidentally make them feel sorry for you when they're the injured party"

Quinlan: Can we be friends? I mean, you're an asshole, but you're really cool. Let's be friends. (He MIGHT be nursing a crush) (Neat mysterious girl who can beat him up.)

Also he realises she's probably nicer when not having a slow-motion breakdown He's like "Huh, you'll probably be less of an asshole once you've gotten therapy."

...also, she pretty and got Nice Biceps

I love writing a good mental breakdown

I was so close to including a "he tried to kill me" just early enough for Jango to wildly misinterpret as her thinking Quinlan tried to kill her. He'd have been very confused, considering Quinlan's the one that called them down in a panic and currently has Ahsoka having her massive breakdown in his lap But

Tia:  I could see Jango interpreting it as idk, Quin resembling someone or for a moment acting like someone who tried to kill her and she had a flashback or something like that

There's absolutely room for a couple reasonable interpretations there And "trapped in a flashback about someone who tried to kill her" is absolutely what's happening! Just. You know. For a different reason. Jango probably wouldn’t assume Quin would hurt her, for one thing he seems to like her, for another even if he did he’s smart enough to pick a way that wouldn’t be so likely to get him caught

I had to step back and actually say “Also I'm just. Wow. I'm really just shoveling QPP Rex&Ahsoka at full speed”

Me, a few weeks ago, joking: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist Me, now, entirely seriously: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist

Me, belatedly: Oh, Ahsoka being joyfully mean to people was a form of mania she was unconsciously using to build a barrier between herself and her impending meltdown

She went from "just died" to "in charge of Rex and Leia" in like. Two minutes.

Confession: I've been delighting in the mental image of this whole Mess leading Jango to try to retake Mandalore, and Ahsoka loans him a saber for a 1v1 to get the darksaber.

“Can’t I just fight him barehanded? That’s how I did it on Galidraan.” "But the drama, Fett!"

Probably Rex has learned how to use a saber as well, because you never know when you have to borrow a weapon

I later changed my mind to Jango asking her to help, rather than her just sneak-teaching him, but it was funny.

Background nonsense to all this is Ahsoka and Rex, despite Rex being as force-sensitive as a lump of coal, having developed a process where she can extend her sensitivity to him mind-to-mind for weird symbiotic battle trance that scares everyone around them. It’s very similar to Battle meditation.

CONTEXT FOR LEIA BEING WORRIED ABOUT THOLME HIDING THINGS: Tholme is hiding the fact that the Council reached out and told him that the people he picked up might be connected to Ben and Luke, who showed up after the Depa thing but a solid week and change before Jango's ship makes it to the Temple. They asked that he not share that information to avoid getting anyone's hopes up in case the two situations aren't related. Ben and Luke haven't shared enough information for anyone to really be sure if the other three are connected Because the info Tholme has isn't quite the info Jango has, etc. And they can't just say Ben is a future Obi-Wan over comms

I just have a lot of feelings about people trying to do something right and just. Nobody's at fault! Not really! It's just complicated!

Tia: I like how when Ahsoka isn’t doing maladaptive trauma response stuff she’s very mature. And of course she’s had to be but it’s a good like, contrast. Where when she slows down to think about things she’s very sensible

Jango just spends most of this story lowkey wanting Ahsoka to Be His Friend but there's too much baggage that he's only metaphysically responsible for

Local aroace(?) has a squish

Ahsoka: He just wants to get on my good side because of Rex. Jango: I'm pretty sure you could kill an entire army without trying but you wouldn't because you have actual morals and stuff... and when I met you it was because you were killing yourself trying to keep (what appeared to be) children safe... you seem cool please be my friend.......

Ahsoka’s #1 weakness: mountains of trauma Ahsoka’s #2 weakness: she just doesn’t get why so many people think she’s cool and want her to be their (girl)friend

Jango, a 27yo massacre survivor who's killed Jedi masters with his bare hands: [gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly]

Ahsoka was raised in a religious meritocracy but developed all her opinions during a galactic war and then became a vigilante spy, Rex comes from a military cult, Leia is from an inherited monarchy that participates in democracy, Quinlan was originally from what appears to be a dynastic dictatorship, and IDK about Tholme other than that he is also from the religious meritocracy. And in legends Quinlan came to the religious meritocracy after his aunt sacrificed his parents to a vampire cult and then forced him to experience the psychometric echoes of that. There's just. A lot going on.

Leia at least has knowledge about structure and admin in theory that isn't based in either the military or populations under 10k

Jango: I want to be your friend. Ahsoka: Sounds fake.

I am unfairly fond of "Rex destroys a conversation by bringing up his own horrifying childhood and calling it a cult"

"Why does Sokari call you 'Rex'ika'?" "Because she's older than me." "...can I--?" "No."

Nickname privileges are extended ONLY to Ahsoka and older clones. There are no more older clones, so it's just Ahsoka.

Me joking about Star Wars AUs: Would you like a crackship? Me writing actual Star Wars fic: My favorite character type is apparently “too traumatized to have a relationship” so this is at least 90% gen.

I had to pull a scene opening at one point because Ahsoka's skill with not getting shot is actually much less useful than Tholme's clearance levels.

Now I really want a team-up of Ahsoka, Rex, and Jango where they do have to get in a dogfight of the "she flies, we shoot" variety and Fett just has to scream because the speeder thing to catch Maul was one thing, but this....

Ahsoka, before TCW: I know all the traffic rules but I'm not that great at flying! Ahsoka, after TCW: I'm great at flying but if you let me behind the wheel we are absolutely getting arrested.

She went from "knows the rules but doesn't have the skills" to "has the skills but primarily in the form of not getting shot" which! Is delightful! "Bet I can get us through that alley--" "DO NOT"

Jango and Ahsoka are both just very "Is this friendship? Is this camaraderie? My heart's been fried on platonic love by so many murders that I'm not sure anymore." "I've lost a lot of friends. I kind of forgot how to make those."

I have no idea if "hasn't been closer than Alderaan except that one trip to Chandrila" is canon-compliant but ehhhhhhhh It feels plausible enough?

Belatedly realized that I could just explain my optimal Rex&Ahsoka dynamic as just... drift compatible. It's vague enough on the specifics while still digging into the meat of what they mean to each other and how they work together. The terminology is already in existence. I can just use it.

Romantic? Platonic? Familial? Doesn't matter! They're drift compatible.

They are important to each other and that is what matters

I really like the Leia&Quinlan thing. He's just like "This small child needs a friend that isn't super depressed," and decided he's going to be her friend. I keep trying to toss in "Quinlan volunteers to 'baby'sit." She's not much older and she has a Baby Brain, it works out

There's a running bet as to whether Leia will leave the Order the second she turns thirteen, or if she'll let Sokari "train" her for a few years first. And... that’s how I came up with Leia Antilles, Senator of Serenno.

They'll be bullshitting Ben as her new master to "finish out the padawanship" since they can't tell everyone she's really in her thirties and he's conveniently there and already knows everything and was half her master anyway. Like Ben was planning on taking on Luke, but Luke is "six" and even he can't swing that as old enough to be a Padawan, and it's not like Sokari will take more than a handful of years to justify knighthood, sooooooooo

[libraryofloveletters]

The Boy Next Door

Eddie Diaz x Reader 

Warnings: mentions of divorce, step-parents, a little bit of arguing, alcohol and consumption of, like one swear word, mentions of sickness

Category: fluff 

Word Count: 2.3K

Author’s Note: ahhh okay hi! this is my first 911 fic, idk it’s mostly self indulgent because I can’t get this idea out of my head, so here we are :) also for the purpose of this, Eddie never got married nor did he have Christopher 

Italics are flashbacks 

----

To say you were average was the understatement of your life, you weren't special nor were you awkward or shy, you were just average. You had always been the average person, in an average neighbourhood with an average life. 

But the boy next door, there was nothing average about him. 

The first time you met the boy next door was when you were 14, you had just moved into the neighbourhood with your father and his new wife. There was still lots to be done, the air conditioning was broken and your father seemed to misplace his toolkit during the move. He left you in the smouldering heat and ventured off to find a toolkit. Not only did he return with a toolkit but visitors as well.

“y/n!” your father shouted from the bottom on the staircase, “what?!” you shouted back. “Come down here!” you groaned as he called for you again, what could he possibly want now? 

Your father stood there with a man and a boy who you could only assume was his son. “Y/n, this is Ramon and his son, Eddie. They live next door and Ramon was kind enough to loan his tools and help me out.” you smiled at them from the top of the stairs. 

“Come down and get Eddie something to drink” your father said, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes and made your way down the stairs. 

“Would you like some lemonade ?” you asked, walking past him to the kitchen, he followed you. “Please” he leaned against the wall watching you move around the kitchen. 

“So, I hear you have a step mom?” he asks, you could feel his eyes burning into your back as you got the lemonade from the fridge. “Unfortunately” you mumble and pour some of the liquid into a glass, Eddie made his way over to the counter, he leaned up against it. 

“Do you know how to stand straight ?” you glance at him up and down, he laughs and shakes his head. 

“Why is it unfortunate that you have a stepmother ?” taking a sip of the lemonade, his eyes fixed on you. “Have you ever seen Cinderella ?” you asked, hopping up on the counter and picking up the other glass, Eddie nods. 

“Imagine living with Cinderella’s stepmother but times 100″ you groan, Eddie had a smile on his face. 

“You’re joking”

“Wish I was” 

“Well that sucks” he gave you an apologetic look

“Big time” your eyes are on your legs which were swinging back and forth. Eddie grabs your leg suddenly, “what the hell!” you jump, he laughs again. 

God he has such a cute laugh, wait what ? Stop he’s your neighbour, you barely know him.

“How’d you get that?” his thumb rubs over a scar on your leg by your ankle. “Bike accident when I was younger. It just didn’t heal right and left a scar, also because there was a giant gash there for a few weeks” you shrug. The two of you were in the kitchen for a few minutes, Eddie’s hand was still wrapped around your leg, neither of you saying a word to each other. 

“Eddie! Time to go!” Ramon shouted for Eddie, he let go of your leg. “See you around ?” he asked, you nodded, “yeah, see ya” Eddie smiled at you and you smiled back. 

You rarely saw Eddie after that day, he had been helping his father at his shop all summer so you never got a chance to hang out. When school started, you had a few classes with him, he occasionally asked for the answers to the homework after his practices ran long, which you gave to him. 

Somewhere deep down, you had a soft spot for the boy next door. 

Your friendship, if you could even call it that, was built solely on the fact that he lives next door and went to the same classes, if it weren't for that, you’d never speak to him. He wasn't a popular kid per se but he had a solid friend group and played sports, so in his own way, he was a popular kid. You were the kid that had your head down, did what you were told to do and left. 

High school flew by and you were glad. The whole “your high school years are the best years of your life” was bullshit, if anything, you ended up coming out more confused than you went in. 

The second time you spent time with Eddie was at your graduation party. The graduating class had arranged a grad party for yourselves in the neighbourhood. It consisted of loud drunk teenagers and their tipsy parents. By midnight, the street began clearing out, you hung back simply because you didn’t want to go home and deal with your stepmother and your father. 

Sitting on the curb at the end of the street, you could see the entire street. There  were still a few kids, a group of boys playing football terribly, a couple making out in the corner and some girls posing for pictures by some car. 

Eddie’s shouting broke your thoughts, “Papi I'm going!” It sounded like something had shattered, perhaps a bottle. You got up and slowly made your way over. “You want to throw away your life? Stay here, get a job Eddie, I won’t allow you to do this!” his father shouted back at him. Eddie began walking away from his father, Ramon grabbed his hand. “Do not walk away from me!” he shouted again. 

“You made up your mind and so did I. I'm going.” Eddie said sternly and walked away. He walked past you on his way to wherever he was going. He didn’t stop, he didn't talk, he just pushed past you and left. 

Eddie left home a few weeks later. You kept up with his parents, stopping by for dinner every once in a while. His father didn’t talk much about him, just that he was good and that’s all. Once his father left, his mother told you about what actually was going on, how Eddie felt as if he had found a purpose there. She shows you letters that he had sent and a picture he had sent her in his uniform.

“Doesn't he look handsome ?” she smiled, showing you the picture of Eddie. “Yeah, very handsome, Mrs. Diaz” you smiled back. 

“Do you know when he’s coming back?” 

The smile dropped from her face. “He- uh, reenlisted” she mumbled. “Ramon doesn't know” 

You nodded, “I won’t tell” 

“Who’s not telling what?” his father came back in for a moment, you smiled at him while Mrs. Diaz turned her attention to the sink. “Oh just that Mrs. Diaz is helping me with dinner for my grandparents tomorrow” you pick up the bowls on the counter, “Thank you for dinner, I'll see you guys around ?” 

“of course, thank you for coming over. it’s nice to have you around” his mother gave you a hug. 

You spent a lot of afternoons with his mom, just helping her out around the house. It wasn't until 4 years after that night that you saw him again. A few bruises and bumps, a couple scars and broken bones you were sure of, but he was back in one piece. In true Diaz fashion, his parents insisted on throwing a party for him. It was supposed to be a small party, just a few neighbours and family. By the time Mrs. Diaz was done inviting people, there was triple the amount of people coming. 

You headed over with your father, he had gotten sick recently and required a bit more help now. Truthfully by 25, you had planned to be living on your own but with your father getting sick and your step mother bailing, you stuck around. Once you got him situated, you found Mrs. Diaz in the kitchen. 

“Hey” you smiled at her, taking the bowl from her hands. “Hi mi amor, how are you ?” She smiled at you, you rested the bowl on the table across from the two of you, “I’m okay for now.” 

Eddie’s laughter filled your ears, that was a sound you didn't hear often but one you loved nonetheless “It’s good to have him home” his mother smiled, watching her son from the window. Mrs. Diaz gets pulled off by someone leaving you alone in the kitchen, turning to the fridge, you look through for a beer. “hey, pass me one too” his voice called as he watched through the backdoor. You pulled two out and handed on to him. 

“Thanks” Eddie leaned against the counter, you couldn't help but chuckle. “What?” taking a sip of the beer, his eyes meet yours. “Nothing, just noticing your habit of leaning on things” you stood across from him. 

“Sorry, but do I know you from somewhere ? You seem so familiar” his brows furrowed, tongue running across his lip. “I’m y/n, we’re neighbours” you told him, his eyes flickered up and down you, your name leaving his lips. 

God, your name never sounded so good. 

“Y/n...” his eyes ran over your body once more, his eyes locking on your foot. “Ankle Scar” he smiled, you nodded as your lips curled into a smile. “God, I'm so sorry I didn’t rememb-” “don’t worry ‘bout it, I'm not really anyone worth remembering” 

Eddie’s smile dropped, a pout visibly on his face. “Don’t say that, I'm sure you are.” 

“Is that why you didn't remember me ?” you teased

“We went to high school together” he took another sip, you nodded in agreement. “We’ve also lived next door to each other since we were 14”  you smiled at him. Again, the smile vanished from his face, “okay, now I really feel like shit. God, I'm sorry” “It’s cool really” you gave a smile once more. 

“Don’t you have a party to get back too ?” 

“Eh, not to fussy about parties to tell you the truth. I might take a walk around the block, care to join me ?” 

“Actually, yeah, I’d like that” 

Eddie opened the front door for you, letting you step out first. The two of you headed through the front to avoid everyone in the back, you walked down the street together, the dull streetlights lit the sidewalks, beer in your hand. 

“What have you been up to?” Eddie asked you, “Well, I'm a nurse but only part time. My dad needs me around.. now that he’s sick” 

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, your dad’s a cool guy” 

Scoffing, you take a sip of your beer, “yeah, you’re the only one that’s ever thought that” your statement making Eddie chuckled. “If you don't mind me asking, what happened to the wicked step mother of the west?”  he looked over at you as he walked along the curb of the sidewalk, his arms out to balance himself. 

“She bailed when he found out he was sick.” 

Eddie stopped walking, “seriously ? that’s a bitch move” “yeah, tell me about it” 

Taking a seat on the curb, Eddie sat down too. The street was quiet for the most part, the only noise coming from down the street at Diaz’s place. Your fingers tapped against the beer bottle in your hand, aimlessly trying to keep up with the beat of the music. Eddie’s hand on your ankle startled you, causing you to drop the bottle. “Seriously ?! Again?” you shout, Eddie put his finger over your lips. “Shh! you’ll wake up the neighbours” he muttered, you rolled your eyes at his statement. “Tell me nurse y/n, how does one not ‘heal right’” he laughed, his thumb rubbing against the scar and causing you to roll your eyes again. “surely you can tell me that, Sergeant Diaz” 

Eddie looked shocked, “how did-” “your mom, she never stopped talking about her son, the army sergeant medic” you teased, he shook his head, laughing. “I know you’ve only been back for a few weeks, but what’s next ? Are you going to stay ?” 

“If I have a reason too, I will but I- I don't know what’s next” Eddie sighed. 

“Perhaps a change in scenery ?” you asked, he looked over at you with a questionable expression on his face. “I'm moving, to California in a few months” you told him. 

“Oh? What for?” 

“A change in scenery” you laughed and he smiled at you. 

“I haven't thought about moving, maybe it would be nice. A break away from here, not that I don't love it here, I love my parents too but-” he stopped talking, he realized the more he went on, the deeper a hole he dug. 

“You know, I hear the LAFD is always looking for recruits. I’m sure they wouldn't mind having an army medic on the team” you glance over at him, there’s a pause in the conversation. 

Eddie looks over at you, “that’s not a bad idea” his arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into his side, your arm his rested on top of his knee, 

“What do you say to a road trip and a roommate ?” he looks down at you. 

You look up at him, “I think I'd like that”  

---

tagging: @ssa-volturi​ @geeky-son-dr-reid

[spencersawkward]

switchblade faith//spencer reid - chapter 8

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

pairing: Fem!OC/Spencer

word count: 3.9k

content warnings: discussion of a dead body (for a case), discussion of sensory overload (idk if that's a warning but just in case).

A/N: sorry this took so long! i've had a lot of writer's block with this series, but i'm feeling a lot more motivated with it, now. anyway enjoy!

masterlist

my feet slam into the pavement at a rate that makes me wonder if my heart can take it. I can feel the air in my lungs, stinging, and the way it never seems like enough. I can't stop. my arms are pumping and my legs burn.

I'm sure I look like a mess right now, exhausted and sweaty as I make my way up the biggest hill by my apartment. I haven't been running in a while, and this incline is even more daunting than it was before.

I use the momentum I've built from before now and force myself up. every breath rips through me violently until I'm sure that if I stop running, I'll collapse. but I keep pushing, knowing it'll be worth it.

I hated running until college. just absolutely despised the thought of getting outside and forcing myself to move quickly. the older I get, though, the more refreshing it's gotten. it helped me escape from midterms, from the pressure that constantly seemed to mount with every passing day. sometimes it feels like all of it keeps piling on, and it's never going to stop.

of course, that's not really the way to look at life. I've had things to balance out the work, friends to call and ways to let out the hammering violence that always seem to fill the spaces between my ribs. running clears my head when nothing else does.

once I get to the top, I bend over and rest my palms on my knees so that I can relax. I can hear my heart beating in my ears and can feel my pulse thudding against my throat. it's good, though. I needed to do this again, to get exercise.

I resist the urge to lay down flat on the pavement. DC isn't really a good place to do that; everyone around me is on a morning stroll with their partner or they're out for a jog themselves. I pass several enthusiastic-looking dogs out for a walk. the sheer number of people around me should make me feel normal.

it doesn't.

I straighten and stretch out my muscles, wincing at the way my calves feel if I move them funny. I don’t want to get called in for a case today, but that's naive. there will always be another case because there will always be people we need to stop. maybe I'm just not jaded enough to not care. I like to think that's a good thing, though.

...

when I head into the office a couple hours later, there's a to-go cup of coffee resting on my desk. I smile to myself, set my bag down and shrug off my coat, then peek over the divider to see Spencer with a case file open and an identical to-go cup a couple inches away.

"is this your doing?" I refer to the coffee. he nods and smiles at me, seemingly not in the mood to talk.

"thanks, Reid."

sitting down to do some work, I sneak a peek at him. Spencer is acting different from last weekend. more shy. I'm not really sure the reason, unless he just felt particularly outgoing at the party and is now back to his default self.

we get a case before the hour is up, and then my mind is occupied by the details.

jet rides, though now a familiar routine, are probably my favorite part of the job. I don't feel totally unproductive, but I still have time to unwind and talk to people on our way. Emily and I have gotten much closer within the past few weeks and sometimes she tells me stories about her old job that keep me on the edge of my seat.

there's something so mysterious about her that I just appreciate; she's like a cool older cousin to me. and she's great at making fun of Morgan, which is something that I've found enjoyable as well. sometimes he needs to be knocked down a peg-- she's the woman to do it.

"how many?" I trace my finger down the smooth skin of Derek's arm, where he's lifted his sleeve just enough to show the inked lion. it's a big tattoo, and I'm somewhat surprised he has one at all. he just doesn't really seem the type.

"five right now." he flexes his bicep flirtatiously, and I immediately remove my hand with a repulsed expression, rolling my eyes at the chuckle he lets out.

"don't feed his ego like that." Emily warns from across the table. she's flipping through one of the plant magazines that we've stashed in the snack cupboards (much to Hotch's disapproval). I turn to see Morgan's reaction.

"you a little jealous, Prentiss?" he teases. her only response is a glance that dares him to push further. they both know that Emily has absolutely no interest in him, which I suppose adds to their friendship. Morgan leans down by my ear, but he makes no effort to quiet his voice. "you should ask about her tattoos."

"you have tattoos?" my eyes widen at this, voice a little louder than usual. Hotch glances over at us from his seat a ways away, but doesn't say anything. Reid is passed out on the couch, strangely tired for the middle of the day; Rossi's writing something in his miniature journal.

"that's not anyone's business." she says more to Morgan than to me.

"I wanna see!" I set my glass of ice water down on the table and straighten up. Emily pretends to be exhausted by the persistence, but she closes her magazine momentarily.

"look, I can't show them all here." she raises a suggestive eyebrow.

"then how does Derek know?" I smirk. Emily makes a face, but Morgan is the one who replies.

"this one gets a little loose-lipped when she drinks too much." he teases. I snort and glance at Emily. I've seen her tipsy before, but never drunk. at most, she gets affectionate with all of us and calls us her best friends in the whole world. which, honestly, isn't an unwelcome sentiment.

"I do not." she argues.

"yeah, you do." Reid mumbles from the couch cushion where he's been resting his head. I jump at the sudden noise, and we all turn to him.

"look who's up." Emily smiles. Reid stretches his legs out, limbs so long that his feet hang off the end of the couch. he's wearing mismatched socks again today, one with bananas and one covered in sushi rolls. I smile to myself.

"I'm not," he argues. "someone had to correct you."

Morgan and I let out an amused laugh. my eyes dart between Spencer and the two other agents. "I feel like I'm the only one here who hasn't seen Prentiss drunk."

"yes, you have." she frowns.

"no. not, like, plastered."

"don't let Garcia hear you say that." Morgan laughs. I snort.

"why?"

"any excuse to party, and she'll take it." he shakes his head affectionately.

"she'd just call it bonding." Prentiss adds in. I have a soft spot in my heart for Pen. for all of the darkness we see here, she makes it a little bit brighter with her quips and sparkly pens and neon glasses. she's a blessing.

"what's so bad about that?" I defend for her sake.

"nothing's wrong with it, per se," Emily shrugs. "it just means we aren't as professional as we should be."

"I'd argue that our job actually means we get to let loose more when we have the time." I shrug. Morgan offers his fist to pound, and I oblige with a satisfied smile.

"you two are children, you know that?" Emily gestures between Derek and me. I shrug, about to return to my crossword when she speaks again. "how many tattoos do you have, Clea?"

I blink for a second, deciding whether or not to lie. it would be kind of cool to sound badass, but I don't know if I even have the mental capability to fib to a bunch of profilers. "none."

"what?" Morgan looks at me with confusion.

"yeah, none. why is that such a big surprise?" I laugh at their reactions. Prentiss is alarmed, too.

"I don't know-- you seem like the kind of person to get a heart tattooed on your thigh or something." Morgan shrugs. I make a face, silent.

"that's offensive."

Prentiss snorts and finishes her drink. I peek over and see Reid with his eyes closed but a slightly amused smile on his face. by the couch, I can see through the window. we're slipping through gray clouds that are saturated with rain, and the weather change causes the jet to shake a bit.

my fingertips wrap around the arm of the seat and Emily eyes me warily.

"you okay?"

"don't like flying." I answer, nostrils flaring slightly. usually with these trips, I've been able to hide my apprehension for flying by holding onto my knee below the table or something, but the sudden jerks are putting me off.

it's stupid-- plane anxiety is ridiculously common, and I don't think it's necessarily unwarranted. the problem is that to a bunch of people trained in behavioral analysis, it shows a blatant fear of not having control.

which is true, but it's not like I need that plastered all over my face every time we board a flight.

"would you get a tattoo if you could?" Emily changes the subject, thankfully, and I bite down on my bottom lip.

"I think so, yeah." it's said without much thought; all that's on my mind right now is wondering what our ETA is. Morgan shifts in his seat to smirk.

"really."

"sure."

he nods appreciatively before turning to look back out the window. droplets of moisture are collecting there, but they only distort the image of Portland stretched out below. the water is steel gray and rippled with wind.

I've never been here. for some reason, I find myself wondering what it smells like. that mingling of city scent and ocean, if they meet in the middle to form their own distinct identity. if it will settle on my tongue and in my clothes.

it's funny to me that when I go to different places and return, I don't notice how different it all smells until I breathe it in through the fabric of my shirts, and from there it all comes rushing back. Spencer mentioned during a case once that scent creates the most powerful memory reaction out of all our senses-- and I believe it.

DC smells like humidity and rain-slicked streets, Montana like dust. even the jet has a particular one that I don't associate with anything right now, but I know I will in the future. like I'm standing in the formation of a memory.

half-baked.

...

we've got the hoods of our raincoats up as we make our way into the office of our latest victim. Morgan holds the door and I wander in, staring up at the enormous glass walls of the place. a stray droplet falls from the hood of my jacket and onto my nose, rolling down the bridge and causing me to sniffle.

her boss is surprisingly dismissive of us when we get to his office, reluctantly getting off a phone call and giving me something of a dead-fish handshake. as we take a seat at his desk, I can smell the overbearing stench of his expensive cologne.

he's got exactly the kind of look that I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole: taut, judgmental face with a stiff mustache and slicked-back black hair that honestly is probably dyed. his eyes linger on me for a bit longer than I appreciate, but I clear my throat and try to brush off the discomfort.

Winona's body was found in a ditch off the side of a highway, dumped like trash. based on the ME report, she was alive when he threw her in, but died shortly after from her wounds. the whole thing is gruesome and as her employer notes her tendency to daydream and occasional tardiness, I want to reach across the table to smack him.

Morgan is able to keep his cool better than I can, nodding. I know it's important to know her behaviors in order to build our profile, but I still don't like the way this guy is talking about her.

"she wasn't really the strongest employee we've got, but she was nice enough around the office." he shrugs. I notice the gold wedding band that glints on his ring finger, the way he leans back in his swivel chair. he's got evaluative eyes.

by the time we're done, I'm practically flying out the door of his office and hurrying to the elevator. we got what we needed to know from him, if not through a somewhat convoluted method.

"nice guy." I note sarcastically after punching the down button. Morgan tucks his hands into his jeans pockets and looks at our warped reflections in the elevator doors.

"we talk to a lot of people like that. you get used to it."

"didn't seem too concerned about her at all."

"I don't think guys like that are concerned about much more than themselves."

"you should have mentioned a tax evasion investigation happening around here," I smirk. "that would probably put the fear of God into him."

Morgan chuckles and looks over at me. it would be unprofessional to fist bump with so many people around, although the smile we share is definitely a great equivalent.

as we pack into the metal box with a bunch of employees, they look at us curiously. the enormous FBI label on the back of our jackets probably doesn't help, but I pretend to look like I know what I'm doing as we step out into the lobby.

in all reality, faking it until I make it is the only thing I know how to do.

...

the late night cravings come as a surprise as I stand over a map of Portland. my eyes are starting to cross from staring at all the minuscule details for so long, and my fingers are twitching from a mixture of hunger and overloaded caffeine.

we were supposed to go to bed about two hours ago, but I know for a fact that I'm not the only one sitting in my motel room with open files and a determined expression. I do happen to be the only person rooming alone, however, and the silence has been helpful.

Reid's been working on a geographic profile, but there's something missing. I'm not sure what it is. all I know is that if I don't figure it out soon, it's going to eat away at me. based on his activity patterns, there are only a few more days before this guy abducts another woman.

except now I'm just thinking about how much time we don't have, and that sort of sends me into a spiral, too. I'm prepared to always be running against a clock for this job, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I'm going to lose it if I stare at any more tiny lines indicating roads or side streets or whatever else demands attention.

I need to get out of my head.

before taking time to really consider anything else, I grab my phone and look up pizza places nearby. what I need right now is some sustenance and tv-- or at least something to distract me enough to recharge.

I change into my pjs and wash my face while I wait for the delivery person to arrive, try to ease the day out of my bones. there used to be a whole process for me after work every day, where I'd shut off my brain. The Real Housewives of Atlanta provided ample help for this, along with fuzzy socks and glasses of red wine. I can make do with this.

once the pizza guy comes and I pay for my food, I don't even make way to my room; instead, I go to the person I know who needs this more than I do.

"Clea?" Spencer rubs his eyes as he swings open the door, glasses held in the other hand.

"hi." I smile brightly.

"what are you doing here?" his soft tone and the dim light from a motel lamp in the corner tells me that Morgan is asleep right now in the other bed.

in response to his question, I hold up the box of pizza with a grin. his eyes widen.

"I can't eat all this alone." definitely a lie, but saying that he needs to take a break probably wouldn't sway him enough.

for a second, Spencer seems to debate this in his head. when he runs a shaky hand through his hair, I roll my eyes. "it's pizza, dude. not a wedding proposal. you can go back to the case in twenty minutes."

he nods this time and looks up at me as I turn and start toward my room. closing the door gently behind him, I don't miss the way he increases his pace a little to catch up with me.

"did you get mushrooms?" he asks. I throw him a disgusted look before realizing what he's talking about and breaking into a grin.

"you remembered!" I reference my hatred of the fungus. Spencer smiles with pride, turns his gaze to the carpeted floors. I unlock the door and let us in.

"of course I remember," he snorts. "it's hard to forget."

I giggle at the way he immediately uses the sink to wash his hands, and I join him after setting the box on the bed.

"favorite soap scent?" I ask absently. suds cover my fingers as he rinses the water from his. normally, this isn't a question I'd ask, but Spencer seems like he would have a response.

"you know, I really enjoy anything fresh-smelling," he thinks about it. "like waterfall smell."

"I like those, too."

"what's your favorite?"

"there's this brand that I love that specializes in antibacterial soaps, and they have a lavender one that literally makes me ascend." I laugh. Spencer is drying his hands with a folded towel and his face lights up.

"Ravi's Organics?" he suggests. my heart leaps with recognition.

"yes! oh my god, have you used their cracked cinnamon one?"

"I have the hand sanitizer in my bag." Reid's eyes are so pretty. they sparkle with a hazel color, almost chocolatey in the cheap motel light.

"they have a hand sanitizer for it?" my jaw drops. he nods and I shake my head slowly. we walk over to the bed to eat the pizza. he seems hesitant, though, and pauses.

it takes me a second to remember that Spencer has different boundaries and is just kind of awkward in general. even though there's no obvious tension between us, I don't want to make him uncomfortable, so I plop down on the floor.

"you like Ravi's Organics." he states it back to himself more than to me, and as I pop open the box to reveal a beautiful pepperoni pizza, I nod vigorously.

"yeah, it's actually kind of a funny story," we start to dig in immediately. I lift an enormous slice to my lips and bite into the perfection. it's so good. "when I was little, my parents used to call me Rascal."

"Rascal?" he laughs through a bite of food.

"like the raccoon? from that book?" it's a kid's story.

"why?" he snorts. I take a second to chew before replying.

"I just get really overwhelmed by certain sensory things-- like, I hate being sticky or having any kind of weird texture on my hands. so whenever we went out to eat or anything, I would always sit on the outside of the booth so I could run to the bathroom and wash my hands as I pleased." I explain all of this with a slight frown on my face. it's true, I've just never really thought about it.

"I don't like sticky stuff, either." he offers.

"yeah, it got pretty bad. but I guess I just grew out of it. I'm not sure when." I pluck a piece of pepperoni off the top and slide it into my mouth.

Spencer takes in this information for a second while he eats, and I'm momentarily worried that I've overshared. he came for some food and now I've served up a weird childhood memory to accompany it.

but then he does something funny and altogether endearing.

"actually, raccoons are very cleanly creatures, despite their dietary habits." he tells me.

frankly, it makes me feel better than anything else that he could have said. "fastidious little things, right?"

"exactly." he chuckles. his shoulders are hunched, elbows leaning on his knees.

"fix your posture." I say gently, noticing the way his spine curves abysmally when he's sitting across from me. his cheeks turn a pretty pink, but he follows directions.

"is it that bad?" he's a bit embarrassed. immediately, I soften and do what comes easily, making a joke.

"if you don't work on it, you're gonna be living in a French cathedral by the age of thirty."

Spencer snorts-- genuinely almost chokes on his food-- and looks at me with his almost childlike eyes. there's something in them that I can't decipher at all, almost so obvious that it completely goes over my head.

"that was mean." he's still trying to recover from the onset of giggles, and I lean forward to grab another slice, suppressing a proud grin myself.

"your future straight-backed self will thank me."

"I'll remember that." he nods dutifully.

"I'm sure you will."

we share a secretive smile before I bite into my pizza and launch into a different subject. the more I learn about Spencer, the more I want to know. I feel like there are things beneath every new surface that would be fascinating to understand.

"what's it like having an eidetic memory?"

he frowns like he isn't sure how to answer. I thought he'd already have something locked and loaded, a prepared response for a question he definitely gets frequently. when he opens his mouth, I find myself hanging on every word. "it's... interesting."

"blessing or a curse?"

"both."

"would you ever give it up if given the option?" I narrow my eyes a bit. I'm especially curious about this.

"no." this is delivered with certainty. for a second, I stare at him with about a million more questions in my head. of course, they're completely out-of-bounds and way too personal, but they're still there.

"hm." I say instead. as usual, delivering thrilling commentary at every turn.

Spencer peeks at me over his pizza for a second, seeming to want to say something else, but decides against it. our eyes meet; I'm not sure what it is, maybe a silent agreement or something else that's unspoken, but we decide not to press further on either end.

whatever he's got tucked away in that big brain of his, he's not ready to talk about it with anyone-- much less a new colleague in a dumpy motel. there's a time and place for certain things, and boundaries to respect.

I change the subject before he can make some lame excuse to leave. for some reason, I just don't want him to leave me here in this room.

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed for this series): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm

[writesowhatnext]

with all due respect // remus lupin

Summary: Remus and the reader are best friends and that’s it and it’s so absurd that Remus keeps insisting that they’re anything more, right?

Request: hii! idk if you’re busy w requests, but if you’re not - i was thinking of a remus x gryffindor! reader where theyre best friends and they both like each other but reader tries to ignore her feelings since they’re both prefects and she doesn’t wanna need any distractions, but remus really really wants to be something more and it’s just him trying to get her to confess and the entire imagine is just built off of the line “friends don’t look at friends that way”

A/N: I LOVE this request ok & it took everything I had not to just say “respectfully, you’re full of shit” but I'm not completely sure if I like this

Reader: unspecified, prefect

Warnings: firewhiskey, swearing

The six of you were sitting in the boy’s dormitory with the sunlight of golden hour pouring through the windows just before it disappeared over the horizon, just laughing together. It was a Friday; the best day of the week for late-night conversations, playfighting and stupid dares. James was leading the charge that night, making sure none of you would forget the consequences of Sirius’ most recent romantic endeavour.

“So, he sees her coming up to him and he’s just beaming, right,” James began, directed mostly at Lily, who hadn’t been there at the time. He was thriving off of Sirius’ misfortune, as proper friends do, and enjoying his groans and Peter’s rambunctious laughter in equal measure. “But then, she stops right in front of him and just smacks him right round the face.”

“What did you do to her?” Lily turns to Sirius, a dry look in her eyes and a smile on her lips. You laughed at her expression, meeting Remus’ eyes across the circle. His smile widened and you found yours doing the same.

“I did nothing!” Sirius insisted, his hand smoothing over his cheek, a phantom bruise to his ego.

“He slept with her brother,” Remus said into his mug of hot chocolate, hiding his smile. His eyes crinkled as everyone laughed and Sirius shoved him to the side, muttering about not being able to keep a secret.

“Blimey, Pads, you’re sodding awful with girls,” James said, perhaps unwisely given his track record.

“Pot calling the kettle black there, Prongs, don’t you think?” Remus had a twinkle in his eye as he spoke and you couldn’t help the snort that left your nose at his words, biting your lip to hide your grin. The room erupted into laughter and cheering at James’ indignant protests. Everyone teased him as he pouted towards a completely unaffected Lily, but you found yourself distracted from the chatter, too busy staring at Remus.

All he was doing was sitting cross-legged opposite you, but you couldn’t deny how warm you felt. The sound of his laughter stirred something inside you and the way the light hit his face tightened your chest. You just sat there, admiring, struck by the unfamiliarity of the feeling. Your eyes trailed over the dusting of freckles across his nose and traced down his smooth jawline, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he laughed, peaking above the loose collar of his shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, a good look for him, and his Gryffindor tie was strewn around his neck. You followed the shiny pink scars up from his neck to his cheek, disappearing into his hairline, his bird’s nest. He was grinning brilliantly and as you made eye contact, your breath caught in your throat and your smile died on your lips.

For a second, you felt like it was only you and him in that room and even as his grin faded into something a lot less toothy, his expression pulled at your chest. The feeling made you weirdly nervous, something you’d never been with Remus, one of your best friends. His eyebrows drew downwards, knitting together as you stared at him and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. But then, you noticed Lily turning towards you from the corner of your eye and you swallowed, smiling at Remus again and casting your eyes to her. Judging by her face, she had no idea of what had just transpired, and you were glad for it. When you looked back Remus, all but a second later, he was already laughing with Peter and part of you felt oddly disappointed.

You’d forgotten all about that night by the time the Gryffindor Christmas Party rolled around. Repressed was a more apt word, but you were in the business of lying to yourself when it came to Remus. The party, which you had expected to be horrible, was full of students from other houses and presents and lights and, most importantly, firewhiskey. You cherished the warm thrum of it in your veins and as you looked around from the corner of the fireplace, it seemed like many others did too. You saw Remus over the crowd, on his own by the stairs to your dorms and a strange determination overtook you. As you breezed past the guests to reach him, for what you didn’t yet know, you slid past a few couples making out in the corner, Lily and James included. You rolled your eyes at them, smirking a little. Your distraction, though, appearing to be fatal as you rushed straight into a taller Hufflepuff student. He was apologetic at the decent-sized firewhiskey stain on your jumper, but you just shook your head with reluctant forgiveness. You’d just have to change.

“It’s okay!” you swore, walking backward towards the staircase, now out of sight from the party. With a sigh, you turned around, only to bump into someone else, Remus this time, the man you’d been looking for.

“Hey,” you breathed, a smile immediately growing on your face. He was surprised at first, his eyes wide, but then he relaxed as his hands braced on your elbows.

“You alright there, Y/N?” he asked, a smile playing on his pinked lips, amusement in his eyes. As you looked at him, you noticed the golden shades in the green of his eyes and the way his freckles were actually scattered all over her face, not just his cheeks and you bit your lip at the sight.

“You seem a little…” he trailed off, tongue poking between his lips. “Tipsy.”

“I’m excellent,” you grinned, happier still when he matched your expression. “I was looking for you!”

“Me?” he frowned a little, his lips still curved upwards. You nodded, suddenly very aware of how close you were. You were grateful at the firewhiskey for taking the edge off, not sure you’d be as carefree in this situation if you were sober.

“Remus, you’re very pretty.”

His eyebrows shot up at your words and his mouth, you were sure, you’d been staring, morphed into an ‘o’ shape. You smiled. Slowly and surely, you leant forward, close enough to feel his breath on your face, your noses centimetres from each other. You bit your lip, looking up into his eyes.

“I think you’re very pretty too,” he said softly, each syllable a breath of air on your skin. The shock had drained from his features and it left behind something else entirely, you thought, as you noticed the gentle curve of his lips and the strange look in his eye.

“I’d like to kiss you,” he said, his fingers curling around your elbows.

You opened your mouth slightly, leaning forward again, feeling all the confidence three shots of firewhiskey had given you.

“I wish you would.”

Your lips barely even brushed his when you lurched backwards, panting in shock.

“Mooney!” Sirius yelled, very obviously worse for wear. He turned to you, clearly unaware that he’d interrupted anything, and his smile grew. “Y/N! What are you two doing here?”

You licked your lip, blinking away whatever haze you’d been in, avoiding eye contact with Remus, who you felt staring straight at you.

“I just- I need to- I should change.”

With that, you disappeared up the stairs and into your room, not really listening to Sirius’ loud shouting as you slammed the door behind you and rested your back against it, huffing a little. You rocked your head back to rest against the wood and screwed your eyes shut. Had you been about to kiss Remus? Had he been about to kiss you?

Remus didn’t bring it up the next time you saw him, and you told yourself you were grateful; you were a prefect, and there was a war starting, and the last thing either of you needed was to be distracted by feelings you weren’t sure of. You hoped he’d forgotten about it, but when he ended up casually playing with your hair, you were hard-pressed to convince yourself otherwise. You’d been sitting by the Black Lake, soaking in the view of Hogwarts together before your Christmas holidays, all six of you in a circle. Somehow, you’d landed with your head nestled in Remus’ lap. Before the incident, that would’ve been a common occurrence, but now, now it felt different. Especially when, between long, delicate fingers, he started playing with the strands of your hair, plaiting them gently together.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, enjoying yourself far too much. When you opened them, though, Remus was staring down at you with an unreadable expression. His cheeks flushed at being caught but neither of you looked away. The familiar lump in your throat returned as you looked into his warm eyes and you realised that you wouldn’t have been able to say anything if you wanted to, the words catching on your tongue. He opened his mouth to speak and you felt a strange amount of dread; whatever he was going to say wouldn’t be good for your denial or your friendship. And so, you did the only thing you could think of. You sat up abruptly, heaving yourself to your feet and then you all but ran off, sending a half-hearted excuse to your friends behind you.

To say the whole situation was killing you would’ve been dramatic, but not actually an understatement. You sat there at a desk in the library, rubbing your eyes as you tried to concentrate on your Charms Through the Ages textbook. Unsurprisingly, your effort seemed to be proving futile. You just couldn’t shake the idea of Remus and you nearly kissing from your mind, or the way he’d looked at you by the lake. The chair opposite you dragged out loudly, quickly, and had it been anyone else, you would’ve been grateful at the interruption to your daydreams. Just your luck though, you looked up into soft green eyes and an almost frenzied expression.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked, forgoing small talk with a frown. You blinked.

“I’m not-“

“Ever since,” he blushed, “the Christmas party, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“That’s not true – we were on the grass together.”

“And then you ran away.”

You sighed at his deadpan look, rubbing your eye again.

“The party was a mistake,” you lied.

“No, it wasn’t.”

Your eyes snapped to his in surprise, watching his determined scowl closely. You weren’t used to Remus being so assertive; not to say that something didn’t stir at his direct tone.

“I thought it was to you,” he nodded, swallowing. “I really did, because why wouldn’t it be, I’m just your friend. But then, then, you look at me like that and I know you feel it too.”

The blood rushed from your face at his words. Were you really that transparent?

“Remus-“

You made the mistake of looking into his eyes and your mouth went dry. A shudder ran up your back as you coughed quietly, looking down.

“Remus, we’re just friends-“

He huffed, crossing his arms and leaning forward on the table.

“Respectfully, Y/N, and I mean this respectfully, that’s bollocks and you know it. Friends-“ he exhaled shakily. “Friends don’t look at each other like we look at each other.”

“Remus…” you pulled your top lip between your teeth, knowing he was right and not being able to stop yourself. “I don’t think of you like that.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Rem.”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t.”

You thought for a second about things you shouldn’t do. You shouldn’t hurt your best friend. You shouldn’t distract yourself from your duties. You shouldn’t be talking this loudly in the library. You shouldn’t say what you were about to.

“I don’t like you, Remus. I don’t know why you think I would.”

To think, your heart broke at your words, and so you could only imagine what happened to his. An almost pained expression took over him before he resigned, nodding and leaning back. He clenched his jaw once and turned to face the side. Both of you knew it was a lie, but that didn’t matter. You’d already hurt him. He shot you one last look, a hurt glance before he stood up and walked out, leaving his chair out and you on the brink of tears. You let yourself sit there for a few moments, your chest uncomfortably tight, before you wiped your eyes and got back to your Charms textbook, not entirely focused.

Your logic, it seemed, had been monumentally flawed. Whilst being with Remus would probably be a distraction to your studies and duties, not admitting your feelings and losing your best friend was even more of a complication. The others probably knew something was up with you two, despite the façade of normalcy: you and Remus had always had an easy chemistry, a precursor, you guessed, to your feelings, and now it just sort of seemed empty. You talked to each other, barely, but there was none of the usual spark between you and it was slowly but surely draining the life out of you. The dynamic of the whole group had been thrown off and it felt like nothing could actually make you feel better. You’d been stewing on the catastrophe of your situation all day when you spotted him in the corridor, alone, no doubt preparing to leave for Christmas. Only after you’d shouted his name did you consider that maybe a plan would’ve been a good idea. You were tired, though, of planning ahead.

“Remus!”

He turned around, eyebrows raised and lips parted.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his face sinking when he remembered that ‘you and him’ weren’t actually ‘you and him’ right now.

“No, not really.”

You had no idea where you were going with it, but there was a burning sensation in your chest you needed to get rid of.

“You were right, actually.”

He frowned.

“We’re not friends.”

Not your finest word choice.

“I don’t know if we were ever friends,” you persevered, regardless. “Because I wake up, and I think of you. And I go to bed, and I think of you. And I thought telling you that would complicate things, but-“

You exhaled, grateful to be seeing a soft smile on his face.

“There’s nothing complicated about us. It’s always just been us.”

You swallowed, somehow both impossibly nervous and impossibly relieved at your confession. He didn’t reply and your stomach sank; your head flooded with ideas of missing your chance and your cruelness ruining things.

“Remus, I-“

You didn’t get to finish. His lips were suddenly against yours and your words were trapped in your throat as you tried to process just how right this all was. You relaxed into him, hands lifting instinctively to cup his jaw. He pulled away just as quickly as he’d leaned in, your lips following him to prolong the contact. He wet his lips as you felt him grin beneath your hands, his palms reaching forward to rest on your hips lightly.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his cheeks turning rosy.

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator

@loveisblindness​

@decadentwastelandtrash - it won’t let me tag you :(

@xinyourdreamsx​

@brainlesspasta​

@hariosborn​

[cunningambitousdetermined]

i need a plot for this

yall so ive been trying really hard to get back into writing and i went to a writing camp this summer. im going to post a poem that i wrote there later bc im super proud of it but right now i have something else i need help with. SO basically there was a prompt about someone finding a letter or a note. that’s the prompt. so i wrote something, really liked it BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE TO TAKE IT FROM HERE. my basic ideas involve the two characters meeting each other again to do SOMETHING WHICH I DONT KNOW and slowly arcane (youll see when you read the story below) thaws and falls in love with kalon and kalon has always been in love with her and its like best friends to enemies to friends to lovers ya know? ANYWAY if you dont hate me for being inactive and needy, please read this and help me. 

Dear Arcane,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 10 years. Wow. I don’t even know if you’ll ever get this, you could’ve moved. You could be dead. Oh god, that’s dark. You’re not dead, someone would’ve told me, I’m sure. So that must mean that there’s a good chance you have this, but I’m not even sure if you’ll read it.

He was right, as he most often was. Arcane had not planned to read the letter from the moment she read her name on the envelope, written in a neat sort of messy handwriting that could only come from one person. The letter had been sitting at her desk for a week before memories began to drown her and she knew she had to open it.

That’s not the point though, I’m sure you’ll read this. You’ve always been a sucker for the intimacy of written letters. Maybe that’s why I wrote to you instead of calling.

Arcane closed her eyes, the pounding of the memories at the door slowly consuming her. She took a deep breath and let them in. The whispers started to fill the room, every word echoing off the walls, like her past had become a living, breathing thing in her room. How could he write her now? After all these years. Anger reared it's small head in the back of her mind. How could he be so casual as if he wasn't the boy who ripped her heart out and tore it to pieces. 

Maybe it’s because I did read all the letters you wrote to me. Even after the voicemails stopped filling my phone and the emails ran dry, your letters kept coming.

She remembers writing those letters, the pen shaking in her hand as it hit the paper. She remembers wondering what you said to someone like him, a friend who left you behind. The squeeze in her chest that tightened each time he didn’t reply. The break in her heart when the last letter she ever wrote was returned to her doorstep.

If you’ve read this far without tearing my letter to pieces, then I would say this is a good start to our reunion. I’ve missed you. Your stubborn ways, always trying to keep me safe. But you always came with me wherever I went anyway. I miss your secret smile, the one you saved just for me. The treehouse we built in your yard. Do you miss that? I wonder if you wonder about me. I wonder if I can even ask that of you.

She did miss them. But, those things that she missed were long gone. The treehouse was overgrown with vines, Arcane was sure you couldn’t even get into it anymore. She went with him on his stupid adventures because what would she do if he left and met new people? He would leave her and she would be alone. So she desperately followed him blindly, hoping it would keep him close. Arcane missed her secret smile, the genuine one she had always saved for him. He missed it. How could he miss something that he destroyed. With his one and only letter to her, he demolished any leftover love for him that hid in her heart. He couldn’t ask if Arcane wondered about him. That wasn’t fair. That night, ten years ago, was still a raw wound in her soul that she was pretty sure would never heal.

~

The rain was relentless that night, banging against every edge of the house, but a little girl was waiting by the door, not even flinching as the lightning and thunder clapped furiously. Arcane peeked her head above the window frame to find the mailman running through the storm, his frantic steps pounding through the floor of the house. Her eyes lit up with a hope that was slowly fading with each mail drop. She opened the door and hid the small smile that started to spread up her face with a cough.

“Hi, Dan!” Arcane’s voice gave away the excitement that was flooding her system.

“Hey, Arcane.” Dan couldn’t help the pitiful grin that he gave her. She waited by the door for him every day and each day there was no letter for her. It must be soul-crushing, he thought, waiting for a letter that never comes.

“Is there…?” Arcane was practically on her tiptoes at this point. Dan rifled through the letters, dread settling as her name wasn’t there. Again. And then there was a squeal. “Oh, Dan! I found it! I knew- I knew it- I told them!” Her sentences didn’t even come out fully as she beamed, her smile brighter than any ray of the sun.

Arcane had run into the house, a breeze following in her wake. Plopping down into the soft plush couch, she ripped open the envelope, not caring about the paper that flew everywhere in the room. A paper fluttered out, floating toward the ground. Arcane grabbed it, hands shaking, she could practically feel the sweat dripping down her face. Words were the easiest way to break someone. The letter only contained eleven words, yet they would stick with her for the rest of her life.

Stop writing me. None of it was real. You were nothing.

Eleven words. And they shattered her. Crumbling, shattering, a million pieces breaking. Sobs racked through her whole body, her chest shaking and trembling with each broken breath. She caught her face in the mirror hanging off the pale wall and didn’t recognize the girl that stared back. You were nothing. A scream tore through her, the ache of her heart so raw that even the sun seemed to cry, rain dripping onto the panes of the windows. And slowly, so very slowly, Arcane buried the ache and gathered the shattered pieces of her heart and encased them in an impenetrable cage, never to opened again.

~

The ache was still present now, ten years after the letter had arrived. The dullness of her buried hurt made her clench her fists around the letter that sat in her hand now, the same lopsided handwriting adorning it.

But, that’s not why I’m writing this letter. I’m writing this with an actual purpose, if you can imagine that. I didn't just write to rehash our friendship. 

Arcane could feel her eyes narrowing, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the inanimate piece of paper. An actual purpose? To break her heart all over again? This time she did roll her eyes, even though no one was there to see it. But, it wasn’t the fact that he wrote her after all these years or that his tone was friendly throughout that made her body freeze. It was the last line that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention.

In all the years that Arcane had known him, he'd never been very dependent. He often just struggled in silence and figured them out on his own. Not once, not ever, had has asked for help. But, there the sentence was inked in his slanted, loopy writing. 

I need your help.

Love,

Kalon

  ~~everything below here is stuff that doesnt have to be a part of the story but i still liked it and where it was going (idk please give me ideas)~~

The quiet, shock of the room seemed to weigh on Arcane. She flopped back onto her bed, the soft pillows cushioning her landing. I need your help. Those few, simple words, tugged at the strings that bound her heart. He needed her. The thought was fleeting as just as quickly as it came, it left. In its spot was anger. Now he needed her? After all those years when she needed him? What did he do then? Nothing. And that’s what she was going to do now. She huffed in satisfaction, tossing the envelope to the side. Her fingers reached into her hair, massaging her head. There were too many things to think about right now. Arcane squeezed her eyes shut as memories stung her eyes in the form of tears. 

~

“Please, don’t leave me.” Arcane had whispered, her small breaths filling the one room of the treehouse. 

“I don’t have a choice. You know I don’t want to go.” Kalon’s voice broke and he looked away so Arcane couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. It was silent. 

“We’ll still be best friends right?” 

“Yeah.” Kalon’s reply didn’t hold much conviction, causing Arcane to look over at him, confused, glossy eyes narrowing. 

“To the moon and back, Kal, remember?” She said, her tone desperate. It was a promise they made one night as they were watching some cheesy movie on the old television set. The boy had told the girl that he loved her too ‘the moon and back’. Kalon had then explained that the two characters said that so that they would never be apart. They could meet at the same moon, always and then they could go back. And then, they would never be fully apart. Arcane had liked that. So naturally,  she had grabbed Kal’s face and made him promise that they would go ‘to the moon and back’ if they were ever apart. It became a goodbye for them, a way of saying ‘I’ll see you soon’. 

“Yeah,” Kal had replied, a smile barely curling through his lips, “I’ll race ya there.”

~

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, letting her memories flow down her cheeks and into the bedsheets, but eventually she had to get up. She pulled herself up and off the bed, limbs protesting at the use. She just needed a few days is all, then she wouldn’t even remember what she was crying for.  Kalon didn’t mean anything to her anymore.

thank you for reading this far, i love all of you. just throw out ideas please. or give me some advice, i would love that. whether its about my writing or the plot i would love to have tips and constructive criticism on how to get better! tagging some moots who i hope dont hate me after this below the cut:

@natashxromanovf @pad-foots @griffxnnage @voidmalfoy @flxss-bxbblxs @alwaysreading @herondalesunsetcurve THANKS YALL I LOVE YOU MORE THEN I EXPRESS AND I DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT DESERVE ALL OF YOU AND YOUR LOVE

[superspookywombat]

The Good Vibes Witch {j.h}

Warnings: one use of ‘hell’, un-proofread writing

Requests (shortened versions) : “I would love to read fanfiction (one shot) where reader is a young witch, which decided to move to the town since she is traying to get hold of her powers and take a breath from life, just rest. (like the more scared or stressed she is the harder it is to use her powers) they could be like... she could change the reality, it will be realated to her imagination and the calmer she gets the more powerful she is? but not knowing the life there isn't that calm like she would like it to be. Turns out she is Jasper soulmate, the reason she get there was that Jasper persona was "calling her" and they seems to be perfect much since he got the powers to control emotions. She is really sweet and pretty shy women, but when needed can be really tough.” from @mental-breaker-74​

And: “Can you make a jasper x reader imagine set in eclipse where y/n is a young witch (just young adult age and not 100+) who can kick new born vamp's ass ??” from anonymous

A/n: i’ve had a lot of writer’s block recently so this isn’t my best work and i’m sorry about that. also, i kept going between passed tense and current so idk what’s going on with me tbh

Enjoy :)

You weren’t sure what possessed you to drive your crappy little car to the East Coast, but there you were, on a bumpy little backroad because your car couldn’t go over 46 MPH. Maybe it was the promise of starting a new life in a sleepy town, somewhere you could hide in a cottage in the woods and be one with nature. You needed somewhere quiet- somewhere calm- where you could thrive and be in control of your powers. Something was calling you to the earthy town of Forks, something you couldn’t describe. If there was one thing you had learned by now, though, it was to always go with your gut.

You pull into a run-down gas station, where only one other car is there besides yours. You walk towards the door, hesitating before wrapping your fingers around the door handle and pulling it open. Walking up to the cashier and pulling out a twenty from your wallet, you gently tap the bell on the counter. The shrill sound vibrates your eardrums, and a man walks out of a hidden corner. He does a double take at you, before lifting his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead. You glance down at your shoes, trying to place your focus anywhere but the man. He holds out his hand for the bill, and you hand it to him, his fingers unnecessarily brushing yours and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“What’s a pretty, young thing like you doing all on your lonesome?” He asks, leaning in close enough so that you can smell what he had for lunch. “Bad things happen to ladies that travel these roads alone.” 

“I’ll be careful, thank you.” You say, reluctantly plastering a smile onto your face. You pull your arms to your chest protectively and glance over your shoulder repeatedly until you’re out of the store and into the open air. As you fill up your car, you look at your reflection in the driver seat window. It had been a spell gone wrong that left you 17 for the rest of eternity, but you hadn’t known it at the time. All you wanted was to be treated like an adult, but it backfired and froze your body and left you as a teenager for the last forty years. You had to move around every three to four years, or whenever people started suspicious of you not aging. You found that if you built a cottage in the woods, you could prolong your stay to about ten years. You didn’t need to eat, your body was literally frozen in time.

Once the machine clicks, you get in your car, locking it immediately and putting it in drive. According to your phone, you were about two hours away from your new home. 

You almost miss the driveway to the plot of land you bought, it being tire tracks that lead to a cliff above the river. As soon as you reach the end of the bumpy drive, you step out and look at your surroundings. You squint your eyes, seeing flashes of white through the tall trees. Great, neighbors. You sigh and make sure that there’s no one watching before closing your eyes. Once you’re one hundred percent calm, you mentally reach down into the earth and pull at the metal, rocks, and wood. All around you, rocks lift from the riverbed, the breeze drying them before they settle into the form of a shelter. Wood from the forest floor drags over and makes a roof, the moss still glued to the bark.

Your new house knits itself together before dawn. You place your trinkets and potion ingredients on the wooden shelves, then lay out your tattered quilt on the makeshift bed. You inhale the earthy scent, then look around at your home for the next decade, hopefully. 

Over the next few days, as you settle in, you focus your time on decorating your cottage. Flowers sprout from the grass, moss and vines rapidly plaster themselves onto the stone, and mushrooms stick up from the stumps decorating your yard. Because you only need a few hours of sleep per week, you use most of your free time knitting rugs to make the place warmer.

A week after moving in, a knock on your sturdy front door takes you by surprise. Why would someone come visit you? You obviously moved out here for isolation. You walk over to the window, moving the curtain aside to peek out and look at the visitors. A petite woman and a tall, lanky man stand outside, the woman holds wildflowers in her hands. You reach to open the door, but then remember your exposed cauldron. Swiftly pulling a blanket over it, you open the door and poke your head out. 

“Hi, I’m Alice.” The woman says, holding her flowers out for you to take. You blink, before realizing you should take them. Opening the door all of the way, you gently take the flowers from her grasp. “We were out hiking and noticed your cottage, here- it’s so lovely.” 

“Oh, um, thank you.” You say, mentally cursing yourself for being so awkward. You motion for them to come inside, glancing around the small room for anything incriminating. 

“This is my brother, Jasper.” Alice says as you rummage for a free vase to put the flowers in. Standing up and deciding to find something later, you tuck your hands safely behind your back, looking up to meet the blond’s intense gaze. You look down at your bare feet, blushing. 

“Nice to meet your acquaintance, ma’am.” He says, his southern drawl like a lullaby to your ears. Calmness radiates through the room and you feel your powers swell inside you. Despite the calm, something more powerful pushes its way into the room. 

“What are you?” Alice asks, her thin eyebrows pushing into a menacing squint.

“Wh-what?” You stutter, backing up until the back of your knees hit your rocking chair. 

“Alice..” Jasper says, but she shuts him up with a pointed look. He sighs, clearly giving in to the girl.

“I can’t see her, Jazz. And neither of us can hear her.” Alice says.

“I know what you are.” You say before you can stop yourself. There was a few in one of the towns you had called home for awhile. They both whip their heads to you, and you suddenly feel small. Why the hell would you say that? “I can feel it, the power radiating from you. You both are Cold Ones- more popularly known as vampires.”

Alice looks at Jasper with wide eyes. “How do you know that?” She asks. You close your eyes and focus on the sight of a flower blooming. When you open your eyes, you open your hands and a white lily sits in your palm. “A witch..”

“Something called me here. Someone called me here.” You say, and Alice looks to Jasper. 

“We need to take her to Carlisle.” She says. They quickly walk out of your cottage, and you look to them with wide eyes.

“You carry her, Jazz.” Alice says nonchalantly. 

“Pardon?” You ask, but you’re swiftly swept off of your feet. You clasp your arms around Jasper’s neck, a scream escaping your lips as he takes a running start and jumps off of the cliff. “Are you trying to kill me?” 

“Not particularly.” He says with a sly smirk. After demanding he puts you down, you jump from his grasp and follow Alice into the big, white house.

-------------------------------------------------

After a few months of living next to the coven of vampires, you were rather good friends with them. Alice liked to drop by and knit with you, Rosalie liked to visit and drink a concoction of yours- Blood Tea, Esme gardened with you, Carlisle and Edward liked to sit and read on your bench, and Emmett enjoyed listening to you talk about the native species (even if it was just to know what was best to hunt.) You’d become close, so it came as no surprise when you found yourself spending more and more time with Jasper. He liked to spend most nights in your garden with you, stargazing, watching you practice magic, or even reading. You both fed off of each others’ calmness, making you more in control of your powers and him feeling relaxed. One rainy evening, it had happened so fast you didn’t even realize. You realized that you had fallen in love with the lanky blond.

“I know this is a lot to ask of you, and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you could handle yourself.” Carlisle had come to you the morning after a big party at their house. 

“What’s happened?” You asked, pouring him a cup of tea. He took it, graciously, but made no move to settle in. 

“We have to fight, and I think you would be very helpful.” He says, avoiding eye contact like a dog who had done something wrong.

“You don’t even have to ask, Carlisle. You know I’d love to help in any way that I can.” You assure him with a smile, though you feel unsure on the inside. 

That’s what brought you to a clearing that you recognize from many games of vampire baseball, staring down at an army of newborn vampires. Jasper, right next to you, held your hand in order to strengthen the emotional connection between the two of you. Of course, that didn’t help you feel calm, because the butterflies surging through your body had the exact opposite effect on you. You take a deep breath, knowing that the vampires will sense you aren’t like them and take you on as an easy target. But they’d be sorely mistaken. As vampires and wolves rushed the newborns, you stayed on the sidelines, only stepping in every so often to stop a newborn in its place if it was gaining on your friends. But when you saw three piled on top of Jasper, you inserted yourself into the battle. 

You threw your hands out, reaching for the organic material- or what was left of it- in the attackers’ body. You pulled it apart like cotton, and they flew up into the air before exploding into a cloud of dust. Jasper got back onto his feet, giving you a gracious nod. You felt lightheaded, but decided to keep going anyway. 

A yelp alerted your attention, and you ran as fast as you could, stopping at an injured wolf. You tried to calm yourself enough to knit the bloody wound back together, then stepping back to let the wolf rejoin the fight. You stood amidst the battle, sending the newborns flying and exploding. Once there were few newborns left, you collapsed to the ground, feeling drained.

You kept drifting in and out of consciousness, but you could tell that you were being carried through the woods by Jasper before blacking out again. The next time you came to, you were lying on a medical cot in what appeared to be Carlisle’s office. 

“Did we win?” You ask weakly, barely strong enough to raise your voice above a whisper. Jasper is quick to grab your hand, and you notice all of the Cullen’s surrounding the bed.

“Oh, good, she’s not dead.” Emmett says, earning a pointed look from Esme. Alice hands you flowers, reminding you of when you first met. 

“You were unconscious, we didn’t know what to do.” Carlisle says.

“I’m fine, I think. I just pushed myself further than I’m used to.” You say, your mind still foggy. Feeling stronger, you push yourself up and give Jasper a kiss on the cheek.

“We’ll give you two some space.” Esme says with a smile, and you blush and lay back down, feeling weak again.

Over the next few days, Jasper helped you regain strength. He sat on your bed with you, reading to you while you lay against him. He was like a calm machine, which helped you recharge even faster. You taught him how to knit, and he recited his favorite poems over and over again (per your demand.) You made him a flower crown and he made you one (with Alice’s help.)

Though the whole vampire battle ordeal wasn’t overly pleasant, it brought you the love of your life, and for that, you couldn’t be more grateful. 

[parkersbliss]

Chaos On Set | T. Holland

Pairing: Tom Holland X Female, Chaos Walking screen writer, reader

Warnings: no-no words, Tom being a bit of a pervert, but in a cute way? and fluff so fluffy you might get cavities.

wc; 2.5K

Synopsis: Tom really really likes you, but he doesn’t know if you feel the same. Especially when you can never get a moment together.

Request: Heeeeeey soo I don’t know if you take requests, but your writing is AMAZING and I was wondering if you could do a Tom Holland x reader where she wrote the screenplay for the movie he’s in (maybe Chaos Walking, if you know what that is, if you don’t, no sweat!😁😁) and he really likes her, and just make it fluffy and stuff? Idk, but thank you!!! Your writing is amazing, keep it up!! 😁👌🏽❤️

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List 

—

Tom was smitten for you. It was quite obvious to everyone on set, except, well, you. It wasn't that you didn't like him (you did) it was just that being a screenplay writer has you pulled to every part of the set. It was hard to even get one moment alone with Tom. You enjoyed working with him, he was a phenomenal actor and took your advice seriously, but when you're the screenplay writer of Chaos Walking it was like the whole world wanted a piece of you. Any time spent with Tom was either watching him on set or revisiting his lines. There was never a moment for you to catch your breath, not even in the morning. It was always get up and go. This morning had been particularly rushed as you spent the night tweaking a few scenes on set. The best part of being the screenplay writer was not having to dress all fancy. Although, you did just in case you saw Tom. This morning, you didn't care all that much. Instead, you slipped on a pair of lounge shorts and a hoodie, throwing your hair up and popping on some sunglasses to conceal any signs of lack of sleep. Yawning, you grabbed your script full of notes and walked onto the set. You immersed yourself in the script, going over the scenes for today and reshoots that were taking place.

"You look comfortably," Tom greeted. He was already ready for the day, clad in a dirt-covered gray (it might've been white, who knows) tank top that did nothing to hide his toned arms. His hair was still short from shooting Cherry a couple of months prior, but he pulled it off.

"Uh, yeah, late-night," You mumble, trying to straighten your wrinkled hoodie. Tom finds it adorable as you try to look a bit more presentable to him. He watches as you pull at the frayed edges of your clothing, small pout as it refuses to straighten up. You tug at it a few more times before huffing and giving up.

"So," He starts, rocking back and forth on his heels, his cheeks flushed. "What do you think of the movie so far?"

"Are you kidding me? It's amazing! You're a great Todd. It's like every girl's dream to watch book characters be brought to life."

He laughs, eye crinkled slightly, "I thought every girl's dream was an all you can buffet."

You tap your chin, pretending to think about it, "yeah that too."

Tom smiles, fiddling nervously with his fingers, trying to think of what to say next. He's not sure if you've ever had a conversation this long before.

"I really hope we can become friends," You blurt out, instantly regretting it. Tom's taken back, eyes wide as he tries to think of some type of witty reply. What if he wants to be more than friends? Scratch that, he does. But he knows that you've only known each other for two weeks and this is the longest conversation you've had.

"No," He said, watching as your face fell. "I mean, uh, shit, best friends?"

You give him an awkward smile, a little shocked at his first reaction. "Okay."

"Okay," He repeats, nodding his head slightly. "Yeah, okay. I should go. Not that I want to, but they need back on set. I mean, I think they do. They probably do," He rambles on. You giggle slightly as he continues spitting nonsense. You place a hand on his exposed bicep, "I get it, Tom. You can go, I have to be on stage three anyway."

Tom's staring at your hand on his arm, he's internally panicking but you don't know that. At least he doesn't think you do. He's probably sweating ten times more now. "Right, yeah, I'm sorry for keeping you. I should really pay more attention to that. I, uh, I'll see you around?"

You smile softly at him, a slight pink tint to your cheeks, "Yeah, I'll see you around." You pull your hand away from him and give him one last smile before jogging to the other stage.

"You couldn't be more obvious," Daisy jokes.

Tom sighs, dragging his hands down his face, "Do you think she knows?"

"Honestly, no. Shocker really."

Tom rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder with hers playfully. "Whatever."

Daisy wiggles her eyebrows at him, making kissy faces. Tom pushes her away, "Okay, okay, I get it! What crazy thing are we doing today?"

"Into the woods we go!"

"Lovely."

...

"(Y/N)!" Tom calls out as he jogs toward you. He's soaking wet, a navy shirt thrown over his form, slowly staring to dampen. His hair flopping haphazardly around his head. You stand up from your chair, hand outstretched. You were called over to supervise the scene Tom had just finished, which involved a very dirty pond of water. It had been three weeks since you first decided to become friends and it was safe to say, it had worked out. You spent a lot more time around each other, becoming much more comfortable and holding conversations longer than five minutes.

"Nuh-uh mister. I don't want your dirt, water, sweat mix over my nice shirt."

He pouts, arms falling to his sides, "You care more about a shirt than me?"

"Yes," You deadpan. Tom rolls his eyes, taking a few steps closer to you, while you take a few steps back.

"Tom," You warn as you back up against your chair. He grins at you and wraps you in his arms as you squeal.

"You're cold!"

Tom laughs into your neck, his wet hair tickling your chin and you try to push him off you, but he's much stronger and clings to you like a koala, his arms secure around your waist. Ultimately, you stop trying to pry him off accepting the fact you're soaked and he wasn't moving anytime soon.

"You're warm," He murmurs.

You roll your eyes, "Are you going to continue to hug me or let me change out of my now soaked clothes?"

Tom raises his head from the crook of your neck, giving you a loopy smile. "What's the rush? We're done shooting for the day."

You sigh out of relief, "that's great, but you're still cold."

He groans and finally pulls himself off of you. Your clothes are now soaked and sticking to your shivering body. Tom's eyes widen when he notices your bra peaking through your see-through shirt.

"What?" You ask, quirking an eyebrow at Tom's blushing face.

He clears his throat, still staring, "Your uh, your bra," He mumbles. You barely make out what he says, but follow his gaze to your now see-through shirt.

"Oh my god," You gape, then add, "Stop looking, Tom!"

He turns around immediately, "sorry!"

"Give me your shirt," You said.

"What?"

"I can't walk around set like this!"

"I can't walk around shirtless!"

"Have you seen yourself, Tom? Yeah, you can. No one's going to complain. Just give me the shirt, please."

Tom blinks in surprise at your comment, he stumbles over his next few words, "I -- uh, um, okay."

He strips his shirt off, struggling a bit as the fabric clings to his skin, now a bit soaked through. When he eventually gets if off he hands it to you and you do the same, balling your old shirt in your hand. You take a few moments to admire Tom's back muscles, before coughing. He turns around and you grow hot as you eye his toned figure. My god, he was built like a god. Is this even legal? You wonder, still staring at his abs.

Tom laughs, "so I can't stare at you in your bra but you can stare at me topless?"

You shake your head, tearing your gaze away from his perfect form. "yes indeed, now I'm going back to my trailer to change into something not soaking wet."

Tom nods his head, pushing back some of his wet curls, "Okay." He almost mentions you giving his shirt back, but he decides you look much better in it anyway.

"Uh, one thing," He said, causing you to turn around. "Do you, maybe, want to watch a movie later?"

You grin at him, "I'd love too, but only if there's food involved."

"Deal."

...

This wasn't a date, right? No, it wasn't. Tom never said it was, but he wanted it to be. He sits nervously on the sofa, knees bouncing in anticipation of your arrival. It wasn't a date, but it was still the girl he really likes watching a movie with just him and only him. Tom's hair was still slightly damp, although now he wasn't shirtless and instead slipped on his classic midtown hoodie from Spider-Man and a pair of sweatpants. There's a knock at his door and he almost falls off the couch. Tom clambers to the door, swinging it open and leaning against the doorframe pretending he didn't just trip on his way here.

"Hey," You said smiling. You reflected Tom's choice of clothing in only a pair of sweatpants and wrinkled tee, but by god did you pull it off. Tom blinks, tearing his gaze from you. "hi."

"Are you going to invite me in or...?"

"Right! Yeah, of course. Come in." Tom steps aside, holding the door open for you and letting it shut softly. You toss him a lopsided grin over your shoulder.

"So, what are we watching?" You ask, flopping down on the couch, instantly wrapping yourself in the blanket Tom had left out.

"Oh... uh, do you wanna watch Spider-Man?" He scratches the back of his head, cheeks tinted pink.

You wiggle your eyebrows at him, "Are you trying to impress me with your acting skills?"

Tom scoffs, grabbing a pillow from the couch and hurling it at you. "No, I'm obviously showing off Robert's skills."

You playfully roll your eyes, flinging the pillow back at him. He catches it with ease. "Whatever, I haven't seen it anyway."

Tom gasps, "What?"

You throw your head with back with laughter at the expression on his face. He's jaw is hanging wide open, eyebrows knitted together in shock.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I just bruise your ego?"

Tom clicks his tongue, throwing the pillow back at you, hitting you square in the face. "no, but I think I just bruised your face."

"Very funny."

"I get it from my dad."

You purse your lips together, thinking of some type of witty comeback. "yeah, well you didn't get his height."

Tom places a hand on his heart, faking hurt. "Alright, well--"

You cut him off with a pillow to the stomach as he doubles over with an oomph. You howl with laughter as he glares at you.

"Oh love, you don't know what you're in for," He smirks.

"Wait, Tom--" You don't finish your sentence as Tom flops onto you, pillow separating your bodies and you squeal. Tom lays on top of you, pillow resting on your stomach as he grins at you.

"Tommmm," You whine, trying to push him off. He doesn't budge and you pout, resting your arms at your side as his lay by your head.

"Sorry, love, you started it."

"What about the movie?"

"Honestly you're getting an even better view of me like this."

"I only want to watch it because of Zendaya."

"Fuck you."

"You wish."

There's a heavy silence as you take in Tom's comment and the irony of your position. Tom wiggled his eyebrows seductively, smirking.

"Get off me, you weirdo!" You said, finally pushing off of you. He lands on the floor with a satisfying thud and you peek your head over the sofa to check on him. A hand shoots up to grab you and pulls you down on top of him. Tom groans as your body weight land on him, now realizing what a stupid move he had made. Your heads smack together and you wince in pain.

"Shit, sorry love," Tom apologizes, reaching up to hold your head in his hands. He hesitantly places a soft kiss on your temple and you instantly melt in his touch. His hands slowly travel away from your head to wrap around your waist and hold you captive.

"Tom?" You question, arms resting on his shoulder, simultaneously playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He hums, "Yes?"

"Can we watch the movie now?"

He laughs, the vibrations rumbling in his chest, and instinctively you snuggle closer to him and his warmth. He sits up, almost knocking you off, but his arms keep you secure in his lap.

"Yes, we can, but you have to get off me."

Your ankles cross over his waist, "No, I don't wanna. You're warm." You said, face buried in his neck. Tom's happy you can't see the blush on his face as he stares at the girl in his lap. He slowly stands up, one arm still holding you close to him as the other picks up the remote. He turns the movie on, sitting down on the couch. You pick your head up from his neck, glancing at him only to find him already looking down at you. Tom pushes back a few stray pieces of hair from your face and your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second.

"Can I- Can I kiss you?" He asks, breath tickling your face.

"Please," You whisper. His free hand cups your cheek, thumb rubbing over your cheekbones before he dives in and seals your lips with his.

...

"Baby!" Tom exclaims, jogging toward you and picking you up in a bone-crushing hug.

"Bubs, I was only gone for an hour," You laugh, combing your hand through his curls.

"Still too long," He murmurs, kissing your lips.

"Tom!" Daisy calls out, walking toward him. "We need you back on set. You know, if you can detach yourself from (Y/N) for five seconds."

"She's right, bubs," You said, prying him off you.

He whines, "But babyyy."

"No buts, Mister. You have a job to do and so do I."

"Yes, your job is to give me your undying love."

You give Daisy an apologetic smile as she fake gags from behind Tom.

"No, that's my job later. Right now I'm the screenplay writer who's telling you-- the actor -- to get your ass back on set before they fire both of us."

Tom groans, knowing you're right, "wait, you're not coming with me?"

"No, bubs, I have to be on stage five."

"I'm starting to think they're keeping you from me on purpose."

"I can see why."

"Hey!"

You cup Tom's cheeks, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "Kidding, now go fulfill my dreams."

"I think you should fulfill mine."

"Tom," You warn.

He laughs, grabbing your hand and squeezing it lightly before pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "'m joking."

You give him a pointed stare, "partially," he adds.

"I'll see you later."

"You and that ass most definitely will," He winks.

"don't make me write Todd a death scene."

"Joking! Again. I love you!"

"Uh-huh, you just love this ass."

"Well-"

"don't, I'm leaving now," You said, tugging your hand of out his grip and walking away.

"Sorry baby! Love you!" He calls out.

"Yeah, yeah I love you too. Now seriously, get back on set before they fire us."

—

🏷 Taglist: @harrymysunflower @peterspideyy @cams-lynn @runway-to-my-aid @yoinkyourheart @keenmarvellover

strike through- tumblr won’t let me tag you

[12yeahiminluvwu]

Wildest Dreams

pairing - Drew Starkey x Reader

summary-  requested by @starrystarkey93 ! “hellooo, i saw that u wrote a couple of things based on songs of taylor swift, so i was wondering if you would be up to writing something based on Wildest Dream with drew, like reader is a cast mate of him and he cheats on his girlfriend with reader (in the filming period) and they decide to keep it a secret but they both know there are feelings there. idk if this was comprehensible but u can always dm me and if u don’t want to write this it’s okay!!!”

word count- 1.1k+

warning(s)-  cheating, mentions of sex, heartbreak. not edited lol. 

I hope you like it lea!! 

-------------------

Nothing lasts forever

But this is gonna take me down

You watched as Drew held his girlfriend, who had come to set to surprise him, and wished it was you in his arms. The love you felt for Drew Starkey was unlike any other love you had felt before. When he touched you, it was like sparks igniting against your skin. He built a fire inside you that burned hotter than any other. When he looked her in the eye, you saw something that wasn’t there when he looked at you. It was like he could see a future in her, that he didn’t see with you. 

Knowing this made it seem like the light at the end of the tunnel burned and fizzled out, no longer illuminating the path you were on, like there was no point anymore if Drew didn’t want you the way he wanted her. But you knew going into this that the secret affair never gets picked in the end. 

I said “no one has to know what we do” 

His hands are in my hair

His clothes are in my room

Nothing but the lamp outside you apartment lit up the hallway as you and Drew stumbled back to your empty living room. His hands roamed over every inch of your body, igniting the familiar feeling of fireworks beneath your skin, leaving nothing but goosebumps in their wake. 

His lips felt like heaven against yours, moving in perfect sync. The kiss you shared was hungry. He wanted you. Bad. It had been too long since he’d been able to touch you, and he felt like if he didn’t rip your clothes off right now he’d simply die.

Your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, tugging on the short strands of dirty blond locks that you had grown to love so much. Rushing into your room, you didn’t realize all of the shirts he’d accidentally left strung across your bedroom floor. To anyone on the outside, it might seem like they were meant to be there. Like he was just waiting for laundry day to pick them up. Like he lived there. But he didn’t...

Drew knew somewhere in his mind that this was wrong. That he had a girlfriend he should be faithful to. But you made him feel some type of way that she never did. He’d spent the last few months thinking he had the best of both worlds, even though in the process he’d managed to grab a hold of your heart and shatter it to pieces. 

He’s so tall

Handsome as hell

He’s so bad but he does it so well

And when we’ve had our very last kiss 

My last request is… 

“And that’s a wrap! Thank you, everyone, for making this such an amazing project. I can’t wait to see you all again!” The director said as you and Drew finished your last scene together. You hoped that the kiss you just shared wouldn’t be the last but part of you had a sinking feeling it would be. 

“Can you meet me in my trailer?” You asked him, after you both finished saying your goodbyes to the cast and crew. He nodded and you left him to finish up, hoping he wouldn’t take too long. 

A few minutes later, Drew walked in with a small smirk on his face. 

“Couldn’t wait until we got  to your apartment huh?” He chuckled but you pushed his hand away when it went to meet your waist. 

“Say you’ll see me again… that this isn’t the end of us.” You whispered, desperately trying to hold back to tears threatening to flood your eyes. Instinctively, his hands went to grab yours. You let him, but looked down when he tried to meet your eyes. 

“Y/n… you know we can’t keep doing this. I have to go back to her, I can’t just leave her…” He said, hoping that it would make things easier on him. Deep down, his heart was breaking at the thought of never getting to hold you again. But he had to let you go. He had someone to go home to, and it was time for him to shape up and be the man that his girlfriend thought he was, instead of the man he’d become. The man that was in love with two different girls at the same time. 

You’ll see me in hindsight

Tangled up with you all night

Burning it down

Someday, when you leave me

I hope these memories

Follow you around

Flashbacks of the nights you spent tangled up in the sheets played through Drew’s head like a hazy dream. Seeing you all dressed up for the premiere was making him wish you’d been the one he showed up with. He hadn’t seen you for months before this past week. You spent every waking moment together, doing press for the movie you were both starring in. 

The moment your eyes met, that first day, all the feeling you had worked so hard to suppress came rushing back in full force. You fell madly in love with him all over again but there was nothing you could do about it. Absolutely nothing. You just had to sit there and act like he was your best friend.

Little did you know, the same thing happened with him. He’d fallen out of love with her and further in love with you, but he couldn’t tell you that. There was something stopping him. Whether or not it was fear of rejection after all this time, or some weird attachment he had to her, he didn’t really know. 

So as you stood there, posed together for the pictures, you both put on a fake smile, hoping for the night to be over so you’d never have to see him again. 

As the movie played in the theater, you were reminded of all the moments you’d shared with Drew, but as you looked over at him, you saw that he was looking at her. 

Drew looked at you longingly before he looked back over at her, deciding finally that he couldn’t put himself through this pain anymore. 

You quickly stood up, excusing yourself from the room, and made your way out to the car you’d come in. 

He whispered in her ear that it was over and looked back over to see you gone. He rushed out, watching as your car pulled away. It was that moment that he knew it was too late. 

He’d lost you. 

Say you’ll remember me 

Even if it’s just in your Wildest Dreams. 

-------------------------------------

@afterglows7b-tch13

[cloveroctobers]

IBRAHIM JARVIS —

IG info/bio: @/OFFICIALRAHIMJARVIS | 130k followers | pro🏌🏿, & yes i was on that dating show...don’t obsess over other people, obsess over water, stay hydrated friends!

22 (23) years old

From Birmingham, England

Pisces sun? + Virgo moon + Cancer rising

Parents are both Afro-Antiguan and Barbudans + migrated to The UK once they were pregnant with their first child

They’ve been married for over 20 years

He gets his height from both of his parents

His mother keeps her hair buzzed short, cooks the best Antiguan food + loves creole seasoning, she’s 5’11, & works as a bank teller

His father is 6’5, works as a substance a*use counselor & does not believe in tough love as a way of showing you care about your children. He learned that the hard way growing up

Ibrahim is a pro golfer & dislikes tiger woods, “he’s a proper arsehole, typical American yeah?”

Got into the craft thanks to his maternal grandfather who was also into golf along with other sports & taught him all he needed to know. At first Ibrahim didn’t like it, found it rather boring & would rather stick to video gaming but his grandfather wanted to break his grandchildren out of staying in the house all the time

It kept him fit and also relieved any anxiety Ibrahim had in life and he had a good amount

He’s got an incredible swing, thanks to his long arms

He’s 6’3

Has three older brothers: Jesse (27) , Keithroy (25), and Reuben (24)

He loves working out and spotting other people, feels likes it’s a team effort & he’s a team player

Drinks gallons of water on a daily and nothing else, it’s even better if he puts fruit in it

Always eating fruit, for breakfast/with or after his dinner. Rather eat fruits than vegetables...yes he’s an adult but he can’t stand broccoli or radishes

Canon: hates seeing other people test their fruit to see if it’s ripe or not. But it’s fine when he does it himself, he just thinks about all the germs that are on other peoples hands when they’re doing so; it physically makes him sick & irritated if he ends up touching the fruit that’s mushy/lumpy

He’s a big fan of comics. Always has been since he’s a kid and has a huge collection of them, his oldest ones are packed away in a couple of crates (in his loft room that he uses as a extra storage room) since he no longer has space in his room. Yes he has no shame (and shouldn’t) of having them on display even tho his oldest brothers clown him for it

Massive fan of black panther & was hyped when it first came to theaters. Saw it three times in one day

Was heartbroken when Chadwick Boseman p*ssed

He’s awkward at expressing himself & sometimes it makes him feel misunderstood & it’s frustrating

Hates people that come up with these ideas of him instead of allowing him to collect his thoughts and speak them the right way

Yet he can be the type of person that wants to ignore issues and hope they go away

He wishes people had enough patience like he did with others in the world

He seeks advice from his dad, since he’s a counselor & everything yet it’s slightly different?

Can be a sweetie & very romantic in relationships

Will do the most (he won’t see it that way) & drop $ on you if he wants to...buying things, trying & failing to DIY, doing wealthy ppl shit, expensive trips— canon: taking his girl to Spain? Was it? Or Italy? I don’t remember... the whole 9

Had 1 gf before the villa. He broke up with her for being too flashy with his things & found that she wouldn’t have liked him if he didn’t have a bit of money

His parents live with him. “They’re basically my roommates until or if they find a house they like.” He didn’t go overboard once he got his first paycheck, he didn’t need a mansion but he did go big enough, industrial style but homey with some minor modern touches for his dream home—he didn’t want it to feel cold or penthouse-like

Isn’t too flashy on the socials but will post something every now & then if he feels the need to show it

Doesn’t post much of his face, mostly what he’s doing in the moment...lots of golfing pics!

Dresses like a dad but it works for him. Loves a good snug polo & plaid trousers/regular that are cut above the ankle, “those are highwaters innit?!” “No mum, it’s the style.” Rolled up jeans, tall white socks & some patterned, baggy sweaters, fancy hats, picks oxfords over sneakers, etc...

Definitely takes the time to iron/steam/press his underwear & socks

Enjoys getting his hair braided, isn’t tender-headed at all (must be nice)

Only grows his hair out during the fall/winter seasons or cuts/gets a shape up

When he posts about his tournaments or time at the golf course, he can always count on Bobby to comment the usual... @/returnofdamckenzie: do you ever have moments where you Reenact troy bolton on the lovely green grass? @/officialrahimjarvis: Idk whether to block u or have a laugh mate, yes i had to look him up!

Dated Jo for about 5 months after the villa until she broke up with him, finding that their lifestyles were too hectic for them to continue, at least that was her public statement to the fans but they really grew apart & the “love” was no longer there

Ibrahim seemed to be more upset about it than Jo in the beginning resulting in snappy replies for awhile, which again stems from him not knowing how to express himself

She checked up on him A LOT, almost as if they never broke up but Ibrahim felt like he needed his space now. They talked it out the best they could over dinner and got closure but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting. He just didn’t think it was needed to be calling each other everyday to see how they were both holding up. If they were done, then that’s what they should be

Jo didn’t see it that way. She still cared for Ibrahim, that didn’t mean that they had to stop talking in her view. She wanted to know how he was coping, and was known for “sticking her foot in her mouth” so that was also a flaw in their relationship

She would say certain things that touched on how she was feeling but didn’t express them at the right times & then there was Ibrahim who didn’t know HOW to say the things he felt which left jo to assume things

Ibrahim was back to the single life and he hated it. He wanted someone he could come back home to, someone that wanted to be with him for the long run. A part of him feels like Jo wasn’t planning to be with him for the long run in the first place and in a way that was okay? Sometimes you don’t know where you’re going in relationships but there should be some sort of goal? Maybe? At least that’s what he thought. Yeah they had fun but he wanted more someday

He was still young he didn’t need to be hung up about it right? Sike. He didn’t know how to take things lightly. That wasn’t how he was built. And to get comments about his ex relationship and have fans dragging him about his choices in the villa A YEAR later!!! Was disheartening

Shannon seemed to be doing well. He thought they would still be friends, at least that’s what she showed before she left the villa. Before he got her dumped. They talked a couple of times since then, jo personally wasn’t a fan of that—Shannon didn’t care but it was clear there was some tension still there

Until he contacted her just to realize she probably had his number blocked but her IG was public and she had a new man & was traveling about

His dad and Reuben were the only ones rooting for them

He had no choice but to be happy for her. Who was he to come in between that? Not that he wanted to but it’s a natural reaction to wonder after a fresh breakup, “what if?”

Talks to Priya every so often now. He seems to find comfort in her, it’s the same for her on her end

His mother has a feeling Priya is the one her son will end up with. Even if she is older...Keithroy also liked her the best

While Jesse seemed to be the only one who supported his relationship with jo

I honestly thought he would have liked Hannah in the beginning but idk if it was him or Gary that said she was too unrealistic when it came to love? I think they both said something along those lines which is odd since it seems Ibrahim has no problem treating his girl like a princess

Probably only has one special dish that he can cook the best & it’s gumbo. otherwise hes out of the kitchen or having his personal chef cook for the family

Goes live on twitch—when he has time, playing many games with the boys from the villa, which pleases the fans

Talks to them all as much as he can

Noah seems to be the first to always text back since Bobby is the one who’ll start off responding in minutes then forget to text back cause he’s off doing handstands or booping people on the nose or some shit, Gary always ends up busy doing something with his nan or for Lottie—but Noah’s always around

They seem to be the closest outside the villa, they mesh well & hang out the most when they can

he likes having his sound on & LOUD when he texts! There’s something so satisfying about hearing the clicking of texting to him

Watches a lot of sports on the Telly, it doesn’t have to be just golf. Usually watching that sport sends him right to sleep while the others keep him active/vocal...yes he’s a tv yeller

Holds sports parties at his home & invites all of his family & mates, he HATES having to clean up afterwards. If it wasn’t for his mum he would save the cleaning until the next day yet he doesn’t mind cleaning his car twice a week

Continues to make his violet man drink & wouldn’t be opposed to someone giving him a endorsement deal for it

Is the “I love everybody!” Drunk

Enjoys yard work over cleaning the house

Has his own customized golf cart that he keeps in his garage

He likes driving that more than his Buick suv tbh

Wants kids some day, not too many, not too little just right— he’ll probably have two but for rn his Doberman pinscher is his bby

Either ends up with Priya with slight insecurities that she’s too good for him or he falls in love with a tennis player, either way I’m fine with both

Crushes/his type? : Jojo Levesque, SERENA WILLIAMS, China McClain, Brie Larson, Victoria Pedretti, Nathalie Emmanuel, & Keke Palmer

Listens to: Aminé, Big Sean, Frank Ocean, Brent Faiyaz, Pink $weats, B Young, Ali Gatie, Russ, Raveena, Jessie Reyez, Rayana Jay, Cosima, TianaMajor9 etc...

Anthem = Lucky Daye, “Buying Time”

[kelseaaa]

Can I request a little something for Levi x mc? 🥺Idk if you take requests, if not, that's ok you don't have to!! I just miss him 😭

Thank you for your patience @simp-for-villains​!! I miss Levi, too! Hope you don’t mind that a little nsfw action ;) It’s almost 2k, kind of got away from me lol.

Book: Mother of the Year

Pairing: Levi Schuler x MC (Tara Day)

Warnings: very nsfw

~~~~~

Rare Moments

“I can’t believe we live 10 feet from each other and I can’t even see you,” Levi grumbled through the phone.

“Well, you’re the one who decided to go grocery shopping in the middle of a pandemic,” she countered. Levi couldn’t see it, but he knew she was rolling her eyes.

When news hit about a deadly virus and a global pandemic, Tara had been on the ball with everything. Quickly stocking up on essentials without going overboard. Ensuring that Zoey got all her homeschool materials from Eiko so she could stay on top of things. Even figuring out a way to work from home through everything.

Levi had not been so lucky.

He knew to take things seriously but he had not been as serious as Tara. Causing him to still go out every few weeks to buy food and supplies - if there was anything left to buy.

“I know, I know. I should have listened to you,” he conceded before plopping down on his couch. “But I still don’t get why I can’t come over.”

He listened as she let out an exasperated sigh. “You know I can’t risk anything happening to Zoey.”

She was right, like always. Levi wouldn’t do anything to put either Tara or Zoey at risk. He still didn’t like it, though.

He decided to drop that conversation for the night. “So, how was Rocket, today?” he asked with genuine sincerity. Levi could hear the creak of Tara’s bed on the other side of the phone.

“She’s loving this,” Tara replied cooly. “She misses her friends but she’s already finished all the schoolwork the Academy gave out. She’s been doing all kinds of projects and research. And she loves to fill me in on every detail.”

Levi could hear the strain in her voice. It made his lips quirk into a knowing smirk. “And how are you handling all this?” he asked with amusement.

“Let’s just say today was a ‘two glasses of wine’ kind of day,” she huffed out.

Levi laughed. “You’re doing great, Tara.” He grew serious for a second before speaking again. “I wish I could help you. Help with all this. I wish I could be there.”

There was silence for a moment on the other line. “I know, Levi. Me too. That really means a lot.”

This was one of the rare moments in their crazy lives. One where they took the time for each other. It was serious and meaningful. It made Levi reflect on what he wanted. Who he wanted. The life he wanted with these two extraordinary girls that lived next door. The future they could have.

“Hey,” Tara said, breaking Levi from his wandering thoughts which was probably for the best at the moment. “What are you doing right now?”

He could hear the playfulness in her voice which made his brow raise slightly in delight. “Just chillin’ here all by my lonesome. Why you ask, Miss Day?”

She didn’t respond, instead he heard the familiar alert of a video call coming through his phone. He pulled it away from his ear and hit the accept button. He was quickly met by a smiling face and stunning green eyes.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted and took pleasure in the slight blush that blossomed across her cheeks. She was laying down on her bed, auburn hair fanned out across her pillows.

“Hello, handsome,” she responded back. He probably should have been more embarrassed by the dopey grin that was on his face, but seeing her - even if it was through video - made everything feel right in the world.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked, taking in the oversized, black band tee he realized several days ago that he was missing.

She looked down at the shirt then back to the camera. “Maybe,” she responded with a mischievous smile.

“Well it looks better on you, that’s for sure,” he commented with a laugh. “Is Rocket asleep?”

Tara nodded her head and Levi couldn’t help but notice the way she slowly ran the tips of her fingers across her bottom lip. His body shuddered and he silently cursed to himself for not being more careful during this pandemic. He would give anything to be in bed with her instead of alone on his couch.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Tara asked, her voice dropping an octave lower.

Levi liked where this was heading.

“You,” he responded earnestly. The smile that she gave him made his chest constrict and his stomach flip.

Then she had the nerve to bite the tip of her finger. “What about me?”

“I’m thinking about all the things I would do to you if you were here with me right now,” he began. “Or if I was in that bed with you.”

“Tell me,” she urged and Levi swallowed hard as the hand that was on her face slowly slid down and out of frame.

Levi’s own hand trailed down his bare chest and stomach, landing on the outside of his sweatpants to palm himself. “I would make you feel so good, Tara.”

“Yes,” she responded breathlessly as she closed her eyes. “Tell me more. Tell me what you want.”

Levi felt hot all over. The sounds coming from his phone - near-silent pants and almost inaudible moans - were making his head spin.

“Pull up your shirt,” he directed. She did, pulling the fabric up until it bunched up under her chin, leaving the silky skin of her chest exposed to him. He all but groaned when her hand traced circles around her pert skin. “That’s it, Tara. How does that feel?”

Her only response was a moan causing him to twitch against his leg. Levi’s hand found it’s way beneath his pants and boxers where he started to stroke languidly.

This wasn’t their first time. Over the past few weeks with nowhere to go and nothing to do, they had found themselves on similar calls. A way to relieve the built-up frustration of not being able to see, kiss, and touch each other.

Levi had usually been the one to follow directions, letting Tara lead. He did everything to make her happy and satisfied, letting her take charge during their late-night calls. But tonight was different. Tonight he was in control.

“Touch yourself,” he demanded. His voice was firm but full of affection and need.

He could tell by the way her eyes widened that she was pleasantly surprised at the directions. He watched her hand that had previously been rubbing over her chest move back down out of frame. A moment later there was a slight gasp from her parted lips and Levi’s quickened his own pace.

“Show me, Tara.” He watched as the screen shifted and soon he was staring at the bow of her hips and the delicious skin of her bare thighs. His tongue ran along his lower lip as he watched her fingers moving delicately under the black, cotton fabric covering her sex. “Take them off.”

He heard her huff before she set the phone down, the screen going black. He heard the sound of fabric rustling and then a moment later she picked the phone back up and positioned it back towards her lower half. She was fully exposed now, her fingers working deftly against her sensitive skin.

Using one hand, Levi shifted to pull down his sweatpants and boxers slightly, freeing himself to the open air. He continued to stroke himself, picturing her instead of his hand. “Talk to me, Tara. Tell me what you want.”

There was an audible gasp of his name followed by a low moan escaping her throat. The sounds only made him harder.

“I wish you were here,” Tara replied, her voice barely above of whisper.

Levi groaned. “Me too, baby.”

“I wish this was you,” she began, her fingers slowly dipping into her folds. “Your fingers, your mouth, your cock.”

Levi muttered a curse at her words. He loved it when her pretty mouth spouted off such vulgar things. This was a side a Tara reserved for only him. And now he was already dangerously close to finishing.

“Faster, Tara,” he instructed and reveled in the way her fingers moved deeper inside her at a delicious pace. His thoughts were moving a mile a minute now. “Just like that. God, I want to fuck you so bad. Are you close?”

“Yes, Levi, I’m so close,” she whimpered.

“I want to watch you as you come, baby.”

A moment later the camera had switched back to her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly as breathless moans and wanton sounds left her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed heavily and the slight crinkle across her brow let him know that she was almost there.

His eyes trailed over the curve of her lips, the definition of her collarbone, and the softness of her breasts. She panted his name and he whispered words of encouragement and praise.

“Levi… I’m… I…”

“That’s it, Tara. Let go,” he soothed and soon she was chorusing his name through her heavy breath. Her shoulders trembled and she arched slightly from the bed. She was a vision and soon Levi followed. Closing his eyes, he jerked his hips upwards and spilled out across his hand and stomach. Both lines grew quiet, save for the sounds of shallow breaths escaping both their lips.

When Levi finally opened his eyes, he saw Tara staring back at him, a huge, wicked smile gracing her lips. Levi returned the grin - all teeth. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he asked rhetorically. The way she blushed made his heart stutter in his chest.

“Yeah, I do,” she sighed dreamily, making Levi snort and roll his eyes. He shot her a pointed look through the screen before they both broke out into laughter. After a few more minutes of laughter and easy conversation, the pair said their goodbyes and got off the call.

After a quick shower, Levi laid in bed - alone - scrolling through his phone. He was just about to set it down on his nightstand when a familiar ding sounded through the room. He smiled as he opened the text from his neighbor who should have most definitely been asleep by now.

T: Miss you

L: Miss you too

There was a pause as Levi stared at the three little dots appearing then disappearing on the screen until finally-

T: If you promise to stay home and self-quarantine for the next two weeks, I’ll let you come over. Think you can do that?

Levi smiled to himself. He pretended to weigh the idea in his idea before responding back right away. Even though he knew exactly what his answer would be.

L: Sounds good to me :)

T: Great! See you in two weeks ;) Goodnight

L: Night Tara. Love you

T: I love you too

Levi plugged in his phone and laid it on the nightstand. It wasn’t hard to fall asleep. The promise of being able to see - actually see - the love of his life in two weeks made things much easier and soon he was out.

~~~~~

[wordupcomics]

Could you give us a little summary of Theo's birth? I would like to see Tobey's reaction😂 I imagine Becky (in labor) holding Tobey's hand while he told her things that make her angry to facilitate labor HAHA JA. Please u.u

I feel like if Tobey said anything  to make Becky mad while in labor she would have said "That's an awful bold thing to say to your wife with super powers while she's in labor" and that would have been the end of that 😂

Obviously Tobey was waaaaaaaay more freaked out than Becky. As he was driving to the hospital he was panicked, screaming at other drivers, "GET OUT OF THE WAY! GO FASTER! WOMAN IN LABOR HERE!!" And Becky is just sitting there, getting progressively more annoyed thinking "I can fly, why didn't I fly myself to the hospital. What was I thinking?"

They get to the hospital, and get Becky settled in,

Tobey: Okay, how are you? Are you comfortable? Becky: I'm in labor so no, not exactly

Originally I had an idea that when Theo was born, Tobey held Becky's hand and she ended up breaking it, and because of that incident, when it was time for Julie's birth, he built a robot hand for Becky to hold instead because he wasn't going to go through that again. But in all honesty, I feel like with Becky's super strength, which likely only got more powerful as she got older, Becky wouldn't have just broken Tobey’s hand, she would have completely shattered it, possibly beyond repair. So now my idea is that Tobey anticipated this for Theo's birth and made some sort of robot hand for her to hold for Theo's birth.

Tobey: I'm sorry, my love, but I will not be holding your hand during this! Not when you have super strength! Instead, you can hold this robot hand! Becky: Are you kidding me? You're being ridiculous! Do you honestly think I'm going to break your hand or something? Tobey: Yes! Yes, I most certainly do!

Tobey starts making calls, letting friends and family know the baby is on the way, some of them would come to the hospital if they could, for the next part I was originally imagining Scoops and Violet, but their daughter, Daisy, is only a year older than Theo (give or take a few months) and I don't think it would be practical for them to visit with a young baby while Becky was still in labor, since you don't know how long that will last, it would be smart for them to visit after Theo was born instead of having to handle their own baby in a hospital for potential hours. So instead this next part might be either Becky's parents or Tobey's mom and step dad, idk I'm just gonna call them "visitors" because I haven't decided

Visitors: How are you doing Becky? Becky: I'm fine. Could one of you please please please take Tobey outside for some fresh air? He's not fine...

And I have Becky acting calm but I'm sure any woman's first time giving birth is scary, so I think she's acting calm on the outside for Tobey's sake, and inside she's thinking "I can do this...for crying out loud I've battled dangerous villains since I was a child! Certainly I can handle this!" Even internally though, Tobey's still far more freaked out than Becky is.

Doctor: Breathe, breathe— Becky, eying Tobey having a nervous breakdown: Look I think my husband needs these instructions more than I do....

Becky does hold the robot hand Tobey made for her...and breaks it....The doctors and nurses look at the mangled piece of metal and Tobey has to just give and awkward laugh and say "How foolish of me to make this from such a flimsy material!" so that they don't realize Becky has powers. Later...

Tobey: SEE! This is precisely why I refused to hold your hand! This could have been my hand!!! Becky: It's ...not that bad... Tobey: THIS IS SOLID STEEL! YOU MANGLED SOLID STEEL!

Obviously once Theo was born and they each held him for the first time was heart-warmingly emotional. An emotional moment that Tobey kinda ruined by awkwardly saying to his newborn child "I'm your dad...and I'm very sorry about that..."

After Theo was born Scoops and Violet would have come with Daisy, and I can picture them holding up Daisy to Theo and saying "They're going to be best friends!!"

And this I can't decide when it would happen, after Theo's born, while Becky's in labor or while she's pregnant, idk. So Tim and Sally are called Grampy and Grammy by all three of their grandchildren, these names inspired by Tj and Becky calling their grandfather Bampy. However Claire seems like the kind of grandparent who would go by simply Grandma. Now Claire has since remarried a man named Alexander (also goes by Alex). Alex spent some time brainstorming what Tobey's child(ren) should call him, since he's Tobey's stepfather, and again I haven’T decided exactly when this conversation takes place but this is how it goes:

Alex: Tobey, I wanted to run some ideas by you on what your child can call me when they're older Tobey: What? Alex: Like what Becky's parents are doing, they are opting to go by grammy and grampy. I've been brainstorming names for myself Tobey: Oh, I didn't realize you wanted to go by something else. Mother said she was fine with being called grandma and I just assumed you were alright with being called grandpa Alex: Well I mean I don't have any issue being called grandpa, and I realize that that's what your kid or kids will see me as but technically I'm not their grandpa and I just felt like I'd be overstepping if they called me that. So the ideas I came up with are— Tobey: Stop. You're not going to go by anything other than grandpa because that's exactly what you are. You are more than a father to me than the man who actually is my father, and you will most definitely be more of a grandfather to this child or any other children that Becky and I might have. You are their grandpa and that's what I want them to call you.

Later when they brought their new baby home (they were still moving in, by the way) they settled in this conversation ensued (remember Theo is trans and his parents were using she/her pronouns prior to him coming out)

Becky: It's so good to be home! And now we have a sweet little baby to share it with! Tobey: Yes. (pause) Tobey: You realize we have to raise her now right? Becky: Yeah I don't know how we're going to do that... Tobey: How long do you think before we each call our parents crying because we don't know what we're doing...? Becky: Probably a week...two if we're lucky...

It was more like two days...