#asking if you’re engaged yet every time you both visit for dinner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eksvaized · 2 months

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Part Fourteen [ Previous 〡 Next ] taglist: @kingsprettyangel, @simonsslvt, @herwristsarehercanvas, @the-faceless-bride if you want to be added - let me know!

As the day continues, an undeniable tension permeates every interaction between the two of you. The weight of it hangs heavily in the air. As though it’s a physical presence that you can almost reach out and touch, and after a while, it becomes almost unbearable to endure.

Simon, who usually fills the space around him with constant chatter and dialogue, even on the occasions when you refuse to engage in conversation, is uncharacteristically silent. His change in his demeanor is not lost on you, and you find yourself unwittingly mirroring his silence. Your own words dying in your throat before they can be given voice, too.

Your mind is a tumultuous whirlpool of thoughts and emotions, a storm of confusion and uncertainty that refuses to settle. Despite this, you remain close to him, never straying far from his side. It’s as if you are both tethered together by an unseen string that refuses to be broken.

You shadow him silently around the house, tracking his every move as he systematically transports all of your belongings to his bedroom. The only break in the palpable silence comes when he presents you with a pile of freshly washed, pristine white sheets. He asks, in a voice barely above a whisper that’s almost drowned by the tension, if you could help him in changing the bedding. Without uttering a single word, you take the sheets from him and get to work, immersing yourself in this simple task, finding a sense of solace and normalcy amidst the chaotic storm brewing within your thoughts.

After dinner, you settle into the comfortable couch in the living room. The warm, ambient light casts a soft glow around the room. Simon guides you through the detailed expectations he has set for your behavior during the impending visit from his friend. His approach is exhaustive, leaving no stone unturned as he anticipates every conceivable situation that might arise during the visit, no matter how unlikely it may seem. His thoroughness extends to the tiniest of details, ensuring that there is no room for any unexpected surprises that could potentially disrupt the smooth flow of events.

“Johnny will come tonight,” Simon states, his fingers tightly intertwined in a visible effort to hold back any involuntary twitching that might betray the anxiety lurking beneath his composed exterior. “By the time he arrives, you’ll have already retired to your room for the night. So, the introduction can wait until the morning; you can meet him then.”

You nod in understanding. Your gaze drifts to the clock mounted on the wall. A part of you, a small hopeful one, had wished to meet Simon’s friend today. However, Simon’s words and actions seem to suggest otherwise. From his demeanor, it appears he intends for you to remain isolated, safely tucked away within the confines of his bedroom.

There are to be no unnecessary conversations. If possible, let Simon answer all the questions. As long as Johnny stays here, refrain from going upstairs or into your bedroom. These are just a few of the new rules that Simon has imposed.

“Remember, if he asks how we met, tell him it was two months ago, at a club. We spent an entire month getting to know each other, dating, before you decided to move in with me,” Simon instructs, his intense gaze capturing your attention entirely as he lays out the story. He pauses for a moment, allowing you to digest the information. He doesn’t continue until he sees you nod your head, signifying that you’re following along. “If the topic of my family ever comes up, let him know that I don’t talk much about them or my past. As for your own family, if he’s curious, just tell him that you’re not quite ready to introduce us yet.”

“If he asks about why you’re staying at home all day and don’t go to work, say that you’re working from home,” he continues, giving you a moment to absorb this flood of new information. “For the duration of his stay, each and every day, right after we finish lunch, you need to make an excuse that you have work commitments and then you must excuse yourself to the bedroom. Johnny won’t pester either you or me with incessant questions about why you’re not spending more time with us if he thinks you’re busy with work.”

He presents you with a vast array of different scenarios, each one meticulously crafted to prepare you for any situation, and explains how to navigate them. Each scenario is followed by a series of questions, reflecting the potential queries his friend might ask you. You think that you’re expected to respond to them on the spot, but before you even have the chance to open your mouth to articulate your thoughts, he steps in and provides the answers for you. By doing so, he ensures that you’re fully prepared and equipped with the right responses, regardless of what might be thrown your way.

After an exceedingly prolonged and intense conversation, which Simon punctuates with a stern warning, “And don’t dare to ask him for help to escape. He’ll tell me if you do,” he guides you towards his bedroom. It’s a quiet and solitary space, filled with an air of mystery and intrigue, a stark contrast to the heated discussion that just took place. Without uttering another word, he leaves you there, alone, amidst the silence. He then closes the door behind him, ensuring it’s locked, to prevent any potential attempt from your end to sneak out.

Upon finding yourself alone, you take a moment to compose yourself and gather your racing thoughts. The surrounding silence seems almost tangible, and you take a deep breath before you embark on a cautious exploration. Your heart is racing, but the unknown only fuels your curiosity.

With a sense of wonder gripping your senses, you extend your hand out, allowing your fingertips to gently trace the contours and textures of various surfaces around you. The rough grain of the wooden furniture, the softness of the fabric draping the windows — everything feels new, different, and strangely exciting. Your eyes, wide with intrigue, absorb every detail of the unfamiliar surroundings. You take in the antique dresser, the faded grey wallpaper, and the soft glow of the lamp, casting long shadows in the dimly lit room.

The room’s centerpiece is a grand bed, significantly larger than the modest one you are accustomed to sleeping in upstairs. It’s a sight that causes your breath to hitch in your throat for a brief moment, not out of fear, but a profound sense of relief. The sheer magnitude of the mattress provokes an involuntary sigh of relief from your lips. With such a generous expanse of space, it becomes clear that you will be able to comfortably settle at one edge. You could curl up in a manner that ensures Simon maintains an appropriate distance—measured, safely, at arm’s length.

Against the wall, there stands an enormous wardrobe that now houses all of your clothes, meticulously arranged in two neat stacks. As your eyes continue wandering, they catch sight of a nightstand, a simple yet elegant piece of furniture that contrasts with the grandeur of the wardrobe. On top of it, you spot a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, casually discarded as if they were mere trinkets. They pique your curiosity.

Intrigued by this unexpected discovery, you saunter over and pick up the pack. You slide out a single cigarette. You bring it up to your nose and take a deep breath, allowing the scent of the tobacco to fill your senses. Contrary to your initial assumptions, you find that the aroma of tobacco is not as unpleasant as you had imagined.

In the past, you’ve found yourself occasionally indulging in a cigarette or two, often in the company of a glass of your favorite drink. Now, you find yourself teetering on the edge of that familiar habit, ensnared in the contemplation of sparking up yet another cigarette. This idea, as strangely alluring as it may be, offers a short-lived sanctuary, a momentary diversion from the ceaseless tedium that has become a constant in your life. The scent, the smoke, all of it calls to you in a way that is both comforting and unsettling. You remember the relief each puff brought, how it seemed to momentarily pause the world around you, allowing you a brief moment of peace.

Yet, despite this enticing vision, you make the deliberate decision to resist. You choose to distance yourself from the pack of cigarettes that beckons you, deciding to abstain from succumbing to this old habit. For now, at least.

Retrieving your pyjamas, you make your way towards the bathroom, ready to indulge in a different kind of solace. The privacy offered by this bathroom is a comfort you yet have come to appreciate. But the lock on the door, a simple mechanism that guarantees your solitude, is put to use as soon as you start undressing.

The shower, typically a hurried routine, takes on a languid and indulgent pace tonight. You linger under the cascading hot water considerably longer than usual. The comforting steam and enveloping warmth penetrate your pores, methodically dissolving the day’s accumulated fatigue. You indulge in this moment of solitude, meticulously scrubbing your skin until it radiates a flushed shade of red, a testament to the relentless onslaught of hot water that dances upon your flesh.

The air in the room becomes thick with the intoxicating scent of sweet shower gel—a sensory delight that heightens your relaxation. Every detail of this extended routine seems amplified, from the rhythmic droplets splashing onto the tile floor to the ambient hum of water coursing through the pipes.

The passage of time loses its significance, the usual rush replaced with a slower tempo that privileges self-care over efficiency. You dedicate a full hour to lavish attention on each strand of your hair - washing, conditioning, rinsing, repeating - until it gleams under the artificial light. Only then, with your skin glowing and muscles relaxed, do you finally step away from the comforting drumming of the hot water.

As you gently push open the bathroom door, a thick cloud of steam, warmed by the hot shower you just took, escapes into the bedroom, creating a humid atmosphere. The room, previously cool, now takes on a comforting warmth, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. You contemplate making your way over to the bed, hoping to fall asleep before Simon comes back. However, your attention is abruptly seized by an unexpected sound.

The faint murmur of two voices, barely more than whispers, reaches your ears. You find yourself drawn to the source of the sound, curiosity piquing your interest. So, your feet carry you silently across the room, your heart pounding in your chest. You press your ear against the wooden door, straining to catch the words that are being shared on the other side. Although the voices remain muffled and the words indistinct, you are able to pick up bits and pieces of the hushed conversation.

You listen to the faint sound of Simon’s voice as it carries through the walls, “—asleep, but she promised to introduce herself properly in the morning—” he says. Then, he says something else, but his words are muffled and you can’t quite catch them.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone ‘bout her? I know things have been tense between us since... well, you know, but—” the other voice is filled with confusion and a touch of regret.

Simon, without missing a beat, responds quickly and with a hint of sarcasm, “I didn’t introduce her to you lot ‘cus I didn’t want to scare her away. Not a single one of you has the slightest idea how to conduct yourselves around attractive women.”

Both men chuckle, their laughter a low rumble that seems to echo through the living room. Their conversation continues, the sound of their voices a steady murmur. You remain standing, your ear pressed against the door, listening intently to their exchange. But eventually, your legs begin to ache and you reluctantly retreat to the bed.

For what feels like hours, you toss and turn on the enormous bed. Your legs get tangled in the soft sheets, and pillows are thrown haphazardly across the mattress in your restless attempts to find a comfortable sleeping position. Sleep eludes you, your mind too active with thoughts and questions, your body too restless to settle. Your frustration grows with every passing minute, which only serves to make you even more awake, pushing sleep even further away.

Every once in a while, you get out of the bed to see if you can hear anything else, curiosity and a sense of restlessness driving your actions. But once Simon and his friend move to the kitchen, their voices become even more muffled and you finally give up on eavesdropping.

After what feels like an eternity, Simon finally trudges into the bedroom. The moment the door creaks open, you close your eyes and roll onto your side. You pull the blanket closer to your body, trying to put up a convincing facade of sleep.

A soft patter of his footsteps slowly makes their way across the floor, towards the adjoining bathroom. The sound of water running from the tap fills the silence. The rustle of fabric follows soon after, the unmistakable sound of clothes being shed and tossed carelessly onto the floor. You can almost visualize him standing in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth with methodical strokes.

As he makes his way back into the room, you can sense the subtle shift in the air. The mattress beneath you gives a gentle creak—a quiet surrender to his weight as he lays down. Your anxiety starts mounting. The bed dips in more, and the blanket rustles as he slides under it, the noise seeming loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Every fiber of your being is hyper-aware of his movements. You find yourself silently pleading with the universe, desperately hoping that he would just roll to the other side of the bed and sleep. You wish for the night to end, for the tension to dissipate, for the calm to return. Unfortunately, your silent prayers seem to go unanswered, swallowed by the darkness that surrounds you.

You feel his hand slyly sneak around your waist. His touch sends a shiver down your spine. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air, mixing with the fragrance of your own anticipation and anxiety. As his palm encircles your waist, the warmth spreads through your body.

He pulls you closer, and you can feel the heat emanating from his skin, like a comforting fire on a chilly night. His touch ventures lower, tracing the delicate curve of your waist, igniting a trail of electric sensations. His fingertips, cool against your warm skin, graze the bare expanse of your lower back, causing a tingling sensation to rise within you. In this moment, a sudden realization washes over you, mingling with a surge of regret. The choice to wear just a shirt and panties to bed now leaves you exposed, vulnerable to his touch. But alongside the regret, there is an intoxicating thrill, a surge of adrenaline that quickens your heartbeat.

As he inches closer, the warmth of his breath brushes against the sensitive skin on the nape of your neck, causing a tickling sensation to spread like wildfire. It feels as though your skin is being kissed by the sun itself, the heat almost searing, leaving an indelible mark. With deliberate intent, he takes a deep breath, drawing in the fragrance of your freshly washed hair. The intimacy of the moment catches you off guard, sending an electrifying shiver down your spine, reverberating through every nerve ending.

Each beat of your heart echoes in the silence, pounding in your chest like a wild drum, its rhythm so loud and clear that it drowns out the stillness of the room. As you lie there, pretending to sleep, you can’t help but question, wonder, and even obsess over whether Simon has any inkling that you are not truly lost in slumber. Holding your breath, you wait for the slightest hint of suspicion to escape his lips. But if he harbors any doubts, he keeps them locked away, unvoiced and hidden.

Simon falls asleep much faster than you, his steady breathing and muffled snores fill the silence. Only when you’re sure that he’s deep in slumber do you finally allow yourself to close your eyes too.

#simon ghost riley #writing #simon riley x you #ghost x y/n #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod #ghost x you #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #fem!reader #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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mynameismckenziemae · 5 months

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Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone-Chapter X

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader (no use of y/n)

A step forward together.

(previous chapter here)

6 weeks later

Your heart is still pounding as the adrenaline works out of your system as you step out of work.

Bob picks up on the first ring. “Hey! How’d it go?”

Today was your first solo flight (minus the physician and pilot of course) and you’d hardly slept the night before due to the excitement and nerves.

“I was on call with Dr. Kennedy. We got the patient transported in one piece and stable so that’s a win in our field.”

“That’s great! I’m so proud of you. All that worrying for nothing,” he replies.

“Yeah yeah, I know” you laugh, “Hey, Rowan’s calling, I’ll see you later?”

“Sounds good, love you”.

“Love you too.”

You hang up and accept Rowan.

“Hello?”

“Sunny, hey! I got the job!” She squeals.

“I knew you’d get it! Congratulations! When do you start?”

“Ha, so they want me to start in 3 weeks. I put my 2 weeks in earlier today and started looking online at apartments but I haven’t had much luck yet, do you know of anyone that’s renting or even looking to sublet?”

An idea pops into your mind.

“Actually, I might. Let me do some checking and I’ll get back to you. I’m so excited you’ll be living here, and for you to meet Bob”.

“I can’t wait either. Let me know what you find out?”

“Will do! Talk to you soon!”

________________________________________

“What would you think of me moving in now?” You ask as you’re running your fingers through Bob's hair, his head in your lap.

“You know I’d love it. I thought you wanted to wait until Penny found someone to talk the apartment though?” He asks, looking up at you.

“Well, Rowan got the job and they want her to start in 3 weeks, hardly enough time to find a place on her own. I was thinking about offering her the apartment.”

“Oh, that’s great! I’m sure Penny would rather rent to someone she knows than a stranger too.” He lifts his hand to grasp your chin. “I also would like nothing more than to wake up to your sweet face every day.”

You smile and place a kiss to his hand. You call Penny and she is happy to rent it out to Rowan, whom she’d met when you’d visited with her in college one spring break.

Next, you call Rowan back and offer her the apartment, which she accepted only after you assured her she wasn’t kicking you out.

“Sunny, you’re a fucking lifesaver. You have no idea how much of a headache you saved me. I owe you a night of margs” she laughs. “The 23rd work for ya?”

“I’ve got Jake and Natasha’s engagement party that night at the Hard Deck-Penny’s bar. Will you come?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be! Natasha has been dying to meet you and it’s very low-key. There’s always a bunch of cute guys in uniforms there too” You smile as Bob narrows his eyes at you before laughing himself.

“Well, I’ll think about it then. Got any pictures of these cute guys in uniforms?”

________________________________________

You slowly start bringing a box or two every time you go over to Bob’s. It doesn’t take long before you have most of it moved. You leave a lot of the furniture since Rowan’s coming from a furnished apartment herself and Bob has everything already.

2 days before Rowan’s arrival, you take Penny to dinner. You know you’ll still see her often, but the time living so close was special. You’re both close to tears as you thank her for everything she’s done for you.

________________________________________

On the morning of the 23rd, you get a text from Rowan.

Rowan: Hey, I’m ahead of schedule. I couldn’t sleep last night so I drove straight through. I should be at Penny’s by 11. Do you want any help setting up for the party?

Sunny: Sure! Bob and I are planning to get to the Hard Deck by 4. Penny should be home to let you in, otherwise, the keys are under the grill cover.

Rowan: Great! Thank you again, can’t wait to see you!

Sunny: Me either!

________________________________________

Later, you hear the bathroom door open while you’re lathering your hair.

“Can I join you?”

“Of course,” you reply, sliding the door open, “what time is it? I told Row we’d be there by 4-ohh” you sigh

Bob comes up behind you, hands coming around to cup your breasts, erection poking your back. “A little after 3.”

“I don’t know if we have time baby,” you moan as he rolls your nipples.

“Should’ve thought of that before you walked around all morning in that little thong and my shirt” he kisses your neck.

“I wasn’t—“ you start to argue but he interrupts you.

“And then you left said thong on my pillow,” he bites your neck, “you knew exactly what you were doing, don’t even start.”

You smile as you tilt your head, allowing him access. Busted.

“Dirty girl” he bites where your shoulder meets your neck, “what am I gonna do with you?”

A sharp slap to your ass makes you gasp and then moan ass he rubs the sting away.

“Why don’t you start by getting on your knees and show me how sorry you are?” He says, turning you in his arms before guiding you to kneel.

________________________________________

An hour and a half later you walk inside the Hard Deck on wobbly legs, Bob’s cum seeping down your thighs since he told you ‘Dirty girls don’t get to wear panties’. You fail to suppress your shiver.

You had sent a text to Rowan, apologizing for being late and that you were on your way, but she hadn’t replied. Maybe she’d fallen asleep.

________________________________________

“Sunny!” You hear 20 minutes later as she wraps you in a hug.

“Row! Sorry I was late, I was uh-preoccupied?” You chuckle, a little embarrassed. “Hey, this is Bob, my boyfriend.” You say as you release her.

“Nice to meet you finally, I’m Rowan,” she says, shaking his hand, which he returns with a smile. You notice she’s a little out of breath and flustered.

“Are you feeling okay? You look a little flushed.” You ask.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little nervous is all.”

That’s not like her at all. Weird. “Don’t be! Everyone’s gonna love you. Oh, there’s Bradley now. I’ll introduce you.”

Bradley’s cheeks are ruddy and his hair is a little messy as he nods when you catch his eye. His eyes widen when he sees Rowan behind you.

“Bradley, this is my good friend Rowan from college. She’s the engineer moving here from Colorado, staying in Pen’s apartment,” you turn to Row, “and this is Bradley, my childhood friend. Our dads flew together in the Navy”.

“Rowan. That’s a pretty name. What does it mean?” Bradley asks, giving her heart eyes. You have to bite your lip from smiling.

“Little redhead. I bet you can figure out why my parents chose it” she smirks, holding out her hand. “Great to meet you, Bradley.”

He takes her hand. “Likewise” he murmurs, looking at her lips, which turn up into a seductive smile.

Oh, she’s going to eat him alive.

________________________________________

The end (for now!). It’s been so fun! I’m going to start on Bradley and Rowan’s story soon, I’ll be posting their mood board too I think.

Taglist:

@blindedbythelightt

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

#top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x you #robert bob floyd #bradley rooster bradshaw #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bradley bradshaw #aint no sunshine when she’s gone

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augustinewrites · 2 years

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first christmas together + akaashi song rec: take me home for christmas - dan + shay

“i don’t think i’m going to go home this year.”

akaashi turns to look at you in the dark of the room. you’re staring up at the ceiling, not watching him, so he’s files through your previous conversations, trying to recall any reasons as to why you’d come to this conclusion. you go home every year, why the change?

he can’t find anything particularly damning, so he asks, very tentatively, “why not?”

“i want to spend christmas with you this year,” you say softly, turning onto your side and reaching out to lace your fingers with his. “we’ve been dating for three years but we’ve never been together on christmas morning.”

he gently presses the backs of your fingers to his lips, just holding them there. he always misses you during the holidays. he dislikes waking to an empty apartment as much as he hates suffering through last minute holiday parties without you (he’s had to kiss bokuto under the mistletoe a few times), but the holidays are for family, and yours don’t live in town.

“i appreciate your sentiment, love, but your trips home are rare enough as is. don’t force yourself to stay for my sake.”

you kick him lightly under the sheets. “so, you don’t want me to stay?”

“of course i do,” he chuckles, nipping the tips of your fingers in retaliation, making you giggle. “i’m just saying, i would never hold it against you to go home and see your friends and family. we’ll have plenty of christmases together when we’re married.”

you’re both silent as his choice of words sinks in. there’s no chance you didn’t hear him.

akaashi can hear the smile in your voice when you ask, “oh, we’re getting married now?”

he’s so lucky the lights are off. he’s not even sure what shade of red he is right now. “no!”

“no? you don’t want to marry me, keiji?”

“of course i do!” he says desperately, trying to choose his next words very carefully. “i just wasn’t proposing…yet.”

one beat of silence. two. he may be an editor, but he can never seem to filter his thoughts properly around you.

“then i’m okay with waiting,” you hum, trailing the fingers of your free hand up and down his arm. “and seriously, i’m fine with staying in tokyo for the holidays. you know i love visiting your family.”

“and my family loves seeing you,” he murmurs, a hand settling over the dip of your waist. “but is it really what you want?”

you sigh a little wistfully, gently knocking your forehead against his. “of course i want to go home, but i also want to be with you.”

“okay, love,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your cheek and whispering, “you win.”

a week before christmas, you come home from a lunch date with a friend to see akaashi sitting at the dinner table, nervously wringing his hands. there’s a long, slim box complete with pretty blue ribbon in front of him.

“keiji,” you sigh, shedding your coat and slipping off your boots. “we agreed not to do gifts. you spoil me enough, as is.”

the straight press of his lip wobbles as you lean over to press a kiss to his cheek. “well, since it’s our first christmas together, i thought it warranted a little celebration.”

“i’m guessing asking you to return it is out of the question,” you sigh, akaashi nodding as you drop yourself into the chair next to him, sliding the box over to you. you pick it up, testing its weight. “hm, it’s light. necklace? tennis court bracelet? If i guess right, do i get a kiss?”

he rolls his eyes, despite the flustered blush that rises to his cheeks. “just open it.”

“shouldn’t i wait until christmas?”

“it’s not a christmas gift if you open it now,” he shrugs. “so, i’m technically not breaking any rules.”

“why are you being so insistent? is it an engagement ring?” you simper, watching the blush on his face deepen. “are you trying to throw me off with the packaging? is bokuto hiding behind the couch, recording us so he can catch me crying?”

“if you don’t open it, i will,” he threatens lightly, wringing his hands tighter.

smiling, you do as he says, tugging on the ribbon until it unravels. you slip the lid off, peeling apart tissue paper.

“plane tickets,” you hum, brows furrowing as you pick up the two sheets of paper. “where are we going?”

akaashi doesn’t reply, letting you peer at the itinerary to find out for yourself.

the destination is your hometown.

“i hope i didn’t overstep,” he murmurs when your head snaps up to look up at him, and suddenly you understand his nerves. “i called your parents, they said they’d love to–”

you’re out of your seat in an instant, throwing your arms around him, kissing a trail up his neck and a final, deep one upon his lips. “you didn’t have to do this.”

“we live in tokyo and we see my family all the time,” he reasons softly, smoothing his hands up and down your sides. “and you’re so sweet for wanting to stay here with me, but i think this is a better compromise. so…will you take me home for christmas?”

you let out a half-laugh, half-sob, nodding as he kisses a tear from your cheek. “yes!”

BONUS:

“i’m so excited you’re coming home with me, but i’m definitely going to miss seeing the annual mistletoe kiss between you and bokuto.”

akaashi pauses his packing, staring at you. “wait, what? you saw those? how?”

“oh yeah,” you nod, tossing him a pair of his underwear. “kuroo sends me a picture every year. he was gonna show them at our wedding. they’re adorable.”

“well would you rather i kiss you, or bokuto under the mistletoe?” he asks, grabbing a few shirts. but he pauses again when you don’t immediately answer. “are you seriously hesitating?”

“i mean, you kiss me all the time! i must admit, i’ve had some interesting dreams around those photos.”

his brows raise slightly. “yeah?”

“uh huh,” you nod. “sometimes, i’m not even in them.”

christmas event masterlist

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji #haikyuu!!#haikyuu drabbles #augustine's christmas event

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after-witch · 3 years

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A Simple Cup of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: A Simple Cup of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: You have to be prepared and poised and perfect. But it’s hard to be all those things, even with the looming threat of your husband sitting next to you, when you’ve got a secret hidden underneath your clothes...

Word Count: 1875

Notes: yandere, forced marriage, abuse, bondage, NSFW

Poised.

You must be poised. Every movement, every gesture, must embody a quiet grace. Your face must be pleasant, without seeming garishly joyous. Your voice must be soft, melodic, clear; yet loud enough to be heard without being required to repeat yourself.

You must know how to keep a conversation going smoothly, like water in a stream, yet understand when to keep silent. You must know all of these things and so much more, and act on them at all times in the proper degree; all in order to avoid embarrass yourself and more importantly, embarrassing your husband.

In other words, you must be perfect.

And you try--you have to try, because what other choice does Scaramouche leave you?--but it’s difficult. You were never born for this stifled life he’s pushed you into, for a life spent mostly within the walls of his home or at most, behind the high, impenetrable walls of the courtyard.

A life draped in rich clothing, overseeing fine details of the estate that make your head spin. How many bags of this or that must be ordered per week? When should the bedding in that room be washed? What is the appropriate amount of money to put in a servant’s purse when sending them to the market? Questions you never imagined yourself asking yourself, which now fill your day with a gilded tedium.

There’s a deceptive leisure lurking underneath everything here. True, you no longer have to travel far and wide, selling your family’s wares from heavy baskets carried on your back; you no longer have to search the edges of the forest for edible plants to toss into boiling broth on days when you could not afford meat. You never want for food (unless he takes your dinner away as punishment) and any comfort you could need is within reach, so long as you’re behaving.

But you are on edge, always. Preparing yourself for another pitfall that might open up beneath your feet, and always looking for ways to improve yourself. Or at least ways to avoid earning your husband’s sharp disapproval. Regardless of your efforts, you have been on the wrong end of a harsh insult, a slap, a pinch, a cane, more times than you care to count.

Be prepared, be poised, be perfect. It’s the mantra you repeat to yourself every morning.

The mantra you repeated to yourself this particular morning, in preparation for a meeting he insisted you attend. A meeting which apparently required your finely-tuned skills in pleasing conversation and your much-practiced ability to “pour a passable cup of tea.”

Anyone else might assume it was meant to be an insult, but your time with Scaramouche has led to you to understand that the slightest praise towards you, while minuscule to others, was something you were meant to fall on your knees and thank him for. Sometimes literally, depending on his mood.

Why he wanted you to pour tea for some delegates from Fontaine, and what their increasing presence in the area really meant, you didn’t know. But it wasn’t your place to ask him, and the memory of recent stinging pain on your backside keeps you from feeling even remotely tempted to broach the subject.

So here you are. Dressed elegantly, but not garishly, as is proper for his wife. With a tea pot in your hand and perfectly arranged cups and the ghost of a pleasing smile on your face. Charming words drip from your lips, pleasantries, pleasantries, pleasantries--the type of words Scaramouche loathes yet drums into you all the same.

Prepared, poised, perfect.

Except for the slight tremble of your hands.

Except for the uncomfortable hitch in your breath as you speak.

Except for the fact that there are ropes tied snugly around your breasts, wrapping around your chest and criss-crossing between your breasts with an uncomfortable pressure, all hidden underneath the outfit he’d chosen for you that afternoon.

You’d balked, first--then begged. Begged not to be humiliated like this. What if someone sees? What will people say? You’d even tried to appeal to his pride, suggesting that if you couldn’t fully concentrate on your duties, well, how would that reflect on him?

All that earned you was a glint of a smirk and a tug as he knotted the rope encircling your breasts, making it even tighter than before. His final threat at your continued pleading--”I can always make you go out in nothing but the ropes”--finally shut you up.

And so, here you are. Face hot with shame and something more, silently pleading that your clothing won’t somehow shift and reveal the secret underneath. Despite the layers covering you, you still feel naked, exposed. As if the people indulging in polite conversation can see right through you, see the way your breasts are framed by the itchy ropes. See the way your body is responding to such a total humiliation.

It’s not just the chafing rope that bothers you. It’s the pressure itself. It feels… no, you don’t want to think about how it feels.

Instead, you hone your focus in on the task at hand. Pouring the tea, a nice subtle blend made with Violetgrass flowers. A previous round of guests from Fontaine had enjoyed it so well that Scaramouche had you tell the teashop to start stocking up for future visits.

You wish you could hide the way your hand trembles ever so slightly as you pour the last cup of tea for a woman whose name you regrettably can’t remember. You normally repeat their names over and over in your head, lest you forget and endure Scaramouche’s sharp tongue (if not his cane) later on; but your predicament made it impossible to keep track of new information.

You might be able to enjoy the tea, enjoy the facsimile of polite conversation weaving its way around the table, if only you weren’t so distracted by the tightness, the chafing, the undeniable fact that--oh Archons above, that all of this was making your nipples humiliatingly hard underneath your clothing.

“Do you agree, wife?”

All eyes glance at you. Whatever Scaramouche just said had clearly be addressed to you, only you were too distracted to notice.

In the moments that you’re left half-gaping, mentally groping to somehow pull his previous words out from the ether, his hand snakes around your waist. You feel his fingers on the outside of the soft fabric, searching until they find their intended target--the knot--and tugging hard to tighten it further.

You gasp, your body lurching upward and forward at the sudden sensation of your breasts being squeezed, and the tea pot you’re still holding drops to the table. Time seems to slow to a thick crawl, and you can see the pot is not cracked, but tipped over, hot tea spilling onto the table underneath with abandon.

The sight of the dark brown stain spreading, trickling underneath saucers and cups, leaves you helpless until you force your shaking hands to grab the pot and set it back up on the table.

“I, I--” you start to stutter something. An apology? An explanation? But the constricting ropes and the dawning realization that you have just committed an extensive social faux pas--in front of guests, no less--leaves you helplessly unable to speak.

The guests, for their part, look suitably uncomfortable. The woman whose name you can’t remember is holding onto her cup, saving it from being intercepted by the trickling tea. You don’t know whether their looks are because of your embarrassing display or because they know your husband’s reputation, and feel pity for you. Perhaps a bit of both.

Scaramouche’s voice cuts through the tension, though it does nothing to lessen it.

“I apologize for my wife’s clumsiness,” he says. “I should have realized that she wasn’t up to the apparently complex task of serving tea.” His voice is dripping with condescension, making more heat rise to your cheeks.

Humiliation does not begin to describe what you feel as he gently--public appearances, you think--takes your arm and stands, bringing you with him.

“Perhaps you are ill.” He looks you up and down, faux-concern written all over his face. But you know what he’s really thinking about, as his eyes linger on your chest for a fraction longer than they should.

You swallow hard, and do your best to nod. It doesn’t take any effort to look ashamed at what’s transpired.

“I--I have been feeling unwell,” you say, making sure to project loud enough for the audience he’s curated for you. “I may be too tired.”

He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe your silliness. A silly, silly wife--that’s what you are. Never mind that it’s all his fault. Never mind that he chose to do this to you, and chose to do it in front of guests.

A small, bitter part of you resents the guests for being there at all, resents the fact that they probably know you’re an unwilling ornament to the Harbringer’s obsession but do nothing about it.

But what good does resenting them do, when it won’t change your fate?

He takes your hand and gives it a pat, each touch patronizing to the core.

“Apologize to our guests and go rest. And send someone more capable to clean up your mess.”

You have to apologize for the fact that you spilled tea due to his decision to engage in some perverse bondage in a public fashion. You have to apologize for the fact that he deliberately made you do it, too, knowing how you might react when he pulled the rope.

It’s horrible and humiliating and unfair.

But you do it anyway.

Turning towards the guests, gaze downcast with shame, you force out an apology; keeping your voice soft and melodic and clear, as expected.

Then you retreat as calmly as possible, feeling everyone’s gaze--but especially his--on your back as you leave. You catch the eye of the nearest servant as you make your way back to the bedroom, laying out the quickest version of events and not relishing the look of anxiety that crosses their features at the thought of dealing with Scaramouche after such an apparent social travesty.

But you only have enough energy to consider your own anxieties, so you continue on without thinking more about them.

Walking only seems to make the feeling of constriction worse, and you bite down on your lip as your sensitive nipples begin rubbing against the fabric with every step. It feels good, it feels bad--whatever it is, it’s all too much, and you want nothing more to cut off the ropes and hide until the morning.

Not that you have the courage to risk such an endeavor.

You don’t feel any calmer by the time you reach your shared bedroom, but at least your humiliation is a private one, now. And you can rest, at least until he’s finished for the evening. For a moment, you simply stand still, bringing your arm across your chest and pressing to provide some pressure, some relief, to your sensitive breasts.

There’s an undeniable twist in your stomach when your arms brush against your nipples, and you hate it, and you love it, and you feel just as sick and perverse as he is when you slide a hand inside your clothing and give one aching nipple a pinch. You rub your legs together and ah, there it is--the pleasurable tingling and beginnings of wetness, and well, why not give yourself some pleasure, you think; why not give yourself something good and pleasant before he comes in and ruins everything with whatever sick punishment he’s concocting?

It’s not until you make to curl up on the large bed, eager to relive the tension building inside you, that you see the scroll wrapped up on the pillow. With a sense of justifiable dread building in your stomach, you sit, and unfurl it.

The words are written in Scaramouche’s familiar handwriting:

“Take off your clothes. Lay down and spread your legs on the bed until I return. Don’t touch yourself. I will know if you haven’t followed my instructions.”

Bastard, you think. As if your humiliation today wasn’t strong enough. Your hands go to undue the fastenings keeping your clothes together, and the first hints of bare skin leave you with anticipatory goosebumps. How long would you be expected to be on the bed, presenting yourself for his apparent pleasure?

Bastard, bastard, bastard.

But--well. At least he didn’t tell you to bend over the caning stool again.

#yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #yandere #afterwitch writes

684 notes · View notes

rubysunnday · 3 years

Text

it’s a love story

a/n: this is a looonnnggg one, but i enjoyed writing it a lot. Thank you to @gryffindors-weasley who’s stories have inspired this one - if you want more sweet Colin please go read their stories!

words: 3,703

summary: Y/N has loved Colin since they were children but it was one-sided. She was content to stand aside and watch Colin move on without her. Until Marina.

Unrequited love hurt.

It was easy to lose yourself in night-time fantasies of a life with the one person you loved - dreaming of your wedding, your house and the day they confessed their feelings to you.

Y/N had loved Colin ever since she’d been a child. It’d started off as nothing more than platonic love - they’d been best friends since childhood, and they’d stayed close over the years as they both grew up and turned into something that vaguely resembled adults.

She’d never revealed how she felt to him. Y/N didn’t want to tell him and run the risk of ruining their friendship. She simply stood aside and watched him flirt with and at almost every woman in London. It never bothered her - it was how Colin was. He flirted and played around but never settled.

Until Marina.

Y/N hadn’t thought twice about how he flirted at Marina. Admittedly, it had hurt to see how close they’d been at Daphne’s wedding party and how besotted Colin seemed to be with her. But Y/N had just thought Marina was another passing fancy who would be married and vanished after the season ended.

But the garden party changed that.

She hadn’t wanted to go. Ever since Daphne’s wedding she’d been keeping her distance from Colin and the Bridgerton House in general, not wanting to set herself up for anymore heart ache and pain then what she was mentally prepared for.

As her carriage pulled up to the gardens, Y/N felt her hands begin to shake. It was ridiculous how nervous she was - nothing had even happened yet! She was just nervous to see Colin and have to disguise her feelings from him and Marina.

Before the wheels of her carriage had even stopped rolling, Eloise ran over and flung open the door, looking up at Y/N expectantly. Benedict reluctantly chased after his sister after his mother shoved him in Eloise’s vague, general direction.

Eloise squinted up at her, attempting to read Y/N’s mind. “Nope, you’re not running away,” she said, reaching up and grabbing her friends’ hand and practically pulling her out the carriage, sensing Y/N’s desire to be anywhere other than there.

“Oh, Eloise, don’t start,” Y/N complained, barely catching herself on Benedict’s outstretched arm as she missed the step entirely and lost her footing.

“If I have to suffer, you have to suffer,” Eloise replied, almost pouting.

Y/N sighed, still clutching Benedict’s arm as she regained her sense. “Eloise, I don’t want to be here. I can’t cope with... well, that,” she waved a hand in the vague general direction of where Colin was.

“And I can’t cope with my mother doing what she does best,” Eloise shot back, snatching Y/N’s hand and pulling her into the gardens. “Now, come along, dear Y/N.”

Not trusting her friend, Y/N grabbed Benedict’s hand and dragged the man along with her, ignoring his muttered complaints as he reluctantly followed after his sister.

Everything seemed to be going fine. Y/N hovered around Benedict and Anthony, making small talk with the two and strategically avoiding looking at or being in the vicinity of Colin and having to talk to him.

Every time she looked over at him, he was with Marina, smiling dumbly at something she’d said and looking stupidly doe-eyed at her.

Marina hadn’t done anything to Y/N and was probably a lovely person, but she still infuriated Y/N beyond belief for no reason at all. Her mere existence irritated her.

Benedict looked up, having asked Y/N a question that had been met with silence. He noticed her staring at Colin and nudged Y/N’s arm. “Stop staring.”

Y/N blinked and turned her head away from Colin, plucking an invisible thread off the cuff of her dress. “Thanks,” she muttered quietly. She hadn’t realised she’d been noticeably staring.

Despite never saying anything, both Eloise and Benedict - and presumably the rest of the Bridgerton household since neither sibling could keep their mouths shut - knew about Y/N’s unrequited love for Colin.

When they’d been children, Colin and Y/N had gotten ‘married’ in the back garden of Bridgerton House. It’d been a big event involving all the family and the staff and had ultimately ended in the two getting a ‘divorce’ that evening when Colin threw a carrot at Y/N. But it’d been obvious even then how perfect they were for the other.

Y/N looked up as someone gently knocked their knife against their glass. Her heart almost stopped when she realised it was Colin and that Marina was standing next to him looking very pleased.

“May I have everyone’s attention?” Colin asked as silence fell over the gathered party.

Y/N was trying not to think the worse. She could see the confusion on Anthony’s face at what his brother was about to do but Y/N knew, deep down, what was about to happen.

“I would like to make a small but important announcement,” Colin continued, practically beaming. “I have happy news to impart.”

Y/N could hear her heart beating. She knew what was coming. There was nothing else that Colin could say that would make sense and that would make Marina smile so much. She unconsciously reached out her hand and grabbed Anthony’s arm, squeezing it tightly.

“I have asked Miss Marina Thompson to be my wife, and she has accepted.”

Everyone around them gasped in delight. Benedict was smiling, Lady Featherington was beaming, and Anthony looked like he was about to throttle someone.

Y/N felt as if her entire life was falling apart in front of her. She’d lost the one thing that meant everything to her to someone else. Her grip on Anthony’s arm increased and he looked over at her.

“Smile,” Anthony whispered, despite his own surprise and anger. “And go congratulate them.”

It took a moment for Y/N’s mind to realise that Anthony had even spoken. But a moment later she nodded, plastered a smile to her face and approached Colin and Marina with false joy and gratitude despite the fact her heart was breaking apart inside her.

For the rest of the week, Y/N stayed at home. Despite the invitation being extended to her to join the Featherington’s and a few of the Bridgerton’s for dinner, she declined it, unable to bear the pain of seeing Colin and Marina stare lovingly at one another.

The seventh day of hiding dawned annoyingly early and Y/N, who felt as if she hadn’t slept in months, found herself pottering around her house with no purpose in mind.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

Y/N turned around to face her butler. “Yes, Simmons?”

“Miss Eloise Bridgerton is here to see you, ma’am. She’s refusing to leave.”

Y/N sighed and pursed her lips. “Of course, she is,” she muttered. “Where is she?”

Simmons gestured to the lounge and Y/N headed down the corridor towards the room.

“Eloise, I swear -” Y/N cut herself off abruptly at the pained yet excited look on Eloise’s face as the woman ran up to her and all but crashed into her.

“The engagement is off,” Eloise said all at once, her excitement overtaking her need to speak.

Y/N blinked. “I - what is off?”

“Colin and Marina Thompson’s engagement,” Eloise said again, elaborating a little more. Y/N blinked again. “What?”

Eloise grabbed Y/N’s hand and dragged her into the living room, thrusting the latest Lady Whistledown into her hands.

Y/N hadn't read it in the past week - every page being focused on Colin and Marina and how happy Daphne and the duke had seemed. Every description of anything related to love added insult to injury.

She scanned it quickly and stared at the words with wide eyes. The paper fell from her hands as she looked up at Eloise.

“She... she’s pregnant?” Y/N whispered, almost not daring to say it. “What, when, how - I mean, I know how but...”

“I didn’t know how,” Eloise admittedly sheepishly.

Y/N’s head shot up, Colin and Marina forgotten. “How did you not know? You grew up with three older brothers!”

Eloise shrugged. “It just... never came up. Anyway,” she fluttered the piece of paper in font of Y/N’s face, “Colin’s free.”

“Eloise -”

“What? Y/N, there is nothing standing between you and Colin.”

Y/N sighed and slowly sat down on the sofa. “Eloise, your family’s reputation is... in a treacherous position. If I’m seen flinging myself at Colin to try and benefit from this... I’m not that sort of person. Maybe in a few weeks when its all calmed down...”

Eloise looked her friend up and down. She sat down next to her and took her hand. “Okay. I don’t agree with it but, okay.”

Over the next few days, Y/N began spending more time around the Bridgerton’s, visiting their house like she had before Colin’s proposal.

All of the Bridgerton’s, bar Colin, knew why Y/N had vanished for a few days but said nothing of her sudden re-appearance. Y/N put it down to feeling ill - she tried not to fall apart when Colin asked after her with concern in his voice and worry in his eyes.

“I’m fine now,” Y/N told him, smiling. “Just a blip.”

“Good,” Colin replied, matching her smile.

Y/N sipped on her tea, casting her eyes down as she felt her stomach flutter at the sight of his smile - even if it didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you attending the Queen’s garden party tomorrow?” Y/N asked, setting her cup down on its saucer with a soft clink.

Colin nodded. “Daphne and the duke are back in town... so, yes, we’re all going to be attending. Are you...”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” Y/N replied, trying not to smile at the palpable relief that appeared on Colin’s face at her answer.

Despite everything that had happened over the past few days, Colin and Y/N’s relationship hadn’t changed. Yes, Y/N was still longing after someone she would likely never have but she’d missed her best friend too much to sulk in her own misery for much longer.

The day of the Queen’s Garden Party, Y/N joined the Bridgerton’s, walking in with the family, her arm in Colin’s.

“Isn’t this lovely?” Violet asked, smiling as she put her arm around Hyacinth. “All of us together again. And Y/N.”

Y/N laughed. “Thanks, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Yes, it’s lovely indeed. We should tempt scandal more often,” Colin muttered. He grunted lightly as Y/N elbowed him in the stomach. “Ow.”

“Hush,” Y/N replied. She was highly aware of everyone staring at them - a given considering the scandal that Marina had brought down upon the Bridgerton’s.

After a few minutes, and after the Queen had accosted Daphne and the duke, Y/N wandered off from the Bridgerton’s, mingling with the other guests and indulging herself in a glass of lemonade and a biscuit.

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N!”

Y/N closed her eyes at the shrill, grating voice of Cressida Cowper. She was the last person she’d wanted to see let along speak to. Y/N plastered a smile to her face and turned to face Cressida.

“Miss Cowper, how are you?” Y/N asked.

“I’m wonderful, thank you. I just wanted to know what you think you’re doing,” Cressida replied, her tone cheerful but the words sounded and felt forced.

Y/N frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Cressida.”

“Mr Bridgerton - Colin, I mean. You’ve been fawning all over him since the news about Miss Thompson broke -”

“I haven’t been fawning, I’ve been trying to be a good friend,” Y/N replied slowly, her frown deepening.

Cressida waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, but we all know that your ‘friendship’ is a disguise for your unrequited love for Mr Bridgerton.”

The empty glass in Y/N’s hand all most fell to the floor, but she kept a tight grip on it as she looked at Cressida. “Excuse me?”

“Well, it’s well known that you are in love with Colin and that he doesn’t know. And if he did, well, that would be your friendship over, wouldn’t! Perhaps you are even Lady Whistledown and wrote that article on Miss Thompson to have Colin all to yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying here, Cressida -”

“Oh, I’m not implying anything, Y/N,” Cressida replied, smiling slyly. “We both know the truth about your relationship with Colin. I just can’t imagine how hurt he would be if Lady Whistledown turned out to be you. Besides, it’s not like you actually think he could possibly love you? You don’t deserve him.”

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” Colin asked, stepping into the conversation and putting a hand on the small of Y/N’s back.

Y/N turned her head away and, despite the tightness in her throat, swallowed and smiled. “Yes, Miss Cowper was just leaving,” she said firmly.

Cressida all but stamped her foot as she turned and flounced off. Colin watched her go and then turned back to Y/N, frowning in concern. He was no stranger to the stings Cressida and her mother often gave out to the Ton.

“What was that about?” Colin asked. “I didn’t really hear much -”

“Nothing,” Y/N cut in. Colin’s hand was still resting on her back and she could feel the heat of his hand seeping through the light pink silk of her dress. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just be friends and pretend her feelings didn’t exist when they did. She took a shaky breath in, clenching her lace gloved hands tightly as they shook. “Excuse me.”

Ignoring Colin’s worried and hurt expression, Y/N stepped away from him and walked off towards the back of the gardens in search for some peace and quiet.

Y/N found a small side garden amongst the hedges and darted into it, kicking the small white picket fence gate shut behind her - forming a very pathetic barrier that Colin could probably climb over.

Cressida had always had the ability to get under her skin. Normally she would simply forget and move on with her day but everything Cressida had said - minus the Lady Whistledown accusation - was true.

She didn’t deserve Colin. That was partly why she’d been so content to let him marry Marina - because she didn’t deserve him. And why would he love her? Compared to Marina and every other women Colin had flirted at or with, she wasn’t much of anything.

“Y/N?”

Y/N closed her eyes at the sound of Colin’s voice, mentally wishing him away. She refused to turn around and face him - she could feel the emotions beginning to win over her and could feel her eyes burning.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? What did Cressida say?” Colin asked, walking up to her and putting a hand on her back where the fabric was nothing more than a sheer covering.

Y/N could feel the heat of his skin and the soft skin of his hand and suddenly wanted him to just go away and never speak to her again because it would make things so much easier.

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” Y/N said softly, a stray tear escaping her eye and dripping on to her cheek. She felt Colin still and knew he’d heard at least some of what Cressida had said. “You heard, didn’t you?” Y/N asked quietly.

Colin didn’t answer for a moment. “I... I heard the last few sentences.”

Y/N laughed humourlessly. “Of course, you did,” she said, her laugh mixing with sobs. She turned around to face her best friend with tears in her eyes.

Colin looked at her, stunned by the broken expression on her face. In the years he’d known her, the only time he’d seen her that broken had been when her mother had passed away and she’d sobbed into his arms all night. “Y/N/N...”

“No,” Y/N stepped to the side, away from Colin’s outstretched hand. “No, I’m sorry.” She inhaled sharply. “I can’t... I can’t do this. I know - I can’t.”

Colin lunged forward and grabbed Y/N’s wrist as she turned to go, yanking her to a halt and forcing her to look at him. “Y/N, wait.”

“What, Colin? So, you can make fun of the fact that I’ve been on love with my best friend since I was sixteen?”

“No, I just... I need an explanation - I need someone to explain because my head is spinning,” Colin replied. “I don’t understand.”

Y/N sniffed, looking down at the grass. “You own my heart, Colin,” she said simply. She looked up. “When I dream of my future it's with you. You are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with - the one I see myself loving until I die.”

Y/N paused, swallowing down the tears that wanted to fall. She had to say this now, to get it over with and make it clear. Even though it was physically hurting her. “And I know you don’t feel the same way so, we can just leave this here. Nothing else has to be said about it. I’ll leave and we don’t have to speak of this again - or even see each other if that’s what you want.”

Colin said nothing. He was too stunned and surprised by the sudden confession and the events of the past few days to form a sentence. Y/N nodded sadly, taking his silence as her answer, and left the gardens.

She tried to hide her tear-stained face and broken heart as she emerged back into the main party. She’d arrived with the Bridgerton’s and had no way of getting home without them. Y/N spotted Anthony near the entrance and quickly made her way over to him, desperate to leave before anyone cornered her or spoke to her.

“Anthony,” Y/N said softly, nudging his arm.

Anthony turned around as the people he had been talking to walked off. It took him all of thirty seconds to take in her teary eyes, her shaking hands and the broken look on her face. “Y/N...”

“I’d like to go home, please,” she said quietly, her voice breaking on the last few words.

Anthony, to his credit, didn’t ask why. He nodded and took her arm, steering her out the garden. He caught Benedict as they passed, the two sharing a quick and quiet conversation. She caught the pitying stare Benedict gave her, the simple action making her tears free fall once again.

The carriage they had arrived in wasn’t waiting out front for them. Anthony looked around for it but saw no sign.

“I’ll be back, are you alright to stay here?”

“I’ll be fine,” Y/N replied, nodding.

Anthony squeezed her shoulder and walked off with a determined stride to find their carriage.

“Y/N!”

Y/N closed her eyes and turned around. “Colin, don’t -”

Colin skidded to a halt in front of Y/N, scattering the pebbles of the driveway with his sudden stop. He was panting, as if he’d ran from the garden to the driveway without stopping.

“Just, listen,” he said, cutting her off. “I... I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say.”

“I know, you don’t like me, it’s fine -”

“Will you,” Colin walked forward until he was inches away from her, “just listen?” He took her gloved hand and held it in his. “I didn’t say anything because you caught me entirely off guard. The past few days have been chaos and I need a moment to think. Because the last thing I expected was you to declare your love to me in a garden on a random Thursday. The truth is, Y/N, is that I have loved you ever since we had our wedding in the gardens of my house.”

Y/N let out a snort of laughter despite her tears. “I thought you didn’t want me,” she said softly, looking up at him. “Why would you? I don’t deserve you -”

“That,” Colin said, putting a hand on Y/N’s cheek and wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumb, “sounds suspiciously like the words of a Cowper. Y/N, I love you. I thought you didn’t want me!”

Y/N laughed tearfully and leant into Colin’s hand, still resting on her cheek. “We’re idiots.”

“That we are,” Colin agreed, nodding. “Y/N... the way I feel when I’m with you... there is nothing on this earth that is comparable. I’ve been waiting my entire life for you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I thought Marina would be the one to make me forget you but every time I looked at her... I thought of you. I thought about how much I want to kiss you -”

“Then kiss me,” Y/N said, her voice not much more than a whisper. “And make it a good one, Colin.”

And suddenly his lips were on hers and there was a hunger and a need as he kissed her. His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Y/N’s hand went to the back of his head, her fingers combing through his curls. She could feel his heart pounding and could feel the warmth from his skin as his hand moved up her back.

It was years of waiting and pining and wanting the other. Y/N needed Colin like she needed to breathe, and Colin needed Y/N like he needed water to live.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away from Colin, her hand still in his hair. She rested her forehead against his. “I love you.”

Colin rested his forehead on hers. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again, staring at her. His hand was on her waist and the other one was on the back of her neck, stroking the skin gently. “I love you too.”

“So... are we organising another wedding?”

Y/N dropped her head on to Colin’s shoulder at the sound of Anthony’s voice and groaned loudly. “Seriously, Anthony?!”

“You two kissed in the driveway,” Anthony pointed out, crossing his arms and attempting to look intimidating despite the stupid grin on his face. “Now, are we going or staying, because I’ve still yet to find our carriage.”

“We can stay,” Y/N replied, her hand entwined with Colin’s. “And when we walk back in there, we’re going to break the Ton.”

#bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagines #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #imagine

686 notes · View notes

yslkook · 3 years

Text

IF I GOT YOU (7)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: one month later...and things start to come to a head. you feel more at peace than you've ever felt, but as usual, what remains peaceful is always interrupted.

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, HELLA HELLA toxic friendship and dynamics, suggestive content (hooking up and other mentions)

word count: 4066

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts

Despite a month going by from the last time you spoke to Jungkook in the park and put all of your feelings out in the open, spring air, you feel lighter than ever. Maybe most of that has to do with the simple fact that you’ve finally cut out a toxic, deadweight from your life. Regardless of what ends up happening with you and Jungkook as friends or more than that, at least you are at peace and happy with being yourself.

Besides, it’s not like you don’t ever see him. You see him when you visit the tattoo parlor (but you haven’t allowed yourself to be alone with him and he hasn’t initiated), you’ve seen him at impromptu nights out, at Yoongi’s apartment. Neither of you allow yourself to be alone with each other, since you had both agreed to wait. Even your text message thread with him is dry, though.

You miss him, hoping that a notification of his name with the bunny emoji attached to it flashes across the screen. But it doesn’t.

For all of his bravado, he feels somewhat shy around you on the few occasions that he’s seen you. Jungkook will go out of his way to avoid you, hiding (as much as he can) behind Mina and Mei.

He misses you. Jungkook misses the feel of your lips molding against his, the way you felt in his arms, but most of all he misses your shy smile and your loud laugh. He misses the way your eyes shine when you speak about something you’re passionate about.

Mina had said you were both being stupid, taking time away from each other when you both are denying the inevitable. But it made sense in your mind and his. You want to know what kind of person you were without the burden of Sora’s judgment weighing heavily in every frame of your life. You take the time you need to take to recenter yourself and feel somewhat whole again.

It doesn’t take you long to adjust to life without a former best friend. You quickly begin to notice how different you feel, how differently you approach basic things that you hadn’t really put much thought to before.

It feels so refreshing to not feel like you’re walking in some metaphorical shadow of someone who didn’t really care about you. Well, you think on some level, she did care. But along with the insignificant way she made you feel, it’s not enough to justify it. And you’re really grateful that you don’t need to anymore.

In fact, you’ve already deleted most pictures with her on your social medias. You haven’t quite been able to block her yet, but you think you’ll be ready to do that soon enough.

The ever elusive notion of time really does seem to heal nearly all forms of hurt.

“So,” Yoongi starts, sitting next to you on his new black leather couch and handing you a glass of red wine.

“Don’t start with me,” You say, poking his shoulder.

“I’m not starting anything with you,” Yoongi shrugs, but his eyes twinkle.

“Oh? That’s the voice you use when you have gossip or when you’re about to interrogate me,” You mutter, rolling your eyes with a fond smile.

“Maybe it’s a little of both,” Hobi chimes in, sitting on your other side. He leans back and drapes his legs over your lap, to which you instantly rest your hands over his legs.

“How lucky for me,” You mumble, taking a long swig of your wine. You’ll need it.

“How’s that witch doing,” Yoongi asks bluntly.

“I don’t know, I told you I cut her off and kicked her out of my house like a month ago,” You reply, “Did you forget already?”

“No, I just like hearing that you finally came to your fucking senses,” Yoongi says, “She was awful, but I’ll commend you for sticking it out for this long. Cheers, the witch is finally gone-”

“I believe the phrase is, ‘ding dong, the witch is dead’, but this will suffice,” Hobi says and yelps when you swat his shoulder.

“Don’t be rude,” You say, “But… thank you for helping me see the light. Even if it took a while. And I’m sorry it affected our friendship, too.”

“Ah, well, we’re all here now,” Hobi says, pulling you in for a side hug.

“Yeah. So cheers,” Yoongi says again, raising his glass to you both, “Cheers to you for choosing yourself. And to new beginnings.”

“You’ll make me cry,” You say honestly, offering your friends a watery smile.

“As if we’ve never seen you cry before,” Hobi scoffs. And it’s true- they are two of your oldest friends, and even if you’ve come to the realization that maybe you hadn’t been the greatest friend to them… That bond is hard to sever, and you’re grateful that they’ve always had your back.

“Drink up,” You say with a smile, “Cheers to new beginnings.”

Yoongi has always been a little sly, unassuming but always with several tricks up his sleeve. When he so desires to cause a little mischief and stir the pot a little. And Hobi is all too happy to engage.

Which is how you end up several glasses of red wine and rose deep (yes, you mixed, rookie mistake but who cares. You’re in the presence of some of your greatest friends, after all).

And then Yoongi goes in for the kill.

“How’s our Jungkookie,” He asks, without missing a beat. You choke on your wine and wince when it somehow gets lodged in your nose.

“I don’t know. Think he’s good,” You finally respond, your words sounding slurred, “Ask Hobi. They work together, if you didn’t know.”

“Oh, thanks for the information. I had no idea.”

“Happy to be of service,” You say, leaning into Hobi's side, “Ikindofmisshim.”

“What was that? Didn’t quite catch that,” Yoongi says, a self-satisfied smirk blooming on his lips. He heard you, of course he did, but you don’t seem to pick up on it.

“I said I kind of miss him,” You reply, a dreamy look in your eyes, “Do you think he misses me, too?”

Hobi chokes back a laugh but you hear it and offer him a glare. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“Nobody’s making fun of you, stupid,” Yoongi says poking your forehead, “And yeah. Your man doesn’t shut up about you. Always with those eyes around you.”

“He’s not my man,” You whine pathetically.

“Yeah, that’s a mystery to both of us,” Hobi says, “How long are you both gonna keep this up?”

“Keep what up?”

“This weird awkward dance you both do around each other. Avoiding each other when we’re all together. It’s kinda funny, like we all know you both wanna fuck so bad-”

“Shut up! That’s- that’s not- shut up!”

Yoongi and Hoseok both burst into laughter, drunken giggles loud in the living room and you can’t help but laugh with them.

Clubs were never your most favorite place to unwind, but you make an exception for tonight. For Mina and Mei, you’ll make an exception. The three of you had gotten ready together in Mei’s home, in between sips of cocktails that she had poured out. Mina had done your makeup for you, giving you the sharpest eyeliner you’ve ever seen on your eyelids as well as a bold red lipstick.

It’s not a club night if there is no red lipstick involved, after all.

Your makeup usually looks good when you apply it yourself, but Mina has a genuine eye and skill for makeup artistry. You recall her telling you that she’d always dreamed of going to beauty school but hadn’t pursued it. You had told her that it’s never too late to fulfill a dream and she had only smiled at you.

“Hey,” You say, “Is Jimin coming tonight? How’d your date last week go?”

“It was really good,” Mina says, something sweet in her voice, “He made me dinner and dessert. And then I sucked his soul from his cock an hour later and he even made me squirt. And yeah, he’s coming tonight to the club. We’ll see what happens...”

“Wow,” You nod, listening with wide eyes, “That sounds amazing. I’m really happy things are going well for you both. Including the horny stuff.”

“The horny stuff?” Mei laughs, “You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” You say, playfully shoving her shoulder, “It’s no joking matter that he made you squirt.”

“Yeah, I high fived him after,” Mina says slyly, “It was… a night. Can’t wait to have another night like that. But I’m gonna make him work for it tonight.”

“As you should,” You nod solemnly, “What about you Mei? Are we drinking until we blackout or are you playing hard to get with Seulgi?”

“Who says we can’t do both?” Comes Mei’s muffled response.

“Cheers to that,” You reply, “Are… Jimin’s roommates coming?”

“You think you’re slick, huh?” Mina snorts, “You wondering about Jungkook?”

“N-no, I haven’t seen Taehyung in a while either-”

“Tae’s coming, but Jungkook isn’t. Something about having a long week and wanting to chill at home.”

“Oh, gotcha,” You say, cheeks ablaze as you avoid her eyes. Unable to hold the slight sting of disappointment from your voice.

Mina and Mei see right through it but they say nothing, only handing you a refill of your now empty glass.

Despite the relatively steady stream of drinks in your hand (an illusion, really, you’ve been nursing the same two drinks all night), you’re almost completely sober. In fact, you’re more tired than anything else. It seems that Jungkook had the right idea to stay home tonight. You’re rather benignly jealous of his decision.

You enjoy dancing and singing with your friends, feeling the thrum and excitement of music and your close companions bursting through your veins.But environments like this overwhelm you sometimes. All of the flashing lights, sometimes smoke and all of the people… Tonight seems to be one of those nights.

“Wanna dance?” Comes a rich, velvety voice behind you to the right. It’s Taehyung, and you’d rather dance with Taehyung than anyone else in this club. With the exception being Jungkook, but he’s not here right now.

“Okay,” You nod, taking his hand when he offers it to you. Your thoughts flit to Jungkook briefly.

Taehyung is good company, always keeping you with a smile on your face and filling you up with laughter. He keeps you close with easy, gentle movements as you both belt out the words to whatever song is playing on the speakers. But Taehyung has always been observant.

“You don’t really wanna be here, huh? I’d take it personally, if I didn’t know you,” Taehyung teases.

“No, it’s not that,” You murmur, “Just have never been a big club goer, that’s all. Jungkook had the right idea in staying home.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung muses, “What are you two doing?”

He’s almost as blunt as Yoongi (who’s also in some corner of the club. Usually, he keeps you company at things like this, but conveniently, he’s nowhere to be found.).

“If I knew I was going to be interrogated in this club, I would’ve drank more,” You say dryly. Taehyung laughs at that and squeezes your shoulder.

“You both deserve to be happy. Just want you to know that.”

“Thanks, Tae,” You say, a grin spreading across your face, “I guess you’re not as sleazy as Mina says you are-”

“Me? Sleazy?” Taehyung gasps, pretending to be affronted. You roll your eyes and offer him your hand.

“Wanna dance?”

Taehyung turns you around and holds your hips tightly in his hands, dancing with you to the beat of the music. It’s nice to be held like this, even if it’s a little dirty.

You don’t notice a pair of sly eyes watching you from across the club.

By the time you excuse yourself to catch a breath and grab some water from the bar, you realize that most of your friends are off doing their own thing. It gives you a second to people watch from the second floor of the curb and lean on the railings, taking in your surroundings. Despite stifling a yawn.

You relish in the cool feel of the icy water flooding your senses, waking you up a little more. You wonder if you can convince Yoongi to take you to get fries or tacos after the night ends. At the thought of tacos, you salivate a little.

But your taco fueled fantasies are broken when a few girls try to push past you to get to the bar. You mumble a soft apology, but it goes unheard. The unmistakable sound of a voice, a voice that you’ve only recently been able to put out of your mind, breaks through the barrier and it makes your heart drop.

It’s an angry call of your name. Your stomach churns, and suddenly you’ve never wanted to learn the art of teleportation more.

Sora, in all her bitter glory, stands in front of you with a full drink in her hands. Beside her are two of her friends, looking resigned and trying to plead with her that they should go.

“Missed me so much that you followed me here, huh?” Sora sneers.

“I’m not even going to entertain that with a response. Or you for that matter,” You say tiredly, trying to step past her.

“All your friends left you. Look at you all alone,” She says and you roll your eyes with a dry laugh.

“I’d rather be alone than have anything to do with you, Sora,” You reply easily, “I’m leaving now-”

But she sidesteps you again, gripping your forearm and looking at you with so much animosity that it makes your skin crawl. Had she always looked at you like that?

“I can’t believe you just dropped me like nothing. After I gave you everything,” Sora says, as if you had said nothing at all. She’s clearly a little drunk, telltale signs of her drunkenness clear on her face. Her words are slurred and she stumbles a little on her feet. You cringe. You don’t want to have this conversation with her whether she’s sober or drunk.

“You treated me like I was nothing,” You snap, “I don’t want to discuss this with you. Now let me go.”

“Or what? There’s nobody here ‘cept you and me, babe,” She says, her lips twisting into a cruel smirk. Her friends have disappeared and warning bells start to go off in your head. She’s right, all of your friends have dispersed. But you manage to fish your phone out of your purse while she rambles to you and send a text to the groupchat, simply stating “pls help, Sora is here”.

Dread seeps into your pores. You just want to be done with her presence.

“Sora, just let me go. Nothing you say will change anything,” You say heatedly, “Fucking let go of me!”

You try to yank your arm out of her grip but her nails are sharp against your skin.

“I loved you, you know that? I fucking gave you everything, you were my best friend,” Sora hisses, “I just wanted to you be happy. To see that I’d do anything for you.”

It takes a minute for the dust to settle but you suddenly begin to understand. “You hurt me! That’s not friendship or l-love, or anything remotely close to it. Nothing you say will change that. I don’t want you around anymore. Take a hint, Sora,” Your voice is cold and deadly, nothing like what Sora is accustomed to.

“Please, let me go,” You beg softly, “Why won’t you let me go?”

Tears spring into your eyes, both from the force she’s holding you with and from how much this is exhausting you.

“What does he have that’s worth all of this?” Sora hisses.

“It doesn’t matter what he has. I like him and I enjoy spending time with him, that’s all that should matter, and I’m not explaining Jungkook to you,” You say coldly, “You lost the right to know a long time ago. If you took your head out of your ass for two seconds, you’d know that this friendship was over months ago.”

By now, both of your voices have raised in volume and pitch, attracting the attention of bystanders. This makes no sense to you, your head is starting to hurt from the implications of her words. You just want to go home. By now, Yoongi has seen your text and is trying to get to the bar to rescue you from Sora.

“He won’t give you what you need,” Sora exclaims.

“Shut up! Just fucking stop talking about him,” You shout, “I’m so fucking sick of this, just leave me the fuck alone. Your opinion doesn’t matter to me anymore, just drop it!”

You feel the need to defend him though, “He’s kind, he has a big heart a-and, you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Just fucking drop it! Leave me alone!”

“You are so fucking blind! You’ve always been such an oblivious fucking bitch,” She screams at you and your blood goes cold. You’ve seen her angry, but not like this not when her eyes are blown over with rage.

Yoongi’s heart is beating in his ears as he tries to find you- this club is fucking huge, where the hell could you be? He’s already sent a text to Jungkook, telling him that you might be in trouble at the club and that nobody could find you.

“Where is he then? If he’s so kind, he must be here right?”

“What the fuck is your problem? You’ve always had a stick up your ass about him specifically- I mean you’ve always have a stick up your ass, but with him it’s like something crawled up there and died-”

“You couldn’t even cuff him? You dropped me for him and you didn’t even cuff him?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“What are you afraid of, babe?” She sneers cruelly, “Afraid he’ll find something he doesn’t like? Or are you afraid you’ll find something that you don’t like?”

Frustration and hurt boils in your belly, causing wetness to pool in your eyes. You shut your eyes tightly, willing the feeling to go away. With all of the calmness you can muster, you throw her hand off of you and rub your forearm gingerly.

Before you can say anything, her eyes narrow to slits. You don’t even have time to react before you feel a sudden wetness drench the front of your top. Remnants of her drink are splashed on your torso and you gasp, rage flaring through your veins once more. How dare she throw her drink at you? Before you can do anything though, a pair of arms circle your waist and you’re pulled into a strong chest.

You recognize the scent of his cologne immediately and the feel of his leather jacket. “Jungkook,” You mumble, looking up at him. He immediately gives you his jacket and pushes it through your arms wordlessly.

“Hi,” He murmurs, taking in your wide, nervous eyes and the trembling of your hands. He brushes a thumb over your cheek before standing in front of you and you take his hand in yours. Jungkook squeezes reassuringly.

He offers Sora a long, hard look and a shake of his head. She almost balks at his intense gaze. Almost.

“C’mon baby,” Jungkook finally says, “Let’s get out of here.”

“My knight in shining arm-” You shiver once you’re both outside the club, away from the eyes of strangers. You cut your train of thought off when he pulls you close to him, cupping your cheeks with both hands. Worry dots his eyes and he presses his forehead to yours shakily.

“Jungkook?” You say softly, “Is everything-”

He exhales, a shudder felt against your skin. He seems to be at odds with himself, an internal battle dancing in his dark eyes. But Jungkook makes up his mind and cradles your face again, the gentle pads of his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“I missed you,” Jungkook croaks, “Shit, I miss you so fucking much. Can I kiss you, baby? Is it okay if I kiss you?”

You nod instantly, breathing out a soft ‘yes’. Whatever this recent development means for both of you, it makes sense. You want this and you want him.

And then he kisses you as if it was meant to be, as if he’s been thinking about your lips every minute of every day- soft, balmy lips against your chapped, red lips. Jungkook swallows your gasp, somehow brushing against the parts of your heart that missed him. His kiss is sweet and desperate as his tongue traces over your teeth before dipping further into your mouth. Your knees weaken slightly, but he holds you steady with one arm around your waist and his other hand cradling your cheek.

You’re overwhelmed by him and from the events of the night. Whatever wetness had gathered in your eyes clings to your lashes before dropping down your cheeks.

“Baby,” Jungkook says softly. He gathers you in his arms, hugging you tightly. You sink into his hold on you, inhaling deeply. The faint thrum of his heart calms you slightly.

“I missed you,” You reply, voice barely above a whisper, “Fuck, I missed you a lot.”

He kisses your forehead with a small smile, the hint of his dimples making you smile, too. Jungkook looks at you as if you’re transparent, trying to study the reason for your wet lashes and the tear stains down your face. A feeling of understanding passes between you both, calming your racing heart and your nerves.

“Jungkook,” You murmur, “Take me home.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Yours,” You reply, not really wanting to be in your home just yet, “It’s only fair, since you spent the night at my place last time, right?”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Jungkook chuckles. He kisses you one more time before adjusting his motorcycle helmet over your head. When you wrap your arms around him, you press a kiss to the back of his neck and behind his ear.

He shivers.

Jungkook can tell you’re in your head a little bit, a little quiet and shaky. Even as you head into his bathroom to change into the clothes he’d given you, you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. When you returned from the bathroom with a bare face, you’re lost in thought, biting down on your bottom lip and chewing harshly.

He’d pulled you into his arms, applied his clear balm on your lips, and chided you for treating your lips like that.

You only smiled weakly at him and meekly asked him to hold you under his covers. He doesn’t deny you.

He’d caught the tail end of Sora’s tirade at the club, and he’d begun to understand. He thinks you had begun to understand, too.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers into your hair, “Do you want to talk, baby?”

“I don’t know what to say,” You admit softly, pressing your hand over his.

“I can talk for both of us,” Jungkook says, kissing your temple, “Can I do that?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, threading your fingers through his and squeezing.

“I heard some of what Sora said,” Jungkook says and you tense up but he wordlessly tells you to relax, “I think in some weird, twisted, fucked up way. She loved you and her way of showing you how was keeping you to herself. It’s shitty, but it made sense to her. But you don’t owe her anything, baby. Not a damn thing.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I feel really gross and I don’t know why.”

“That’s alright, baby,” Jungkook says, rubbing your arm, “You didn’t know. That’s not love, not really. You’re safe here.”

“I know,” You say, turning to look at him with a small smile, “I trust you.”

You turn fully in his arms, resting your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist. His heartbeat lulls you to sleep, as well as his gentle fingers over your back. It’s so easy with him, and you don’t need to think too much. Just how you like it.

Tags: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

MoM Tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you

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spectaclespencer · 3 years

Text

P.H. // Part 1; Alone

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Here’s the first chapter! Let me know what you think <3 this is based off of this request I got. Any and all feedback is appreciated. Please know I know this theme/part has little to nothing to do with the actual meaning of the song, but some lines work if you ignore the rest 😅

Summary; After Gideon leaves, Reader takes up chess to comfort Spencer through the difficult time.

Category; Fluff, Angst(?), Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings; Sad Spencer otherwise none!

Word Count; 3.5k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next

It started when I found Spencer one morning. He had fallen asleep on a chair at the bau, and he explained to me that he’d been waiting for Gideon because he promised to play chess with Spencer that night.

“Is Hotch in yet?”

“No, he will be soon. We have a case, JJ is gonna brief us and we leave in 30.”

He thanked me and left the room, with his head down. He kept the same mood during the briefing, he kept drifting off as JJ was talking. Spencer was known to be stuck in his head often, but this was far more unusual behaviour. I figured maybe he slept wrong, or maybe just was simply looking forward to playing chess with Gideon. That was their usual routine, to have a game or two after cases to relax. It was understandable to see him on edge after not hearing from him all night.

As we got on the jet he didn’t sit with me on the couch right away as he usually did, instead he walked over to Hotch in the back corner. I craned my neck to try and see what he was doing and hear what he was saying. He spoke in soft whispers, seemingly asking questions I assumed were about Gideon’s presence. I saw Hotch shake his head, to which Spencer’s expression dropped. He thanked him, then made his way over to the couch beside me.

“You okay?” I asked.

He gave me a quick nod -- yet didn’t meet my eyes -- then curled up at the end of the couch to presumably take a nap before we landed.

We were all worried about Gideon, none of us had heard from him since the last case. We figured he just needed a break from the chaos; having a loved one die would take a toll on any of us. It was logical really, any one of the team would need time to recover when presented with that situation.

Spencer remained more quiet throughout the case, not engaging in conversation when it wasn’t crucial to the work. We ended up sharing rooms but even then he didn’t budge. He mostly sat in the corner and played chess against himself, often zoning out and staring at the wall. It was hard to see, and even harder to sit back and let him try to get through it. I could tell he was fighting himself in his head, probably going over scenarios on Gideon’s whereabouts. I imagine the stress was affecting him heavily -- or at least it was clear with the way his forehead had been creased all night.

Chess. Nobody on the team had a fair shot at him besides Gideon. Sitting there staring at the pieces probably wasn’t doing him too good, only making him worry more.

It wasn’t that I didn’t care because I did, but when it comes to certain things Spencer can be defensive and refuse help, so I wanted to give him a chance to get better. It wasn’t unlike him to refuse help, and I didn’t want to make the situation worse by opening my mouth. Instead, I opted to ask, “Mind if I join in for a game?”

“What? Uh- no it’s fine. I mean, okay yes. Sure,” Spencer stuttered, spooked by my sudden appearance beside him.

“Stop slouching, you’re gonna make your posture even worse,” I chuckled lightly, patting his shoulder to remind him. He shot me a small smile, watching as I rounded the table to sit across from him. I wasn’t too good of a player, but I wanted to make Spencer feel just a little less alone.

“Do you even know how to play?”

“Ouch,” I mocked offense, slapping a hand over my heart. “So cruel, Spencer.”

He raised his eyebrows in a form of asking again, to which I replied with, “Kind of. I haven’t played for years but I’ve observed you.”

“Y-you’ve observed me?” Spencer questioned, resetting the chess pieces on the board.

“Well, yeah. Kind of hard not to. You’re a pretty interesting guy.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

I smiled when he finally made eye contact with me. He looked tired -- more so than usual -- with his eyebags a deeper shade than they were normally.

The game didn’t last long. In only seven minutes, he managed to beat me. I groaned at my loss, lips pulled into a tight line. Spencer didn’t react, however.

“Okay that’s enough for me,” I said, heading over to the bathroom to brush my teeth before bed. “Goodnight Spence. Get some sleep. No offense but you look like you need it.”

He hummed at me, cleaning up the table before he climbed into his own bed.

I could tell he didn’t sleep much that night, as he kept a lamp on and littered his bed with various books. He looked cute, all swaddled up in the blanket he brings with him on every case for a sense of stability. His glasses were perched on his nose, and he was chewing his fingernails -- a habit I’ve tried to get him to kick over the past two years.

We didn’t talk during the night, but we both knew that each other were awake. I was kept up by my thoughts, trying to figure out how to get Spencer out of his slump. Re-learning how to play chess seemed like a decent enough idea -- yet one that would take some time. I was proved tonight that my skill needed to be greatly improved. It was nice in the moment, but realistically it would take a few weeks, if not more, to get the hang of.

The next day at the precinct I was stationed at the map, trying to figure out our geographical profile. I heard faint chattering coming from outside, and looked over my shoulder to see Spencer and Derek talking. I couldn’t hear much, but I did get that Spencer mumbled about calling Gideon, to which Derek answered that he might’ve just missed the call. It was possible, but likely deeper than that.

“Six times? Six calls? Something’s wrong,” Spencer sighed, rubbing his eyes.

I didn’t intervene with the conversation, instead deciding to finally speak to him about it after the case had ended.

On the last day, we all headed to our rooms after grabbing some dinner, to get a good rest before we took off early the next morning.

“Hey Spence, you awake?”

He hummed in response, and I could hear the rustle of the sheets as he rolled over in his bed to face me.

“I know you’re worried about Gideon. How about when we get back tomorrow I’ll drive you down to his cabin? We can go check on him.

“Would you really?” he asked softly. I couldn’t see him fully in the darkness, but I could sense he was looking at me with pleading eyes.

“Of course. I don’t like seeing you this stressed and down. I want to help.”

“Thanks ____, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

After our conversation it was like a blanket of grey was lifted over his head. He settled in more, drifting off to sleep within minutes. I hated seeing him sad, and I did my best to try and fix his mood whenever I could. Spencer didn’t like change, I knew that, and the team knows that. A part of me had a sneaking suspicion that Gideon wasn’t coming back, and I had fear for what that would mean for Spencer.

-----

“Do you want me to come in with you?” I asked, pulling up in front of the cabin and turning off the engine. The only sounds were the faint hum of rain outside, splattering against the windows.

Spencer shook his head and took a deep breath, before unbuckling himself and opening his door. He mumbled something about being right back, as he headed off towards the building. It wasn’t dark yet -- only being four pm -- but it wasn’t too light either.

It looked as if the lights inside the cabin were off, and I could just hardly see Spencer as he knocked on the door. He waited on the porch for a moment, waiting to see if anyone would come to the door.

Nobody did.

It was hard to just sit there and watch, as his desperation grew stronger by the millisecond.

-----

I took deep breaths, trying to even out my intake of air and remain calm. When nobody answered the fifth time that I knocked, I reluctantly grabbed a hold of the knob and turned it. Much to my surprise the door opened, creaking inch by inch as I stood there unmoving.

“Gideon?” I called into the home, taking one step inside. “Jason?”

I wasn’t greeted with an answer, he didn’t come to the door and thank me for coming to visit. It was eerily quiet -- so quiet I took a few more steps inside to create some sort of volume.

“Hello?” I spoke again, louder this time. Shutting the door behind me I took off my jacket and hung it on the coat rack next to the entrance.

The place had been mainly cleared out, there weren’t many personal items behind. I stalked over to the kitchen, to see if there was any trace of someone within the last few days. It’s been officially a week and a half since anyone had last heard from him that I was aware of. I thought someone must have eaten, or at least left a bit of a mess behind them that would signal a presence.

As I turned the corner to enter the new room I noticed something on the table. I stopped in my tracks, leaning down to take a closer look.

Gideon’s badge, gun, and an envelope.

I swallowed thickly, walking around the table and took a seat in front of the items. When I saw the envelope had my name on it, my heart dropped. With shaky hands I picked up the paper and opened it, seeing there was a letter inside.

Spencer,

I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me.

You must be frightened, I apologize for that. I never meant to cause you any pain. But then I also never envisioned writing this letter. I’ve searched for a satisfactory explanation for what I’m doing, all I’ve come up with is: a profiler needs to have solid footing. I- I don’t think I do anymore. The world confuses me. The cruelty, indifference, tragedy.

I stopped there, my eyesight becoming blurry from tears. I shoved the letter in my pocket, not caring at the moment if it got crumpled or not.

I was out of the cabin in no time -- choosing not to stay there and sulk in a deeper sadness.

-----

Waiting in the car for Spencer felt like torture. It was difficult, letting him go in there alone to be met with possibly no answers. I was thrown out of my thoughts by the sound of the cabin door slamming shut, Spencer jogging over to the car.

“Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, red flags hanging immediately as he climbed in the car, tear soaked face pointed down towards his lap. It took me a moment to realize he was crying -- the rain had completely soaked through his top layer of clothes. He didn’t reply with words, instead reaching into his pants pocket to retrieve a piece of paper. He handed it over to me, still not meeting my eyes.

I unfolded it and began to read -- it was hard, through the tear stains smudging the ink across the page.

“Oh, Spence…” I whispered and stopped after the first few sentences, leaving the rest for him. I didn’t know what to say, how to comfort him.

“He’s gone,” Spencer sniffled, wiping his eyes on the sleeves of his nearly drenched jacket. “He just left. He didn’t say goodbye. He left me a note,” he froze, taking a few deep breaths. “Just like my dad did when I was a kid.”

“It’ll be okay. Wherever he is, I’m sure he’s okay,” I assured him. “You know he cares about you, right?”

“I know he is. It’s just-” he started, trying to find the right words between his gasping for more air. “Can you just take me home, please.”

I nodded, while turning the car back on to drive away. Spencer kept his gaze towards the window, refusing to let me see his face. I’m selfishly almost glad for it, because I don’t know if seeing his heartbreak is something I could handle.

It was a long, quiet drive, taking around an hour and a half to finally reach his apartment. He scrambled out of the car fast, but I still walked him up as I usually did. He got to the door before me, thanking me for driving him home. He shut the door just as I got fully up the stairs, leaving me standing with my mouth open.

‘Baby, when you fought me at the door

Kinda hard to force what's natural

Maybe you don't want what you need most’

-----

The next day when he came over after work he was almost back to normal. It was weird to see, to see such a shift in his behaviour after less than twenty-four hours. As much as he tried to hide it, I could tell just how hard it was for him. The sudden change didn’t go well with anyone, we’d all been informed that Gideon wouldn’t be returning and that he’d moved on from the BAU. It was especially hard on Spencer too, since Elle had just left not too long ago, and then Emily joined the team. First he loses a friend, someone who truly understood him as I did, and then someone he considered a father figure.

And neither of them had said goodbye to his face. It was scary, knowing a member of your team could walk out and never return before you know it.

We were seated on the couch, a game of chess displayed on the middle cushion between us.

It wasn’t anywhere near a fair game -- Spencer’s skills were still far ahead of mine. However I noticed it made him smile, and that’s all I wanted. For him to feel loved, and secured. It was a sense of grounding, a routine that was regular in his life. I still wasn’t very good -- not having played since high school and that night on the last case. But I downloaded an audiobook and several player’s guides for the plane ride home to study, because I wanted to learn for Spencer’s sake. However I soon realized it was easier to watch Spencer and how he plays, and to ask him questions. He seemed to enjoy it, having someone else in his life to play with.. And he loved to teach, to help people learn. He was so good at it too, his big brain being used to help people no matter the context.

Eventually he won the game as usual, causing me to groan in frustration..

“You bastard.”

“Not my fault you kinda suck,” he laughed bashfully, lips curling up into a small smile. It was nice to see a bit of happiness on his face, no matter how temporary.

“You’re so rude to me,” I joked, moving the board to the coffee table. “I thought we were friends.”

It was silent for a few moments, with me figuring out what I was going to say next.

“Spencer I know you haven’t wanted my help, but please tell me what I can do for you. Tell me how you feel, at least?”

‘Maybe you don't want what you need most’

“It’s nothing, ____,” he breathed, looking away from me and instead at the wall the couch was facing. He could see our reflection on the blank tv, and instead opted to just look down at his lap. “I’m better now.”

‘You ain't even there for me

Now you're scared to be alone’

“Respectfully, that’s bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on. I know you don’t want to talk about this but at least give me something. Don’t keep it all in. It’s not healthy.”

His face screwed up at my words, eyebrows furrowed and lips twitching. I could tell he knew I was right, as much as he hated it.

“I’m just- I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Spencer whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.

‘Got me thinkin' that you scared of yourself, not me’

It all made sense -- the way he’d been distancing himself lately. It took me promising candy and Star Trek for him to come over tonight, and even then he almost declined. Too many blows to the heart made him afraid to get attached. He didn’t want anyone else from his life to disappear in a flash.

“Look at me,” I said, and he snapped his head to face me. “I’m not going anywhere. I can’t claim to be far in the future, but right now? I’m here. You’re stuck with me for a while, Spencer.”

He smiled, closing his eyes as a stray tear graced across his cheek. I used my thumb to wipe it away, and pulled him into a tight hug. He relaxed against me, I felt the tensions in his shoulders deflate as I held him.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. His breath shuddered, and he wrapped his arms around my middle tighter, pushing his face into my shoulder to muffle his crying.

We sat for a while, my hands tracing patterns along his back. It took a few minutes for his cries to calm down, but eventually his breathing evened out with only a few hiccups here and there. He was practically sitting in my lap with his legs flung over mine, suddenly not caring about his personal space. I couldn’t blame him -- the boy was so touch starved he so clearly craved all contact he consented to.

“Do you want to spend the night?” I asked, quietly so I didn’t scare him with the sudden sound.

“Could I please?”

“Of course,” I smiled, pulling away. He still held on tight, not wanting to let go.

We made our way to my bedroom, repeating our usual routine. This wasn’t the first time we’d had a sleepover, and it won’t be the last I’m sure. Sometimes after particularly harder cases he would spend the night, just to be close to someone.

I went into the bathroom to change, giving him the opportunity to do the same. When I returned, he was dressed in a t-shirt and flannel pants he left at my place for sleepovers like this. He was already in bed, and when he saw that I was done in the bathroom he lifted the side of the blanket to welcome me in.

I joined him, grinning as he scooted over and pressed his back to my chest. I felt him breathing softly, my right arm slung over his torso to bring him in closer. He held onto my hand, and didn’t let me drift away. I was happy to comply, happy to feel his body warmth radiate through me.

“Thank you, ____. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Spence.”

From that day on for the foreseeable future, I swore to myself to have check-ins with Spencer whenever it seemed necessary. Whether it was in the form of words, sleepovers, movie nights, or chess.

His smile got brighter everyday, and eventually he no longer felt as much weight on himself a few weeks down the road. He still cried to me about how he missed Gideon, but it had gotten less frequent. And I was always there for him, offering my shoulder and the promise of my embrace. I knew he appreciated it too.

After a few months since our first game, I beat him in a game of chess. We were on the jet on the way to Montana for a case, and Derek was sitting beside Spencer. He kept annoying him, doing little things like twisting his hair and fanning him with files. Spencer kept shrieking quietly -- trying not to alert Hotch of the bickering.

“Checkmate,” I said, biting back a smile.

“What?!” Spencer froze, arm raised in what looked like to be a poor attempt of whacking Derek’s head.

“Awe, pretty boy. You’ll get her next time,” Derek threw his head back in laughter.

“What?” Spencer repeated quieter, eyes darting across the board, likely running calculations in his head.

“Better luck next time,” I smirked, tilting my head to the side. I wiggled my eyebrows, my small victory boosting my ego.

Spencer tried to keep a neutral face, but I could see by the tension in his cheekbones that he was happy. He was enjoying it.

-----

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pillage-and-lute · 3 years

Note

(For next time you’re looking for prompts) I really like your writing, and when I thought of this I wondered what you’d do with it: Geralt and Jaskier are together, but agree to pretend not to be for their next stop. Maybe one of them wants to win an old bet, or Jaskier’s not 100% sure his betrothal to a local noble has been officially dissolved, whatever, (not homophobia), fluff and high jinx ensue. Anyway I hope something unexpectedly nice happens to you today.

Hi Dahliavandare! Thanks for the blessing in my inbox 🥰

This ran away from me, tons of backstory about Jaskier’s family. Just, way too much.

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“Geralt, darling,” Jaskier said hesitantly. “I have an errand we need to run, and I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Geralt hummed noncommittally. They were resting at their camp outside of Hagge and the warm summer air and the feeling of Jaskier curled against him had lulled him into a warm, fuzzy stupor.

“You see,” Jaskier continued, fiddling with the buttons at his cuffs. “I’m a noble, and you know that of course.” He laughed awkwardly. “And I’ve been lucky enough to pawn most of those responsibilities off onto my much savvier sister, but there are certain niceties that landed families observe that--”

“Spit it out,” Geralt grumbled, although not bad naturedly.

“I’m betrothed,” Jaskier said. “And we need to go to Gwendeith to break it off.”

Geralt turned to look at his beloved. “You’re engaged?”

“Betrothed!” Jaskier yelped, then saw Geralt’s expression. “Oh, dear heart, there’s a slight difference in meaning, especially to nobles. Engaged implies an intent to marry--”

“And betrothed doesn’t?”

“Well, sort of, but I’ve been betrothed practically since I was born, engaged would imply I’m sort of planning the wedding. It’s a contract, a social contract. My family and my betrothed’s are pretty minor nobles, so really it’s just a way of saying ‘maybe someday our kids could marry’. It isn’t the hard and fast marriage it might be if I were, say, a prince.”

“Then why do it?” Geralt asked. Most of the time he was happy to understand as little of the lives of the gentry as possible, but Jaskier was important.

“Honestly,” Jaskier sighed. “I think Papa arranged it because he cared for me, Mama too.”

“It takes away your choice,” Geralt began.

“It doesn’t. A betrothal like mine and... Iliana, that’s her name, only met her twice, it’s sort of social insurance. Especially for her, but for me as well. Nobles are supposed to marry, so, if at some point neither of us had found love we could marry one another. For Iliana there’s the security of having a husband, although from what I’ve heard she can handle herself fine, and for me its assurance of heirs if that sort of thing concerned me, and companionship for us both.”

It sounded...mostly sort of logical to Geralt.

“But I love you,” Jaskier said. “And I don’t want to be betrothed to anyone because I love you and, someday, whenever you get over you allergy to the concept of commitment, I’m going to put a ring on you.”

Geralt hummed gruffly but said nothing. There was a slim golden band hidden away in his bags and he be damned if Jaskier got to propose first.

“I will. Anyway, I need to tell Iliana. I’m sure she won’t mind. I met her once when I was seven and again when I was nineteen.”

“Nineteen, when?” Geralt asked. Most of Jaskier’s nineteenth year had been spent at Geralt’s side. Most of every year after that too.

“Just before I met you. I had travelled east to meet her originally, and was going back west when we met.”

“Tell me about her?”

“Illiana? Oh, well, she told me that she was fine leaving the betrothal in place because it’s standard, but that she doesn’t care for men in that way so she’d never give me heirs and would have my balls nailed above her door if I ever told her she had to.”

“Sounds like she’d get along with Yen.”

“I fear they’d take over the world,” Jaskier said. “Anyway, I told her no worries since, honestly, heirs just aren’t important to me. Then we agreed that when either of us found love we’d break the betrothal and that would be that.”

“Hmmm.”

“No, Geralt, tell me what that means. Is that a ‘okay, let’s go to Gwendeith’ hum? A ‘I’m angry that you’re betrothed’ hum?”

Geralt shifted to poke the fire. “It’s a ‘I think there’s more you need to tell me’ hum.”

“Ah,” Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. We have to go in person because a letter would be rude, but also...we have to pretend not to be together, while we’re in Gwedeith.”

“Why?”

“It’s politics, dear heart. It would be shaming to Iliana, socially. Personally, I don’t think she’d care, but it’s a courtesy thing.”

“I don’t do a lot of lovey stuff anyway,” Geralt said.

“You think you don’t,” Jaskier said. He began to unroll their bedroll.

“What do you mean, Jaskier?”

Jaskier turned to him, smiling indulgently and gilded in the firelight. “Our lives have molded around one another, my love. When I stand beside you your hand goes to my back or my shoulder. You order dinner for me because you know just what food I like. When I’m tired you don’t have to ask what’s wrong, you just lift me onto Roach behind you.”

Geralt hadn’t even realized he did, but he knew it was true. Jaskier leaned over and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s slightly furrowed brow.

“When my boots are wearing thin you buy me new ones before I even notice. When I’m cold you give me your cloak. If I fall asleep with my head on your shoulder you’d rather sit like that all night than disturb me.”

Geralt shrugged awkwardly. “You buy me beeswax,” he said. It seemed a fair retort. Jaskier bought him beeswax to put in his ears when cities or sometimes monsters were too loud for Geralt’s senses. “You only buy light scents, even though I know you like bolder perfumes.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said, taking one of Geralt’s large, scarred hands. “We love eachother very much, and it’s obvious to people who care to look.”

“That could be dangerous,” Geralt began, his head spiralling towards worry for Jaskier’s safety, but Jaskier cut him off.

“No, dear heart. It’s obvious to those who care to look. The sort of people who would hurt me for loving you, well, most of them think you can’t love, so they don’t look for love, and they don’t see.”

Geralt sat back. People saw what they expected to see, it was true.

“We’ll travel to Gwendeith,” he said. “And unbetroth you.”

Jaskier kissed him and his lips tasted like the jerky they’d eaten for supper.

-- -- -- -- -- --

The trip to Gwendeith was long. It was at the very edge of any map, past Posada to the east, tucked into the Blue mountains. They traveled along the Dyfne river, taking the occasional contract but making good time. This far from anything, there were few people to be troubled by monsters.

They stopped in Posada one night, eating dinner in the corner of a familiar tavern. This time, however, Jaskier was much better received and the bread ended up on the table rather than down his trousers.

Past Posada, and almost to the end of the Dyfne river, Geralt asked, “Why did your parents pick Iliana? How did they know of her?” Lettenhove was entirely the other side of the continent, a tiny island off the coast of Poviss with two villages and a couple flocks of sheep.

Geralt only knew of it from Jaskier’s descriptions, which were mostly stories of the ice cold sea and rocky cliffs. He tended toward calling it ‘idyllic’ and ‘picturesque’ altough occassionally ‘the arse end of the world’ and ‘colder than an ice giant’s ballsack.’ The first time Geralt had taken Jaskier to Kaer Morhen he’d feared for his bard’s safety in the cold of the mountains, but Jaskier hadn’t even blinked an eye, merely bundling up in a hugely wooly cloak and mittens.

“Ah, well,” Jaskier said. “Long story, but Papa was in Temeria, see, since nothing ever happens in Lettenhove, because we have more people than sheep, he get’s sent on diplomatic missions a lot. He’s good at it, and he can be spared. He loves it too, even though he’s sort of retired he still does them. Takes Ma, calls the trips his little “sunshine vacations”.

“You get your personality from your father, then?” Geralt asked. Jaskier didn’t talk about his family much, and Geralt got the sense that, rather than this being because they were horrible, Jaskier simply missed them too much.

“Definitely. Ma’s lovely, and brilliant with just everything to do with her hands, but she’s not good with people. I got her looks, though.”

“I should thank her, then,” Geralt said, smiling.

Jaskier chuckled. “Yes, she’s the reason for the long lives, too, fantastic story.”

“Finish the one about your father and Gwendeith first.”

“Right, so Papa was in Temeria, and so was Iliana’s father, sort of the mayor of Gwendeith, as I understand, although not back then. He’d gotten robbed, though, and Papa had won a horse and quite a lot of gold in a card game. It might have been Gwent, I can’t remember. If you ever meet Papa you should ask him. Anyway, he gave the extra horse and gold to Iliana’s father.”

“So your betrothal was a debt?”

“Goodness, no. This was years before I was born, Papa hadn’t even met Ma yet. No, they struck up a friendship, because when Iliana’s father got home he had a mage send a message to Papa to thank him and they struck up a friendship.”

“Sending messages by mage? That’s expensive for a penpal.”

“Ah well, that actually ties in to the story about Ma. Ma’s got magic, just a little, she’s a hedge witch of a sort. The issue is, hedge witches mostly use plants, and Ma couldn’t grow grass, so she mostly works with wood. Anyway, she has a friend, her very best friend, is a mage. They grew up together, and my Auntie Szarlotta sent my Papa’s first few messages back to Iliana’s father.”

Geralt smiled atop Roach. Jaskier’s storytelling pace was as familiar as Roach’s saddle, and it was calming in a way.

“So, Auntie was sending Papa’s message when Ma came in to visit. That’s how she met Papa, because she’d only just moved to Lettenhove. Auntie says it was love at first sight, but Papa insists that Ma turned up her nose and ignored him for months.”

“Which one is it?”

“Knowing Ma, probably both. She’s a little like you, so the second she realized she liked Papa she ignored him so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Geralt huffed good-naturedly.

“Anyway, Auntie Szarlotta agreed to send Papa’s messages for free, and she even included a way for Iliana’s father to send them back, so long as he wrote his response on the back of the same paper. She always timed it though, so that Ma was over when Papa was there. And I guess the rest is history.”

“Except the immortality.”

“Right, well, Ma got really sick when she was pregnant with my sister, I was little so I barely remember but Papa was so worried, and Ma looked really pale. Well, Auntie got really worried, freaked out a little, and she found all these old spells to try to make Ma well again. I remeber the light, she was working in a room of the old lighthouse and I could see the light of her spells from my window. Anyway, eventually she tries some on Ma, but they don’t work, and she just keeps trying.”

Geralt had an image of a frantic sorceress being watched by a young Jaskier through a crack in a door.

“But I suppose some of those old spells need a little time to work because nothing at all worked and then they all sort of worked at once. There was this big, bright light and then Ma was well, and she and Papa haven’t aged a day since then.”

Geralt glanced at his lover, who looked the same at fifty as he had at twenty. “And you don’t age? What about your sister?”

“Ksenia hasn’t aged either. She looks like Papa, just so you know, grey eyes, blonde hair. She’s got two kids, now, but I haven’t met them.”

“Do the kids age?”

“Right now they’re very young,” Jaskier said. “I didn’t stop aging until nineteen or twenty, so I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”

“How do you know she has kids?”

“Oh, well, Auntie Szarlotta sends letters to me, but we travel and it’s hard to send them right to me, so I just pick them up at Oxenfurt.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. He needed to go to Lettenhove. Jaskier had met his sort-of-family, he should meet Jaskier’s.

“I’d love to go see them...” Jaskier said, wistfully.

“Who?”

“My niece and nephew, they’re almost two and three years old now.”

Geralt picked Jaskier up by the collar of his doublet and placed him onto the back of Roach.

“We’ll spend the winter in Lettenhove this year,” he said as Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist.

“Really?”

“Hmmm.”

Geralt needed to ask Jaskier’s father for his hand in marriage, anyway.

-- -- -- -- -- --

They made it to Gwendeith just after mid summer, riding into the little town at noon. Despite the season, the little mountain valley was shaded and cool. Jaskier shivered slightly and Geralt had to resist the urge to pull his cloak from his pack. From that point forth, they weren’t supposed to be in love.

Fuck.

They had to request a meeting with the mayor, which didn’t surprise Geralt. In a town such as this, logging and mining were the main industries. Trading for food to last over the winter began early and was of the utmost importance. That left Geralt and Jaskier, unfortunately, sitting with a man who introduced himself as Sir Boris.

Apparently he was a retired knight who acted as a sort of captain of the guard, except there wasn’t much of a guard. His wife Lady Olenka joined them and the two of them talked about their grandchildren until Geralt could feel his eyes rolling back in his head.

At any other time, Jaskier would have placed one gentle hand on his wrist, which would have fortified Geralt, but they couldn’t.

“But you’re here for Iliana,” Sir Boris was saying. “Dreadfully sorry you can’t see her today, I’m afraid there’s been an issue with the lumber trade to sort out. You’ll just have to have my darling Lenka and I as company until that’s done.”

He sent a huge wink to his wife, a slim, elegant woman, who chuckled and playfully hit him on the shoulder, to which Sir Boris pretended to be wounded before throwing back his head and laughing hugely. Everything the old knight did was huge, he was a large man with a round, red face and large belly and a laugh that could shake walls.

“It’s no trouble,” Jaskier said. “I’m sure preparing for winter is a year round project here.”

“Oh of course,” Lady Olenka said. “But once it’s here we can all relax, and spend time with family.” She leaned forward as if imparting a delightful secret and said in a stage-whisper, “Boris has been our town’s Father Winter for the last four years.”

Jaskier made impressed ‘ooh’ noises and Geralt tried to at least look like he understood that.

Boris laughed again. “It’s this lot,” he said, slapping his round stomach. “Better than some old geezer with a pillow down his shirt, eh?”

Geralt hummed in agreement.

“And you must make a lovely Mother Winter, Lady Olenka,” Jaskier said politely.

She smiled, lines crinkling around her eyes as if drawing a road map. “It’s not as important as Father Winter, of course, but I rather pride myself that I plan a very good Midwinter festival.” Geralt got the sense that behind the modesty she was quite proud, and, he suspected, with good reason.

“But, you must tell me,” she said, modestly changing the subject. “Is there to be a missus Pankratz, now that you’ve come to see Lady Iliana?”

“I am a man in love,” Jaskier said. “And I am hopeful that an engagement will come soon, yes.”

“Oh dearie that’s just lovely,” Lady Olenka said, patting Jaskier’s cheek. “And you’re such a nice boy too, little young looking to be betrothed to our Lady Iliana anyway, although she’s a very dear woman.”

“We just love her,” Sir Boris said. “She’s a great mayor, not keen on marriage, but nobody minds, she just seems to have adopted the whole town as family.”

Lady Olenka patted her husband’s broad shoulder. “It was smart of you not to bring your love here, though. There’s some nobles here from Lyria, that’s who she’s been trading with, and I think they’d like any excuse to disparage here.” She lowered her voice again. “You know how those lot are about having women in charge.”

“I can’t relate,” Sir Boris laughed. “Lenka’s the ruler in our house.” That got a laugh because it had to, and because Sir Boris’s laugh was surprisingly infectious.

“Good on you bringing a bodyguard too,” he said once the laughter had abated. He slapped Geralt companionably on the back, which was like being hit by a friendly battering ram. “Witcher too, don’t get many up here, but I bet you’re the safest man in a hundred miles.”

“Oh, dear, don’t you know?” Lady Olenka said. “Lord Julian here is a bard as well, he goes by Jaskier and sings all about witchers.”

“Really?” Sir Boris said, looking at Jaskier. “Blimey, imagine that. Good on you, finding a niche in the market.”

Geralt’s ears were beginning to ache. Friendly though Sir Boris might be, he didn’t seem to have a volume level below ‘deafening’. He was tired and overwrought and he just wanted to cuddle up with Jaskier in a bed. It wasn’t even suppertime, though.

They sat through another hour of hearing about Boris and Olenka’s eighteen grandchildren.

“And three great-grandchildren,” Boris added proudly.

Geralt was thankful Jaskier could carry the conversation. He longed for a kiss, though. Now that he knew he couldn’t have one, his lips fairly ached for one.

Supper was a large affair, with one of Boris and Olenka’s children’s family over for dinner as well. Geralt was seated across from Jaskier between two small children who, apparently, needed to be separated at dinertimes to prevent bickering. They contented themselves instead by asking Geralt every question they could think of, often making him wrack his brain for child appropriate answers.

It wasn’t just witchering questions, either. He answered such questions as “Why is the sky blue?” (Because it’s Melitele’s favorite color). Immediately before answering “How big are dragon scales?” (The small ones are like pebbles and the big ones are like shields.)

Jaskier smiled at him over his bowl of stew, eyes sparkling. Geralt loved children, and Jaskier loved seeing them adore Geralt.

“So, Lord Julian,” Boris and Olenka’s daughter began. “Your lady love, tell us about her?” She smiled Lady Olenka’s warm smile and Jaskier did a good show of seeming bashful.

“My love is unlike any other,” he began. “And if you’ll pardon my saying so, I’m a poet, and so must wax poetic.”

“Wouldn’t settle for anything less, lad!” Boris bellowed cheefully.

“My darling has fair hair, like moonlight,” Jaskier said, and the table oohed appreciatively. Geralt felt his ears get hot.

“And eyes like summer,” the bard continued. “I could get lost in them. No eyes could compare.” Geralt kicked him under the table, but Olenka was sighing sympathetically.

“But of course,” Jaskier said slyly, my heart is best held by my love’s lips.”

Boris chuckled knowingly. “I’ll bet it is, my boy,” he said, winking. Olenka slapped his arm, but she was smiling. Geralt felt hot.

“I’m afraid, however that my lover is quite modest, and won’t appreciate me extolling too many virtues,” Jaskier finished. “So I must finish with, I love them very much, and it is for them alone that my heart beats.”

Therewith leaving every person at the table (those above the age of twelve, at least) with misty eyes, Jaskier helped Lady Olenka clean up supper. Geralt helped put the dishes away.

After dinner they were led back to the mayor’s house. “I’m afraid the negotiations don’t seem to be finished,” Lady Olenka said. “I had hoped they would be quick, but it seems not. If the issue wasn’t resolved today, I wouldn’t bet on them being resolved too early tomorrow, either. You two don’t have pressing business elsewhere?”

“No, my lady,” Jaskier said, although if they lingered too long they wouldn’t make it to Lettenhove for the winter, as it was, it would be close.

“I’m sure she’ll be able to see you soon,” the lady said. “Here’s your room, and Master Witcher, your room is just at the far end of the hall.”

She said goodnight and Geralt hoped she couldn’t see the slump of his shoulders.

Separate rooms.

Jaskier smiled ruefully at him and they parted for the night. Geralt’s bed was large and comfortable, with clean linens and feather pillows, but he barely got a wink of sleep.

-- -- -- -- -- --

The next morning found Jaskier and Geralt breakfasting in the tavern, owned, apparently, by another of Boris and Olenka’s grown children.

“Did you sleep well?” Jaskier whispered over a plate of sausage and eggs.

“Fine,” Geralt grunted.

“I couldn’t sleep a wink,” Jaskier said. “Want my last piece of bacon? I’m stuffed.”

Geralt took it gratefully, slipping Jaskier his fried slice as a trade. No matter how Jaskier protested that he was stuffed, he always had room for a fried slice.”

“Terrible woman,” said a nasal voice at the next table. “Just impossible to do business with.”

“I agree, overemotional, you know how they get,” agreed another voice. Jaskier made eye contact with Geralt. The accent was Lyrian.

“Not even married,” said the first speaker. “What a disgrace. If my daughter got to her age without children I’d just die of shame.”

Geralt pitied his daughter.

“Oh of course,” said the second man. “Attractive, though, for an old maid.”

The first man snickered cruelly. “Thinking a little wooing might soften her up?”

“It always does, women like that, they’re just angry because they haven’t found a man.”

“Won’t your wife mind?”

“Are you going to tell her?” Both men laughed unpleasantly.

A serving girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, came around the tables, presumably one of Sir Boris’ many granddaughters. She took their plates onto a tray and smiled when Jaskier slipped a few coins onto the tray as a tip.

At the next table one of the Lyrian’s snapped their fingers impatiently. The girl rolled her eyes. Geralt was pleased to see that, although she served him professionally, as she walked away she ‘accidentally’ tread on his foot.

“What pathetic pieces of shit, the pair of them,” Jaskier said as they stepped out into the sunlight.

“Hmmm,” Geralt agreed. Then he looked around quickly and pulled Jaskier into an alleyway, urging the bard deeper into the shadows.

“What? Geralt di-”

Geralt smushed his lips gracelessly to Jaskier’s, crowding him up against the wall. Jaskier’s hair between his fingers was so familiar and comforting, as was the little sigh Jaskier let out.

They pulled apart and Geralt rested his forehead against Jaskier’s. “That’ll tide me over for a while,” he whispered. Jaskier smiled.

“Are you master Julian?”

The pair sprang apart, looking in alarm at the red headed boy at the far end of the alley.

“Yes...?” Jaskier said.

“Only, Pa said to come find you, and he said you’d be with a big man dressed all in black.”

“And you found us here?” Jaskier asked.

“Didn’t know you’d be here, did I?” Said the boy, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. “It’s the shortcut through to the tavern, but then, I figured he’s the only big man in black around.”

Geralt inclined his head, feeling his ears go hot.

“Lady Iliana has time to see you now,” the boy continued, oblivious to the awkwardness.

“By all means...lead the way,” said Jaskier.

They were led out of the alley and back to the mayor’s house by the messenger boy.

“Out of curiosity,” Jaskier asked. “Is your grandad Sir Boris?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” said the lad. “He made me a toy sword for my tenth birthday too.” He pointed proudly to the wooden sword tied at his hip with some string.

“It makes you look a proper hero,” Jaskier said. Then he pulled out his coin purse. “A copper for bringing us the message and...another to not tell anyone what you saw.”

The boy looked between the two of them shrewdly.

“Not even my best friend? I tell Mikhail everything.”

“Not until Geralt and I have left.”

“Three coppers total,” the boy said promptly. Jaskier handed them over good naturedly and the boy flashed a gap toothed grin before taking off.

Geralt and Jaskier shrugged at each other, before finding their way to the main room of the mayor’s house. A broad shouldered woman of about fifty poked her head out of a door.

“Julian?”

Geralt and Jaskier went inside.

“You look well,” Iliana said, sitting behind a large desk and gesturing to a couple chairs. “You havent’ aged a day.”

“And you look as lovely as I remember,” Jaskier said.

“Flirt. Come to ask me for heirs?”

Jaskier shuddered. “No, my lady. I remember your threat well. I think you know why I’m here.”

The two Lyrians barged through the door.

“Did I ask you to enter?” Iliana said, coldly. Geralt felt an unusual curl of fear set up in his stomach, she was a distinctly fearsome woman.

“Well,” said the first Lyrian.

“You were so beautiful, I couldn’t wait on seeing you again,” said the second, slimily.

“Oh I say!,” Iliana said, standing. She placed her hand over her chest in a delicately offended way, which was ill suited to her. “You sir are too bold, and in front of my betrothed too!”

The Lyrians looked, panicked, at the people sat in the chairs. As Geralt was seated in the chair nearest the door, and therefore nearest them, they came to the wrong conclusion. The blood drained from both their faces.

“What an insult!” Iliana continued. “You should be ashamed! What a lack of diplomacy!”

Beside Geralt, Jaskier snickered. She was laying it on a little thick.

“Why,” she continued. “I ought to write to your king! I’ve never been so insulted. And I’m sure my beloved will want to sort out this insult too.” She fluttered her lashes at Geralt.

Geralt nearly jumped out of his seat, but thankfully his brain caught up. He stood, growling a little theatrically and placed one hand on the hilt of his steel sword.

“Our apologies my lady,” the first man said hurriedly.

“Our mistake, we’ll just--” they dissappeared out the door.

“What a fearsome couple,” Geralt heard whispered as the door swung shut.

Iliana sighed satisfactedly and kicked her feet up on her desk. “It seems I should thank you,” she said. “That is going to make negotiations much easier.”

“I’m sure you always get good deals,” Jaskier said.

“Yes. I get the deals I want.”

“You know why I’m here,” Jaskier said.

“Yes.”

“Do you agree?”

“To disolve the betrothal? Of course. Never found a lover for myself so I never bothered but, well, I just don’t do romance.”

“Some people don’t,” Geralt said, thinking of Eskel.”

“Indeed,” Iliana said, smiling warmly at him. “Not all of us have a soulmate to sing us songs.” She laughed at their surprised faces.

“Oh you fooled them, and you may have fooled Boris and Olenka, but I’ve heard your songs, Julian. It’s written right into everything you do.”

She began rummaging in one of the drawers in the desk. “I don’t mind, of course. So few people know we’re actually betrothed...there it is.” She pulled out an old piece of paper. “I’ll just rip it up if that’s fine by you. You’ll have to do the same to yours of course.”

“We’re going to Lettenhove this winter,” Jaskier said. “I’ll do it as soon as I find it.”

Iliana smiled again. “Father always did say that your dad had a horrible filing system.”

“He filed all his papers on the floor, yes, although I imagine my sister is neater.”

Iliana tore the paper in half without ceremony and placed the contract in the waste paper bin. “Lettenhove is very far away, Julian, will you get there in time?”

Jaskier glanced at Geralt.

“I don’t know,” Geralt said.

“No matter,” said Iliana. She began writing something on a new sheet of paper. “Our logging teams float lumber all down the Dyfne and Pontar rivers. Show this to the dockmaster at the tip of the Dyfne and our riverboat captains can get you to Novigrad.”

She pulled out another sheet of paper. “Once you’re in Novigrad, show this to the harbormaster and he’ll get you to Lettenhove.” She looked at their shocked faces and smiled. “Our lumber is the best, and it’s used in everything, including ships. I’m willing to cash in a favor in order to get rid of a useless betrothal.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Jaskier said bowing deeply. “I’ll have my Aunt Szarlotta send a message once our betrothal is fully extant.”

Iliana stood and shook his hand. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Our fathers were penpals,” Jaskier said. “Perhaps we should keep up the tradition?”

The mayor inclined her head. “I’d like that. I may be too busy to write often.”

Jaskier waved a hand. “I can only pick up messages when I pass through Oxenfurt, but I like to make friends with powerful people.”

The two of them shared a smile.

“Not to rush you out my door,” Iliana said. “But I do have a lot to do, winter comes early up here, and I know it does as well in Lettenhove. even with my help, you two should leave soon.”

Geralt and Jaskier left that afternoon, just after a hearty meal at the tavern.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Across the continent and some weeks later, Jaskier and Geralt stepped onto the docks in Novigrad.

“I don’t think Roach liked the river boats,” Jaskier said as Geralt led her off. Roach whinnied and shook her mane emphatically.

“Sorry, girl,” Geralt said. “You’ll have another long boat journey, and this time I doubt we’ll stop so you can run about on land.”

“Nah,” Jaskier said, as they walked toward a tavern for supper. “Boats from Novigrad to Lettenhove stop around the coast on the way, she’ll get plenty of exercise. It’s something to do with the currents.”

He petted Roach’s muzzle softly as they stabled her at the inn beside the tavern and Geralt felt his heart go out to his bard. Jaskier cared so much for Roach. Geralt thought again of the gold band in his pack.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s eat.”

-- -- -- -- -- --

Slightly more than a month later, after a slow, coastal boat journey, and then another between Inis Porhoest and Lettenhove, Geralt, Jaskier, and their faithful horse, stepped off the final boat.

“Welcome home, Master Julian,” said a fisherman on the dock.

“Does everyone here know you?” Geralt asked.

“Pretty much, there’s only about three hundred people here.”

News spread fast among three hundred people and Jaskier and Geralt were greeted enthusiastically at the door to the very small castle. A blonde woman who could only be Ksenia, Jaskier’s sister, flung her arms around him, and withing a moment Geralt was being gathered into the hug by a slightly older looking couple.

“Julek,” said the blonde man, pulling back. “My boy, you’re home, and you brought this stunning man, wow, what a looker.”

“Papa, don’t be embarrassing,” Jaskier said. Geralt flushed clear to the roots of his hair. Apparently when Jaskier said he had his father’s personality he meant all of his father’s personality.

They had dinner as a family, including Jaskier’s niece and nephew, Cecylia and Prot. They had questions for Geralt, and he was grateful for the practice he’d had in Gwendeith. It was an enjoyable meal over all, and afterward Jaskier was distracted by his Aunt Szarlotta while Geralt slipped away to ask Mr. Pankratz a very important question.

The two of them returned to the main hall to see Jaskier pretending to be a dragon, while Cecylia and Prot bravely fought him with butterknives, but he straightened up when he saw the look on Geralt’s face.

Geralt took his hand and Jaskier squeezed it three times, it was their code, asking if Geralt needed to go somewhere that wasn’t so hard on his senses. Geralt smiled and shook his head, swallowing nervously around the lump in his throat.

He got down on one knee and pulled out the gold band. “I’m...I’m not good with words.” Geralt swallowed again, wishing he could borrow Jaskier’s eloquence for five minutes or so. “Marry me?”

The words were barely out from his mouth before Jaskier was tackling him to the ground, pressing kisses all over his face.

“Oh Geralt!” he said. “Wait--”

Jaskier looked up at his mother, who smiled and was handed a paper by his Aunt Szarlotta. Mrs. Pankratz ripped the betrothal contract in half.

“Yes,” Jaskier said, laughing. “I will marry you!”

Then they kissed on the chilly stone floor.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Dear Lady Iliana, Mayor of Gwendeith

The former contract has been voided.

Szarlotta of Lettenhove

P.S. Geralt and Jaskier are engaged and send their love.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Holy Cow. 5603 words. I...I don’t even know what to say. I hope you like it.

#the witcher #geraskier #reverse fake dating #fluff #geralt #jaskier #ask box answers

524 notes · View notes

i-need-air · 3 years

Note

Hey, you can ignore this if you want. But, just a thought, hybrid Izuku? Like maybe he has a kinda bad past too, just because I live for the angst beginning to fluffy end.

Sorry it took me a couple of days to answer! I wanted to switch it up and I mainly had to think a way to make Izu work as a hybrid, so I decided to make him be a bunny hybrid [ blame his cute hero costume, srsly ] I ended up writing the small amount of 3.7k words somehow— [ listen, i get emotionally involved, ok??? 😭 ] I genuinely hope you like it! 💕

[ Masterlist ]

Hybrid!AU Bunny!Midoriya Izuku

× you looked at the man sitting in the corner of the cell, both petrified staring at each other

× his bunny ears were lowered, his green eyes widened in your direction

× all you could do was to stand still, shocked and without being able to even mask it

× he looked awful to say at least

× meanwhile the reception guy that accompanied you for a tour of the shelter whispered in your direction; "This one is in really bad shape. Very traumatized, poor soul..." he clicked his tongue before continuing "He's been sent here from another shelter cities away, I don't know much about him and he won't talk."

× you could not look away even if you tried

× the reason why you decided to pass by the shelter was because you offered to help voluntarily in the weekends as you had some free time

× you did read and hear horror stories about the shelters and the hybrids thrown in them, how underfunded they were, how bad the conditions there were and how little help they had but—

× even if you came prepared for the worst you got surprised with the state some of the hybrids were in

× specially this one; his name was on a plaque by his prison like cell— Midoriya Izuku

× he had bruises, cuts, his hands looked specially beaten up and scarred, his behavior was erratic, nervous, just a disaster...

× something deep inside told you to smile and show him you're no threat, so you did

× you introduced yourself and nodded your head, really trying to keep a calm composture but your heart hurt seeing him like that

× much to your surprise, he nodded back, still uncertain but didn't move from his place, far back in the cell

× you've been gently pushed away to continue the tour and to establish your tasks, all while being thanked for your kindness; you didn't know why you felt like throwing up at the indifference in the man's voice...

× there weren't many hybrids in the shelter anyway, yet you've gotten your scheduled hours in which you'd help clean and cook and as you left for the day after some introduction to those tasks; your mind still lingered on Midoriya Izuku even through the night, as his terrified eyes stole the sleep from you that same night

× the following two days you began your volunteering hours and always kept an eye for the hybrid; he was skittish and asocial even at lunch and dinner times, did not talk to any other hybrid and specially not to any worker there

× he caught your eyes multiple times whenever you'd be in his general proximity, yet you'd see him scurrying away instantly, which made you feel unease; you weren't any threat, really, so maybe with time...

× it's when you brought your own cleaning supplies [ because there were little to none ] and decided to help clean their "rooms", so called by the staff, when you firstly got to talk to him

× you reached his cell and he was reading an old book, probably borrowed from the small library they had; he snapped his eyes up when he heard you approach

× "Hello, Midoriya" you'd say gently, heart in your throat, really scared you'd frighten him

× he just nodded and looked away, not before giving your cleaning supplies a long look, knowing what's to come

× with his permission, he let you go inside as you started preparing everything to swipe the floors, putting the broom in a corner as you leaned down to pick some other stuff; what you didn't notice was how the broom was gently falling, almost about to hit you on the head

× the green-haired hybrid was on your side instantly, catching it; it would've been a small tap on your head and most out of the situation would've been you looking ridiculous but you chuckled at the scene and thanked him wholeheartedly

× smol bean blushed so hard you almost dropped everything in your hands at the sight; "N-no problem—" he stuttered, his voice sweet and shy 🥺

× he stood there fidgeting with the book in his hands watching you move around until you heard an unsure "Can I help you?" 🥺🥺

× you told him sure, if he'd like to, mainly worried he really didn't want you in his "territory" but the man took it as an invitation and—

× it didn't stop at his cell? he helped you all day???? you cleaned around together but not without an awkward air around both; which ngl it's funny bc he's staring whenever you talk to everyone, clean, help, so on; big round eyes are always on you;;; IF YOU LOOK THO, oops— "what an interesting wall right there!" - Midoriya, probably.

× it's from then that you notice a switch; whenever you're at the canteen, he's there offering to help, looking just as skittish as always but a small blush always on his face

× whenever you'd be playing with the younger hybrids he'd watch in awe bc you treat them so well

× exactly when he actually starts talking to you more too! he's in the impromptu playground with you and the few little ones when he suddently drops your name in a stutter and says you're kind-hearted

× you almost drop dead in the spot bc his look, man; you haven't seen him so sure of something until now and it did something to you

× it's been a month and hybrids came and got adopted, yet your new friend wasn't really getting any attention; he really acted terrified and you of course questioned his behavior; you knew nothing of his past but seeing the way he acted it could've been just awful

× as you started to slowly engage in larger conversations with Izuku, it's at the canteen that this time you've been caught staring; at his hands in particular

× he was helping you cook, which he really didn't know how to do but tried nonetheless just because he really enjoyed being around you [ or so you assumed, hopeful ]

× when he realizes where you're looking at, you almost dreaded him retracting from the situation like he used to do but he just looks down at them too and sighs

× "I was at a fighting ring—" he said, pursing his lips "—but I'm a rabbit hybrid... a prey... they used me as a punching bag."

× your heart rips in two as you're speechless; even if you tried to be careful with your movements not to spook the man, you could not help yourself by putting your hand on his

× and that's how Midoriya Izuku died, end of HCs 💀

× just kidding; he almost fainted, face fully red as his ears perked up, staring at you with big eyes yet did not move an inch

× and even if his face would've been adorable in any other situation, his words remained imprinted in your mind as you squeezed his hand in yours

× "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Izuku" you whispered back at him; he just nodded and blabbered something before continuing with the task clumsily

× boy is broken for the rest of the day, that's what I'm implying

× bad news got to you when you found out you couldn't go to the shelter anymore to help; your hours got increased at work and your shift was all over the place and even if you really did talk with your boss, it was decided that for now you had to adapt

× dread filled your gut when you realized you couldn't see Izuku anymore and with that you noticed how fond you grew of him, that's why you loathed the next visit there

× but— you really wanted to see him more; getting to spend time with him and helping around was what got you through the week...

× you told him slowly that same Saturday and it visibly broke him

× he tears up and tries to mask it as best as he can, yet he nods understanding

× "Will— Will I ever see you again?" the soft tremble in his voice shook you to the core

× "Of course. Every day, if you'd like." you blurted;;;;; he blinks at you, tears stopping just to have his head tilted to the side, ears flopping with the movement. "Would you like to come home with me?" you say, idea just popping in your head and balling it;

× he cries harder then he nods

× everything about your volunteering ceasing for the time was already filled in, you guys just needed to fill some paperwork for him, grab his little to no belongings and get the hell out

× small gym-bag in hand, i sweat to god, this man is overwhelmed with being outside

× stays glued to your side all the time, specially on busy streets towards your home

× once you feel him grab on your shirt just for precaution and you melt?? but let him have it

× once you arrived, you see tension leave his body as he smells his surroundings; mf drops a "It smells like you here" through a smile before realizing what he said and getting all flustered 💀

× sooo you move past that as you can and show him around, a spare bedroom not long ago used by your old roommate offered to him

× you only see his surprisingly muscled back as he enters the room and drops the gym-bag on the floor

× he slowly turns around to look at your face and fat ass tears run down his cheeks, not being able to say a word even if he tried

× hands-down the scene almost gives you a panic attack; he then asks if it's all for him and you assure him that indeed it is when he cries harder...

× ok, that again shreds your heart but it wouldn't be the last time

× like for example the moment of utter disbelief he threw at you when you asked him what he wanted to eat that night and he didn't know how to respond because nobody, ever, asked him; you got that as a response after asking if you said something wrong

× or the following Monday, when you suggested you went to do some shopping for him in the morning, since there wouldn't be many people and it would be calmer

× the look of awe in his face, istg...

× from then on he opens up pretty nicely too; it's such a refreshing sight to see him tell you about how he learned to use the computer, TV, phone— the sparks in his eyes whenever he talks of something new he learned? imagine it and now you've gained 20 more years of lifespan, you're very welcome

× such a soft cutie, i swear 🥺 always asks things about you and gives you the same sparkly eyes when he learns more about you

× it does take him some time to come out if his shell though

× you fastly realize he's a nerd; oops, but it's true, and definitely isn't a bad thing! he just really likes to learn about everything and anything and I feel he genuinely likes to tell you about those new facts

× i hope you like them bc when he learned new cool stuff he made a note to tell you about them bc he thought you'd find them cool too and—

× is very tidy and helps around the house, but when it comes to being social he just freezes

× you ask him if he'd like to go for walks and you see him itching to go out for some fresh air, although the thought of other people...

× with time and small walks around the neighborhood, he overcomes the fear as long as you're by his side

× will definitely want to go back to the shelter to volunteer even if you can't, but the fear of walking there just overtakes him again since he'd have to do it alone

× mentions it though

× his expression is so uneasy bc he feels like a burden

× maybe you could work around your schedule to take him there and pick him up? he genuinely loved giving a hand at the shelter so if you do, Izu would be so thankful

× in a few weeks he'd gain the confidence to walk alone

× one 💕adorable💕 thing he does without even thinking is jumping around you, or just in place

× "Today little Miya got adopted!" he'd say, hopping slightly in place "I could tell they were good people too! They had good intentions... just like when I saw you for the first tim—"

× so he mumbles without thinking;; and sometimes blurts out cute stuff like that but when he realizes what he's saying he gets very shy 🤭

× he has this fluff smol tail but we don't talk about it;;; no, no, it's too much for us, I promise you it's the cutest fucking thing you've seen in your whole existence and it moves a little bit and we all die here???? he hides it though, pft

× so fluffy we gonna dieeeee

× he steals your blankets

× hear me out, omg! he does!! if you have small blankets you just throw over yourself to stay on the couch or anything, sometimes they'd dissappear only to be found in his room; he's very sneaky about it but cracks under [the zero] pressure you put on him, leading him to say "It's because whenever you're not around, I like to have something close to me that smells like yOu! it makes me feel sAfe—" his voice cracks "BUT IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO, I'LL STOP, I JUST—" he'd placate his hands instantly, apologizing

× tell him it's okay and now your hoodies are gone too lmfao

× he's a muscular guy too so consider buying really big ones just for him to wear;;; after you wore them;;;;;;

× says sorry a lot and that's a thing you have to work with a lot

× if he messes up something, he will apologize instantly; if you tell him to stop bc you don't mind he forgot to put the washing machine as he promised he will act like he's the worst

× as if he feared you'd get angry...

× i know it's a recurring topic but give him time

× whenever you both have free time and hang around the house, he'll be on the couch reading near you

× eyes you constantly and he's so obvious about it it's ridiculous; you can see him from the corner of your vision when he turns his head to check on you so through a smile you have to ask him if he needs anything

× what's fantastic is that he's getting over the point of being scared to speak out around you YET he stutters, blushing

× "N-no, nothing!" but he's observing your comfortable form with much interest

× "Wanna... cuddle with me?" [ 's not like you read about bunny hybrids and how they need skin contact which definitely didn't make you uwu and die in the spot bc that's so 🤧💕😭💘🥺 but you waited for him to show any signs that he'd want that; we're respectful like that, mhm ]

× his fluffy ear twitches

× shock, disbelief, blush

× it twitches again

× blushes harder then nods

× sksjdkdjd he's by your side instantly though with no idea of what to do

× good lord, he's so stiff; why don't you grab a blanket to throw it over both of you, hmm?

× he'd bury himself into it then into your arms and soon he'll find out being there is his favorite place in the galaxy

× since his mind drifted to galaxies, Izu then starts talking about constellations bc he's nervous

× so when you rub his back he melts into you with a happy sigh yet when your hand reaches his hair, almost about to touch the top of his head mindlessly as you hum at his words

× he flinches— then you stop to look down at him, catching him wide eyed staring into nothing

× you don't even know why you apologize; maybe his horrified face?

× but before you can form a full sentence he interrupts you

× "Don't apologize. It's not your fault—" he'd glue his eyes on you "I— I used to get bullied a lot back then... they'd pull my ears..."

× without any other explanation you take your hand away, placing it on his shoulders, mainly feeling out of place again; every time he speaks of his past, it just gets worse...

× "But! But I trust you, [Y/N]. I really do." and he leads your hand back to his head

× 🥺💕💕💕💕💕

× then, with convinced features, he drops his head on your chest and snuggles for some good seconds before it clicked to him

× now he's apologizing

× until you ruffle his hair and he just experiences bliss in real life

× massage his scalp and say goodbye to ever leaving his side, you're now in his firm grip until the end of time but who's complaining

× like he has no shame anymore, it feels that good

× he can hear your heartbeat, as fast as it is, and he snuggles further into you; it's his lullaby

× now let's get to business

× look: he's adorable, sweet, doting, cares about you and about hybrids, he's actively trying to get out of his shell, he's built but tender, couldn't hurt a fly;

× don't lie to yourself, you've got a big fat crush

× little did you know this guy right here liked you from the moment you introduced yourself to him, months prior

× the issue is Izuku is really insecure; after hearing his whole life that he's inferior to both humans and some hybrids, he started believing it

× and comments whenever you're outside with him do not help

× he has a spectacular hearing

× doesn't miss how people whisper about you two, even if you mind your own business doing whatever

× it's mostly older people, judgemental and disgusted with hybrids that call you a freak for having one, that call him an abomination

× he tries so hard to ignore them but his behavior changes back to his silent old self, yet this time he doesn't cower anymore although grips his pants until his scarred hands are white, not answering back to you if you talk

× you have to assume he's again uncomfortable outside so you suggest leaving, not sure how to behave

× he kinda snaps on your way back home when there's nobody around

× stops in the middle of the road, looking down, brow furrowed and trembling lips

× "Am I never going to be good enough for you?" he'd clench his teeth

× "Izu—, what...?"

× the determined glare he sends you stops you in your tracks

× "Because I want to be. I want to be better for you."

× 😳

× basically confesses in a dramatic way as he's overtaken with emotions then screeches bc oh no what if you don't feel the same so "I-It's okay if you don't feel the same! If you're uncomfortable I can move back to the shelter!! I'm so sorr—"

× smooch him pls????

× and share your feelings just to give him a stroke lmfao

× he'll take the initiative to grab your hand and walk home like that, the other on his face covering it

× peck his lips and he malfunctions every time

× but loves it

× be sure of this: after that night, he's so soft for you and won't hide it

× he's a creature of contact, meaning his fingers will linger on your form, he will seek your form, he will want to snuggle his face in your neck, he definitely will stare at your lips for too long bc he's still shy and embarrassed by his confession to make a move; smooch him pt. 2

× he's so— adorable; he finds himself in front of your bedroom door with your blanket in his arms and has an existential crisis

× you see his shadow at the small creak under the door and akfjaksj

× open the door and let him sleep with you ffs I'm having a stroke for him

× can he be the little spoon? or can you two hug face to face? it's just that 🥺 he feels safe with you like that, a feeling he's been always missing

× any time you're in his arms or vice-versa he breathes out as tension leaves his body; best place in the whole universe, no hesitation.

× he's a petty lil shit, let me tell you that, ok??

× someone flirts with you? lol k he's behind looking not intimidating at all but he's frowning, his ears are twitching and chest puffed

× takes your hand just to prove a point

× talking about his hands

× kiss them, caress them, anything

× he just... yes, pls, do that

× whenever you're not looking he's giving you the gentlest smile and even if you notice, his lips will curl even more before he throws a compliment at you

× pretty much likes your reactions bc he's always the one that's flustered the most between the two [ genuinely doesn't matter if you get flustered or not, he just tops that energy 100x more ]

× likes to know he has the same effect you have on him on a daily basis

× will try to find a job at something he's interested in and i definitely see him finding one at a library or something like that

× he enjoys the silence, completely different from his old loud and over the place life, and also loves books

× unrelated hc but i just imagined Izu whispering the words out loud whenever he reads without noticing it; his green eyes focused in the book, face concentrated and ears low to not get in his field of vision; want to make him happy? listen to him and when he finally notices you, tell him to go on~

× he's the embodiment of akfwpdkslfjjwj 💕

× honestly your life with him is peaceful

× the way he loves is gentle, really sweet and it all revolves about peace in your household

× he adores you to no end and thanks you for helping him improve himself

× and getting him out of a life without a goal or purpose

× gets out of his way to help you, always you and wants to prove he's good enough

× he already is and you better tell him

× give this baby all the love he deserves and you'll get just as much in return

× I'm soft for him oml 💘

#midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya headcanons #hybrid!au #hybrid!midoriya #hybrid!deku #noirewrites

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farfromtommy · 3 years

Text

All I Need Is You

not my gif

PLEASE READ WARNINGS AND AUTHORS NOTE

THIS PIECE CONTAINS POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT FOR READERS

word count: approx. 6800

warnings: TW: talk of miscarriage there is talk of blood if is an uncomfortable topic for you please please do not read. it is not graphic and not in extreme detail but it is there, angst, language, talk of sex and unprotected sex (no smut but it gets a lil spicy), childbirth and breastfeeding, fluffly fluff throughout

summary: tom wants kids, y/n doesn’t, but that’s okay. but after the birth of their godson and after meeting y/n’s best friend’s new baby, something changed.

a/n: this story does contain mild descriptions of blood and miscarriage, but is not the main plot to the story. i have never gone through one personally, but i did research and used some prior knowledge while writing this. please know that i mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone who has had a miscarriage or been affected in any way. if this story offends anyone in anyway, please let me know and i will take it down. this is all a work of fiction. this does contain possible triggering content and i will be putting a warning during the part and after. i will be linking some resources available for anyone who has had a miscarriage or is being affected by one in anyway. you are not alone.

The topic of kids and when you were going to have them was not unfamiliar to you and Tom. You had been together since you were both 18 and now engaged at 23. You and Tom have been giving people the same answers whenever they asked when you were having kids for years. “We’re not ready to have kids yet” or “It’s not a priority for us at the moment”

You knew Tom had had an itch of baby fever for a while and he had expressed his desire to become a father in the future, but only when you’re ready to become a mother, but you weren’t sure if you were ever going to be.

About 6 months after your engagement, his parents had managed to get everyone under the same roof at the same time for dinner and had bombarded you with comments and questions about when they were to expect a grandbaby. They had been hearing your reasons for not having had kids yet for years and weren’t accepting those answers anymore. Tom told them that you were both focusing on planning the wedding and would visit the topic after if the timing was right.

The timing would never be right, Tom felt. He had asked you a few times about the possibility of having a baby in the future and he only ever managed to get short answers out of you and then the topic was dismissed. Harry and Sam asked him about it privately and Tom expressed his concerns to them about your seeming lack of interest in even having a conversation about it. They encouraged him to sit you down and talk it out like adults. With the wedding planning starting to pick up, he knew this conversation had to happen to make sure you were both on the same page.

~~~

After his conversation with his brothers, Tom had finally worked up the courage to approach you about the baby talk and was going to put his foot down and not let you dismiss it.

“Darling, can we talk about something?” Tom asked one night as you were pulling back the sheets to get into bed. You had crawled onto your side of the bed and set your phone on the nightstand to give him your undivided attention.

“Yeah, baby, of course. What’s on your mind?” You said softly, leaning back against the headboard. Tom sat across from you on the foot of the bed with his legs crossed, leaning back on his hands. He took a deep breath and collected his thoughts before speaking.

“We have talked briefly about this a few times before, but we’ve never sat down and talked about it, and I think it's past time we did. Do you want kids?” He asked bluntly and looked you in the eyes. He saw your demeanor change just slightly when your eyes widened a bit. You looked down at your hands and wrung them nervously trying to find your words.

“I know I keep avoiding the topic, and I’m sorry. But if I’m being honest, I don’t think so. I’ve never been able to see myself as a mother and having a big family and all that. I thought that maybe when we got engaged and bought this house that I would change my mind and feel different, but I don’t.” You whispered the last part and kept your eyes on your hands.

“I’m so so sorry, Tom. I know that you want a family and kids but I don’t know if I can do it. Everything about pregnancy and becoming a mother scares the ever-loving shit out of me and I send myself into a panic attack at the thought. That’s why I’m so dismissive about it. I’m sorry. If you want to leave, I understand.” You let the tears fall down your face, trying to keep your voice even.

You felt the bed shift a little and you shut your eyes to keep the tears back, assuming Tom was getting up to leave. You flinched when you felt his hand on your face and his lips on the top of your head. You felt him press his body against your side and you leaned against him and let a few tears fall.

“Y/N, darling, listen to me. It’s okay, my love. I’m not mad or upset with you at all, and I’m not going to leave you. You don’t have to change your mind or feel differently about kids if that’s how you feel. I didn’t propose to you just so we could have babies, I’m marrying you to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm okay with it just being us. I just want to spend every day of my life loving you, that’s enough for me. I don’t need anything or anyone else to make me happy. All I need is you.” Tom said to you. He rubbed your back soothingly trying to calm the quiet sobs that were escaping your mouth.

“I don’t want you to hate me in 50 years and look back at all the things I couldn’t give you, or regret not marrying someone who would’ve given you kids.” You whispered into his chest.

“I’m never going to regret marrying you, I promise you that. In 50 years we’ll look back at the most amazing life we had together and cherish all the memories we made, not look back and think of what could’ve been.” He cupped your cheeks in his hand and wiped the thick tears falling down your face.

He was able to get you to calm down after a few minutes and crawled under the sheets with you. He laid down on his back and pulled you close to him with your head on his chest and one arm wrapped around your shoulders and the other rubbing your arm.

“I love you so much, Tommy. I don’t know what I did in this life to deserve you.” You mumbled against the skin of his bare chest. He kissed the top of your head again and let his cheek rest against it as he whispered ‘I love you so much more’ and pulled you closer.

~~~

Tom managed to get everyone to cool it with the baby talk. You didn’t know what he said to his parents to get them to chill out a bit, but whatever he said worked. With the weight lifted off of both your shoulders, the wedding was the only thing on your mind.

It couldn’t have gone more perfectly. The day you and Tom had been planning for almost a year and the day you had been waiting for, honestly, since the day you met him. He looked incredible in his crisp black tux with his brothers and best friend standing right next to him.

The ceremony had everyone, including you and Tom, in tears. From the words the officiant spoke to the vows that were exchanged and then the moment you were pronounced man and wife, there was not one dry eye. After all the emotions you felt after the ceremony, you were beyond excited to celebrate with friends and family at the reception.

You sat at the table reserved for you and Tom and all of the bridesmaids and groomsmen just watching the joy bubble out of everyone in front of you. Tom was standing on the edge of the dance floor with a beer in his hand talking to a few of the people he had worked with over the years and that he hadn’t had a chance to catch up with. You were nursing a glass of champagne while you talked to one of your bridesmaids about the honeymoon you were leaving for in a few days.

One of Tom’s cousins had approached you and sat in a chair next to you to share her excitement with you over the whole day. Her husband had approached her with their 7-month-old son, Lucas, saying that he was getting a bit fussy. She gladly took her son and rested him in her lap, letting him play with the jewelry on her wrists and fingers.

Lucas had started to get a bit antsy again and Tom’s cousin had started to get up in search of her husband to try and get a bottle for the little boy. You had offered to hold him while she looked for him and try to keep him happy and occupied in the meantime. She graciously passed him over to you and you assured her that it was no problem.

He was a little distressed at the sight of his mother walking away, so you stood up and held him close to you as you walked around and talked to him a bit. He distracted himself with the necklace resting on your neck and wrapped his tiny fingers around it and stuck it in his mouth. You laughed to yourself at the boy and kept whispering things to him. One of your friends had approached you and pointed out how content Lucas seemed in your arms. She stood there with you making noises and faces at the boy to make him laugh and he responded to it with a gummy smile and buried his face in your chest.

Tom had been wrapped up in a conversation with his friends and hadn’t noticed you standing with the baby in your arms. Nikki walked up behind him and rested her hand on Tom’s shoulder, grabbing his attention. Tom quickly excused himself from his friends and let his mom pull him away. She turned him so he was facing you and got close and pointed to you standing with his cousin, with the laughing baby in your arms.

“She’s really good with him. I don’t think that little boy has ever been that happy in the arms of anyone besides his mother. Look at the smiles on both of their faces.” Nikki said fondly, watching you interact with the baby. Tom mumbled a quiet ‘Yeah, she is’ and kept his eyes glued on you. Your smile and laugh were infectious and he found himself mirroring the joy you had plastered on your face.

“I didn’t want kids when your dad and I first met. It wasn’t until right before we got married that I had told him that I wanted to have a family with him. Let her bring it up to you and if she decides it's something she wants, she’ll let you know.” She looked over at Tom to see him looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.

Tom quickly set his beer down and made his way over to you. He greeted his cousin and hugged her before taking his spot next to you. His hand went to your lower back while he gave the other to Lucas. Tom wiggled his fingers which elicited a laugh from the baby, making you smile and laugh. He stood there for a few minutes chatting with his cousin and her husband about the baby and how he was taken with you.

Lucas ended up falling asleep in your arms with his head resting in the crook of your neck and his fingers wrapped around your necklace. You were sad to let go of Lucas but admired the way the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile when you passed him over to his father. You bid your goodbyes to the baby and his parents and grabbed Tom’s hand to pull him into a kiss.

~~~

After a year or so of being married, Tom had started to notice something different about you. He had picked up on the way you walked a little slower past the baby section whenever you went to the store together and always pointed out what you thought was exceptionally adorable. He noticed the way you looked longingly at the toddlers running around the park when you would take Tessa on walks together. When your best friend from university had brought her newborn daughter around to your place was when everything had finally started to click, for both of you.

The words Nikki had said to him at the wedding echoed in his mind. He needed to let you come to him about it. The last thing he wanted was to pressure you into talking about something you weren’t ready for.

“I’m so happy for Megan. She’s been dreaming about having a daughter, I swear since I met her. She was always talking about how badly she wanted to be a mom and couldn’t wait to have kids.” You said to Tom once you had both crawled into bed. He rested against the headboard with his laptop resting on his thighs. He looked over at you when you pulled back the comforter and got into bed next to him.

“She seems happy. Even when she was talking about not having gotten a wink of sleep in the past 3 weeks, she said it with a smile and love.” Tom chuckled to himself, turning his attention back to what he was working on. You hummed in agreement and grabbed the book off your nightstand. You found yourself unable to focus on the words in front of you and kept rereading the same few words over and over again.

Your mind kept going back to the afternoon you spent with Megan and her daughter and how happy you were to see your friend so happy. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been imagining you and Tom with that sort of happiness. The past year has been the best in your life. Tom had been traveling so much for work and you went with him wherever he went. Traveling the world and seeing your husband live his dream made you happy beyond belief. But you still felt like there was something more that you longed for.

“Oh, I don’t think I told you. My cousin sent me a message earlier today, she’s pregnant again! I think she said she’s about 20 weeks and having a gender reveal next week, and wants us to be there. I told her I’d talk to you about it.” Tom said while he opened up his messages and let you read the texts for yourself.

“Wow! That’s so amazing. Lucas is gonna be a great big brother. I don’t think we have anything going on, we should definitely go.” You handed Tom’s phone back to him and pulled yours out to send her a message.

A twinge of jealousy panged in your gut. Why did you feel like this? You had never felt jealous of your friends and family when they had gotten pregnant before. It was only good news whenever you found out. Did you wish it was you? Maybe this was your heart telling you that this was something you wanted. Maybe-

“Darling? You okay?” Tom’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and your eyes focused on your phone in your hand. You looked over at Tom and saw the concern in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I got lost in thought for a second, I guess.” You brushed it off and kept typing the message.

~~~

You stared at the positive pregnancy tests with a mix of emotions. One part of you was freaking out at the thought of being pregnant. All the fears you had about pregnancy and motherhood rearing their ugly heads right at the front of your mind. It wasn’t just an ‘IF I got pregnant’ fear, it was an ‘oh my god I’m pregnant and it’s going to happen’ fear. It wasn’t just imagining what would happen anymore, it was actually happening.

The other part of you felt an indescribable amount of joy and excitement. Your mind immediately went to Tom and how over the moon he would be at the news. Imagining what a perfect father he would be to your baby had your heart bursting and your whole body buzzing. He’s the most perfect person to raise a child with.

The fears of parenthood and of becoming a mother tried to cloud your mind again, but you were too excited about telling Tom to care. A few minutes later you walked into the living room with the tests in your hand, looking for Tom. You heard him in the kitchen fixing up some lunch and singing along to the music coming out of his phone.

“Darling what do you want on your sandwich? I’ve got the things you usually take, you just want everything?” Tom said when he heard your footsteps from down the hall get closer to where he was.

“Yeah, everything is good. Um, I need to tell you something though, before we eat.” Tom’s head looked up at you, his eyes filled with worry and a bit of curiosity. He set down the knife he had in his hand and leaned against the counter, waiting for you to talk.

“Uh so. The past couple of weeks or so I’ve been feeling super off and just really not like myself. I think I mentioned to you that I was feeling weird and we chalked it off as maybe I was getting sick or my period was just gonna hit like a bitch this month.” You looked down at the stick in your hand and looked back up at Tom, his eyes not having left your face. “I- I, uh, I went to log my symptoms into my period tracking app and when I did, it said that my period was almost a week late and that even though there were a bunch of possible causes… the one that stood out was pregnancy.” You looked back up at Tom and his eyebrows were furrowed and you could see the worry lines across his forehead.

“Y/N?” He whispered as he stepped closer to you and placed a hand on your hip, quietly urging you to continue. You took a deep breath and opened up your hand to show him the white and blue stick resting in your palm.

“I’m pregnant, Tommy. I got a couple of tests this morning while you were at the gym and I just took them. They’re all positive.” He carefully picked up the plastic stick like it was made of glass and looked at the little screen with the words ‘pregnant’ across it. You felt the emotion well up in your chest when he brought his hand up to his mouth and heard him choke back a breath.

“Oh my god. You’re not messing with me, right? This is for real?” He looked up at you with tears pooling in his lower lash line. All you could do was muster up a nod before the tears fell from both of your eyes.

Tom wrapped his arms around you and lifted you slightly off the ground, twirling you around the kitchen while he laughed and cried in joy. You giggled at his actions and kept your arms wrapped around his neck, the tears still falling from your eyes. He set you down after a few moments passed and cupped your face in his hands. He saw the emotions written all across your face, all he could see was happiness and excitement.

“This is a good thing, right?” he wiped a few stray tears off of your cheeks with his thumbs and tilted his head a little bit.

“Yeah, this is a really good thing. I know my feelings were different before but I don’t know, I guess something changed.” You smiled a bit thinking back on the last couple of months of feeling like this.

It had started with your friend from college introducing you to her daughter and asking you and Tom to babysit when she needed one. When Tom’s cousin had their 2nd son, they had asked you and Tom to be the godparents to baby James. You and Tom were over the moon excited to accept and to be there for the christening of your godson.

Tom couldn’t find the words to say and just pulled you in for another bone-breaking hug. You stood in the kitchen with him, your lunch long forgotten, just hugging each other. You could feel the love pour out from your bodies and to each other, everything was as perfect as it could be.

You set up an appointment with your gynecologist as soon as you could, anxious to confirm your pregnancy with them and maybe be able to see the beginning stages of your little one growing in your tummy. Tom had insisted he take a day off of work to go with you. He had declared that he was not going to let work or anything get in the way of him supporting you through this.

He had heard so many stories from people he’s worked with about them missing the birth of their children because of work and strict filming schedules. Or that their spouse has been left at home the entire pregnancy, sometimes with other children too, and they were only able to get a week off for the birth and then head back to work.

Tom swore to you before you got married that he would never prioritize work over his life with you. He had never missed spending a birthday, an anniversary, or a holiday with you. He sure as hell wasn’t about to miss witnessing the miracle of your pregnancy.

The appointment went as perfectly and smoothly as it could’ve gone. You were still in the very early stages of your first trimester, only about 7 weeks pregnant. Your doctor had said that it was possible to hear the heartbeat already and spent a little time searching for it.

After a few seconds had passed a whooshing sound had filled the room and the doctor smiled at you when your eyes shot over to Tom. He had wrapped one of your hands in both of his and kissed your knuckles, letting tears slip out at the sound of his baby’s heartbeat.

There wasn’t much to see on the sonogram. Your doctor had pointed out the grainy blob on the picture that was indeed your baby. You couldn’t stop staring at the little grey blob that was changing your life.

“So I think we should hold off on telling everyone until I’m a little farther along, you know, just in case. The nurse said miscarriages are common during the first trimester and we gotta be really careful. I’m okay with telling your mom, I think it’ll be good to have her support and be able to ask her things. But we should hold off on a big announcement until I’m at least 16 weeks.” You said in the car on your way back home after the appointment.

“Yeah of course. Dad is taking me and the boys golfing next week, so mum will probably ask you to lunch or something. You can tell her then or we can do it together another day, whatever you prefer. You’re the boss, mummy. Whatever you say, goes.” He quickly glanced over at you with a big smile on his face before putting his eyes back on the road.

Your face split into a huge grin at the name before placing your hands on your stomach. Tom rested one of his hands on top of yours and kept it there the whole way home.

~~~

*SENSITIVE CONTENT AHEAD*

No one could have warned you about the overwhelming heartache you could feel during pregnancy. You thought it would be smooth sailing into your second trimester and you’d finally be able to share with everyone the joy of a new baby coming into the world.

Your doctor had made you aware of the possibility of having a miscarriage at the beginning of your pregnancy, not to scare you, but just so you were aware. 10-15% of all pregnancies resulted in miscarriages, 80% of them happening in the first trimester due to a multitude of reasons. She said to take care of yourself and to do everything in your power to keep yourself and your baby as healthy as could be.

You had done everything by the books.

You ate a well-balanced diet, cutting out everything your doctor had advised you to avoid. You had started joining Tom at the gym more regularly and did a bit of yoga at home, just to keep yourself in shape, but never overexerting yourself. Cutting out alcohol had been a no brainer, even Tom said he wouldn’t drink if you couldn’t. You, unfortunately, had to cut down majorly on your caffeine intake, which left you irritable and cranky most mornings. But it was all for the wellbeing of your baby, which made it all oh so worth it.

Nikki found out about your pregnancy when she had asked you to lunch while the Holland boys were golfing for the day. You had shown her the sonogram and she gasped in shock at the picture in front of her. Your name was printed across the top of it, so she knew it was yours. She had been sworn to secrecy when you told her that only you, her, and Tom knew and that you were keeping it a secret until about 16 weeks.

She was the first person you called when you were sitting at home by yourself when you had started to feel a cramping sort of pain along your abdomen and stretching into your back. Your doctor had said that cramping was normal but if it was accompanied by period-like bleeding, to call immediately. You stretched out a bit on the couch to try and get the pain to pass but when it didn’t, you picked up the phone and called Nikki.

Her tone of voice stayed calm as you explained what you were feeling and where you were feeling it. She had dropped everything and said she’d be there as soon as she could be and to relax, everything was going to be okay. You had advised against her wish of calling Tom, for the time being, he was in the city for meetings and some press events all day and you didn’t want to bother him if it was nothing.

In no more than 20 minutes you were sitting next to her on the couch as you told her in more detail about the discomfort along your abdomen. She had suggested you get up and go to the bathroom just to be sure there wasn’t any bleeding. You gave her a nervous glance and she assured you it was going to be okay, she just wanted to be sure.

Standing up from the couch the pain had started to shift into your pelvis and deepen in your abdomen. You had asked for her to help you to the bathroom and to stay with you, just in case. She said ‘of course’ and led you to the nearest toilet to the living room. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears as you neared the bathroom, praying that this was nothing and just one of those pregnancy things.

Nikki had respectfully turned around after you unbuttoned your jeans and started to sit. You pulled your underwear down with your pants and took a deep breath before glancing down and seeing the mess on the inside of your underwear. Your heart dropped down to your gut seeing the bright red blood staining the fabric and sticking to the inside of your thighs. A quiet ‘oh no’ left your mouth as you just stared down. Nikki turned around hearing you talk and saw what was happening. She mumbled something you couldn’t hear before she opened the door and headed towards your room.

You could hear the opening and shutting of drawers in the distance and the shuffling of her feet back into the bathroom. She set a pair of fresh underwear and a pair of sweatpants on the counter next to you before opening the cabinets under the sink in search of a pad. She placed everything next to you and asked you to change so she could drive you to the hospital. You nodded slowly and she left the bathroom quietly.

~~~

The next couple of months were difficult, but having the support of Tom made it just a little bit easier. He held you when all you could do was cry and told you that it was going to be okay. He was going to be there every step of the way. He rubbed your back and held you close anytime you needed it and gave you your space when you asked for it.

He made sure to listen to you deeply when you talked about it. He assured you, along with your doctor, that it wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could’ve done differently to stop this. It was just a freak thing and is unfortunately a common occurrence. He let you air out your frustrations and fears openly and told you that you weren’t alone. He shared some of the same fears that you did and helped you feel not crazy about having these big feelings.

You helped each other begin the process of healing and coming to terms with what had happened. It took time for you both to talk about it without being overwhelmed with grief and sadness, but it happened. You were able to share what had happened with close friends and family and feel okay about sharing your story. The amount of support and love you got from everyone made it that much easier to take another step forward in healing.

You learned that some of the people closest to you had gone through the same pain in the past, but had never shared it. You felt comfort in knowing that you weren’t alone and that your doctor wasn’t saying that miscarriages were common just to make you feel better. People you knew and had deep relationships with had gone through the same thing, it wasn’t just you and Tom. You weren’t alone in your suffering and pain. It was okay to feel sad about the loss of someone you hadn’t met or that wasn’t really a someone yet. It’s okay to grieve and feel the feelings you have about the loss.

Tom and Nikki had had another conversation about you approaching him about having a baby, much like they did on the night of your wedding. It had been almost a year since the miscarriage, and he wanted to know where you stood on having a baby again. He didn’t want to rush or push you at all. Nikki assured him that when you were ready, you would let him know.

You had started to do the slow walk past the baby section in the store again. After the miscarriage, you had avoided it as much as possible. You pointed out cute onesies and toys any time you saw them. The sadness in the longing looks you had at the sight of toddlers in the parks had changed to happiness and joy.

You told him you didn’t want to have sex after you miscarried, and he completely understood. There was no resentment towards you when you would stop a makeout session when it got too heated and he would get up and take care of himself in the bathroom or take a cold shower. About 6 months after, you insisted that he wear a condom and pulled out before he came, even with the condom on. Just to be safe.

Your sex life with Tom had started to spark again and was getting back to how it was before the miscarriage. You were okay if he came inside you, but still with the condom on. That's how it had been until one night you and Tom were enjoying a date night at home together, and both had a little too much wine. You were about a bottle and a half into your favorite red wine, both of you way well on your way to being wine drunk.

Date night had moved from the dining room to the couch after the 2nd bottle of wine was finished. Tom was sitting with his back against the armrest, one leg stretched out in front of him with the other planted on the floor. Your knees were digging into the cushion beneath them on either side of Tom’s leg. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to his body. His lips attacked yours with pure lust and passion. He pulled back hesitantly before attacking your neck with his mouth, nipping and biting before soothing the abused skin with his tongue.

“Tom, wait.” You breathed out, placing your hands against his chest to push him back. He looked up at you with concern and kiss swollen lips.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He asked quickly, his eyes scanning your face to make sure you were okay. You pulled back a little to put a little space between you and Tom. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath before talking.

“No, you didn’t. I just- hold on. I’ve uh, I’ve been thinking a lot the past few week about maybe us trying for another baby.” You managed to get out. The alcohol was making everything a bit fuzzy but gave you the ability to speak your mind.

“Yeah? You’re ready for that?” Tom’s eyes softened as he pushed some of your hair out of your face and rested one of his hands against the side of your neck

“It’s been almost a year, you know? I talked to my gyno at my appointment last week and she said that there’s no reason we can’t try again. It was a freak thing, and there was nothing we could’ve done differently to change what happened. I’m ready if you’re ready. I want to start a family with you, so bad.” Tom couldn’t find the words to respond to your declaration. All he did was smile so hard his cheeks hurt and pull you close to him again.

~~~

“Push Y/N! Just a few more big pushes and your baby will be here.” Your doctor said from the end of the hospital bed you were in. All you could feel was the pain ripping through your whole body because of the human trying to make their way into the world.

You could feel the cold towel pressed against the back of your neck and the tickle of air flowing into your nose. There was a nurse on one side of you pulling one of your legs back and Tom on the other side pulling the other. He had his other hand on top of your head pushing back the strands of hair getting stuck on the sweat of your forehead.

“You’re so close, lovey. I’m so fucking proud of you baby. You’ve got this. You’re so close.” Tom chanted into your ear while pressing small kisses to your temple. All you did was grit your teeth and push as hard as you could.

There was a sudden release of relief from your body, and you felt like the wind was knocked out of your whole body. You collapsed on the pillow behind you and managed to pry your eyes open. In front of you was a baby covered in bodily fluids and screaming their absolute heart out. Your hospital gown was slipped open as the nurses helped situate the baby onto your bare chest. The hands you had gripping the sheets below you flew to the baby’s back and you choked out a sob of relief.

“You did it Y/N, you fucking did it. Oh my god, she’s so perfect, you’re so perfect.” Tom managed to get out before breaking down into tears. He placed a hand on top of the baby’s head, not caring about the mess. You looked over at him and he pressed a kiss right on your lips and rested his forehead against yours before you both looked at the baby on your chest.

The doctor had asked Tom if he wanted to cut the cord and he stumbled over himself to do it. Some of the nurses had cleaned up the baby while she was still resting on your bare skin so you could get a better look at her.

“It’s a girl, Tommy. We have a daughter.” You looked over at Tom. He had pulled his phone out and took the first picture of his wife and daughter together.

“The most perfect girl in the world. Just like her perfect mummy.” Tom said with tears still falling down his face. Your doctor congratulated you and Tom before leaving the room after you were stitched up and okay to get back into a normal position on the bed.

A nurse had taken the baby to the other side of the room to get her cleaned up completely and take her weight and measurements. Tom stood close to make sure his little girl was okay. You watched from your bed with heavy eyes, your whole body begging you to rest after almost 24 hours of labor. After the baby was cleaned up, she had a diaper put on her and wrapped in the regular hospital baby blanket. She was carefully handed to Tom before he made his way back to your bed.

You had gotten as comfortable in the bed as you could and were so grateful for whoever had invented epidurals and pain medication. Tom sat on the edge of the bed and sat shoulder to shoulder with you with a leg resting on the bed and the other keeping him steady on the floor. All he could do was stare at the baby in his arms and think about how surreal this all was.

“Did you send that picture to your parents and the boys?” You whispered so you didn’t disturb her.

“Yeah right after I took it, I haven’t checked to see what they’ve said though. I’m sure they’re going crazy right now.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your temple. You leaned into him and shut your eyes for a second to just take in everything that was happening. Your eyes shot open when you heard a knock on the door and Tom said ‘come in’.

“Hi, Mrs. Holland. I’m Olivia, a lactation consultant. One of the delivery nurses said that you were wanting to breastfeed and sent me in here just to help you out since this is going to be the first time you’re breastfeeding. Mind if I interrupt for just a little bit?” A woman not much older than you came in and moved closer to your bed. Olivia washed her hands before pulling a rolling chair next to your bed. Tom stood up to give you and Olivia the space to do what was necessary.

“Yep, just like that Y/N. That’s perfect. Baby girl Holland seems to be a pro at this, too!” Olivia watched as you positioned the baby at the perfect spot and started to nurse. It took a while to get used to the feeling, but once you did it was the most amazing thing. Tom couldn’t take his eyes off of the magic happening in front of him.

~~~

“She needs a name, Tom. We haven’t named her yet.” You whispered to Tom in the middle of the night after feeding the baby again. The nurses had come in a few times to check up on you but for the most part, were leaving you and Tom to your own devices.

“I like the name Emma.” He whispered back from the cot that was a few feet away from you, the baby in between you. You sat up as best as you could to get a look at the sleeping baby.

“She’d make a good Emma. What about Nicole for her middle name? Pay homage to your mom. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her through all of this.” You said quietly. You didn’t hear a response and looked over to see him with a toothy grin spread across his face.

“You would do that?” Tom sat up and looked at you.

“Of course. You know how much I love her, she’s so important to both of us. Plus I think Emma Nicole Holland has a pretty good ring to it.”

a few resources available

about miscarriage and more information available

grief resources

list of articles, books, and web-based resources

postpartum support

support organizations

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isthisthingeven0n · 3 years

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hear you : a.h

after celebrating your promotion with hotch, it tragically ends in an accident with you hospitalised and comatose. yet, somehow you can hear everyone around you, wishing for you to wake up. (1.9k)

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hear you / every word

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Everything that night occurred in an instant. No one had time to change what happened, even if you wished the events had happened in a different order.

If you hadn’t left the restaurant first and walked ahead whilst Hotch admired the fleeting moment. You were laughing giddily as you turned to face him, his arms were crossed over his chest as you danced, still joyful after celebrating your promotion. Perhaps if he caught up to you it would’ve been someone else lying on the ground.

Yet, as you lie on the ground, life draining from your gaze you can’t help but wonder; what if?

The events that lead to you strapped to a hospital bed lifelessly could have all been avoided. If the driver hadn’t drunk away his sorrows before picking up his children, families would still be together and one less hospital bed would be filled.

All you can hear is the monotone beeping of your heart monitor. The stench of antibacterial sprays and gels embed themselves into your nostrils alongside the fragrant flowers from Garcia that litter your private room. But out of everything in your environment, there’s one thing you’re still waiting on; to hear him, to hear Hotch by your side.

What you’re currently certain of is that you’re asleep, comatose. Yet, you can hear everything. This was the sort of thing you’d witnessed happen in TV shows, and you’ve listened to Spencer sitting beside you, explaining to Penelope that there have been no claims of comatose patients hearing voices. How they can hear movements or faint sounds, but no details of conversations. All you can do is wait whilst you remain trapped in your own thoughts, unable to react to anything said.

Your daily routine since being ‘awake’ is being checked multiple times a day by various Doctors and Nursers. They’re very caring as they monitor your heart rate, brain waves, temperature and your comfort levels. You listen to them report technical jargon to one another, and now you wish you paid more attention to Spencer last week after he visited his old Doctor.

Thankfully, you’re allowed to have visitors which makes all the difference- even if they are oblivious to the impact they’re making.

The first person to visit you tends to be Garcia, you can hear the urgency in her footsteps as her heels click against the lament flooring. She sits with you for a while before work, telling you about how Morgan keeps singing out of tune whilst she is on the phone to him. You wish you could laugh at the little things she describes, hearing about your family try and carry on without you.

Spencer stops by after work with JJ. You can hear how his voice cracks when he sits beside you, JJ on your other side as she rests her hand on yours. Spencer recites facts about comatose patients and if often interrupted by JJ with some happier news about Henry and describes the drawing she brought. You wish you could see it, feel the textures of the paint and cotton he used.

Yet, as much as you love your family, he still hasn’t been.

“Hey, baby girl.” You hear Morgan walk over toward you, pulling the ancient chair out as it squeaks against the floor. “Garcia tells me you’ve been on your own all day,” He begins and you internally chuckle. “and we can’t have that so I thought you’d love nothing more than your best man to come on by.” Morgan nudges your hand playfully and laughs to himself.

You’re desperate to laugh along, joke back like old times, tell him how much Penelope has been going on about their phone conversations and the workplace issues that have arisen.

“I know you haven’t seen him yet,” Morgan’s tone changes, the light-heartedness has dropped. “but he has been trying, trust me, we see it every day.” A sigh follows from him, and Morgan drops his head in his hands, thankful you haven’t had to witness the state Hotch has been getting himself into.

“He tries every day to come and see you, baby girl. He, he makes it to the entrance of the hospital and just,” Morgan knows exactly what it is, but he doesn’t want to tell you.

Sometimes, the silence is enough for you to figure it out. ‘It isn’t his fault.’ You want to yell out, scream at the top of your lungs, but you remain motionless, simply listening.

Hotch enters the hospital every day since the accident. He came in with you, running by your side as you were wheeled straight into surgery. He stood still as the doors slammed in front of him, taking you out of his sight.

“But erm, we found out about the guy who caused this. His name was Robert Kingshill.” Morgan starts, unaware that both Penelope and Spencer have already explained the details to you. You home in and out of Morgan’s explanation about how Robert was an abusive husband, his children both under 5 years. “He died on arrival.”

‘And no one will miss him.’

“Sorry to interrupt,” A new voice chimes in, one of the nurses who has been seeing to you; Savannah. She’s sweet, attentive and engages with your family. “I just have to check her vitals, I’ll be a few minutes at most.”

“Of course, do you want me to step out?” Morgan asks, his voice softening after he clears his throat. You can almost picture him sitting up straighter, flashing that signature Derek Morgan smirk.

“It’s okay, are we still on for dinner tonight?” Savannah asks, catching you completely off guard as your heart rate spikes. “Shit.” She mutters, watching as your heart rate relaxes once more, back to a normal pace.

“What was that?” Morgan speaks up, concern lacing his tone.

Savannah remains silent for a moment, too long for your liking. “Just a spike, they can happen now and then.” She brushes it off and steps out of the room, leaving Morgan with you alone once more.

“Do you think she can hear us?” Garcia asks as her hand remains in yours, holding it gently whilst Emily hovers by the window, watching as the rain falls against the window.

A loud disheartened sigh echoes. “I don’t know, Pen.” Emily states as she turns around. “But if she can, it’s kinda rude for her not to wake up.” Emily chuckles, and Penelope joins in for a second.

“If you can hear us, Y/n,” Penelope starts, and you can hear the shake in her voice. “we all love you, and miss you dearly.”

“We’re all still here, and will be until you wake up.” Emily adds as she smiles to Penelope, holding her hand out as she gladly accepts as tears fill her eyes once more.

Sniffing to herself, Penelope glances over to the empty doorway. “And, and Hotch misses you, Y/n. I know, I know he hasn’t been here yet, but he loves you, and Jack does too.”

The thought of Jack causes your heart to ache, how you miss that boy deeply in the evenings when you would go over. Jack would always ask for your help with homework or read with him before he went to sleep. Last month, he called you ‘Mom’ and you didn’t know how to react, neither did Aaron. But you let it happen, and carried it on.

Just as Jack felt he had a new Mom, he was at risk of losing her too.

“Come on, we ought to go, let her rest.” Emily states as she walks over to Penelope, taking her arm.

If only they could hear you. You were done with resting.

It has almost been a month. At least that is what you hear them say. Outside it has become colder, snow comes and goes, but it never sticks. With ease, you can now clearly differentiate the nurses and the doctors’ voices, even by the sigh after they do their checks. You’ve heard them discuss your frequent brain activity, which is a good sign. They’re now thinking you’re going to wake up, that it could be any day. But then again, they’ve been saying that for the last two weeks.

Another Doctor walks in and checks over you, nothing out of the ordinary as you wish he would stop humming that awful TV show tune. “You have a visitor this morning, Miss Y/L/N.” He states which is unusual, your visitors are never announced to you, they just sort of appear.

Your ears perk up to the sound of shuffling, quickly followed by a restricted sob, one you sadly could pinpoint; Aaron.

“Hi, Y/n,” Aaron quietly speaks up, his voice hoarse as the chair scrapes across the floor and he reaches out, taking your cold hand in his. “I’m sorry I haven’t been sooner.” He turns to business mode, forcing confidence even though he’s breaking apart, seeing you like this. “I just,”

‘It’s okay, Aaron. Take your time.’ You want to tell him, that it’s not easy, nothing about this is. But you simply listen as he exhales shakily and he takes lifts his other hand, enveloping yours into both of his.

A small sigh breaks the moment of silence. “Jack, he keeps asking about where you are. I’m running out of options here, Y/n.” He chuckles out of worry. “Jessica has been great, taking care of him and everything, I’ve barely left my office since the accident.” Hotch explains, seeing flashes of light illuminating you that night, like an angel. The excitement in your expression turning to pure terror as he ran toward you, but was too late.

Hotch was always too late to save the women he loves.

“I just, I need you, Y/n.” Hotch mutters. “I can’t lose you too, I just can’t.” Soft cries sound from him as the door opens, and he sniffs quietly.

“Sorry to interrupt, I’ll come back later.” Someone speaks up, and Hotch nods to them before returning his attention to you.

He tried not to stare at the evident wounds and scars that will line your skin forever. The stitches on your forehead from where you hit the ground.

Hotch will never forget how he held you in his arms as you were bleeding, eyes glazed over as he yelled for you to keep your eyes open.

“I know sometimes things aren’t always easy for us, with cases and barely having time to ourselves. But I really wanted that night to be special, you deserved a night to be reminded how wonderful you are.” Hotch chuckles dryly, looking around the room. “Look where that got us.”

‘It’s not your fault, Aaron.’ You scream internally, wishing you could just take hold of his hand, squeeze it tightly and never let go. ‘Please, just listen to me, please.’

“I know it’s taken me too long to get here, but I don’t know if I can do this, Y/n.” Hotch’s voice hitches as his hands begin to slip out from yours. “Reid mentioned how talking to comatose patients is supposed to help but er, I guess we’ll eventually find out.”

Rising to his feet, you plead for him to stay, to not leave you here alone.

“I love you Y/n.” Hotch calls out as he stands in the doorway, seeing your chest rising and falling rhythmically, remembering the days where you’d lie beside him in bed, enjoying the moment of tranquil before Jack wound run through the door, waking you from a deep sleep. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”

As Hotch turns the corner, he can’t stop the tears from falling as he collapses against one of the walls. Silent cries sound from his lips as a Nurse approaches him, but he brushes her off.

“Aar,” Your lips begin to part, a faint sound leaving them. But then silence returns, and you’re still trapped in your mind, wishing he could return.

PART TWO

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beatles-slash-fiction · 3 years

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George Harrison isn’t quite how Pattie had imagined he would be.

She had always imagined that if she ever got to meet the Beatles, they would be arrogant and loud and boisterous, but the reality couldn’t be further from that. They’re all so sweet snd polite, especially to the girls who are extras on set, and she finds herself pleasantly surprised.

George is the quietest of them all, and Pattie finds he’s the one she’s immediately drawn to. The conversation flows between them easily when he sits next to her at lunch, and it’s been a long time since since she’s got on so well with someone she’s only just met.

When they finish filming for the day, he asks her if she’d like to go out to dinner.

“Oh,” Pattie says, feeling a little embarrassed that she’s misread the situation. “It’s a lovely offer, but...I’m afraid I have a boyfriend.”

George chuckles and turns slightly red. “So do I. Sorry if that came off a little...well. I didn’t mean it like that. It just seems like you and I could be good friends and it would be nice to see you again. I don’t have a lot of friends outside the music business.”

He seems almost sad as he says that last part.

But Pattie smiles at him and agrees that dinner would be lovely.

*****

It’s only three weeks later that Pattie discovers George Harrison’s boyfriend is in fact Ringo Starr.

“Sorry you had to read about it in the newspaper,” George sighs with frustration. “We were trying to keep it quiet for a little while longer.”

He shoots a shy smile at Ringo, who has also joined them for dinner today.

“Now the world and his wife knows,” Ringo chuckles, but he looks happy as he laces his fingers with George’s.

Pattie is happy for them. They seem like a sweet couple, and it’s clear that their romance has blossomed from a strong friendship.

“You’ll have broken the hearts of half the men and women in Britain,” Pattie says softly.

The two of them share a secret smile, and Pattie wonders if she’ll ever have someone she can share a secret smile with.

*****

Pattie sees George as often as she can when he’s not on tour or working long hours in the studio.

He quickly becomes her best friend; they share everything with each other. George consoles Pattie every time a boy breaks her heart, as well as the odd time a girl does too. Pattie has never had a friend who she can be so open with; they talk about sex and their hopes and fears, and Pattie trusts George more than anyone.

She can’t help but feel a little bit sad when George moves to Surrey with Ringo.

She’s happy for them, of course she is. She knows that George has been wanting to leave London for a while; he’s desperate to get out of a flat and into a house with a nice big garden.

But it means that Pattie can’t just nip over to see George in less than ten minutes. Now she’ll have to settle for talking to him on the other end of the phone, and seeing him less frequently.

George does invite her to visit almost as soon as they’ve moved though, and as soon as Pattie sees the house she knows it’s perfect for him.

“You’re welcome any time,” George tells her cheerfully. “We have lots of rooms to spare.”

“Probably not for much longer though,” Pattie chuckles, and George just laughs shyly.

*****

Pattie feels rather honoured that she is the first person to find out that George and Ringo are engaged.

They’re in London for work and so suggest meeting up for dinner one night, and Pattie has barely given them both a hug before George is excitedly flashing a diamond ring at her.

“It’s gorgeous,” she says, trying not to sound jealous as she admires the beautiful ring. “I want to hear the story, of course.”

It sounds like it was a simple proposal; Ringo asked George to marry him before they went to bed one night, but it sounds really sweet and George looks over the moon.

“You’ll come to the wedding?” George says excitedly. “It would mean so much to us.”

Pattie accepts the invitation happily.

It turns out to be a small wedding. In addition to Pattie, George and Ringo invite their families, John, Paul, and Brian. It’s over in twenty minutes, but Pattie thinks it’s terribly romantic.

She wishes them nothing but a happy marriage, but she can’t help but wonder if she’s losing a little more of her best friend.

*****

Pattie finds her own husband and builds her own life, but she still can’t help but feel something is missing.

When George excitedly tells her that he’s expecting a baby, she wants to be nothing but happy for him.

But it only reminds her of her own struggles to get pregnant. That’s something she hasn’t yet shared with George.

When the baby is born Pattie visits George in the hospital and holds the little one in her arms and it just breaks her heart.

At that point she starts to live a little vicariously through George.

Pattie visits George and Ringo as often as she can to dote on the little one, and as the years pass they have more children while she is still left with none.

She tells George about her desire for the children she’ll never have, and he comforts her in just the way she needs. George has always made her feel like a part of the family, and she’ll be eternally grateful for that.

George keeps his word, of course. Pattie has an invitation to every birthday, every Christmas, every Easter. She watches George and Ringo’s children grow and she spoils them like they were her own.

Pattie may not ever have the family she once thought she might have, but she’s a part of something just as special.

*****

The second worst day of Pattie’s life is when George tells her he has cancer.

He sounds so calm when he says it, and Pattie really has to admire his strength. She ends up bawling her eyes out in his arms, and she can’t help but think it should be the other way around.

Pattie does everything she can to support him and Ringo and the children. She’s there to help with anything they need, and her heart breaks a little more each day as George gets weaker.

The worst day of Pattie’s life is when George dies.

Ringo phones her a little after four in the morning, and she’s never heard him sound so broken.

She drives over to the house right that instant, and holds Ringo while he cries and figures out what to say to the children.

She helps Ringo with the funeral arrangements, and flies with him to India to scatter George’s ashes. She’s glad she’s there for that.

She’s thinks of that beautiful boy she met all those years ago on that film set, and even though they never had romantic feelings towards one another, she can’t help but think he was the great love of her life.

#starrison #mpreg

57 notes · View notes

blu-joons · 3 years

Text

DATING EXO HEADCANON A⇴Z ⇴ Oh Sehun

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Incredibly affectionate, that’s the best way to describe Sehun. He has a lot of love to give, and that usually ends up coming in the form of either a hug or a kiss, or sometimes just being able to hold onto your hand.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

You worked backstage on Busted which was how the two of you met. Sehun had his eye on you quite early on, but he was far too nervous to say anything. He kept a close eye on you throughout the feeling, which was something several other members of cast and crew soon picked up on, encouraging him to at least say hello.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

On the last day of filming, Sehun invited you to one side so that he could talk to you. You weren’t quite sure what was going on until Sehun began to tell you all about how he had been watching you over the past few weeks. When he finished his talk off by inviting you out to dinner, you were definitely taken aback, but you didn’t need much time to accept and go out to dinner with him that night to a nearby restaurant.

D ⇴ DATES

Your dates together were usually quite spontaneous, Sehun loved to see what took your fancy when you stepped outside. He loved the element of surprise, if the two of you spotted something whilst walking around, you’d just head over and give it a try. Whenever he has an event for the group or his acting, he’ll always invite you. He loves to introduce you to his friends and show you what he’s been working on, whilst it might not be a date per se, time spent with Sehun is more than enough for you to enjoy.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

You were the first experience of love Sehun had, a lot of the early days were about allowing him to learn about relationships. He was open with you about his fears and worries about dating, but after talking with you, he knew that he had to trust in the two of you. To begin with, he never said a word to anyone about you out of fear something would happen, however overtime, he began to relax a little more and seen began to share more with other people about your relationship and how happy he was with you.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

Sehun isn’t afraid to say what’s on his mind, which can sometimes lead to a bit of miscommunication between the two of you. Once he realises that what he’s said has upset you however, he’ll be quick to realise his own mistake. He values the time he spends with you in amongst his busy schedule so the last thing he wants to do with you during this time is fight. He won’t be able to let an argument settle, as soon as it feels like it’s blowing up, he’ll diffuse the situation and encourage you both to talk about things rather than letting it fester. He won’t leave you alone until an argument is resolved between you both.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

His family were a little apprehensive to meet you, but as soon as they did, they saw exactly why Sehun fell in love with you. They were a little worried about Sehun when he told them that he was dating, but after getting to know you and seeing the two of you together, they soon saw exactly what Sehun saw in you too.

H ⇴ HOME

Sehun only waited a few months before inviting you to move into his place. He was quite keen on having someone around to help and support him. It was only when he moved out, did he realise how much he needed the other members, and whilst they could never be replaced, living with you was just as good, if not better.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

He was the first one to say, ‘I love you,’ one night when you surprised him at the studio. You weren’t to know, but a visit from you was exactly what he needed. When he saw you, he just couldn’t help but say it as a token of appreciation to how pleased he was to see you. You thought nothing of it but hearing him say he loved you certainly made you smile.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

Out of the two of you, you tended to get jealous a little more than Sehun. You always knew that he was a social person, and at most events he loved to circulate and speak to people, but that didn’t stop you getting jealous at times. Sehun would be able to tell straight away when you were feeling jealous and would usually place his arm around you to not make a scene around his friends. When the two of you were alone however, he’d be a lot more verbally reassuring and remind you that you were the one he was with.

K ⇴ KIDS

Having children felt like quite a way off for Sehun just yet, but that didn’t stop him from discussing it with you from time to time. He wanted to make it clear to you that he saw children in your future together, just not in the immediate future. He’d often sit to himself and imagine what his future would look like with you and children, even if it wasn’t to happen straight away, Sehun couldn’t wait for the day.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

Hearing you laugh was one of his favourite sounds in the world, he couldn’t help but laugh whenever he heard you laughing. He loves to mess around with you and wind you up, he’s had plenty of practice over the years with mocking his elder members that he knew exactly how to get a laugh out of people. If you’ve ever had a bad day, he will work hard to put a smile on your face, if there’s one good thing about Sehun, he’s relentless, and he won’t stop trying until your smile is firmly back on your face for him to see.

M ⇴ MISSING

The members are very protective of Sehun as the youngest, so they always pick up on when he’s missing you. They’ll rally around and pick him up and will also send you a text every now and then to maybe nudge you into getting into contact with him. You know that Sehun will try and convince you that he’s alright, so you’re always grateful whenever the boys get in contact with you and let you know what’s really going on. It will take a while for Sehun to admit to how he’s feeling, but once you eventually break down that wall in him, he’ll open up. He works hard to make time for you whenever he’s on the road, at some points it can be a struggle, but he will always find a way even just to say hello to you.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

Sehun loves nicknames for you, cute names like ‘petal’ and ‘sweet,’ are two of his usual favourites, he loves to change things up and take you by surprise with a cute little name that he knows will make you smile.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

He’s obsessed with your body, he could never pick a favourite part of it, but he loves to have some form of physical contact against you when he’s close to you.

P ⇴ PDA

As he’s in public quite a lot at events and promotions, he’s not afraid to be affectionate with you in public. He’s not someone that will make a big deal out of affection, but it will be enough to make it clear to other people that you’re with him and that’s staying right by your side in order to keep you safe and protected.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

Sehun has a very curious mind, so he’ll often ask you questions about the world. He loves to engage in conversation about anything that comes to mind and sit with you and enjoy several debates about random things.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

Very few people are aware of a bracelet that Sehun carries around wherever he goes. It was one he stole from your wardrobe a long time ago when he went away. If he’s wearing long sleeves, he’ll wear it on his wrist, but if his wrists are on show, he’ll tend to place it in his pocket or attach it to a zipper on his outfit, it’s something that you can look out for, but none of the fans or staff will even be able to see it on him.

S ⇴ SEX

He loves to explore and try new things; his curious mind will often get the better of him as he aims to learn more about your money and your needs. Sehun takes great pleasure in taking care of you, he focusses a lot on your insecurities and will take extra time to reassure you about all of them. He loves to whisper into your ear and be as affectionate as possible, anything that will do the trick and put a smile on your face.

T ⇴ TEXTS

His schedules are often busy which means there’s limited time for you. When he can get a moment during those busy days he’ll always send you a text to prove to you that he’s taking care of himself and eating well.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

For so many years he’d been the baby of the group, but now he liked having someone to look after. He was loyal to you always, once he felt his heart beat around you, he knew that he saw his forever with you.

V ⇴ VACATION

Whenever he went overseas, Sehun would try hard to be able to get you to go with them. He travelled often with everything that he did, but he loved to have you with him. On his days off, he loved to take you out to explore and give you a bit of time with him too away from his busy schedule that constantly interrupted you both.

W ⇴ WHINING

If he didn’t have your attention, Sehun wasn’t afraid to kick up a storm. He’d sit and wait patiently until he had your full attention and then he’d talk.

X ⇴ XXXXX

Sehun is a big fan of kisses, they’re simple ways of constantly reminding you that he loves you in his opinion. He much prefers to kiss you than for you to kiss him, he likes to be with the one to make your heart burst and fill you with a lot of warmth. His kisses can often be spontaneous too, he loves to take you by surprise and appear by your side when you least expect him by pressing a kiss against the side of your face.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his partner in crime, together the two of you were very mischievous.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

At night, Sehun loved to sit and talk with you. He’d lay tangled up with you, he loved to play with your hair especially whilst you’d tell him what was on your mind, and then lay as he responded and supported you in whatever it was you told him.

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Masterlist

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