crying because i finally get to gif what ive wanted to gif for so long



You still had cuffs on your wrists and a paramedic was using a dremel tool to saw them off, shaking his head the whole time and sighing when they were finally off, observing the black bruises left on your skin. “I’m going to get the bus ready and we’ll head to the hospital, alright?” he was talking more to Spencer but both of you nodded.

“Y/N,” Spencer Reid spoke to you softly. “Y/N, I need to ask you a couple questions.” he told you but they were in the process of rolling Logan out of the ground on a gernie and you couldn’t focus. Spencer’s hand fell on top of yours as he looked at you . 

“Is he dead?” you asked. Spencer’s head fell and he licked his lips before he looked back up at you with honey colored eyes that reminded you of Logan’s in a way. 

“Y/N, he lost a lot of blood…” he knew what you were thinking but Spencer’s rescue had given you hope. Logan was in a different ambulance than you and he was being raced away, leaving, disappearing into the evergreens. The paramedics were taking their time closing Spencer and you up in the back of your ambulance. Spencer sat beside you and you hadn’t realized until half way to the hospital how hard you were squeezing his hand. 

“I’m sorry…” you pulled your hand away. “I-I…” the situation was beginning to become too surreal. Your vision started to blur as your skin felt like it was burning off your bones but you were shivering, freezing. 

“Y/N?” Spencer grabbed your shoulder and pulled you up, keeping you from falling into the floor. 

“I think she’s going into shock.” the paramedic reported and told the driver to step on it. You hyper-focused on Spencer’s eyes and realized that they weren’t like Logan’s at all. Logan’s eyes were dark and mischievous, full of lust and unpredictability. Spencer’s eyes… Spencer’s eyes were safe and warm, they were inviting you into him, you could teach yourself to trust those eyes, those honey brown eyes. 

“Y/N, you need to breathe.” 

“Lay down.” the paramedic ordered and Spencer lowered you back on the gernie you’d been sitting on. The medic slipped a mask over your face and Spencer started to step back but you reached out for him again and he didn’t hesitate to take your hand. He knew what was happening. You hadn’t let go of him since the medic had sawed the cuffs off your wrists. Transference was occurring and the only reason you wanted him holding your hand was because he was the one to free you. You couldn’t actually like him… Or… could you? Even in your current state, he though you were beautiful. He admired how much you care about your best friend, not even worrying about yourself. And he knew you were smart, he’d done his homework on you. You were abnormally intelligent. You were a good person and Spencer’s heart broke to think that you’d live with what had happened over the past few nights for the rest of your life. 

Spencer was pulled out of his daze when your body started shaking violently on the gernie and your eyes rolled back. Without having to be told, Spencer held your arms down while the medic gave you a shot to calm your muscles and your rapid movements slowed until you were still. 

Spencer tucked some hair behind his ear that had fallen when he jerked himself up to help you but he sat back down. He looked at your hand for a moment before he made a dome over it with his own. 

When you got to the hospital, you were wheeled to a room of your own where you could stay. A nurse stitched a gash on your head while you lay unconscious in your bed and Spencer sat beside you. There was a doctor in after the nurse, who looked like he was too tired to care about what happened to you. 

Hotch arrived at the hospital shortly after you and Spencer. You’d been hooked into an IV and given something to help you sleep so Spencer slipped into the hall to walk with his boss. 

“The man that was with her didn’t make it..” Hotch told Spencer, guiding him down the hall. 

“Did you get him?” he asked, his heart dropping when Hotch didn’t answer for a minute. 

“He got away in the river.” the raven haired man answered. “How is Y/N?” 

“Really tired.” Spencer said. “I don’t think Charles fed Y/N  or Logan the whole time he was keeping them there, he drugged and beat both of them but Y/N doen’t seem to realize how long he really held them there.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“In the ambulance, Y/N was exhibiting signs of severe shock and amnesia and asked me if Logan was okay even though he’d been dead for days.” 

“You need to stay with in the room with Y/N. Morgan is going to be there too in case Charles comes-” a quiet alarm sounded from your room that sounded like flat line and Hotch and Spencer were the first to get to you. 

When they opened your door, they saw you trying to stand and Spencer and Hotch rushed to you, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stand on all the medication you’d been given. Both thought they were too late but to their surprise,you stood, holding onto your IV stand. 

“Lo-Lo…” you nearly vomited before you regain a whisper of composure. “I need to see him, Spencer…” you breathed. “I have to find him. 

“Y/N…” he shook his head, his eyes becoming so sad and you knew. 

“No…” you stumbled backwards. “No…” 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You moaned loudly, a deep, mournful howl in the back of your throat and you didn’t care about standing up anymore. Both men grabbed one of your arms to prevent you from falling onto the tile floor. Nurses were gathering at the door, watching the scene unfold like they had nothing better to do.  

“Give her something for the pain, please.” Hotch said, annoyed with the crowd. 

One small woman slipped inside and got into the small cabinet with her key to find something to hook into you to make you fall asleep. Hotch left the room when the nurse did but Spencer stayed. 

“He can’t be gone…” you whined hoarsely, the medication instantly making you sleepy. “He was all I had.” 

“That can’t be true.” 

“It is… I work at a cafe, Spencer. I have a Master’s degree in Psychology and I work at a cafe… I live in a tiny apartment and the only reason I had to live is gone. He’s gone.” 

“What about your family?” Spencer was beginning to become hoarse himself, holding back tears. 

“He was my family.” you coughed. “I wish he’d killed me…” you whispered before you fell into a deep sleep. 



A/N: Again, I’m so sorry with the slow updates, school’s a binch and I’m trying to survive. I’ll try my best to post at least one chapter a week for you all, but there’s no promises ): Again, I’ll try my best to get these up for you all to read! Thank you for understanding, enjoy :)

Word Count: 4.2K+

Warning: Profanity…angst-y

It had been a little over half a day since your incident, you still lying unconscious on the cot as Kylo had took time from his work to visit you here and there in case you had woken up. At first, he did it with the thought of scolding you the moment you’d slip back into consciousness, telling you how stubborn and selfish you were being; but then he realized how cruel and heartless that must’ve seemed, and at the moment, he really couldn’t act such way especially after the argument. So he decided he’d be by your side the moment you had awakened just to see if you were okay. Although he couldn’t be by your side the whole day, he made sure almost everyone in the med bay would notify him the moment you were snapping back to reality.

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Maybe there’s a reason we don’t see Stiles without a shirt. Maybe there’s a reason his Mom thought that small!Stiles was trying to kill her. Maybe there’s a reason why Stiles still isn’t great at lacrosse. Maybe there’s a deeper reason why Stiles & Scott became such good friends so young. Maybe there’s a reason why hardly anything is mentioned about Stiles prior to the death of his mother. Maybe there is another explanation for the heart in the fresco.



Stiles Stilinski had a heart transplant.

Your Mind, My Heart…

Stiles was born with a heart defect. As a very small child, he was limited to mostly indoor physical activity. He couldn’t keep up with the other kids, so his Mom would send him with books to read during outside time in pre-school and kindergarten. His friend Scott liked to read with him, too. Scott has trouble breathing. He thinks Stiles does too, and that’s ok: he’s learned that if he says his heart doesn’t work, people don’t let him do anything at all. Stiles likes to pretend to Be Dad. His Dad would give him simple versions of observation games the department taught to new Deputies and even tried to teach him a bit of military strategy & tactics from those handful of years in the Army. Stiles would read while he ate, then go outside and give the books to Scott. Then Stiles would sit and watch his schoolmates play, trying to train his brain. He knew he wouldn’t be able to run or play like his peers or be a cop like Dad, but if he worked on his education he could still do something important when he grew up. If he works hard enough maybe he can put people like Scott’s dad in jail. Stiles knows what happened at Scott’s house and it makes him angry.

Stiles watches. Stiles remembers. More importantly, Stiles notices.

Mom was getting worse, his own chest hurt more often and his Dad was sad all the time. One day, Stiles was waiting outside of his Mom’s room at the hospital and saw them wheel the nurse’s kid to the elevator. He looked tired and scared with an oxygen mask on his face. Stiles frowned, Nice Nurse Melissa was….well, nice, unlike Mean Melissa at Admissions, and her son Scott was a great friend…or would be when Mom gets better and Scott’s asthma calms down. Then Dad is calling, “Son? Your Mom and I are done with the Doctor, you can come in now.” Stiles hopped up and joined his parents. A little while later, a man came in and took blood from Mom, then took blood from Stiles. He piped up, “Mom and I have the same blood, AB!” For some reason, Dad and Mom both started crying when he said that. The man gave Stiles one of those lollipops with a weird string handle, patted his head and said something about Anti-Jims as he left. Stiles wondered if Anti-Jims were the reason his heart hurt and Mom’s brain was so tired. He said so out loud, then Dad pulled him into an awkward but fierce 3-way hug. Mom kisses his forehead. “Our Stiles, love. You always said he’s got your mind and my heart.” The hug grows even more fierce as all the Stilinskis in Beacon Hills cry together.

Mom was getting worse. It had been almost two years since her first stay in the Hospital, the last six months of which she’d spent in BHMH. Dad and Stiles couldn’t take care of her at home anymore, she kept wandering off or attacking them for no reason. After they put her into the hospital full-time, she started saying that Stiles was trying to kill her, that he wanted to rip her heart out. Worse were the days the nurses would have to restrain her because she’d ripped off her IVs and clawed deep, jagged, bloody gouges into her own chest. One evening, they found Stiles cowering in the shower, his small hands covered in her blood. Through blue lips and gasping for breath, he told Nice Nurse Melissa how he’d tried to stop Claudia but wasn’t strong enough. She hugged him gently, washed his hands while he drew deep on the oxygen mask and whispered Mom-sounding things as he drifted off to sleep. When Stiles woke up he found the Peanut Butter Cups that Scott had gently placed into his jacket pocket. Maybe they’ll finally get to hang out more soon, Stiles thinks as he pops the first cup into his mouth. He saves the second one for later.

Stiles was getting worse. His chest hurt more often now, for longer periods, and he had an oxygen tank at home. He slept a lot more, too. It was just more time for nightmares and terrifying visions of all types. He hated it. He forces himself to stay awake for long periods of time. He doesn’t get to spend time with Scott, he doesn’t go to school regularly. He hears his Dad on the phone talking about donors and test results. Dad sounds scared.
His entire life revolves around the hospital.

He’s in Mom’s room reading out loud to her when she suddenly gasps and looks over at him. Stiles jumps up, startled. This is the first time in weeks Mom is actually *looking* at him like she sees him.

She smiles, weak but radiant. “Stiles…”
His name is the last thing he ever hears her say.

He vaguely remembers pushing the emergency button when she stopped breathing. After he was hustled out of her room, Stiles sat in the waiting area. His book bag was still in the room, he was worried and bored and tired and didn’t know what to do. He asked Melissa for some juice, but she looked guilty and said he couldn’t have any right now. Sighing, he put his head between his hands and waited for Dad to arrive. He hears a whisper, “Our Stiles…my heart.” He squeezes his eyes shut.

It was all a blur after that. Dad ran in, hugged him and then followed Melissa into Mom’s room. He notices that Dad has blood on his hands. Whatever happened, Dad looks sad but not afraid. Stiles rubs at his eyes, exhausted from it all. Then Dad picked him up and got into the elevator with a couple of doctors. The doctors help get Stiles straightened out in his own room, and he doesn’t fight or argue. He’s numb and tired and now Dad looks like he’s about to cry. Another doctor comes in and tells Stiles that they have a new heart for him. Stiles tells his Dad and doctor both, “Will you tell Mom? She’ll be so happy…” trailing off as the doctor looks sharply at Dad and the chart, and falls completely silent when he is pulled quickly into his Dad’s chest.

He realizes later that the heart is hers.
Was hers.
Will always be hers.

Stiles recovers in record time. He’s energetic again, even more than before. He goes back to school and goes back to spending most of his time with Nice Nurse Melissa’s son Scott. They grow up in the usual fashion and start high school. He goes out for lacrosse with Scott on a whim, thinking it’ll be good for both of them to get a bit of exercise but ends up liking it more than he’d care to admit. Stiles has good checkups from his cardiologist and keeps his transplant a secret from everyone. He swore Melissa to secrecy shortly after the operation and she agreed to never tell Scott. She understands Stiles more than most. At school he avoids the Trainers and nurse, he doesn’t take his shirt off where anyone can see, he never talks about his Mom. In all of Beacon Hills, only a handful of people know about his heart and it’s going to stay that way.

Then as luck would have it, Scott is Bitten and everything goes to hell in a handbasket. When Stiles finds out that werewolves can hear heartbeats, he screams silently and tamps down the panic rising along with his curly fries from dinner. Is there a difference in his? Can they tell? He feels fiercely possessive of those beats. Her beats. He clenches his fists angrily until he feels his temples and wrists throbbing. Suddenly all the fight pours out of him, the pulse at his temple like a gentle kiss and pressure at wrists a reassuring squeeze from Her. It doesn’t matter, and since none of them say anything, he guesses his secret is safe.

Sometimes when he can’t sleep he’ll try to be still and quiet enough to hear it beat. Tries to pretend he’s pushing his ear to her ribs again, listening to the oceanic pulse of her blood as they cuddle together.

He can’t and he isn’t and he’s lonely.

TRUE ROMANCE IX + Book 2 of Soul Mate [also on AO3]

Summary: What if second chances did exist…except in another lifetime?

A/N: My dudes! I’d like to announce that the next chapter (or chapter 11, I can’t quite remember) will have clean smut…or at least, somewhat smut as i’m a shit at writing it but it’s a little heads up for those who aren’t so comfortable reading it. With that being said, here’s 9! Enjoy!

Warning: Slight profanity.

Word Count: 3.3K+


“We were going crazy! We called and called and called your phone, checked in with the front desk, called Rey like crazy–even Poe! Where were you?” Leia asked as she had her hand on her hips, Han simply sitting on the couch as Ben sighed, pushing his hair back.

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