lay .ᐟ

LAY ᝰ.ᐟ

she/her , minor , libra , infp-t , daughter of apollo , future nepo gf , gerard gibson's gf !

currently: playing video games with garrison abbey !

you didn't expect to end up back at your apartment with cobweb? spider juice? whatever the bug boy that saved your life called it.

it was almost surreal.

one moment your walking home from your job at the local comic book shop, next moment your bag is being grabbed at like it's got a million dollars in it.

you're kinda broke, so you're not really sure where they got that idea from.

maybe they were trying to jack comic you had in your bag.

and then it was like a blur and some dork in a red and blue suit kicked their ass.

the two muggers stuck to the wall from the same web fluid you had hanging off your sleeve now.

"what's in your bag?" he jokes, maybe he had the same thought you did. his voice is smooth yet clearly sarcastic. you wondered what he looked like, mostly you wondered if he was as good looking as his voice implied.

you pull the comic out of your bag and the whites of his mask widen. "i work at the shop down the street." you nod towards its direction.

"well i guess i'll have to stop by sometime." you can almost hear the smile through the red fabric.

"unfortunately we have a no bug boy policy." the whites of his mask flatten, but then you smile and his expression changes.

well, you think so. you can't really tell.

"ha. funny. it's spiderman." he states.

"its late, i'm going home. want to walk me home bug boy?"

"how 'bout i swing ya home?"

it was the scariest shit you've ever done in your life. but holy shit was it thrilling.

and now you're home, and you can't keep your mind off the spiderman with the gentle yet powerful grip on you and your thoughts.

note from lay,

that's not to say that everyone around you doesn't know it, because it's obvious that he loves you tremendously, but when it's just the two of you it's much more... intense.

hugh knows everything about you. every tell, every twitch, every flicker of expression across your face.

something you might think is "wrong" with you, he embraces fully and researches heavily.

and it's not just in his actions, it's in his words. you knew he was smart, but the way he describes you is beyond poetic.

he looks at you with such fervor and cares for you with such intensity that you almost don't believe it. like it's too good to be true.

but then he kisses you and every stupid thought that he isn't yours dissipates.

but not many know what hugh biggs is really like behind closed doors. the exception to that fact being you, and that was something you'd never take for granted.

note from lay,

G.K.A. tattooed just by your wrist, near where you'd press your fingers to find a pulse.

and then two weeks later they caught garrison abbey. your initials this time written across his skin in ink much like the other tattoos that littered his body.

not much to anyone's surprise, the media feasted on those photos for weeks. why? you two weren't really sure, it's not like you were at the level of fame the rest of your friends were at.

hell, you weren't even sure why you got the tattoos in the first place.

but you were in vegas the week you got them.

and what happens in vegas...

you didn't regret it though. it was kinda like a promise. you just didn't expect it to be blown into such large proportions.

but you're his girl. people had to know that. now it's inked into your skin like living proof.

note from lay,

that aquamarine surrounded by thick lashes and dark circles.

you've never been one for eye contact. that overwhelming feeling of someone actually seeing you. but to garrison it's like all he wants to do is look at you.

from the first time you met, his eyes never pulled away from yours. after a couple weeks, he smiles when he sees those same eyes of yours walk into work. a few months, well let's just say that looking away isn't an option, because he'll just tilt your chin in a such a way that your eyes have to meet his again.

when you two get together, he does anything he can to get a good look at his girl's eyes. he'll describe the shade almost to a tee.

what's his favorite color? a dumb question, because you already knew the answer.

his favorite view? it certainly wasn't one he'd have to travel for.

he wasn't sure why, but then it all made sense. your eyes were the first to look at him like he was a blessing, not a curse.

because to you garrison was far from cursed, he just had a bad reputation.

note from lay,

𝜗𝜚 shameless caller .ᐟ

currently playing ❛ full machine❜ in which: ❛ gerard gibson depended on you like he depended on air in his lungs. every night you were there by his side, you made it all go away, you made it seem bearable. you however haven't always been so telling with your emotions. having fallen into the pattern of believing that your emotions didn't mean jack shit unless someone asked, keeping it bottled up was a daily routine. but at some point you can't hold it in anymore, and there's only one boy who you seem to run to. ❜

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pairing: ❛ gerard gibson x fem!reader ❜ warnings: ❛ comfort yes kind of i don't know, cursing. ❜

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you'd been quiet for days. and when you weren't quiet, you just weren't at school. now as much as you and gibsie had a shared loathing of tommen, you hadn't missed a day of school unless you were sick. he would know, he gave you the flu just after you'd taken care of him.

you didn't bother waiting outside your home a few houses up from his anymore, telling him you'd just get a ride from your older brother, which made his passengers seat look dull without you in it.

safe to say it was unlike you to act like this. and for four whole days, gibsie didn't know what to do. he'd climb into your bed at night still, and you'd hold him just the same as you always did, and you'd whisper the same reassuring sweet nothings you did every night, and yet somehow it didn't feel like you.

. . .

sitting away, locked up in your room like you usually were in times like these, you just had the itch. the itch to scream, and cry, and tell everyone to fuck off, and to have him hold you until it all felt better again.

cross-legged on your bed with your cell at your side, your thoughts began to race.

there were many people you could call.

you could call claire, hell the girl was like a sister to you. which meant you could also call hughie. or you could call patrick, that boy knew you, not as much as gibsie did though. you could always call joey, he seemed to know what to do every time you'd talked. or shannon. or maybe johnny, johnny was sure to help. he'd do anything to make you feel better, that boy was the closest thing you had to a brother besides the numbskull across the landing.

but only one person seemed right. and frankly, he was the last person you wanted to call.

you weren't sure why. maybe because you were so used to being the one caring that being cared for didn't seem right. maybe it was because you were so used to holding it in until it all snapped.

but against your better judgement, his number was dialed and you sat there on the line praying he wouldn't answer.

god were you stupid for thinking he wouldn't.

"well hi angel! how's my favorite girl doing? you weren't at school today." he points out. he's trying to make it seem like he's not concerned, but you can hear it in his voice. you know him better than you know yourself.

not good. "i'm fine." liar. "i was just wondering if you could come over for a bit...?"

"of course, i'm already leaving. see you soon."

and before you know it he's hung up the phone which gives you about two minute before he walks through your front door and up the stairs into your room. two minutes for you to pull yourself together.

. . .

just like you'd predicted, time flies by and the gibson boy is perched on the side of your bed watching you with careful eyes.

you weren't sure why he hadn't moved since he came in, but it was starting to make you overthink things.

the small little furrow between your brows crinkling further is the move that prompts him to sit next to you, pulling your closed off body into his arms without a second thought.

"don't think. just talk." he urges.

he really did know you, huh?

you hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to put the feeling into words.

because that feeling was loneliness. and how could you be lonely if you had the prettiest boy in ireland holding you in his arms?

you ramble, each word falling quickly before you have time to regret saying any of it. you tell him about each feeling that bubbles to the forefront of your mind, about all the things that have drowned you in your own silence.

your voice cuts him clean in half.

it's rushed, broken, and so quiet that it slips into a whisper after a soft crack.

the silence was loud, but it wasn't unwelcoming.

you try to brush it off. tell him the whole thing was stupid and you were being dramatic, but before you could let one "i'm sorry" slip from the sad pout on your lips, he's cut you off.

"don't even start. you've held me more times than i can count..." he presses a kiss to your hair. its gentle, much like the way the tips of his fingers run up and down your arm leaving goosebumps in their wake. "let me take care of you for once."

and for the first time in days, that silence doesn't feel like drowning. it feels like fresh air. like comfort.

his lips ghost over your skin as your eyes flutter shut. "can you say something nice?"

"about you?"

"about anything."

he clears his throat, the pause of his fingertips tracing across your skin making you open your eyes for just a split second. "i think..." you feel a kiss pressed to your hairline, "that you're the strongest girl i've ever met. and no matter how alone you feel, i'll always be with you. because you're it for me."

the words catch you a bit by surprise, your stomach doing the little flip it always does when he's around. "really?"

"really."

and as you pull away to find any hint of deception in those steel blue irises, you find your feat was useless.

gerard gibson would never lie to you. maybe that's why it was so easy for him to be the one you turned too.

you called and he came. at the end of the day that was enough to mend those tiny little cracks in your heart.

because it all got better with him around. he was like a habit you couldn't kick, no matter how far you pushed him away.

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𝜗𝜚 expecting .ᐟ

currently playing ❛ means something ❜ in which: ❛ the girl next door finds her neighbour's cat having fun with her her own, learning that her cat would soon be having kittens. not wanting the kittens to grow up without a father, she takes it upon herself to rope in the blonde boy who frequently says hi from his window. ❜

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pairing: ❛ gerard gibson x fem!reader ❜ warnings: ❛ cursing, girl next door cutesy little fun stuff, i think thats it. ❜

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you and gerard had never really talked before. you'd acknowledge the boy, especially when he waved at you through his window if he spotted you in your room. even in the halls at tommen, he was always just sort of there. a sweet boy, but one you'd never gotten to know.

that would change however, when you spot his cat and your cat going at it in your backyard. how the mangy thing managed to get in? you had no idea, all you knew is that you walked in on something you most certainly didn't want to see.

a few weeks would go by, you thinking that nothing came from whatever the fuck you saw on your recently mowed grass, but you were sorely mistaken.

your cat had started throwing up more often, which was unusual and scared the shit out of you.

god, the look on your face when the vet told you you're cat was pregnant was priceless, like you'd seen alien's coming or something. the rise of your brows and the immediate drop of your jaw even illiciting a small laugh from the vet.

. . .

the drive back home gave you just enough time to contemplate on what to do. i mean you knew gerard, his parents and yours talked often when they ran into each other outside, but that didn't really mean you wanted to just go up to him and say "hey your cat knocked mine up."

after ushering your poor, sickly cat upstairs and making sure you looked somewhat presentable, you'd look up from your desk and out your window to lock eyes with the same boy you were needing to speak to.

he waved, much like he always did. you waved back before pointing to his front door with a smile on your face. he complied to your ask immediately, rushing to open his bedroom door and make his way downstairs.

you don't think you've ever seen the boy so... frantic? excited?

you took your time, each step closer and closer to an awkward conversation you weren't ready to have. usually you didn't like talking much anyway, but this was the pretty boy on the rugby team with eyes that could leave you speechless in seconds.

closing your front door behind you, you'd come to find that gerard was leaned up against his door frame just waiting for you to walk around that picket fence that seperated you two.

as soon as your feet hit his porch he wasted no time. "you beckoned."

what the fuck?

"hi gerard i -" he laughed a little, causing you to back track on your words.

"sorry..." he'd say between breathy laughs, "nobody really calls me gerard."

"oh... well uh -"

"you can call me gibsie." he seems to have found his composure quickly. "just made me realize we don't talk much huh?"

"well we might have to change that." confusion flushes his face, wow what a face. "you're cat kinda got my cat pregnant."

"oh you've got to be fucking with me! mam!" he shouts, turning his back to you and projecting his voice inside. "your stupid cat got the neighbour's cat pregnant!"

you hear a responce, but you're unable to distinguish what was said. "no the other neighbours! the one with the pretty girl in the window!" he responds, turning back to wink at you. theres another yell, one he rolls his eyes to and turns back to face you fully. "this is the third time he's gotten another feline pregnant. he's a whore, thank god he's not mine."

a half suppresed laugh manages to slip from your lips, a smile crossing his face.

"tell you what." his face is still beaming, taking a small step closer to you, "i'll be the good cat father i am and help out. my friend claire, the girl across the street? her cat's another one of brian's victims, she thinks you're cool so i'm sure she'll help out too."

"sounds good! um, i'll let you know updates then?"

he nods, his grin fading into a more content smile as you walk away. that smile is quickly dropped replaced by rememberance.

he wasn't going to let a pretty girl walk away without getting her phone number.

"phone number!" he shouts, causing you to turn on your heels and retrace your steps back to his porch. he pats his pockets, realizing he'd left his phone in his room. "uh shit..." his hands find your shoulders before turning and rushing inside. "stay there!"

with your hands awkwardly at your sides as a few beats pass, gibsie runs back with a pen in hand, holding it out in front of you for you to take.

you click the end of it, the small ballpoint jumping out. you push the ink gently into his left arm, his right hand running through that mop of blonde waves that sat atop his head.

with your number freshly scribbled on his arm and a small blush on his face, he finally lets you walk off.

he shuts his front door, rushing to his cat who looks more and more like the one from inspector gadget each time he sees it, or so he's been told a million times, practically strangling the poor thing in his arms.

"thank you for fucking another cat brian. i just landed the prettiest girl in cork all because you can't keep your dick to yourself."

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𝜗𝜚 losing brain cells .ᐟ

currently playing ❛ her majesty ❜ in which: ❛ silence isn't something you're known for. with that massive brain full of all that knowledge, you always had something to say. that is, until a case hits a little too close to home and michael's genius with a sunny disposition starts to go quiet. working yourself to the bone, michael decides to speak his mind. ❜

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pairing: ❛ michael townsend x fem!reader ❜ warnings: ❛ reader is heavily inspired by spencer reid kill me, cursing, discussion of death ❜

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michael was usually able to clock every emotion that passed your face within seconds. each one of your mannerisms never went unnoticed by the boy. he knew you like the back of his hand and you didn't even try hiding from him.

that is until you were assigned this case.

murders strung across your home state like it was clothing on a laundry line, and it made you sick. every single one had the same signature, burns found on all the victims and their throats slashed.

that only made you remember, remember what it was like when your dad had got the call that your older brother's apartment had burned down.

how? you had no idea. all you knew is that by the time you got to the hospital he was already dead, leaving you as a constant reminder that your brother was gone.

manipulation was something you were good at, usually you used it to deceive unsubs into giving you the information you need without them even realizing. every move, every twitch, every sound, all of it stayed fresh in your head and every time you go back to that moment it's like you're living it again.

eidetic memory was both a blessing and a curse in that way.

recently instead of using that raw talent of deception you used on your suspects, you began using it on the one boy who truly understood you.

but it wasn't like lia, you weren't lying. you were hiding.

and you never hid from michael. that's what scared him.

it'd been a few days since the naturals were called in for the case, those few days being some of the most grueling days michael townsend had ever experienced.

his sun-ray-like-genius had gone quiet and the worst part of it all. your face was neutral since the day the plane landed.

. . .

a mug of coffee in his hand and the purest of intentions in his heart, michael decides enough was enough for the night.

you'd been sitting with those files open around you for hours, each one bigger than the last. books scattered across the table along with heaps of information you had sloane print out for you.

your eyes scanned each word at the speed of light, making it impossible for michael to tell what your focus was on.

his voice tore through the quiet. "hi." his pitch was higher than normal, the small change noted in your head. "how's my wild card doing?"

wild card. just another way to say that she was a jack of all trades and a master of none. a term lia had coined for the girl. "i'm doing fine." your tone is sharper than you intended, but you don't let him see that small bit of regret you feel. "did you ever get the maps from - "

"as much as i admire your hard work y/n/n, i think we need to start settling in for the night."

panic.

the first outward emotion you've let him see in days. "but it's right there!" you snap, michael looking take aback. "i can figure it out and we can go home. it's on the tip of my fucking tongue michael and i know i can get it! i'm not leaving until i get it!"

michael's face flushes with concern, "hey, hey it's okay. i get it, just... calm yourself." he sits down at the chair next to you, swiping the papers you had sitting there originally to the ground. "just breathe. in and out."

his hand finds the small of back, usually if you weren't hunched over there would be a little dip. but you've seemed to just fold into yourself now that you were home.

"the quicker i solve this, the quicker we leave and the less i'm reminded."

michael opens his mouth to say something, but then it finally hits him. in one fell swoop, michael's got his arms around you and your face softly pressed into the fabric of his shirt.

"it's taken me days michael. days. i'm losing brain cells here." you mutter, the emotion you'd been holding in dripping from every word.

he presses a kiss just under your hairline and watches as those furrowed eyebrows you'd been sporting magically loosen.

"my dad even called." you add. the naturals never did have good luck with dads. "he wanted to see me tomorrow. i can't. you know i can't. leaving was the best thing i've ever done."

your dad didn't hate you. and maybe you didn't hate your dad. but you always told yourself that no one in your family was fond of the fact that you looked just like your brother.

he was smart like you are. he taught you everything you knew.

what you felt was guilt more than anything.

he pulls back from his grasp on you, his hands finding either side of your neck. "we'll finish it tomorrow. you just tell me what to do and i'll do it, but we'll have it by tomorrow. just take a break." your hands meet his wrists and just like he knew you would, your thumb presses softly into his pulse point. "see? i'm right here and so are all your brain cells."

a small laugh slips from your lips, leaving michael feeling like he accomplished something. standing up, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and letting his hands slip from your neck, michael passes you the coffee he brought before slowing trekking to the glass door you'd been confined by for hours on end.

reluctantly you shut your file and follow suit, flipping off the light switch as you exit.

with each day that passed michael just learned more and more about you, now knowing that shutting people out was something you did in this godforsaken town you grew up in.

with each day to day change it only brought you two closer. and it only made the small breaks that much more enjoyable.

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. . .

A LETTER FROM LAY !