#Hearts Bleed Goodbye

[shima-draws]

Now that I've had time to Absorb mentally. Several things.

-Luffy going from overeating to swearing off eating entirely. Homie that CANNOT be good for you. And the fact that he's willing to not eat unless it's Sanji's food...that's so. INCREDIBLY significant. Bc it's been very clearly established how much Luffy LOVES food. His stomach is literally a black hole. Eating gives him strength and makes him happy. He enjoys food so much he steals it off other people's plates. He's so impatient when it comes to meals that he'll sneak into the kitchen to try and mooch before it's ready. And now he's refusing all that...for Sanji. He's going to sit there and starve himself, even though he doesn't like being hungry, even though food is one of the most important things to him, even though he has a CHOICE to eat and he CAN eat but he's not going to because it's not food Sanji made for him. The fact that food is such a central part of Luffy's character and who he is, and that we know he never does anything he doesn't want to do, it just makes me. GODDD. Why is he like this why are they like this I'm insane

-THE FACT THAT THEY LITERALLY DID THE MONTAGE OF ALL THEIR MEMORIES TOGETHER. JESUS CHRIST. That was a low blow. And also the gayest shit I've ever seen. Yeah let's just drive it in even further how important these two are to each other and how much it's tearing them both apart that Sanji's leaving by showing all their wonderful moments together. I was literally full on SOBBING at this point. Fucking RUDE smh

-Sanji being SO self sacrificial makes me want to cry I CANNOT with him rn,, It's to the point where he feels like he can't even rely on his nakama because he just wants to protect them. Like he could have easily told them what was going on. But he decided he'd chase them away, for their own safety, because Zeff's already in danger and Sanji can't risk losing his crew too. He couldn't bear to see any of them get hurt by the family that's been tormenting him for years. So he hurts HIMSELF by pushing them away. He loves them so so much that he's willing to cut ties with them completely and make them hate him so that they'll stay SAFE. GOD. Except Luffy sees right through that act bc he knows Sanji too well 😭 The fact that even Nami didn't realize that Sanji was just trying to protect them makes me so emo she really did think he'd been lying to them all along...GIRL have more faith in your nakama!!

-Luffy refusing to give up on Sanji, not ever, I'm going to explode, that is HIS nakama HIS cook and he won't stop until he can bring him home. BASHING my head against the wall

-Also I already talked about The Line in my last post but here I'll share my tags

I need to be put down I think I am so unwell rn

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Every time I rewatch S1E2 Guess Who's Coming To The Wedding?, Dorothy's behaviour hits me harder. Not just how she acts around Stan (that final speech, oh my god Bea Arthur you magnificent actress), but how she acts around Kate and the whole premise. She's so excited about the wedding!! She's always wanted to give Kate a great wedding!! She says "Your wedding day should be the most beautiful day of your life" and you know she's been dreaming about her baby's wedding day ever since her own. You know she's desperately trying not to think of how anxious she felt, how trapped, how terrified, how chocked she was when she herself walked down the aisle. She says "And I just hope that you and Kate have all the happiness in the world!" and you can just see the memories of those 38 years of her life shoot through her mind, you can see her hold on to all the happy moments she can and pray that Kate's marriage is nothing but good years and happy Christmases. And the way her voice chokes up when she says goodbye to Kate?? "Now, listen, you be a good wife, you hear? Be his friend, be his lover. Don't be his slave!" Do you think these are the things she told herself during her marriage? Do you think these are the things people told her and she desperately tried to be all that -- to be the perfect friend, to be the perfect lover, so her marriage would work? Do you think that don't be his slave! was a desperate plea -- don't accept it all, don't stay no matter what he does, don't be like me? Listen this is just a rant and I am going nowhere with this but the truth is Dorothy is the strongest woman who ever lived on television and I love her so much and I want to bundle her up in a nice blanket and go beat up Stanley Zbornak with a baseball bat!!!! God!!!!!!

[animeisforanimation]

Trigun fandom, dearest

i've finished volume 10

i thought i'd seen all the pages and 'd read all the meta and ‘d known everything in advance and thus was ready. hell, I was even afraid it won't affect me as much as yall say

oh well

guess jokes are on me

sitting here covered in tears and snot

looking at them in perfect sync

in protecting, in fighting - reaching for each other

and then this... ballet

a team

and then like a shot in the head - they say the same fucking words at the same fucking time

i need to lay down

...

"why? you of all people should know why"

can you imagine talking to a person who killed love of your life? whom the love of your life died to protect?

can you imagine the turmoil?

UPD an hour later: volume 11 addresses that too?! how is this story so so perfect?!

…

and why does this perfection has to hurt so?

[angelusteal]

meeting a senior dog at an animal shelter.

Today we visited an animal shelter. Said hello to all the cats/rabbits/calm pair of guinea pigs. It was a small shelter, we went in knowing they only had two dogs: a very young shepherd mix and the dog we came specifically to visit - a senior beagle mix.

The puppy was a treasure of course, we played with her before we left. But the senior beagle..... good god.

She was so lovely. She was delighted to meet us immediately, put her paws on me to say hello, not shy or scared at all. She was so much smaller than I thought she'd be, and with a much pointier face. I'm falling immediately, obviously. We take her around the property outside, she's jazzed up, playful, wants to sniff everything and explore, VERY strong. But then she also just sits on the grass with us too when we stop, and lays down and wants belly rubs.

The shelter guesses she's around 10 years old. She was picked up as a stray in the city a few hours away, and the rescue had to do some medical work for her - removing a few growths, and taking most of her teeth from periodontal disease. They have no idea what sort of life she's lived </3

With all the house stuff we're in the middle of, we literally can't adopt a dog right now.

But we can definitely adopt a dog in a few weeks once we hustle and get things done. So. I've asked the rescue to please let me know if anyone else claims her, and that we are so interested, and we do want her, and we will be coming back so everyone in the house can meet her.

So fingers crossed for us and this sweet senior beagle baby. If she finds another home before we can take her to ours, that will be bittersweet. She's in good hands atm, but we'd love to have her spend her golden years with us.

[toxicrayofsunshine]

Last night, our precious baby girl crossed over the rainbow bridge, leaving behind an ache in our hearts that cannot be measured. She gave us 11 years of unconditional love and loyalty and while in the back of your mind you know they won't live forever, we were completely blindsided. She was the very best girl, so gentle and patient and nothing will ever take her place in our hearts. RIP Salem Girl. We love you more than words can say.💔

[wisdomshoes]

you know i just realized my boy is blue is actually kinda rocking a whole fucking black parade thing (well except blue, blue parade)

"No I know that I can make you stay, but where's your heart, but where's yoooour heaaart, but where's. your. AND I KNO" -Rouxls after finding out his puzzle sucks and it's not stopping anyone

admireth the worm

[wispisstillverybored67]

Tarot Cards and Assassins, ft. Gelato

This may take a while... so buckle up. This is going to get slightly mixed with Persona, not sorry.

The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed...

For this one... I shall assign him...

The sun. For him, I "draw" the Sun Arcana.

Upright, it represents one's happiness, energy, and achievement, or achieving something. It more specifically refers to material joy and contentment with your lot in life. Reversed, these qualities are diminished, or even... reversed.

We have the least information on him, so this is mostly based off every piece of anything we have on this guy, mixed with a bit of the fans' belief in how he'd act.

In the updated infograph in episode 10/The Hitman Team (where we see the guys and the deaths of Sorbet and Gelato in full), where the narrator recounts the drug trade, and how the group seeks to capitalize on the money, the image is updated from the relationship chart present all the way into King Crimson vs Metallica arc.

The lover boys are in the back, holding what's probably some info on Diavolo, or a paycheck, judging from Sorbet's scowling look. Gelato, however, is shown smirking, implying that he just doesn't care about the money, if it was the latter. Also, when Nero recounted the guys' disappearance, he said that "Gelato is one thing", judging from the tone, he acts like he's done this before, also showing that he just doesn't care, coming off as laid-back, or at least compared to his husband. Additionally, you'd usually see Gelato as being depicted as the more upbeat one, more emotional, assuming all this and that he DID kill himself, as I believe, and not a convulsion, it wasn't that hard either way since he was already crying.... It seems to fit.

But despite this "content", he and Sorbet were the ones to look into Diavolo, both seeming discontented with the lack of pay and territory. And that's where the "reverse" comes along. His demeanor suggested that he was content with his situation, but he wasn't. Assuming Illuso was correct (which I believe so), energy and insanity also go hand in hand, as the card depicted upright. The duo hoped to accomplish more lucrative pay and status, but look what happened...

In nearly every other piece of work he's in, Sorbet is the one getting touchy, also showing some satisfaction in receiving that. But in their little updated graphic in the anime, he's shown touching his tit. Nothing wrong with that. But anyways.

Ironically, in the throes of death, he was instead in the bowels of despair. Despairing, witnessing his husband being chopped up precisely in front of his very eyes, he swallowed his gag and killed himself to spare himself the sight. Clearly, that was enough for Diavolo/Cioccolatta, if the intention was to teach them a lesson, having their final moments in the abyss was enough. Reversed, the Sun was his epitaph But I fear, tomorrow, I'll be crying..., and he disposed of himself.

On a much more light-hearted note, adding onto my comment on his usual portrayal, he seems to be the sun, so to speak, to Sorbet's moon. But he's not the moon in this series, my point still stands... He just seems to be an upbeat (bordering childish) guy.

And thus, his Arcana is the Sun. He lit the fire, now watch it burn.

"I am thou, thou art I Thou hast turned a vow into a blood oath.

Thy bond shall become the wings of rebellion and break the yoke of thy heart. Thou hast awakened to the ultimate secret of the Sun, granting thee infinite power..."

[fair-dinkum-mechanic]

I don’t know what I did to be dumped into this life. It’s not a bad life, I’m very lucky in so many ways. I love my cat I love my mum and I love spending time with my friends.

But this heart I have in me is so… immense and not in a good way. It just yearns and longs and clings to sentimentality and romance, and it’s a cancer. Those things mean NOTHING in this world, particularly if you’re a queer man. I think most have that yearning in us but the dick or the status or the power seem to win out 9/10 times. And I mean, yeah, we’re men. I hate men. So I truly feel like I was born defective. Like truly horrifically defective. Not with anything visible but with this just immense need for closeness and connection and well, love. True love not whatever comes along. And because that’s not the way in which the world is it’s warped and morphed into this uncontrollable, putrid, overbearing and overwhelming fucking mess.

The temptation to just end it all so that I can destroy that force and not let it burn anyone else or hurt me any further is so strong. Like I can only see positives to killing myself. Except for my cat. Her world is so different to ours and she really truly wouldn’t even begin to comprehend why her best friend in the world isn’t there anymore. She’d think I left her on purpose. No way. For now that’s enough to keep me around, but I don’t know if it’ll keep me stable much longer.

We play with each others lives and hearts every day like they’re nothing. We don’t even realise we’re doing it especially in the age of social media and consumerism but we’re damaging each other in ways we can’t even begin to imagine. And when people finally crack and take their lives we’re kinda not even shocked anymore. This is absolute hell and we’re just kinda staring blankly and blinking just accepting that this is how things are.

Anyway though, all I can control is my own world. And I’m an issue. My love is not beautiful my love is not pure or comforting. It is stifling and wicked. I’ve been actively trying to repress it and destroy it so I can be just like everyone else. Because it makes me look like an idiot. But I can see and definitely feel now that it’s still there and I am HURTING. Beyond words I’m hurting. And through it all I don’t blame anyone else but myself for it.

[lils-words]

you took our love and burnt it down to ashes, blown away in the wind.

you ripped my wings in hope to never see me fly again without you there.

eventually, i healed my wings and moved on while you were betrayed by the girl you replaced me with.

while i soared, you tried to shoot me down to make me yours again.

you will never know me again, even though you chase after my feathers because i was the angel you regret letting go.

[byakugoseal]

tag dump: broken & updated tags part ii

[hlysins]

tag dump: miscellaneous

[auroralwriting]

home

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

spencer gets shot, and you don't know who you need to forgive: him, or yourself.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: no use of y/n, spencer gets shot, season 9, blood and violence, criminal minds type violence, negative self thoughts, angsty but it turns fluffy, spencer's drug addiction is discussed, best friends to lovers

The ringing in your ears overwhelmed you. Shots were firing all around, and you didn't know what to do. You'd never been in a shoot-out before, and you felt panicked.

Spencer was beside you, hidden behind the car door as he fired some shots. You watched as an officer in front of you was shot.

You knew it was the worst idea to go out there, but the man could be alive. Your legs moved before you realized it, and you were attempting to drag the officer's body. Spencer and Alex both yelled for you, running out to grab you. Right as Alex grabbed your arm, Spencer pushed you closer to her, which was very out of character for him.

It was then you heard another bullet rip through skin.

The sound that came from Spencer was one you couldn't quite describe, but could never forget. Immediately, you noticed the blood seeping from his neck of all places.

"Spencer!" Your voice was broken and loud as you yelled, grabbing onto him. Derek made a jump, helping you and Alex move him behind the car again.

"No, no," Alex muttered, putting pressure on Spencer's neck. "Look at me, okay? Don't close your eyes,"

You sat behind her, shaking your head as tears freely flowed down your cheeks. "Oh my god, oh my god," You repeated, shock flooding your system.

"Ethan, look at me! Ethan!"

For a moment, you didn't realize who Blake was talking to, until you saw Spencer's shut eyes. "Spencer, Spencer wake up." You crawled over, shaking his shoulder. "Please, I need you, I need you with me forever. You're my best-- Alex, why is there so much blood?"

You helped Alex stop the bleeding, but it was so much. After what felt like years, the paramedics arrived. You and Alex fought to ride with him, and somehow, they let both of you. The woman held you to her side as she urged you to look away, but the sight of Spencer's dying body never left your eyes. Were you even blinking? Breathing? It didn't feel like it.

Spencer was rushed to surgery immediately. You didn't even get to say goodbye when you and Alex were sent to the waiting room. The two of you didn't speak for a while, until an hour or so later.

"Who's Ethan?"

Alex turned to you, "Ethan was my son."

"He passed?" You asked.

"When he was nine. I begged him to look at me." Alex bit her lip as you squeezed your eyes shut. "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

You reached for her hand, which she took. "I don't blame you." You admitted, looking over to her with teary eyes. "Do what your heart tells you to, Alex. Don't let us determine what you're happy doing."

Alex gave your hand a squeeze as the silence took over once more as you waited. Penelope sent word that she was on her way, and you hoped it would be soon. Her cheerful demeanor was what you needed.

Finally, the doctor came to tell you Spencer had narrowly avoided death. You felt a breath release, one you didn't know you were holding. The man lead you both to Spencer's room.

Your first thought was about how peaceful he looked. Then, the panic set in when you saw the IV in his arm. "What medications will he be given?" You quickly asked before the doctor could leave the room.

The doctor listed a couple of medications when one caught your attention, "...Gabapentin, Hydromorphone--"

"Stop, what are those? Opioids?" You questioned.

"Uh, yes. Both are in the dilaudid family--"

You shook your head, "He can't have those. He had a drug addiction to dilaudid. Give him something else."

The doctor gave you a hesitant look, "Agent, those are what we recommend--"

"I don't give a damn, what else can you give him?" You demanded, crossing your arms.

"Uh, Morphine would be the most basic and cover the most ground." The doctor sheepishly responded.

With an exasperated look, you said, "Then write that down. That's what he'll be getting. Monitor the doses, too. I don't want to risk a relapse. If you have any questions, I'm his second emergency contact. First is Aaron Hotchner, he can attest--"

"It's really alright, miss." The doctor said, slowly stepping back. "We took note. I'll see to it that it is followed."

The doctor left and Alex chuckled, "You scared him."

"Good," You replied, sitting down next to Spencer. Alex took the other side as you carefully took his hand. "It's my fault, you know."

Alex's brows furrowed, "What?"

"It's my fault he got shot." You repeated, pinching the bridge of your nose tightly as you squeezed your eyes shut. "I was to his right. He pushed me out of the way. My head is just where his shoulder is, and he bent down to push me. It was meant to be a headshot, Alex."

Softly, Alex grabbed your hand across Spencer's body. "Sweetheart, that doesn't make it your fault. You couldn't have controlled Spencer's actions."

With a sniffle, you tearfully looked up to Alex. "Alex, please be with him when he wakes up. He's my best friend, and I failed him. I- I just can't."

Alex wanted to argue you, to tell you that you were exactly what Spencer needed when he woke up, but she also took into account your needs, too. "Alright," she sighed. "But please, come back after to see him, alright?"

"Yeah," You nodded, biting your lip.

Remembering the moment Spencer got shot was like it was from another lifetime, even if it was just from a few mere hours ago. You remembered exactly what you did, but looking back, it felt like you replayed every moment you'd ever had with the genius. Every lingering touch, every time he made your heart swirl. You would've never gotten to kiss him, or tell him you liked him. It was too much for your heart to bare.

Penelope showed up later on, setting up some Doctor Who action figures for Spencer to see when he woke up. The sight of it made you sick. Knowing he would need to see something good when he opened his eyes was too much, too soon. You excused yourself, leaving the room in a hurry as you left the hospital.

For a while, you sat in the black SUV provided by the police. You just needed space, air to breathe. After some calming breaths, you decided to get Spencer some flowers to cheer up his dull room.

The florist was only fifteen minutes away, so that's where you headed. When you walked in, the woman behind the counter noticed who you were. Small towns talk.

"I don't know anything," She said with a sigh, "You'll find better luck--" Her voice paused when she saw the look in your eyes. "You ain't here to question me, are you?"

You cleared your throat, "My uh, partner-- teammate, he got shot. I wanted to just get him flowers, I guess. Maybe this is too weird," You'd muttered the last part to yourself, turning around to leave.

"No! No, wait." The woman called as you turned back around. "You like this teammate of yours?"

You nodded, "Yeah."

"You like him more than that?" She raised a brow.

With a hot face, you nodded. "I do."

"I always know. I got just the thing for you, sweetie. Just give me five minutes to prepare it." The woman rushed into the back, and you hesitantly took a seat in a small chair. After those five minutes, she came back out with a gorgeous pink floral arrangement. "Put this together especially for you."

Reaching for your wallet, you mustered the best smile you could. "Thank you so much. How much do I owe you?"

"No charge, sweetie." The woman held her hand up in denial. "You work a hard job. I'm a mother, I know the look of love and heartbreak on a young woman's face. You tell him how you feel, alright? That's the charge."

Your eyes watered as you took the flowers from her. "Thank you, ma'am. You're too kind."

"Says the girl getting the boy she loves flowers after he got hurt." The lady smiled back.

After driving back to the hospital, you hit the fourth floor button and took the grueling trip up. You realized you'd left your phone in the room. Hopefully nothing too important happened.

As you walked up to Spencer's room, you heard his voice, but it was filled with panic. "Garcia, he has a gun!"

Your body moved before your brain as you ran in, grabbing the first person you didn't know. The male nurse, who you assumed was not a nurse, threw you back against the wall as you took note of the gun in the back of his belt. You reached for it, but felt the bottom of it crash into your forehead. He'd gotten it before you had. As you fell to the floor, you heard Penelope shout for help when you saw Spencer's bag, the one that had his gun.

Right as the unsub turned around, you grabbed it and shot him right in the chest. He fell to the floor as you realized you'd been clutching the flowers. Laying down, you let them fall out of your grasp as Derek appeared, grabbing the unsub.

"Oh, my ray of sunshine!" Penelope yelled as she helped you up "You're bleeding! Let's get you a nurse- a real one."

As she pulled you out of the room, you'd just caught a glance at Spencer who was watching you leave with an unreadable expression on his face.

You sucked in a sharp breath of pain as the nurse finished stitching up your forehead. A good sized gash was left from the bottom of the gun, and your shoulder was already developing a bruise on the blade. “Sweets, are you sure you’re okay?” Penelope carefully asked, squeezing your hand as the nurse grabbed the rest of her tools and left you both alone in the small waiting area.

“Yeah, Pen. I’ll be okay.” You nodded. Playing with your fingers, you cleared your throat. “How’s Spencer?”

“He’s okay. Up and talking, the Morphine is doing him well. He’s not in too much pain.” Penelope replied, giving your hand another squeeze. “He was thankful it was Morphine.”

With a nod, you continued, “Was Alex with him when he woke up?”

“We both were,” Penelope bit her lip, “but he still asked for you.”

“I just couldn’t be there,” A sigh escaped your lips as you rubbed a hand over your cheek. “It should’ve—”

Penelope raised her eyebrows, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. It shouldn’t have been anybody. This is not your fault, I won’t let you believe it.”

A throb emitted from your forehead, “When do we leave? I just want to go home.”

“Spencer’s being airlifted there. We leave right when he does, in about thirty minutes. JJ packed all your things and brought them to the jet for you.” Penelope softly smiled. You made a mental note to thank JJ for doing that for you. “You know you’re going to have to talk to him, right?”

“I don’t want to think about it, Pen.” You shook your head as much as the pain would allow. “I just want to go to sleep.”

Penelope nodded softly, taking your hand and guiding you to the car to go to the jet.

Two days later, and you were still at home in your apartment. Your forehead only got worst with a huge bruise around the stitches. That wasn’t to mention the pain radiating from your left shoulder, either. You felt so bad for not seeing Spencer while he was awake in the hospital, but even now, the thought made you sick to your stomach. Seeing him in pain, in the hospital gown, the beeping of the machines, it was all just too much to bear. It was worse knowing that should’ve been you.

You were sat in your sofa, a half-melted bag of peas on your forehead when you heard the doorbell ring. Slowly, you got up off the couch-- much to your dismay-- and approached the door, reaching for the knob and twisting it.

Spencer standing outside the door, holding a similar flower arrangement to the one you'd gotten him, was not what you expected.

"Reid," You softly said, his last name feeling odd on your tongue. He was never Reid to you. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how you were doing. Morgan, uh, told me you got knocked around pretty good." Spencer eyed your forehead, making you feel like a tiny specimen under a microscope. You allowed your hair to fall over it, covering the large, disgusting mark.

Biting your lip, you nodded. "I'm alright." After a moment, you came to your senses, "Uh, come on in. Sorry if it's messy."

"I think I'll live," Spencer chuckled, making your blood run cold at his words. You lead him inside, and even if he'd been in your apartment a numerous amount of times, it felt different now.

Spencer sat on the other end of your sofa. You pressed yourself to the arm, giving plenty of space between the both of you. "Are you in pain?"

"No, not really." Spencer hummed as he pondered your question. "But swallowing sometimes feels different."

"Ah," You casually replied as you went to pick at your nails. You stopped yourself-- don't give Spencer any of your tells. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I wish you would've came to see me sooner." Spencer admitted. "I missed you. I thought you would've been there when I woke up."

Guilt crept into your gut as you replied, "I was out getting you flowers."

"For three hours?"

Spencer's comment clocked you. "Spencer," You rubbed your neck, head slinging down to stare at your lap. "I couldn't be there."

"Why?" Spencer breathlessly asked, his eyes pleading for an answer.

He felt so alone when he opened his eyes and you weren't there. Sure, Alex and Penelope both were, but he was searching for you the whole time. You were his rock, you had been for the last three years. Sure, at first he took a while to warm up to you. Two months, twenty-three days, seventeen hours, and sixteen minutes, to be precise. The moment you both connected, however, it was like you and Spencer were attached at the hip. You had always been there for him. Why weren't you there for him now? It tore down Spencer to know you weren't there, but he was also concerned for your well-being as well.

"That shot was meant for me, Spencer." Your voice was cold as you spoke, a small quiver when you said it was for yourself. "We both know that would've been a headshot."

"You're mad that I saved your life?" Spencer didn't want to become angry, but he did feel frustrated at your lack of understanding.

You huffed, standing up quickly, "I'm mad that you hurt yourself for me, Spencer! You almost died, what would I have done if you died?"

"Says you," Spencer retorted, a small look of bewilderment on his face. "I couldn't live with myself if you died."

The air was thick in the room as you paced while Spencer watched. "Oh, so getting yourself shot was the answer. You scared Alex half to death, and I've never seen Derek cry before this! Don't even mention JJ going dead silent on us."

"Is this about them, or is this about us?" Spencer questioned, crossing his arms.

"This is about-- agh!" As you threw your arms out in distress, pain radiated through your shoulder blade. Your face scrunched in pain as Spencer quickly jolted to your side.

He softly took your arm, "Hey, hey. Let's just sit down, okay? Do you need more ice? Or, a better ice pack?" Spencer helped you sit down, and he grabbed your ankles to pop them up on the small ottoman in front of the couch.

"Better one would be nice," you muttered. "M' still mad at you."

"That's okay," Spencer's voice became more distant as he walked into your kitchen. "I guess I'd be mad, too. If I was in your situation, I mean."

You hummed, "Damn right."

Spencer chuckled as he made his way back into the living room. He gently pushed your hair out of your face, cringing at the huge bruise. You held onto the ice bag as he helped you sit forward. He could see the bruise that made its way up from your shoulder blade. It fell just above the hemline of your shirt, and the mere size made him sigh softly. "He really got you, huh?"

"He was Derek sized," you chuckled bitterly. "Plus, I was trying to save your flowers."

"Well, the vase was broken, but I kept the flowers." Spencer softly laughed beside you.

Your eyes twinkled as you looked to him, "You did?"

"Of course I did," Spencer nodded, "It was the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"Wow," Your tone was joking as you continued, "That's a really low bar. Gotta raise it, somehow."

Spencer softly took your hand in his. Every time he touched you, it reminded you of how much he trusted and cared for you; so much so that he allowed physical intimacy with you.

"I couldn't see you like that," You whispered, just loud enough for Spencer to hear. "It hurt me so much, to know I couldn't help you more. I-I couldn't- I-"

Shushes softly spewed from Spencer's mouth. "Hey, it's okay." He soothed, rubbing circles over your knuckles with his thumb. "I'm not mad at you. I was just sad you weren't there, but I understand."

"I can't live without you, Spencer Reid." You admitted, locking eyes with him.

Spencer softly spoke your name, and you noticed how his eyes flicked from your eyes, to your lips, and back to your eyes. "I can't live without you, either." Spencer echoed, another hand softly meeting your cheek. "Please tell me if I'm reading this wrong."

"You're not," you whispered. "promise."

You both sat there for a moment, reeling in each other's presences, your life forces. Finally, the tension got to be too strong. You leaned yourself closer to Spencer, ghosting your lips over his slightly-chapped ones. You gave him a moment to back out, to tell you that you read it wrong--

and he kissed you.

It wasn't a hard, fiery kiss. It was one that was soft, sweet, like a shining body of water, or the sound of laughter. His lips molded into yours like a missing puzzle piece. Spencer's hands moved to hold your face so strongly, yet so gentle like he was afraid to drop one of Rossi's expensive china pieces.

As you pulled back, Spencer's breath softly hit your face, a peppermint smell softly brushing your lips. "Is that why you were so upset?" Spencer breathlessly asked.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I think so."

"You think?" Spencer half-smiled.

"I think so." You pondered for a moment. "Wanna prove me right?"

Spencer chuckled, pushing his nose to nose your own. "More than anything."

Your lips collided again, but you pulled back with confusion. “How did you know I liked you?”

“Pink flowers,” Spencer scratched the back of his neck, “They’re known for symbolizing crushes, romantic feelings. Your whole arrangement was all pink tulips, roses, carnations.” You eyed Spencer’s for you— it was all pink. “I guess your florist knew better than you did.”

You chuckled, “I guess she did. I like yours, too.” Spencer’s eyes fell to his bouquet and he blushed. “Oh, don’t get shy on me now, kiss me again you sweet genius boy.”

Spencer smiled, happily leaning in for another kiss.

It was then you realized why you were so upset before; you couldn't lose your home.

[jayflrt]

yours forever in 786

PAIRING ▸ private investigator!jay park x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ social media au (smau), smut, fluff, angst, mystery, drama, enemies to lovers au, college au, rich kid au

SUMMARY ▸ after being blackmailed into accepting an assignment, jay park, a young private detective, is thrown back into college. this time, though, he’s at an ivy league and tasked to follow you to uncover what dark secrets your old money family is hiding. in doing this, jay must fraternize with your inner circle by joining a secret society called the "order of kryptos.” what he doesn’t realize is that the deeper he gets into his mission, the more he starts to lose himself.

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, slowburn, alcohol/drug consumption, portrayals of addiction, sexual jokes, sexual content, betrayals!! backstabbing!!, toxic relationships, order of kryptos isn’t a real secret society but heavily inspired by the ivy league secret societies, emotional cheating (BOOOO! not from mc or jay tho), jay and mc have a small age gap (2 years), most of the characters are pretty toxic so please note that this is not attune to their real life personalities at ALL

UPDATE SCHEDULE ▸ every day

PLAYLIST ▸ fatal trouble by enhypen • still sane by lorde • this is what makes us girls by lana del rey • too good by troye sivan • paparazzi by lady gaga • old money by lana del rey • i was never there by the weeknd, gesaffelstein • prisoner by the weeknd, lana del rey

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! i’m back with another smau but this one’s less lighthearted and more heavy ? sort of an experiment let's see how it goes, but hope u enjoy and lmk what u think !! ♡

CHATROOMS !

TEASER

PROFILES ONE | TWO

ACT ONE: THE TRANSFER

01. skip tracer to millionaire pipeline

02. besties with testes

03. who the fuck is princessyuna

04. the world of the elite

05. please don't the tom nook

06. standing on business (vlog boycott)

07. friend (noun.) not heeseung

08. boo boo the fool

09. professional haters debut

10. 21 jump street for nepo babies

11. how to not bleed to death

12. jay/n train

13. leather jacket

14. no goodbye sucks or fucks

15. ugly truths

16. girlfriend but the girl is silent

17. justice for stress shitters

18. alcohol shortage when

ACT TWO: THE INVITATION

19. attention seeker

20. and there was one bed

21. every boy for himself

22. rhymes with loona

23. out-testosteroned

24. white lies

25. heart-to-heart

26. the athenaeum

27. sock sock shoe shoe

28. group ass fucking

29. post defamation dinner date

30. final verdict

31. do you have time to talk about our lord and savior

32. tap to get tapped back

33. mad as fuck (the remix)

34. in too deep

35. change my world

36. provisional fight club

37. go piss girl

38. girlhood won

39. we can't do this

40. pledge week

41. babygirls with daddy issues

42. they must be really good friends

43. hot jay summer

44. dangerous entanglements

45. the fifth interview candidate

UNCUTS !

TBD.

ONGOING 7/29/24

[ennn]

Things I Liked About the Agatha All Along Finale - Initial Thoughts

Wooooo boy. Hey look I'm a bleeding heart shipper but I'm old and have been in enough fandoms. Let's process shall we?

Alice! Alice echo-ing what so many fans are saying about her lost potential. Rio actually being kind in reminding Alice her death did have purpose. "You're a protection witch, you protected someone."

The development of Billy's extremely complicated relationship with Agatha. Kid's not loyal to Agatha, he's understanding her, or starting to at least. He sees her being a relationship with Death and he's curious about the story there. He cares enough to connect the dots and see Agatha as a full person. And we see that developed as the finale goes.

"That's it? That's all the time that I get?" The show reminds us that death sometimes just happens – "Sometimes boys die" – I wonder if one of these writers is a Sandman fan because I immediately clocked a parallel to Death of the Endless taking a baby's life in her first comic appearance.

Death of the Endless is of course much kinder than Rio is with her (iconic) reply to that eternal question. "You lived what anyone gets... A lifetime."

That whole convo we got in the preview clip. And then them just sitting down and talking more? Albeit with layers of manipulation but y'know that's them.

Agatha telling Rio that she'll hand over Billy if Rio leaves her alone: essentially making Rio once again choose between her duty and her feelings towards Agatha. The deepest cut Agatha could make – which we see echoed with "If you do this I'll hate you forever." They know each other and the best ways to hurt each other.

I laughed waaaay too much at Agatha ragging on Jen's last vegetable name.

Jen's unbinding ritual was powerful and a fantastic moment for the character. She recognised and embraced her power. Agatha's mask slipping a little at the end as well. Amazing. Sasheer killed it.

The whole scene with Agatha working with Billy to bring Tommy back was beautiful and emotional and well put together and showed the side to Agatha that cements her as a great mentor (when she's not being the biggest murderous asshole).

Agatha using what she learnt from her Alice and Jen – and what Lilia told her – to hold her ground with Rio... okay it lasted like 10 seconds but it was a nice callback! Agatha's such a shameless survivor.

Incredible kissing. We knew Hahn and Plaza would deliver and they did. When it comes to kissing women, these two absolutely go for it.

Rio looking absolutely gutted with having to take Nicky away. Plaza really delivered with Rio's pain in these eps. Agatha calling her "my love", cursing and then begging.

Rio being soft about Nicky despite her job. Nicky willingly going with her with no fear, no hesitation – suggesting that they did bond somehow? Nicky knew she was a friendly face and trusted her. It was really a good death, all things considered. He wasn't sick, he wasn't in pain, he wasn't scared he simply fell asleep and just went.

Rio reminding Nicky to kiss his mom goodbye. She cares so much, as much as a personification of death can. It's funny how some people thought Rio was going to be this manipulative big bad but no, Agatha's the more toxic one in this relationship.

Okay like imagine Agatha finally dying and just straight up BOOKING it before Rio pops up. Rio hates ghosts. The number of times Agatha deliberately pissed her off this finale was amazing.

"I'm sure he'll forgive you for... whatever you did." Aw Billy is a good kid. Just like Nicky was. Agatha needs that reminder, that anchor to not be the Worst.

Chemistry aside, Agatha and Billy being mentor-pupil makes a ton of sense because these Maximoffs do the most fucked up shit (unintentionally) with their magic and Agatha's got the knowledge, charisma, cynicism, and the morals of a spinning compass to support him.

Alright when are they announcing the sequel / spin-off? I know there's a rumour of it happening. Rio's got 2 abominations and one endlessly aggravating ghost of an ex to deal with now.

[burreauxsworld]

Ours To Keep (4) | Joe Burrow

Angst, Fluff

Summary: you and Joe have a scare regarding your pregnancy, and it causes some unknown tension

The last thing you remember before you wake up in a hospital room is passing out in Joe’s arms. To say he was scared would be an understatement. Not only scared for you, but the baby as well. He’d came around to the idea of being a dad and he felt like it was being ripped from him. He sat in the waiting room of the hospital while the doctors and nurses worked to figure out what was going on. Gabby and Ja’Marr ended up there with him, both of them being friends with you made them worried to, which forced Joe to tell them about the baby.

It felt like an eternity before your doctor came to the waiting room to look for him. But when she came out of those doors, he immediately stood up. “Hello, Joe. It’s great to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances,” she begins, before ushering Joe to sit, and she sits across from him. “Y/N is okay and the baby is just fine. We’ve done an ultrasound to be sure, and the baby is moving around and progressing like normal,” she explains, and Joe lets out a breath of relief.

“Then why is she bleeding?” Joe questions. “Y/N is just waking up, and she’s asking for you. Follow me, I’ll explain everything when we get there” she tells him. He bids goodbye to Ja’Marr and Gabby before following the doctor through the doors she came out of. When he got to your room he was relieved to see you awake, slightly disoriented, but you were awake and that’s all that matters. “Joey,” your voice cracks, and he rushes to your side.

“The baby-“

“The baby is just fine, Y/N. Joe why don’t you have a seat and I’ll start to explain what happened” the doctor says, taking a seat on her stool. “You have a condition that’s called placenta previa. Essentially, what happens is, the placenta forms and attaches itself very low on the uterine wall, covering the opening to your cervix. Right now your cervix is only partially covered” the doctor explains. Joe squeezes your hand.

“That is what caused the bleeding. It’s very common in some pregnancies, but, unfortunately, it does put you in the high-risk category.” She explains. “So what does this mean?” Your ask, your voice just above a whisper. “Well, there is a chance that since it’s only partial that it could correct itself. It’s a very slim chance, though”

“What happens if it doesn’t?” Joe asks. “We monitor the situation as you progress in your pregnancy. If the condition hasn’t corrected itself by 32 weeks, we plan for a cesarean section delivery” she explains, and your heart drops. You’ve always wanted to experience the feeling of labor and delivery, and get the full experience of being a mom. “Seeing as you have this condition, it’s going to mean we’re going to be seeing you every 2 weeks. Every appointment you will receive a trans-vaginal ultrasound along with a stomach ultrasound just to check on the baby’s progress”

“We’re going to keep you overnight for some observation. If all is well you can go home in the morning. Joe, you’re welcome to stay if you’d like. I’ll give you guys some privacy. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask the nurses. Have a good night,” after she walks out of the room and closes the door, you look over at Joe with tears in your eyes. Immediately, he wraps his arms around you and you cry into his chest.

•••

After a few days, everything seemed to go back to normal. Joe kept a close eye on you, which you expected considering the circumstances. Your workload seemed to dwindle. Joe took on some of the responsibility, to which you protested, but he stood his ground when he said he wanted you to take it easy. Most of the time you were either working from home or working in your office. He didn’t let you step foot on the practice field. And he’d given Gabby the order to keep an eye on you when he couldn’t.

Today was the first preseason game against the Green Bay Packers. You didn’t have much to do, besides update Joe’s instagram after the game. The game was rough to watch. From your spot on the sideline, could tell Joe was distracted. You’d barely gotten to speak to him today, which was normal for game days. Joe typically keeps to himself leading up to the game.

The game resulted in a 36-19 loss for the Bengals. Though its preseason so the loss doesn’t really matter, Joe still took on the blame, just like every loss. The ride home was quiet. You looked over at him from the passenger seat, his eyes locked on the road ahead.

“How are you feeling?” Joe asks breaking the silence, glancing over at you briefly. “I’m okay. I should be asking you that” you remind him, and he sighs. “There’s still a lot of football to be played. I just need to get better”

“Joe, don’t give me the monotone answer you give every reporter in a press conference. You can talk to me” you tell him. “Y/N, I really don’t want to talk about it right now”

“Please don’t shut me out-“

“Drop it.” He raises his voice, and you flinch. You sink back in your seat and look out the window. Joe glances over at you again and lets out a frustrated sigh. “I can’t do this tonight. If you’re going to be sensitive you have to go back to your place tonight. I don’t have a the patience for it” Joe comments, and your head snaps back toward him.

“You just yelled at me for trying to comfort you. How the hell was I supposed to react?” You spit, and Joe rolls his eyes.

“I’m dropping you off at home.” He states and your heart drops. “Joe, please. I don’t want to be alone-“

“Well I do, and having you around is distracting right now-“

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask, your voice cracking. “I’ve been distracted all day. All I can think about is you and if you’re okay and if the baby is okay. It’s just a lot right now. I caused us to lose today because I was focused on you” Joe rants angrily. “I didn’t ask you to put me under a microscope-“

“And I didn’t ask you to get pregnant.”

Your heart shatters. Joe immediately regrets his words when he sees the look on your face. “Baby, I didn’t mean that-“

“Just take me home. Please.” Your voice cracks, and you run toward the window. “Y/N-“

“Joe. You said it. It’s out in the air now, and you can’t take it back. So please, just shut up and take me home” you sniffle, and hot tears run down your face. This wasn’t how you expected today to go.

~~~~

Okay so I know the bengals don’t use their starters during preseason, but for the sake of my story, please just go with it 😂

Also not proofread, so if there’s any errors, my bad

[tojisun]

it takes a rampage (to be a dad)

!! fluff & angst; simon’s pov; simon’s insecurities; vague descriptions of violence; repeating allusions to past child abuse; parenthood; f!reader // wc: 3.5k // dividers by @/plutism!

a spinoff of the apple that rolled over to the tree

simon’s not a good man, but he concedes that there are just certain circumstances where you have to be the good man. where you have to bleed and burn through, and sacrifice a shit ton because that’s what being good is.

case in point: the child, who couldn’t be any more than two, bundled in his arms as the squad tries to come down from the adrenaline after a dangerously high-tension exfil.

“where,” johnny pauses, breathing deeply, quick fingers unlatching any tight strapping that’s making it difficult to gulp in air. “where ye dumpin’ the brat?”

it’s callously said, but they all know johnny’s meant it in a place of worry—which is founded, by all accounts, because the base is a terrible place to care for a two year old toddler. no one’s even equipped to deal with the boy, not with the mission still on its last legs; granted, the winding dregs would only require their captain, maybe garrick for backup, to finish but nothing is ever certain.

but—

the boy shifts on his lap, big brown eyes staring up at simon with unfathomable trust. like the sight of his mask, and weapons, and even having seen him in action—poised guns and clean shots on the head; unfazed eyes scanning the explosion of brain matter spilling he’s caused—was not petrifying.

simon knows what they say about ghost—the living boogeyman; the harbinger of death and destruction. and yet here the little boy is, looking up at him like simon isn’t anything other than man; like simon is something so human.

simon thinks about his place back home that’s dancing close to the outskirts of the city; he thinks about its picket fence and its brick walls and its big backyard.

he thinks about its love, forged from the softest hands that simon’s ever held; from the hands of the only one that simon’s ever loved.

“i’m bringin’ ‘im ‘ome.”

.

laswell was kind enough to pull some strings so that the boy has whatever legal documents he needed so simon can bring him back safely—passport, citizenship papers… adoption documents.

jacob emory riley. (yakov in russian. yasha.) he’s simon’s ward now. his son.

(laswell had congratulated him with crinkled eyes and the softest of smiles; it might just be the first simon’s ever seen her look so at peace.

somehow, it was that brief talk with laswell that made everything feel tangibly raw; simon realized that things got too real too fast, and that he found himself almost wanting to reverse everything he’d done so far because what if he wouldn’t be a good guardian to the child? what if simon’s too broken for the child? what if—

his thoughts stuttered, quaking until they reach a tentative halt because the boy closed his little fist around the entirety of simon’s finger. he was so small, like that, and still so blindingly trusting even with all the littering scars on his little arms and little legs. he held onto simon so fiercely, he didn’t even notice the turmoil in simon’s heart. or how simon had almost given him away in an act of his cowardice because simon is a coward. especially with this.

but jacob—

but yasha held him, chose him, and the storm raging in his head died down, petering into a quiet chill until simon could bite out a weak but not any less genuine, “thank you,” to laswell.

laswell stared at him, all-knowing as always, before bidding him and yasha a sweet goodbye.)

the boy responds better with the diminutive, all giggly and grabby hands as he toddles over simon. the rest of the squad had eased into their roles, battle-worn bodies turning into the softest cushions with yasha in their arms. he is a shy little thing, hiding behind simon’s leg whenever price would come visit, or refusing to be put down from simon’s arms or even make eye contact with mactavish when it’s his turn to babysit.

garrick was a different story altogether. yasha had looked at him once, studying with such inquisitive curiosity, before deeming his sergeant the safest after simon. he’d grumbled and cooed and begged for uppies—garrick had been all too pleased to give it to him.

which is why saying goodbye now is difficult.

yasha would not stop crying, pale face all blotchy and snotty as he wails, chubby arms thrashing, trying to reach for kyle, but the sergeant and their captain are already suited for the mission, ready to leave the moment simon and johnny and little yasha do.

“ky! ky!” he cries out, unable to fully say kyle’s name but trying so desperately because his grief is so much bigger than himself.

simon bounces him on his hip, trying to calm the little tyke down, but shrill wails pierce their ears, unstoppable, and he wonders if it was too cruel to have made him say goodbye to kyle and price. simon heard from the medic that it was healthy for children to cry, but yasha sobs like he is grieving, and simon can’t fault him—this is his first, and hopefully his last for a long while, experience of abandonment. sure, they’ve all told him that kyle would just be gone for a while, but yasha is a child, unable to reconcile such reality where his uncle isn’t flying home with him.

(they didn’t mention the fragility of their lives in their line of work; how, every time they suit up, there are chances that they’ll never return. yasha is too young for such reality.

‘sides, kyle promised to come back. so he has to.)

kyle is teary-eyed, so is mactavish, and simon presses his sorry’s and his reassurances on yasha’s inky black hair, while kyle makes a vow once more.

“don’t worry, son,” their captain croons, his face creased in the softest it has ever been. “i promise i’ll bring your uncle back in one piece.”

yasha sniffles, watery brown eyes not looking away. then, “o’ay.” he lifts an arm up, waving it cautiously. “buh-bye?”

“yeah, bubsy,” their captain replies because no one can, not kyle who is crying nor simon who can’t lift his face up from where he’s breathing in his son’s baby smell. “bye bye.”

“buh-bye,” yasha repeats, still quiet but more sure. “ky? buh-bye?”

kyle chuckles wetly. he steps forward and pinches yasha’s cheek. “bye bye, little man. see you in two weeks, okay?”

yasha hums, having grown exhausted from his emotional outburst. the base shrink said that’s normal for children; that it’s good when they’re emotional, it’s healthy, so simon bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from fussing.

instead, as a distraction, he nods at his captain and his sergeant, and he and mactavish turn to leave.

“daddy?” the little tyke asks.

“yeah?” simon replies, turning his full attention to yasha.

“buh-bye?”

“oh, son no,” simon murmurs. “daddy’s always goin’ t’be with you.”

yasha nods, and flops back down on simon’s chest, satisfied.

.

the flight was tedious, sprinkle the listless child with that, and it was just about draining. he couldn’t thank johnny enough for being with him throughout because being an uncle to tommy’s kids didn’t teach simon much about this—cranky and emotional two year-old’s, and their complicated tastebuds that almost made it impossible to feed them aeroplane food, and their odd sleeping patterns.

but as simon shoots yasha a glance, watching the boy sleep peacefully finally, he thinks to himself how it’s all so worth it.

.

johnny doesn’t follow them to prestwich, crashing instead somewhere in stratford before making his way back to dundee. yasha hadn’t cried as hard for johnny as he did when he said goodbye to kyle, but he’d been teary-eyed even when he refused to be given to his sergeant’s waiting arms. still, simon’s boy had been solemn and gave mactavish a weak wave.

simon tells yasha that johnny would come back in two weeks’ time too, with the captain and garrick, before trailing off when he realized he doesn’t know how to tell yasha exactly why johnny was giving them space.

shit, he hadn’t even thought about how yasha would react when—

the house appears past barren trees, and simon’s lungs constrict in one full swoop. god, he’s missed this place, very much so.

pinpricks fill the back of his eyes, and he desperately blinks them away as he tries swallowing past the lump in his throat, but not even the familiar warmth of yasha could ground simon back. rather, the reminder that simon’s not returning on his own this time makes everything feel a lot more intense, like ragged tendrils curling at the base of his neck, grasping him until reality and faraway dreams blend into something miasmic.

simon’s never once deluded himself with thoughts of having his own family. he once thought he’d go grey on his own, something he was perfectly fine with because nothing is ever sacred—the catholics had a word for it, johnny said, how one’s mere existence was the original sin, and simon is neither a pagan nor a believer, but when you grow up with shadows that are ever so perpetually haunting, you learn that not even the sign of the cross can truly ward off the demons.

but then, his beloved appeared before him—just as… fearful; as self-punishing as he had been, and he knows it was twisted but he had been pulled. he had been lulled into the weight of your gravitational force, dragging his heart until it was homesick for anything less.

(two words have never sounded sweeter to him before.

i do.

since then, he’s never hunger for more.)

(until yasha.)

the cab stops, the driver dutifully ignoring how simon must look, all brooding and emotional as he holds his child close, like if he blinks, someone would take him away. he tips generously, and declines any offer of helping with the unloading of bags in the trunk. simon didn’t even bring much, just a travel bag and a rucksack stuffed with as many travel essentials for yasha.

the boy is asleep again, exhaustion dragging him back to his dreams. he looks so peaceful like this, and younger too, and simon knows that isn’t a good thing because yasha’s so small for a two year old. simon’s only comfort is that he’s bringing him somewhere safe; a place filled with boundless love.

he walks to the front door, debating on whether he should just take the spare key underneath the nondescript potted plant to get in or just bite the bullet and introduce yasha to you like this, through the entrance.

the choice is taken from him when you swing the door open, surprise and disbelief lining your face.

“i saw you—” you say at the same time that he rasps out, “love—”

he beckons you to go first. you did so with a tremor in your voice.

“i saw you from the cameras,” you pause, roving your wide eyes over him, before stopping at the bundle he’s carrying. “haley helped me set them up—said you can, uh, get notification of movements outside and, and…”

he watches as you realize that you’re about to ramble, so you take a deep breath, finding the centre of your gravity, before, “baby? who…”

simon adjusts his hold on yasha, before a careful hand sweeps away the blanket so you can see the boy better.

“this,” he says, quiet and fragile. “this is our son, jacob emory riley.” he licks at his chapped lips, the word ‘our’ settling so warmly in the pit of his stomach. “our yasha.”

“oh,” you whimper instantly, tears already springing from your eyes. a choked sound gets stuck on the back of your throat before you’re rushing forward, careful to not jostle the tyke awake, until you’re pressing yourself against simon’s side, watching raptly.

“simon he’s—” you hiccup, rubbing your face on his shoulder. “darling, he’s perfect.”

simon ducks down to brush his lips on the crown of your head, humming deep because yeah, he is. but so are you—and he wouldn’t have done this, anyway, without you. because yasha deserved the best and simon doesn’t know anyone who could step up other than you.

you, who is so bright and joyful; who has crafted fortitude from the ragged shards of your pain.

you, who is the strongest person that simon’s ever met; how you could look at the storm and find a reason to dance.

you, who is so beautiful and lovely, and so utterly full of love that it spills into everyone you meet and everything you do.

yasha deserves you.

and, love, you deserve a family just like this too.

.

yasha wakes up and simon makes the mistake of not being there for him. he didn’t even know he accidentally slept in the living room, long body sprawled on the couch gracelessly. he jolts awake after the loud ring of cries, the fear he felt at hearing yasha’s familiar sobbing slams so fiercely into simon’s heart.

he topples to the ground, knees thudding against the hardwood floors, before he bolts up, frantic as he tears through the house, trying to find his boy, desperate to comfort him and to apologize and to make things right because he never wants yasha to feel so alone in his new home—

simon pauses, feet stopping just in front of the bedroom where you and simon had put yasha in since the guest room has yet to be baby proofed and prepared, when he hears your familiar croon.

“shh, darlin’. you’re alright, i promise.”

simon angles himself so that he can see through the ajar door. you’re kneeling on the floor, head a few feet away from where yasha’s is pillowed. the boy is staring at you with wide eyes, wet and red, but he’s no longer wailing, and simon wonders if it’s because yasha’s internalizing his fear, but then he sees the tyke make grabby hands at you—pudgy fists closing, then opening again. he seems like a baby like this, more than a toddler, and simon watches as you coo, inching closer, giving yasha room to roll away if he wants, but the boy turns to his side, facing you properly, and it’s all the confirmation you need to take him in your arms.

you rise up from the floor, yasha perched on your hip. the boy is still watching you, curious, and you murmur something too faint for simon to hear, before wiping at his wet cheeks and his runny nose.

“hi, love,” you murmur, voice a tad quiet. simon sees the hesitance in your gait, like you don’t know what else to say. it takes a heartbeat, before you’re uttering your name, voice curling around the vowels the way simon never gets tired of hearing.

“i’ve heard good things about you, you know?” you say, brushing the pad of your finger along the bridge of yasha’s nose. simon’s ears pick up huffing sounds, then your giggles, and yasha’s hum.

“oh, i sure did,” you add, smiling, bouncing the toddler in your arms. “simon said you’re the best boy ever!”

simon did, he guesses, say that but with more words—he told you how he found yasha, and how yasha had been so brave after such a stressful change in his life; how yasha had been so excited to learn and to trust, and how he’d brighten up everyone’s day back at the base; how yasha had first called him daddy, and the others unca’, his brave little boy so eager for a family that he made one even when all he’s surrounded with was a ragtag of broken men.

yasha is truly such a beautiful boy, so darling and loving.

“si-‘on?” yasha says, attempting simon’s name.

“yeah,” you reply, just as choked up as simon is. “simon… your daddy.”

yasha hums, fist curling up your shirt.

“daddy,” he repeats, nodding. then, like he remembers that simon isn’t there, yasha begins to look distraught again, whining, looking up to you like you hold the answer when he asks, “daddy where?”

simon takes that chance to walk in. you two whirl to look at him, both with pained faces easing up into the loveliest of smiles just at his mere presence. it makes simon feel… raw; that somehow, all he needs to be is himself, and it’s enough to brighten up the room.

his lips twitch up in his own smile too.

“hey there, kid,” he greets, slotting himself to your side so he can pull you close and be in yasha’s line of sight.

you turn, moving to pass yasha to him, but the boy’s hand is still tight on your shirt and he still looks at ease with you, and simon nuzzles his face on the top of your head in comfort when he sees the way your lips wobble at yasha’s easy display of trust.

“daddy!” yasha cheers. “you here!”

simon ruffles the soft tufts of yasha’s hair. “of course. did you nap good?”

yasha nods, distracted by the bright colours on the bed. the yellow pillows and the baby blue blanket.

the dog stuff toy.

yasha gasps, utterly delighted, and he wriggles out, begging to be put down, and you and simon watch as he runs to the side of the bed, plucking the toy out with a giggle.

“towy!” he says, showing it to you and simon.

simon files the name for next time, focusing on yasha as he runs to hug simon’s leg, then yours, before running back to the bed, chatting animatedly to the toy.

simon pulls you close, slotting your back to his front to bury his face on the crook of your neck, because this, right here, is change. but also, he’s home.

“i missed you,” he murmurs, because it is the only thing he can verbalize. he wants to say more—he wants to say how he’s never once stopped thinking about you, how he’s always kept a picture he has of you in his helmet, tucked under the crown pad, how he’d always toy with his ring when he has the chance because simon is made of many things, and one of them is your love.

but this is all that forms from his lips, inadequate, but then simon hears the twinkle of your laughter, and, “i missed you too, love.” and knows, there needn’t be any more words. not when you two have more time than he’s ever had the privilege to spend.

.

the first time yasha calls you his mom—“mommy!”—was just days before the squad was set to meet the riley’s in their residence.

it was a mundane day; you and yasha are in the living room, playing with his army of anatoly’s—towy—when yasha squeals, finally able to dig out his favourite anatoly from underneath the couch after futile attempts. you’ve asked him if you can help him with it, but he’d been so adamant, tutting the way simon does and it’s honestly so adorable that you let him have at it.

so you laughed at the sound of his happy trills, watching as he turns, running to you, saying, “mommy, towy look!”

he falls to your lap, humphing loudly and smooshing the turtle stuffie on your face, and all you can do is gather him close, trying not to cry in front of him but—

he’s called you mommy.

your little brave boy called you—

“mommy, sad?” yasha asks, readily giving you another treasure, saying the word so naturally like you were never anything else to him.

“no, sweet pea,” you reply, choked up with the weight of your joy. “mommy’s the happiest she’s been.”

you kiss his chubby cheek, breathing in his scent, before letting him squirm out of your hold so he can play with another anatoly, leaving you the turtle one. you hold it close, trying to ground yourself, but the happiness bloats and you feel floaty.

god, it is almost unimaginable.

(you tell it to simon later at night, and simon coos as he wipes the tears away from your cheeks.

“i’m so, so happy si,” you breathe out.

simon bumps his forehead to yours. “i am too, baby.”)

.

simon is not pouting, thank you very much. if anyone says otherwise, he’d like to go on record and say that they’re all a bunch of liars. yes, that includes his beautiful wife too because, again, simon is not pouting.

sure yasha has refused to detach himself from uncle kyle, but that doesn’t mean simon’s jealous, he swears.

“yer a lying scumbag,” johnny hisses at him because he’s been trying to get simon to admit that he’s jealous, which simon isn’t. “i’m on you, LT. i’m on you.”

“whatever ‘tavish,” simon grumbles, hands twitching at another hearty giggle that rings from where kyle is playing with yasha. “last i checked, the boy still runs away from you so, you know, start with that.”

“oh you motherfu—”

“boys,” price barked out, and simon and johnny cringe at the chastising voice of their captain. “language.”

johnny says something that no one picks up because he’s chewing on his words. simon sniffs, looking away only to meet your eyes. unabashed glee is bright on your face, and simon knows he would be hearing you teasing about this later on tonight.

simon scrunches his nose. you reply with a playful rolling of your eyes.

yeah, it’s a good day. and simon still isn’t pouting.

notes: it turned out to have heavier (?) parts than expected. also to clarify, yasha’s been picked up from a mission (the specifics were removed since things got a wee graphic). i’ve included a concept photo of simon and yasha, which was fun to use while reimagining! i hope u guys liked this <3 peace out and sm love mwah!!