#but I am still reeling over the fact they lost the first round

[proton-wobbler]

Loser's Bracket, Poll 4

Image Sources: Parrot (Lev Frid); Astrapia (Frédéric PELSY); Owl (Mat Gilfedder); Capuchinbird (Dubi Shapiro)

[i-ship-therefore-i-am]

the first bit of the kissing fic I’ve been working on for ages: (read it on AO3 here.)

Wei Wuxian’s attention has chased Lan Wangji since the first day they met—relentless, unforgiving, his eyes always looking. One day Lan Wangji can’t help but look back.

Or: Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji share a moment of honesty during their time in Xuanwu cave, and how everything afterward changes (and doesn’t).

break upon your shore

“Cloud Recesses has been burned.”

Lan Wangji has finally done it, said aloud the words he has been holding back in the face of Wei Ying’s endless pestering. Days spent ignoring the litany of Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. Days of deflecting demanding questions about what happened. Days of concern and care he doesn’t need. Shouldn’t need.

My leg is fine.

I am fine.

Everything is fine.

Leave me alone.

(Don’t.)

(Don’t go.)

(Don’t leave me alone.)

As Lan Wangji finally gives in, speaks the fate of the Cloud Recesses, he remembers why it was so important to resist in the first place. The moment the words are through his lips, said to Wei Ying of all people, everything threatens to crumble, a great reverberating fault line widening in his chest.

He switches from irritation and anger to sadness so quickly that he feels unmoored, like the flames of the fire in front of them in the dark cave—dancing wildly, ready to consume and destroy from within.

It is not as if Wei Ying didn’t already know about the Cloud Recesses, as if Wen Chao had not crowed about it as he dragged Wei Ying off to a dungeon that spit him back out covered in blood and a fatigue that no smile could completely cover. Though Wei Ying tried, of course. He always did.

So flippant and unregulated. So aggravatingly frivolous about everything, not only others’ hearts, but his own safety.

“Are your people safe?” Wei Ying asks now, voice soft and delicate as if he can tell Lan Wangji is reeling even as he keeps himself still. So very still. “Your uncle? Your brother?”

Lan Wangji does not allow himself to look away from the flames, to move so much as a muscle in reaction. Does not look at the face he knows will be earnest and beautiful, not when he is stuck as he is in this cave where there is nowhere to hide from it. “My uncle was badly wounded. My brother is missing.”

These are the facts. Cold. Hard. Unchangeable.

“Zewu-Jun is missing?” Wei Ying asks, tone voicing the pain in his own heart. His shoulder presses closer against Lan Wangji’s side.

Because Wei Ying is reckless and foolish and irritating and inescapable, and worst of all he is endlessly, violently kind.

Lan Wangji’s eyes flood with wetness.

Shameful. Where is his control? Emotional displays do not change facts. They never have.

He closes his eyes tight, both because he can feel the drag of exhaustion in his bones but also to escape the painful beauty of Wei Ying’s face in the flickering firelight. His teasing smile and laughter that is not Lan Wangji’s and is not meant for him and never will be. So easily spread to many with no true intent. But to escape also the tears he has almost let fall, the way Wei Ying’s provoking laughter has fallen away, leaving something even more maddening. No jokes at his expense, just an understanding that makes it impossible to keep his control perfect and undented the way it must always be. In front of Wei Ying more than anywhere else.

He will not be weak enough to cry. To give something for Wei Ying to make a mockery of. Or perhaps worse, to be seen. Understood. That somehow seems even more treacherous.

Wei Ying continues to speak softly, and Lan Wangji lets the chatter flow over him like a lullaby, like a comfort that it has no right to be. Lets it push away all thoughts of the Cloud Recesses and his brother and embarrassment and yearning. The endless confusing tangle Wei Ying sows in him. How he hates it and longs for it.

He just needs to rest. To reestablish his equilibrium. Then everything will stop tilting to the side, his foundations will solidify.

Only then, unexpectedly, soft cloth settles across his body. Warm hands settle on his shoulders. Ignore it, he orders himself. Sleep. Escape.

Against his will, his eyes flutter open. So undisciplined, so out of control.

Wei Ying is leaning over him, so, so near as he settles his outer robe over Lan Wangji, a soft look of something like fondness in his expression.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says, face close enough that Lan Wangji can see the faint blush rise on his cheeks. So close that his breath stirs the air against his face, soothing and provoking all at once. Just as Wei Ying himself has always been.

Wei Ying’s thumbs rub absently across the curve of Lan Wangji’s shoulders, giving him a sheepish smile. “I thought you were asleep.”

Maybe he is asleep. Maybe this is a dream. Maybe he is just broken and tired and unable to resist. The fleeting, thoughtless caress of Wei Ying’s hands against his shoulders spilling everything over. Because somehow Lan Wangji forgets that this means nothing. Means nothing to Wei Ying. Only thinks how much he wants it to mean something.

His hand lifts, fingers touching softly against the warmth of Wei Ying’s cheek, chasing the burn of color there, like seeking proof. When his choice is between doing this and crying, this feels only marginally safer.

“Uh, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying says, not moving, but eyes widening. “Is there something on my—”

He stops talking as Lan Wangji’s thumb presses into the corner of that devastating, infuriating, teasing grin.

Lan Wangji briefly wonders if this is what being drunk feels like. If this is why it is forbidden, if such a state makes people just do as they please without fear of consequence. If it makes bodies incapable of being still and doing nothing which is the choice he should have made. Usually makes.  

Wei Ying has not pulled away, just blinks back at Lan Wangji for long moments before swaying even closer. His mouth opens on a gentle exhalation and Lan Wangji curls his fingers into the soft skin of Wei Ying’s neck just behind the sharp jut of his jaw. Presses in.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, wonderingly, his voice sliding down Lan Wangji’s spine, flaring heat low in his belly.

“Wei Ying,” he says, their same endless call and response. His voice sounds wrong though. He’s giving too much away, is too ragged to hide it. Too worn to brace for the inevitable pain and embarrassment that will follow, this thing he has fought against for so long. To lose Wei Ying at last to hatred and disgust.

Maybe Lan Wangji really is nothing without his ribbon lashing him together.

It’s a horrible, shameful thought, but he has no time to linger on it because Wei Ying’s face is dipping even closer, his lips brushing against his.

It’s almost a question, the gentle not-quite-there touch, Wei Ying’s eyes still open as he watches Lan Wangji’s face, nose softly bumping against his cheek. Nudging. Testing his boundaries. As always.

It takes everything in Lan Wangji not to surge into the touch, to not just take what he has wanted for so long even as he fought against it. He is still half-braced for the laughter, for the punch line, for Wei Ying to dance back out of reach the second he tries. Did you honestly think I could want you? Want a pillar of ice?

He does not want to believe Wei Ying could ever be that cruel. Even unknowingly.

“Do not joke,” Lan Wangji somehow manages to say, wanting to sound harsh and unbending, wanting to shove and retreat, but knowing instead how broken and pleading his words are. Wanting. His hand is not pushing away, but curling tight into the silken strands of Wei Ying’s hair.

Wei Ying studies his face, something painfully sincere there. “I won’t. I wouldn’t.”

But rather than pulling back, than ending this horrible torment that Lan Wangji only has himself to blame for, Wei Ying presses closer, lips firm and warm against his.

Lan Wangji’s entire body threatens to shudder under the sensation, emotions rioting and fighting to escape his control. He sucks in a breath through his nose and closes his eyes in a panicked attempt to find equilibrium. It has the effect of focusing all his senses down on the feel of Wei Ying’s lips, the heat of his nearness, the relentless thud of his own heart. None of this centers him. Not when the simple press of dry lips is already almost too much. No where near enough.

He has to stop himself from starting at the sensation of fingers against his cheek, Wei Ying moving closer, pressure increasing. Lan Wangji’s lips give way to him as a soft round sound tries to break free of his throat.

He lets Wei Ying kiss him like this, remaining still and open under him, heat insidiously blooming in his chest, yet too afraid to give anything back, that the moment he tries to reach for more it will be snatched away. (But, how much he also wants, wants, wants.) He can’t resist the cautious flick of his tongue against Wei Ying’s lower lip where it presses between his, wanting to taste him. Wei Ying jerks, only to meet him immediately, mouth open and eager, welcoming, somehow seeming to know what it is Lan Wangji wants when he barely knows himself.

Wei Ying presses even closer, a whiney sound at the back of his throat that seems to reverberate in Lan Wangji’s own flesh like an echo or answering note. Deep. Abiding. Unescapable. He is drowning. He is coming up for a first true gasp of air.

Everything retreats unexpectedly as Wei Ying jostles Lan Wangji’s leg—sharp, unforgiving pain shooting through his entire body, enough to cut through the heavy haze of desire.

Lan Wangji hisses, feeling sweat break out on his brow, black spots in his vision. He is reeling and lost, bouncing between opposing sensations.

Wei Ying pulls out of reach. “I’m so sorry! I can’t believe—I wasn’t thinking. Is your leg okay? Of course, it’s not okay. Let me see. Did I ruin it? Does it hurt a lot?” His hand lands on Lan Wangji’s thigh as he twists to look at it, but Lan Wangji couldn’t care less about his leg in the moment. He should. That would be the proper thing.

None of this is proper.

The pain recedes as he concentrates on the wanton heat of Wei Ying’s palm on his thigh, the flush of Wei Ying’s face, his lips shiny and full and well-kissed. By Lan Wangji. That was done by him. The satisfaction unfurling in his chest is a solid, dangerous thing.

Wei Ying still babbles and apologizes, the words echoing and building against the stone walls. Lan Wangji briefly shuts his eyes against it, centering himself, even as he wants to know what, exactly, Wei Ying is apologizing for. But also afraid to know.

Do not be of two minds, he thinks automatically, and tries to let it calm him, contain him. But it is hollow, as he has always been of two minds when it comes to Wei Ying.

“Are you sorry?” he finds himself asking.

Wei Ying looks at him, eyes wide. “Of course, I am! Your leg—”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “Not my leg.”

Wei Ying stills, and only because they are still so close, because Lan Wangji is staring at him so brazenly, unable to look away, does he see the moment of raw feeling—something like worry and pain, and more vulnerable than he would ever think to see from Wei Ying—before his expression slips carefree and teasing again.

His body is all fluttering movement in an instant, and Lan Wangji considers that can be as much a cover as stillness. It’s a startling thought, one he files away carefully to think on more when he has the chance.

Wei Ying rubs at the back of his head, smiling widely. “Oh, uh. Yes. I can apologize for that too if you like. I thought…but I probably thought wrong! And now I’ve horribly offended you. Yet again. So maybe you can just please forget I did that and we can pretend, even though, honestly, I think I’d much rather do that again, every day if you would let me, and, boy, is that something I was not expecting, but I know that you barely tolerate me and I’d rather you didn’t hate me, so we can just chalk it up to—”

Lan Wangji grabs Wei Ying’s shoulder and cuts him off by dragging his mouth back to his. Like he’s possessed, wild. And maybe he is because this time he does not sit passive under Wei Ying’s kisses, finally giving way to what he wants, mouth taking and demanding because Lan Wangji is always listening carefully when Wei Ying speaks and Wei Ying said he wants to do this again. Every day if he would let him.

Wei Ying makes the most ridiculously wanton sound against his mouth and Lan Wangji wants to swallow it down and let it live inside of him forever.

Wei Ying slides his hands into Lan Wangji’s hair, fingers pressing into the curve of his skull, each pad of his finger a bright spot of energy shooting straight down his spine. Lan Wangji lets out a gasp, pulling his mouth away just long enough to suck in a deep breath and Wei Ying immediately protests, shuffling forward on his knees, nearly falling over in his eagerness.

Lan Wangji presses his hand to the flat of Wei Ying’s back to steady him. He guides him closer out of range of his leg that no longer hurts in the slightest and maybe that should be worrying but the thought flitters away, because Wei Ying is closer now, at last, knee pressing up against the outside of his thigh right before he crushes his mouth back to Lan Wangji’s.  

Everything is heat and pressure and the slide of Wei Ying’s tongue against his, Lan Wangji feeling as if he’s swallowed an entire wildfire, not the steady power and warmth of his core, but something writhing and sparking.

With Wei Ying nearly in his lap now, there is no part of him that is not easily within reach, and Lan Wangji’s hands are greedy, like this might be something snatched away at any moment. He methodically discovers the planes of his sides, his back. Wei Ying’s sinfully red robe is so thin under Lan Wangji’s palm, hiding none of the heat or shifting muscles of his back as he reaches and writhes and never stops moving because he is Wei Ying, even while doing this, so much Wei Ying. Lan Wangji wants his mouth on every inch of Wei Ying’s body with an intensity that winds him. He can no longer feel shame for it. Just wants, sharp and liquid.

He is dizzy with the continued assault of Wei Ying’s mouth and lips and tongue and it is somehow too much and not enough, too far and not close enough.

Lan Wangji twists his hand in the front of Wei Ying’s robe, needing him closer, needing him to still, just needing something to hold onto and Wei Ying lets out a sharp yelp of pain. Lan Wangji jerks back, releasing his grip, Wei Ying’s mouth pulling free from his with a wet sound that is going to haunt him forever.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Wei Ying says between bouts of shaky laughter. “We have perhaps not chosen the best moment for this.”

“I apologize,” Lan Wangji says, horrified to have so thoughtlessly caused him pain.

Wei Ying shakes his head, pressing a hand to the still-seeping brand on his chest. “No, no. A little pain is worth it. Believe me.”

Lan Wangji can’t help but feel the flair of annoyance in his chest, everything inside him writhing and upside down and not in its proper place. “Worth having her remember you always?”

Wei Ying’s eyes widen, another laugh spilling from his lips. “Heavens. I read that so wrong didn’t I? I mean, you werejealous. But not of Mianmian. I can’t believe that. Am I dreaming right now?”

Wei Ying looks delighted, and Lan Wangji has to look away, feeling his ears burn, not sure if being so transparent is mortifying or if he’s simply relieved for Wei Ying to finally see him, if that is better than Wei Ying’s misguided teasing and blindness.

But Wei Ying doesn’t relent long enough for Lan Wangji to clarify his own thoughts. “I actually meant a little pain was worth kissing you, by the way. This entire fucking disaster is worth getting to kiss you. Isn’t that insane to even say? But it’s how I feel right now. Even if you come to your senses the moment we get rescued. Or you actually get some sleep.” There is something bittersweet under his smile, and Lan Wangji realizes he has let himself be far too dazzled by those grins to see what might be hiding underneath. Or maybe too scared to look long enough to be able to notice.

He will set himself to the task of learning better to see it. To know each and every inflection. He’s never looking away again.

“I am always sensible,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Ying laughs again, patting absently at his shoulder. “Yes, yes. I certainly didn’t mean to offend. No one could speak against Lan-er-gongzi’s levelheadedness.”

Lan Wangji feels Wei Ying is deliberately misunderstanding him for some reason, but he has no shame left, having already broken himself open so effectively, having now felt what it is to have Wei Ying in his arms. Willingly. Enthusiastically. There is no lying to himself. And there is no lying to Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji reaches for the back of Wei Ying’s neck, pulling him near.

Wei Ying’s hands flap a bit in surprise, but he comes willingly, everything in him seeming to go still, almost hanging from his grip, and this is another reaction Lan Wangji wants to learn more about. Some time when he is less exhausted.

Only once Wei Ying’s face is nearly touching his own, their eyes looking directly into each other, does Lan Wangji speak again. “I am always sensible,” he repeats. He has not lost his sense. He has only taken what he has always wanted. What he will always want. There will be no recanting. To think he would is offensive to him.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says, his eyes blown wide. “Oh.”

Lan Wangji hums in agreement, attention caught by the sight of Wei Ying’s lips even as he feels exhaustion tugging relentlessly, his eyes heavy.

“So this isn’t just like, I don’t know, temporary insanity?”

Lan Wangji gives him a flat, unimpressed stare before leaning back against the cave wall behind him. “Long term insanity.” There can be no other way to describe the confliction he has been plagued with for so long.

Wei Ying lets out a startled laugh, and this one feels real and earned by Lan Wangji and it’s the most lovely sound he’s ever heard. “Lan Zhan!” he says, delighted and scandalized.

He feels his eyes sliding shut, his exhaustion a solid thing dragging him down. “Since I first met Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says again, this time soft and a bit thick. “I like you so much.”

Lan Wangji struggles to stay awake, to open his eyes, to think of something to say in response, something right, but he can only squeeze Wei Ying’s arm where he is still holding it. Never wants to let go of.

“It’s okay, Lan Zhan. Go to sleep.” There’s the soft press of what must be Wei Ying’s lips against his forehead, right where his ribbon should be, seductive warmth spreading out through his entire body from the simple touch. “Sleep now.”

“Wei Ying,” he mumbles one last time, and then drifts off.

[spencers-renaissance]

i can't forgive me & you can't forget

Summary: Spencer is happy that his boyfriend is as compassionate as he is, but watching Derek do everything he can to help Strauss with her alcoholism when he stood by and did nothing back when he was struggling with his dilaudid addiction is beginning to take its toll.

Tags: hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst, insecurity, est. rel., hurt/comfort, cuddling & snuggling, angst w a happy ending, fluff TW: referenced past drug use, addiction, and overdose, implied/referenced alcoholism

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // The other fic in this universe

Inspired by @marisatomay’s post here!!! The title is from the second part of the poem Betrayal by Lang Leav.

It’s pushing ten pm by the time Spencer finally hears the front door open and close with a soft click, hears the rustling of Derek ditching his leather jacket on the crowded coat rack and toeing off his shoes — no doubt placing them neatly at the side of the hall like he always does — and listens to his footsteps as he nears the bedroom where Spencer’s been holed up since Derek left.

“Hey, baby boy,” Derek says with a warm, relaxed smile, his fingers already working on undoing his shirt buttons, before digging through their wardrobe to find a more comfortable top.

“Hey.”

Spencer watches him with tired eyes. He’s been feeling as hurt and despondent as he does this evening for weeks now, but tonight is the first time he doesn’t have the energy to hide it. He’s spent the entire afternoon in bed, and he’s certain it shows in the imprints of the creased pillowcase on his cheek and his messed up hair, and where just a couple of days ago he’d rush to hide those tells, he simply doesn’t care enough anymore.

Derek turns around from the wardrobe and shrugs off his shirt, replacing it with a soft blue t-shirt Spencer’s always liked on him. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”

Spencer shakes his head. Derek undoes his belt and switches his trousers for a pair of grey sweatpants before walking over to the bed and climbing onto the mattress, grinning cheekily as he rolls over Spencer’s body and leans down to press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose.

It’s sweet and romantic and so painfully normal, and maybe that’s exactly why he suddenly finds himself swallowing back tears. He’s hardly spent any time with Derek outside of work in weeks and he’s hurt and sad and struggling, and it’s only making it worse that his loving and attentive boyfriend hasn’t seemed to notice. Really, Spencer knows he needs to communicate, and that a significant part of his pain is his responsibility, but the shame—

“Well that just won’t do,” Derek murmurs, interrupting his thoughts as he brushes his fingers over a lock of curly hair resting on Spencer’s temple. “I’ll go and make you something. Or we can order in? What do you fancy?”

Spencer shrugs, looking away. He’s not trying to be difficult, it’s just incredibly hard to think about food and a relaxing night in with your partner when you feel like your insides are splintering and you’re just barely holding yourself together.

Even without looking directly at his face, Spencer can see Derek’s brow furrow and his happy expression fade, and soon enough Derek’s fingers are at his chin, gently moving his head until he’s looking at him again. “Hey, pretty boy,” he says gently, looking so concerned it makes his chest ache, “what’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on in that big old head of yours.”

So much of him wants to give in and tell him everything, wants to spill his fears and his anxieties and his anger and his shame onto the sheets of their bed and lay it all out for him. He wants to shout, “See? This is who I am! This is all my mess and my pain and my regret! Look at it!”

But he can’t. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to meet the swirling worry in Derek’s deep, beautiful brown eyes and he wills himself not to cry. “Nothing,” he lies. “I’m just tired. Hungry.”

He knows Derek doesn’t believe him, but there isn’t much he can do if Spencer isn’t willing to communicate, so he nods reluctantly and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead this time, lingering there for a moment longer than he usually does. The feeling of his boyfriend hovering over him and asking him what’s wrong and kissing him so tenderly is all Spencer’s craved for weeks, but now it’s here, he still feels sad and empty and hollowed out by shame and bitterness, desperate for something more without so much as an idea as to what exactly more might entail.

“I tell you what, I’ll go make you some tortellini, alright? There’s a pack in the fridge and it only takes a couple of minutes so I’ll be back before you know it,” Derek promises, and Spencer can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Regardless, Derek hops off the bed and heads out to the kitchen, leaving Spencer alone in the softly lit bedroom. He pulls the duvet further up to his chin and buries his face in it, the soft fabric gentle on his skin, and the comforting scent of Spencer’s shampoo mingling with Derek’s cologne settling him slightly.

Derek had spent the afternoon with Strauss at the rehab centre. And not for the first time.

The problem is, how can Spencer be mad at him for that? Really, it’s the epitome of his character: genuine, constant, unconditional compassion for everyone around him, no matter who they are or what his history with them might be. Of course he’d see Strauss struggling with her addiction and swoop right in, getting her settled in at the centre and spending hours with her on visiting days, fighting alongside Hotch to persuade the director to let her keep her job.

But watching him leave every week, watching him text her encouraging messages, hearing him talk about her progress and recovery… it strikes a nerve deep inside Spencer. He isn’t proud of how he feels. He knows it’s petty and illogical, but he can’t help it.

Because somewhere deep in his soul, an old version of himself, a sad, lonely, scared, addicted-to-dilaudid boy is crying out, why didn’t you do that for me?

It’s that question that really plagues him. They’re called into work the next day for a fairly interesting case in North Dakota, and there are some fairly strong links to the world of academia, so usually, Spencer would be all over it, reeling off facts and statistics and reaching out to his contacts to further the case. But for some reason, he just can’t get his head in the game.

He finds himself zoning out on the jet and wandering off at crime scenes without even knowing where he’s going. Initially, his team had assumed that he was thinking, or was going somewhere deliberately that might help them with the case, they’d all counted on Doctor Reid to come up with some brilliant theory to bring them closer to catching their unsub.

But Hotch had quickly realised that his head was somewhere else and kept him close to his side from then on. At least staying at the police station with Hotch and being tasked with reading through the unsub’s literary work and constructing a geographical profile both gives him something specific to focus on, and — as much as Spencer hates to admit it — keeps him away from Derek.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Hotch asks gently when they both find themselves at the coffee pot in the late afternoon. He doesn’t look over at him, his eyes focused on the stream of coffee and creamer headed straight for his mug. Spencer knows it’s a tactic to make him feel less ambushed and more relaxed, but that doesn’t stop it from working.

“No,” he says honestly.

Hotch nods in acceptance. He puts a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes briefly. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.”

Both JJ and Emily eye him suspiciously throughout the case as well, but no one is more confused and concerned than Derek. Spencer tries not to think about the irony.

“Baby, what’s got you all distracted like this?” Derek asks softly when they’re finally alone in their room that night, full up from the rushed dinner they’d all had in the lobby before crawling to their rooms for a couple of hours’ sleep before the manhunt continues in the morning. “This is so unlike you and you know it.”

Spencer doesn’t reply, just continues quietly changing into his pajamas before brushing his teeth and washing his face. Derek’s still sitting in the same position when he comes out, looking frustrated and contemplative, and Spencer feels guilty for making him feel this way, but he just doesn’t know what to do. He can’t act like everything's okay because it isn’t, and he’s tired himself out from pretending that it was for weeks, now. But he can’t tell him what’s going on either.

The thing is, how is Spencer supposed to admit that he’s still hurt over something that happened almost five years ago now? And how is he supposed to admit that Derek doing the right thing is only reopening wounds he’d tried so hard to heal and close? That both Derek and Hotch had specifically helped him heal and close?

He doesn’t know how to verbalise his feelings without sounding petulant or pathetic, so he doesn’t. He keeps them buried deep inside him and hopes desperately that no one comes digging.

“I’m fine, Derek,” he lies again, leaning down to kiss him gently before rounding the bed and crawling under the covers. “Just having an off day, I guess.”

Derek sighs but doesn’t push any further, clearly knowing a lost cause when he sees one. Instead, he follows in Spencer’s footsteps and gets ready for bed silently, whispering a quiet good night before switching off the lamp and climbing into bed on the other side.

It feels like the expanse of white sheet between them goes on for miles.

It’s the first time Spencer’s regretted Hotch’s decision to continue letting them share a room.

The question continues to plague him over the next week. He gets marginally better at pretending he’s not falling apart at the seams, and it’s enough to make almost everyone back off, but Hotch is still concerned and Derek is still confused, and he can feel himself drifting further away from the team each day, as though his rope tying him to the others has been cut, and now the current is having its way with him.

Nothing much changes. He continues in his hurt and lonely quietude, and Derek continues to ask what’s wrong, sighing sadly when he gets nothing out of him, and they exist in tandem.

It had always felt — ever since the beginning of their relationship — as though their relationship was a salsa dance. They were tangled in one another’s lives, both physically and emotionally, and they existed in this relaxed kind of ease that Spencer’s only ever seen before in long-term relationships. They’d fallen into a lucky, easy kind of love, and it was never as much work as everyone had promised him a relationship would be.

They’ve been together for four years, and their worst fight was over whether the cheese grater went in the cupboard next to the sink or above it. (Granted, it had spiraled into some other disagreements that came along with cohabitation, but. Still.)

Spencer knows he’s introducing a dynamic they’re unused to, and he hates it. Guilt plagues him, mingling with his shame and sadness until he’s drowning under the weight of it, no way to claw himself to the surface to take a breath.

They exist on parallel lines: next to one another; yet never crossing over. Their relationship is no longer a salsa dance.

The next off-day they have, Derek can’t get out the door fast enough. “I’m off to visit Erin,” he tells Spencer, and it still makes him irrationally angry that he’s stopped calling her Strauss and now refers to her like a friend.

Is it better that Strauss is now Derek’s friend? Him helping someone he actually cares about makes him not caring about Spencer all those years again slightly less of a gut-punch, he supposes. But the fact that Derek and Strauss of all people are becoming closer while he and Spencer drift apart hurts in a way he can’t even begin to explain.

This time, he spends the entire day crying. Every time the tears slow down and he catches his breath, another wave of grief and pain and anxiety and shame and jealousy crashes over him, and all of a sudden he can’t breathe again. It’s an exhausting cycle, and by the early afternoon his stomach muscles are aching and his ribs feel bruised.

It’s also the first day he gets a craving.

He’s an addict, right, he’s had periods of intermittent cravings over the years, that’s completely normal. Sometimes, even thinking about it in passing is enough for the itch to come back, to whisper the number of his old dealer in his ear, to recall in both his physical and mental memory the feeling that came with each press of the syringe.

This is the most intense one since his withdrawal immediately after waking up in hospital following his accidental overdose in his parking garage. It’s so intense that it scares him.

Crying harder than he thought it possible, he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and — fighting the temptation to type in the digits of his dealer — he dials the number he’s had memorised since he was nineteen. He can’t speak through his gut-wrenching sobs, but he knows the sound of him crying this hard will be enough, so he lies in bed and continues his pity party until he hears the front door swing open and the rapid steps through the hall.

Soon enough, Hotch is pulling him into his arms and he finally feels a little less alone.

Hotch lets him cry himself out, and only when his tears have dried up and the hiccups have subsided does he say anything besides the reassuring murmurs he’d spoken into Spencer’s ears as he cried.

“Spencer,” he says — somewhat desperately — “please. You have to tell me what’s going on. Let me help you, okay? Whatever it is, I’m here. I won’t let you suffer on your own anymore, I promise.”

Spencer doesn’t raise his head from its position buried in Hotch’s t-shirt, but he does finally say something. He doesn’t know what overrides the shame that’s kept him quiet — maybe it’s the exhaustion or the loneliness finally winning out — but whatever it is, he’s glad it does.

“I had a craving today,” he whispers, because it seems like a good place to start. “Haven’t been feeling good since, uh. Since… Strauss.”

It’s hopelessly phrased, but it’s the best way he can explain it and Hotch, being the miracle profiler and father figure of Spencer Reid, figures it out instantly.

He feels the way he slumps slightly, hears the tired, frustrated sigh, and knows he’s probably beating himself up for not figuring it out sooner.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”

Hotch shushes him. “You don’t need to apologise for that, Spencer, don’t be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry for being so blind, and I am. I hate that you’ve been suffering like this and we’ve all been too stupid to realise why.”

“It still, it still hurts,” he says quietly, sadly, regretfully, “it still hurts that no one helped me until it was almost too late. But everyone dropped everything to help Strauss— I’m sorry, it’s so selfish, I shouldn’t be—”

“Hey, Spence,” Hotch interrupts him, caressing his arm gently. “It isn’t selfish. It’s human. And you’re right, we should have helped you sooner and it’s always been my greatest regret that we didn’t, and that because of that dereliction of duty, we almost lost you.”

“I’m not, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything—”

“Spencer, I know that. But you need to stop feeling guilty for how you feel, alright? It makes complete sense that this is bringing up both the feelings of rejection and betrayal, and also cravings for the drug you were addicted to at the time. It’s so obvious that I don’t know how I didn’t see it earlier.”

Spencer nods, but he doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. “Derek’s been visiting Strauss on our days off,” he admits quietly. “I’ve barely seen him for almost a month now, and that— it isn’t helping.”

“I can understand that. Have you talked to him about any of this?” he asks, even though Spencer’s sure Hotch already knows the answer.

He shakes his head.

“I know it’s hard, Spence, I really do, but I think you need to talk to him. Obviously, it would’ve been better if both he and I had figured it out without you having to tell us, but clearly, he isn’t going to realise by himself. I know that as soon as you explain it, he’ll understand completely.”

Spencer sighs. Some part of him had known this was coming, he just didn’t know how it would come about. He wouldn’t have put money on Hotch being involved, but maybe he should have done. He always seems to come to Spencer’s rescue.

“He’ll probably be out for a while. He usually stays out for hours when he goes to visit her.”

“Well, how about I stay until he comes home, and then you can talk to him? How does that sound?”

Spencer looks up at him. “What about Jack?”

“He’s out with a friend and their family anyway,” Hotch reassures him, smiling as he runs a hand down his arm. “Now how about I make you some tea and we go and sit on the sofa?”

Spencer reluctantly agrees and moves from the safety of his bed to the comfort of his sofa, but he has to admit that the light streaming in from the big bay window and the feeling of sitting up makes him feel just a little better straight away. Once Hotch is back and placing a cup of chamomile tea into his hands, he doesn’t feel quite so much like he’s going to burst into tears at any moment.

“I have to ask, Spencer,” Hotch says carefully, “did you buy any dilaudid? Or attempt to contact your dealer?”

“Thought about it,” he admits, not meeting Hotch’s concerned eyes, “but I didn’t.”

Hotch relaxes. “Good. I’m proud of you, you know.”

Spencer looks at him with a hesitant smile that only grows when Hotch beams back.

They spend the afternoon watching nature documentaries — and Spencer admittedly dozes through a lot of them, exhausted from the burden of carrying so much pain around and the physical exertion of crying so hard — until Derek comes home at just gone five thirty.

“Hotch?” he asks, confused, and his voice wakes Spencer up from one of his unintentional naps.

He scrambles to sit upright, going inexplicably red at the thought of what he knows is coming. For some reason, he feels like he’s done something wrong and he’s about to be told off. He hates that this is what his relationship with Derek has come to.

“Hi, Derek,” Hotch says, squeezing Spencer’s ankle and getting up from the sofa. “Spencer asked me to come over earlier” — which is a bit of a stretch when really Spencer sobbed into the phone until Hotch showed up — “and I was just keeping him company until you came home.”

Derek’s eyebrows only furrow further, looking between them, confused. “Right.”

“Spencer,” Hotch says, meeting his eyes, “are you okay if I go now? You’ll tell Derek what we talked about?”

Immediately, Spencer blushes red as Derek’s scrutinising eyes fixate on him, but he nods and smiles weakly at Hotch, following him with his eyes as he lets himself out, if just to avoid meeting Derek’s.

“Pretty boy?” Derek says cautiously, slowly taking off his jacket and approaching the sofa like Spencer’s a wild animal liable to be spooked away at any given moment. He supposes it’s probably quite a good analogy, actually.

Spencer shifts nervously in his seat, moving his legs out of the way to give Derek more room to sit down on the sofa.

“You finally gonna tell me what’s been up with you these last few weeks?” Derek asks, and Spencer isn’t oblivious to the hope in his voice. “I’ve been worried about you, baby.”

Spencer nods and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths to compose himself. He’s told one person, and it went fine— it went well, actually. Derek is his life partner, his soulmate, and they tell each other everything. He just needs to start at the beginning. He needs to tell him all of the disclaimers, remind him that he’s not angry at him for doing the right thing or for being the compassionate person he is, he just needs to— He needs to focus, and he needs to tell the truth.

“I called Hotch earlier because I was scared of myself,” he says, finally opening his eyes and looking into Derek’s. “I was having some of the most intense cravings I’ve had since being sober, and I was seriously considering calling my dealer, but I managed to call Hotch instead, and we talked about how I’ve been feeling.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Derek says regretfully, his face melting into the very picture of apologetic as he scoots a bit closer on the sofa so he can grab Spencer’s legs and pull them over his lap.

“I know,” Spencer replies, ignoring for now that him not being here is why they have a problem in the first place. He moves on. “I’ve been… struggling… over the last month or so with feelings that I haven’t really known how to rationalise or explain, and when I finally did make sense of them, I felt that I couldn’t share them with anyone, which is why I’ve been so distant and private. And I’m sorry for that, by the way.”

Derek just smiles, caressing his bare ankle with one hand as he rests his other over his shin.

He pauses for a moment, trying to find the best way to word his thoughts, but before he can think about it too hard, the words come spilling out, unbidden. “I’ve found it hard to reconcile your attentiveness and willingness to throw everything at helping Strauss, and the way no-one helped me with my addiction back in 2007.”

Derek’s face instantly falls, and saying the words out loud brings all the emotions he’d managed to control back again in full force, and suddenly his face is crumpling, too. Derek surges forward, moving them both until he’s situated between the sofa cushions and Spencer, cuddling him as close as he can while Spencer cries into his chest.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking as he begins to cry as well. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything then and I’m sorry I didn’t put two and two together to realise why you were struggling so much. I can’t believe I was so oblivious, Spence, oh God.”

They lie there for a long time, crying together as Derek runs his hands through Spencer’s hair and Spencer clings desperately to the fabric of Derek’s t-shirt.

“I was just feeling so distant from you because we weren’t spending as much time together, and I had no idea how to admit that I was feeling hurt about something that happened almost five years ago,” he continues when they’ve both calmed down again, and they’re ready to resume the conversation. “I guess I just felt… ashamed of both my feelings now and being jealous, which is so ridiculous, I had no idea how to tell anyone how I was feeling. And I’m so sorry that my lack of communication affected us so much.”

“Oh, baby,” Derek sighs, leaning in to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry that I was hurting you when I should’ve known the effect my actions would have. This whole mess is on me for so many reasons.”

“Der, I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says insistently, urgently, looking at him imploringly. “You’ve apologised enough for what happened back then, and there’s no way we can change what happened. You were just being the same kind and compassionate person you always are when you were helping Strauss.” He reaches out and cups Derek’s face gently, hating the tells of guilt and self-loathing he can see all over it.

Derek sighs and moves Spencer’s hand to his lips so he can kiss his palm. “When I was sitting in that hospital room waiting for you to wake up,” he explains, “I made a promise to myself. I told myself that I would never let anyone down like that again. I was never going to stand back and watch anyone else I knew fall into the same trap you did. So when I realised Strauss had a drinking problem, all I saw was an opportunity to keep that promise.

“The only problem was that I was so wrapped up in doing the right thing in helping her that I wasn’t doing the right thing by you. I should’ve realised all the feelings, physical and emotional, that this would bring up for you, but I didn’t think. I’m so sorry, baby boy, I really am.”

Spencer cuddles back into Derek, burying his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and relaxing into the reassuring scent of his person. “I know, Der. I forgive you.”

“How about we order in some Thai for dinner from your favourite restaurant and watch some Doctor Who?” Derek suggests after a couple of minutes of silence. “I think we’re long overdue for some quality time together.”

Spencer smiles at him, feeling so much of the heaviness that’s been weighing him down over the last few weeks lift that he feels almost like he’s floating. “I think that sounds like a plan.”

They set the living room up to be as cosy as possible, lighting the candles Penelope had made for them and using only their soft lamps to light the room, before piling the couch high with blankets and pillows until they’re cuddled together in a little nest.

The evening is spent eating their favourite food and watching their favourite season of Doctor Who, and while Spencer’s still hurting and they still have healing to do, this feels like a damn good start.

“I’m proud of you,” Spencer whispers to Derek late into the night, when they’re close to falling asleep in the comfort of their blanket pile.

Derek turns to him, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“You made a mistake when you let things get bad with my addiction back in 2007,” Spencer explains, “and when you saw someone headed down the same path, you stopped at nothing to make sure you didn’t make that mistake again. If anything shows me how much you regret not doing anything sooner, it’s your devotion to Strauss’ recovery.”

Derek smiles at him, his eyes a little watery, and holds his chin gently as he leans in to kiss him. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”

Spencer kisses him again before cuddling back into his side. “I know you do, Derek. And I love you, too.”

And really, when it comes down to it, that’s enough.

Ahhh, this was the first fic in forever that actually felt fairly easy to write thank GOD. I loved this concept and writing that good, good angst was so much fun. Plus, we always love a happy ending in this house! Also, a reminder that how other people when you confront them with the way they hurt you or made you feel is not your responsibility.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds @wifeyprentiss @cmily @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (add yourself to my taglist here!)

[juniorgman187]

Things We Know By Heart (Spencer Reid Fluff)

Summary: Reader teaches Spencer how to slow dance in preparation for his wedding. The only problem? Reader’s in love with Spencer, and she isn’t the bride. 

A/N: S/O to Kyla who bullied me throughout all of elementary school. Ik you’ve probably changed since then, but you literally traumatized and tormented me for more than six years of my life. So I felt like including you in this story as, “Kayla,” Spencer’s fiancé. Tehe, I’m petty like that.  Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff Word Count: 6.5k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

I think we’d all like to believe that somewhere out there is our person. And somehow, someway, they’ll get to where they need to go, right where they belong. 

With us. 

That’s what I’d like to believe. 

I’d like to think that no matter what happens along our journeys to each other, we’ll arrive at the same destination regardless. 

But that isn’t necessarily true, is it? 

Because maybe, my soulmate got lost along the way. They met somebody great, someone they think is their person, and they married that person. They had kids and eventually, grandkids with that person, even though, deep down - they knew it wasn’t right. They stayed with them anyway because their fear of being alone superseded their fear of being with the wrong person for life. 

And what am I to do when that happens? When my person finds a different person. 

Am I supposed to believe that the universe will be so kind as to give my soulmate the courage to leave their relationship behind and forge a new one with me? 

Am I supposed to expect that the world will supply me with another person, the person I’m supposed to marry? 

Or do I simply wait for my person to come to the conclusion that they’re meant to be with me after all and my naive entitlement to a soulmate is validated?

Is life really that magical? 

This is the story of what happens when your person loves a different person.

∙•○⦾☉☼☉⦾○•∙

With his hand at the nape of my neck to support my head and his other hand flat against the small of my back, he dipped me backward, leaning with me as I arched my back and bent the leg closest to the crowd, pointing my foot to elongate my leg artistically. This was our ending position so I remained in it until the song ended. The two of us bowed to thank the audience and to conclude our performance. Roses fell at our feet while the sound of applause echoed in the room. I was never a fan of being the center of attention, but there was something about this overwhelming praise that was particularly blissful. It was intoxicating. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance like that.” I gushed to my partner; my cheeks growing pink from the heat and the head rush I got. 

He positioned his mouth right beside my ear so I could hear his words clearly over the rowdy cheering. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Princess.” said Morgan.

A gauntlet formed to clap for us both when we walked off the dance floor. Hand-in-hand, Morgan led me back to the table through the double file line of people. The team howled with excitement when they saw me and Morgan approaching.

“So this is what you two were keeping a secret from us? That you’re dance partners?” JJ had to ask. 

“Yep. All those late nights and secret rendezvous.” Morgan said, shimmying his shoulders be suggestive of a sexual innuendo, which I was not a fan of. Out of mock offense, I chucked a small towel at him with a grouchy command to “Shut up!” 

He took the towel to the face like a champ, laughing it off and dabbing his sweat away. 

“I don’t know who was sexier up there - Princess or my Hubba Hubba!” Garcia squealed pretending to claw at Derek, reeling him over towards her. 

“You looked like a natural up there, Y/N. Were you a dancer before?” Prentiss questioned while handing me a glass of water that I desperately gulped down. 

“My mom sent me to dance classes as soon as I could walk.” I jokingly explained after gathering my hair into a makeshift ponytail and lifting it off of my neck, cocking my head to the side and fanning the back of my neck to cool down. 

“Maybe you should teach Reid how to dance before the wedding. He’s got two left feet and I don’t think he wants Morgan to teach him how to waltz.” JJ quipped, making Derek throw his head back in laughter. The thought of Morgan and Reid slow dancing would truly be something - something hilarious. I laughed, too, until Reid’s voice interrupted me.

“Yeah, that’s actually a really good idea. Would you mind, Y/N? Kayla would be so happy.” 

I thought he was joking, but his humorless expression told me otherwise. 

“You want me to teach you how to dance?” 

He pursed his lips and nodded, not understanding why I was so confused. 

“Um . . . yeah. I can do that. Sure.” My tone wasn’t very convincing, but Reid’s optimism made him oblivious to my reluctance. He smiled and hugged me with one arm around my shoulder. 

“I have to call Kay and tell her the good news.” Reid dashed away from the table, pulling out his phone to dial his fiancé. 

I darted toward JJ with fury and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her into the bathroom for privacy. 

“What the hell was that? ‘Oh, Y/N, you should teach him how to dance.’ You know how I feel about Reid!” 

Rather than giving me hostility back, she broke into a smile. “Exactly! If you spend more time alone with him, maybe he’ll finally admit to himself that he shouldn’t be marrying Kayla,”

I rolled my eyes and turned my back away from her. 

“We all know Spence would be happier with you.” 

As JJ spoke, I trudged to the nearest sink, holding onto the sides for stability as the ground below me swayed. She followed me, rubbing up and down my back comfortingly. 

“You know how he is. He keeps things to himself, until eventually they’re forced to come out. If you dance with him, maybe he’ll finally tell you he loves you without actually having to say it. Do this for him . . . and for you.” JJ gave me one last pat on the back before exiting the bathroom to leave me to my devices.

Normally, teaching a friend how to slow dance in preparation for his wedding would be sweet. It’d be a selfless gesture and an act of service for him that would show how much love there was in our friendship. In this case though, it was anything but. 

For the six months that Spencer and Kayla had been engaged, the team was relentless in trying to end it. I tried to stay out of it in case all hell broke loose, but I couldn’t escape it. No - I was at the very center of it. 

Before Reid even knew Kayla existed, he was head-over-heels in love with me. He’d ask me on coffee dates, wait by my desk for me, and he would always try to sit beside me at the round table or on the jet. It was sweet, really, but it could never go anywhere. 

I was in a committed relationship with my high school sweetheart Patrick. (Maybe Spencer had a thing for unavailable girls).

I moved in with Patrick after graduating from college, and after years of working in the BAU (and years of Spencer loving me) Pat proposed. At first, being engaged brought me so much joy, but halfway into our engagement, something changed.

I was in Wisconsin, consoling a grieving widow. She was hysterical after I delivered the treacherous news of her husband’s gruesome murder. She eventually calmed down and proceeded to ask me about my engagement when she noticed my ring. I gave her the bare minimum, fabricated a couple things here and there, but then she asked me the million dollar question. 

“Are you in love?” Her eyes glimmered with hope. 

My immediate answer was a habitual “Yes, of course.” But after seeing how deeply this widow loved her late husband, I couldn’t say in good conscience that that answer was actually true. 

That night I went to the hotel and lied on the bed, praying for clarity. 

Perhaps I wasn’t actually in love with Patrick. Maybe we’d been together for so long that it just felt safe and comfortable and familiar. Maybe it was the fear of disrupting the arrangement of my life that stopped me from ending things sooner. 

The fact of the matter was that I’d only ever known a life loving him, but that didn’t mean I was in love with him. Maybe I was settling for something with Pat, because I wasn’t sure if I could have a better relationship with anyone else. With all these doubts, I needed a sign. 

A knock on the door interrupted my inner dialogue. 

When I opened it, who else was standing there, but none other than Rossi.

“We need to talk.” He ordered. 

He followed me back into the room and sat at the foot of the bed. He said he noticed something was off about me, and I admitted that there was. So that night, I took advice I probably shouldn’t have from the man with multiple failed marriages, but it was a sign - and it was good enough.

When we returned to Quantico, I asked Hotch for some personal time, which he was happy to permit. That same night I went home and broke off the engagement with Patrick. 

I felt despicably cold when I watched him tear up and ask me, “Why are you doing this?” 

There was truly no concrete moment in our relationship that incited my decision, but it was merely the realization that being with him wasn’t right, because how could I stand there watching him beg for a change of heart but still feel nothing? 

Maybe I was much less than not in love. Maybe I didn’t feel a thing for him at all. Not hate. Not empathy. Not love. Just . . . nothing. 

Completely indifferent. 

Within the week of personal time I took, I spent most of it moving into Rossi’s guest house. After I came back from work, it took all of two hours before someone brought up the absence of the ring that I used to never take off, and I’d assumed they’d already noticed it the moment I walked in - they were just too afraid to ask.

“I ended things with Patrick.” I casually stated, not even looking up from my portfolio to give it the attention it probably deserved. 

While the rest of the team’s jaws dropped on the floor, Rossi was fighting a smirk considering this wasn’t news to him and having seen everyone else’s reactions was a priceless moment for him. 

There was a brief moment of awkward silence on the jet as the team processed my information, until finally Hotch cleared his throat and started debriefing again. In the seat next to me, Spencer was very poorly hiding his enthusiasm. Hearing I broke off the engagement was like a green light to make his move. And honestly, it was. 

So I waited. 

And I waited. 

And I waited. 

Then I waited some more for him to jump at the opportunity. 

But he didn’t. 

He never did. 

Instead, he introduced Kayla into our lives, and eventually, they’d get engaged, too. 

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t developed feelings for Spencer while I expected him to act upon his palpable affection for me. And because of my newfangled feelings, I could never tell another soul that I sincerely believed Spencer got engaged just to spite me - to show me just how painful unrequited love was. 

The strangest part of it all, though, was that there was never a moment following the ending of my engagement and the birth of his own that showed me that his feelings went away. He never treated me differently or stopped talking to me. Even in the early stages of his relationship with Kayla, he continued to act like I was the only girl in his life. He was so consistent with his actions that it confused me.

Did he love me or not? And was I in love with him or not?

Evidently, the team seemed to have my answer. 

“He loves you and you love him. It’s as simple as that.” Prentiss explained curtly. 

Agreeing nods came from JJ, Morgan, and Garcia, who’d abducted me as soon as I exited the elevator that morning and snuck me into Garcia’s Bat Cave for an intervention. 

“We need to stop this wedding.” Garcia demanded. 

And since that glorious intervention, the team (minus Rossi and Hotch because Rossi seemed genuinely happy for Reid, and Hotch would definitely tell us it wasn’t our place) began trying to put a wedge in the relationship. I, however, made the smart choice not to be involved. 

If I was trying to get him to love me, why would I do something that would surely make him hate me like breaking up his engagement? Plus, the blind optimist in me believed that if I was actually meant to be with Spencer, it would happen regardless of Kayla. 

So anytime Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia suggested something, I refused to participate. I was able to steer clear of any wedding crasher shenanigans up until JJ’s ��slow-dance” suggestion. 

If Reid knew the true intentions behind these dance classes, he surely wouldn’t be pleased, but clearly - he didn’t. Because when I walked out of the restroom and back to the table, Reid still had a huge grin that took up half of his face, making his eyes look nearly shut. 

“Thank you again for doing this.” Reid beamed. 

“Of course! What are friends for?” 

Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia exchanged satirical glances at my choice of words. 

What are friends for if not to purposefully set two people up in hopes of ending one person’s betrothal?

∙•○⦾☉☼☉⦾○•∙

Later that weekend . . 

“Come in!” I called out, buckling the ankle strap of my heels. 

The door opened partially and then all at once to reveal the one and only. I peeked my head out from behind a wall that was obstructing my view of him, immediately noticing a bouquet of lavender wrapped in twine. 

“Oh my goodness, what is this?” I asked in pure delight as he handed me the pretty purple flowers. 

“It’s a thank-you gift for agreeing to help me.” His lips formed a thin straight line, which was his version of a smile. A smile I appreciated whenever I was lucky enough to have caused it. 

“They’re lovely, thank you.” I told him, hugging him briefly before fetching a vase from the kitchen to put them in.

“Oh, good, I’ll tell Kayla you liked them. She’s the one who picked them out.”

The glass vase nearly shattered the moment he said that, but luckily, my reflex skills spared the vessel.

How big of a fool was I for thinking that he gave me flowers out of the kindness of his heart because he knew lavender was my favorite? But then again I probably needed that brutal reminder of why he was here in the first place - for Kayla.

As I put the vase on the kitchen island, I spun around, brandishing a fake smile. 

“So we should probably get started. I don’t wanna keep you here for too long.” 

“There’s no rush. Kayla won’t be home until late at night.” 

I tried not to think of the potential innuendo that lied within his statement, but Spencer wasn’t type to be disloyal, and I wasn’t going to be the woman to make him such a person.

“You look really nice, by the way.” I heard him say from behind me, catching a whiff of his cologne that was intoxicatingly sweet.

I did my best to not take the comment personally and let it get to my head, but I’d be lying if it didn’t elicit any response. I smiled to myself, which thankfully, he couldn’t see since my back was towards him as he followed me into my backyard. 

“You smell different.” He added. 

“Good different?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Is it a new perfume?”

I furrowed my brows. “No, it’s the same one I’ve been using for years.”

“Interesting,” I could feel him taking in this information, and I could hear the gears in his head turning at an even faster rate to spit out more information. “Did you know that you pick your soulmate by subconsciously reacting to pheromones that transmit their genetic compatibility? Yeah, there’s a relationship between attraction and scent, which dates back to our primal instinct. So if someone smells appealing to you, even if you don’t know it, it could relate to your attraction to them and vice versa.” 

“Ah, then maybe I should consider changing my perfume to improve my love life.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I love the way you smell.”

In the back of my mind lied the unanswered question I neglected to voice, “But do you love me?”

When we reached the backyard, I heard him gasp in awe. 

“It looks beautiful, Y/N. You did great.”  

Nestled in my backyard was a dark wooden deck, surrounded by plentiful greenery. Lining the perimeter of the shiny wooden deck were asymmetrical rocks, while above us hung strands of fairy lights that cast a sheer golden glow on the entire scene. The ambiance was not for Spencer specifically, but I was happy that he appreciated it nonetheless. 

“You ready?” 

He signaled yes by putting his thumb up and so it began.

“Alright, so slow dancing can be broken into four easy steps, but first, you gotta know how to hold your partner correctly.” 

Spencer and I took a step towards each other, and I could feel the nervous energy radiating off of him. I tried not to call attention to it, so I simply continued with my process. Outstretching my arms to form a T with my body, I guided him verbally. 

“So I’m the follower. And you’re the leader. Got it?” 

He nodded. 

“Leader puts their right hand under the follower's left armpit and cups their hand around the follower's shoulder blade.” 

He understood my instructions, and in the most awkward manner possible, he fumbled his way into the right position, albeit, not perfect. 

“Now, hold my right hand as high as my eye level without raising my shoulder.” 

Spencer was glaringly anxious, so I gave him a word of encouragement. “Hey, don’t be nervous. It’s just me, okay? And you’re doing great.”

I could see the nerves beginning to settle, translating into the conviction with which he took my hand, raising it at the perfect height. 

“Great. Just like that.” 

My praise brought out that smile in him that only ever came out on rare occasions. The kind where it’s brief, his teeth showing, a light chuckle escapes him, and he’s looking down as if he’s too shy to look at me. 

“Okay, step two is basic footwork. Leader starts with their left foot and takes a step to the left. And then your right foot is going to meet your left foot and tap. The count is one-two.” 

I watched as Spencer tried to process what I was saying. 

“Do you want me to demonstrate first? And then you follow?” 

He nodded rapidly as if saying yes wouldn’t be enough to communicate how much he needed me to lead. We broke apart so that I could turn my back towards him. I felt a cold draft blow under my dress as I spun on the ball of my feet, making my skirt flutter upwards majestically. 

I felt him watching. 

“Alright, so I’ll start and then you can catch on. It goes one-two.” 

Left foot step. Right foot tap. 

“Then three-four.” 

Left foot step. Right foot tap. 

“Then to the right this time. Five-six.” 

Right foot step. Left foot tap. 

“Seven-eight.” 

Right foot step. Left foot tap.

“And back again. One-two. Three-four. Five-six. Seven-eight.” 

My eight count continued until the click of my heels on the patio was joining by the sound of Spencer’s feet shuffling behind me. I knew if I turned around to check on him, it would only psych him out and make him more nervous, so I stayed facing forward so he wouldn’t feel that I was scrutinizing his technique. 

After a minute or so of following me, I spun back around, catching his lingering stare in the region of my hips. He tried to play it off and pretend he wasn’t, but I felt it. 

“You did really well tonight. I’m proud of you. I think that’s a good place to stop for today.” 

He thanked me with another hug, the kind where we nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck. 

God, I could feel him breathing on my shoulder. 

I tried not to not to let myself indulge in it, reasoning that this was just a way for one friend to thank another, but I couldn’t help myself when the hug lasted longer than it should’ve. I tightened my embrace around him, drawing him in closer, and shutting my eyes as if taking my sense of sight away would heighten my sense of touch and magnify this feeling I never wanted to end.

“You take care, okay?” I said, rubbing my hand up and down his back to signal we should pull away, a signal he understood.

I was the first to walk away, merely because of the worry that I might sooner cry if I had to stay under these lights with him a moment longer. 

I wasn’t sure I could do this again unless he was mine. Otherwise, I’d just be under the stars, dancing with the love of my life that I couldn’t have - feeling that feeling again, and not being able to act on it. 

Is this what happens when your person loves somebody else?

∙•○⦾☉☼☉⦾○•∙

I know I said I couldn’t do it, but I did it anyway. 

I guess that’s what love is. Doing things you don’t want to do because your care for the other person surpasses the discomfort. True love makes you do things like that, even if they aren’t in your best interest.

When he came over the next night, we danced again. Undoubtedly, he stumbled - even came close to falling - and yet, I fell in love all over again. After that, it got harder to separate dancing from my feelings. 

The next day, we had a case. He came to my hotel room and we danced in the dim golden light of the hotel room’s chandelier. God, it was so ambient and romantic, I think I fell even harder for him - if that was even possible. 

From then on, every time we were in the same place, he leapt at the opportunity to dance with me. 

“Guys, look what I learned last night! Come, Y/N! Come on, come on.” 

He waved me over eagerly with his hand, even helping me out of my seat in the round table just to speed up the process. All too excitedly, he assumed the leader’s position, and he danced me around the entire conference room in front of our coworkers. He spun me around the table, he dipped me in the doorway, he held me in his arms by the glass board. 

Can you really blame me for falling in love? 

“Wow, Y/N! I’m impressed. You really whipped him into shape.” JJ remarked with a clap. 

I hid behind a faux smile, but Spencer was too elated to recognize the deceit. He was like that now. Maybe love made him more of a fool, more naive and blissfully unaware, whereas love made me more devoted and cognizant. 

It went on like that for weeks. Practicing whenever and wherever we could. 

He’d pull me into the hotel lobby at midnight to dance - not even batting an eye at the looming presence of the receptionist. 

He’d ask me to come to his apartment and we’d dance in his living room or in the narrow hallway, just for fun. 

When we were at Rossi’s, he’d drag me to the kitchen, with Rossi’s gentle music playing in the background, and we’d sway by the fireplace sometimes. 

We danced once in the elevator when it got stuck. I never thought he’d be so fearless to do that, but he looked like he was genuinely enjoying himself, almost like he didn’t even notice we were stuck in an elevator. 

While we waited for the jet, we’d danced on the tarmac, looking like a moving bundle of clothes, our movements stifled by our thick peacoats, layers of clothes, and scarfs. 

After a dinner during cases, when we’d split a cab back to the hotel, he’d get me to dance on the sidewalk, even convincing me not to pay attention to the onlookers on the street, the honking cars, or the confused pedestrians. I was always embarrassed to be in the spotlight, but somehow with him, it was easy. It felt like it was just the two of us, dancing under that streetlight. 

I never understood why people wanted to live in a moment forever, but for the first time that night, I did. That was a moment I wanted to freeze in time. I wish I could’ve stayed there forever. There in that moment, it really felt like it was our own little world. It was easy to believe we’d end up together, and we were the ones getting married, and we were in love. 

But again, that was in that moment. In that singular, fleeting moment. And then life moved on, whether or not I was ready for it to. 

The day of rehearsals inevitably came, and I wasn’t originally supposed to be at the wedding rehearsal since I wasn’t part of the ceremony, but Spencer asked me to be there, deliberately neglecting to tell me that the reason he wanted me to come was so that I could fill in for Kayla, which had I known that, I would’ve certainly declined. 

When I walked in, the team was all there, sitting in the pews, with their heads turning to me where I was standing at the entrance of the church. It felt like an eerie nightmare that I was living out where I was Spencer’s bride walking down the aisle, and this was our wedding. I couldn’t tell you what was so nightmarish about it - probably because none of it felt right - but I was sick to my stomach when Spencer gestured for me to meet him at the altar. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Kayla had a last minute dress alteration in Norfolk and got stuck in traffic. She won’t make it for this rehearsal, but she’ll be there in time for the dinner rehearsal.” 

“So why am I here?” 

“I wanted to practice my vows on you, if that’s okay.” 

I gulped hard, trying to swallow the lump in my throat to open up my suddenly-closing airway. 

“Um, I don’t really know if -”

“Please, Y/N. I’m just nervous that I might mess up-”

How could I say no? True love makes you do crazy things, even if they aren’t in your best interest, right?

I reluctantly agreed. 

Spencer’s hands were trembling and I could see it by the way his notecards were shaking, even from the fact that he brought notecards alone, and that he didn’t already memorize his vows. I wanted to put my hands around his and hold them to settle his unsteadiness, but I knew that wasn’t my place. I figured my words would do a better job at not crossing a boundary that was already crossed.

“Hey,” I comfortingly whispered. “It’s just me, okay?” Calling back those words from the first time we danced months ago. “You don’t need those notecards. Just speak from the heart.”

And sure enough, his heart spoke. 

“When people used to tell me stories about what love felt like and what is what, they always said they fell in love with that person. Like it was sudden and all at once, but with you - I walked into love with you. With my eyes wide open, choosing to take each and every step along the way. I never believed in fate or destiny, but after I met you, I finally believed. I believed that we are only fated to do the things that we’d choose anyway. And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality. I’d find you and I’d choose you.”

My breath hitched as I got lost in his eyes and how they were looking right at me, completely unmindful of the way everyone around us saw how he spoke to me. 

I think he even got lost too, because what he said next, didn’t even seem to register in his mind before it came out of his mouth. 

“I love you . . . Y/N.” 

Gasps rang through the church, ricocheting off the high ceiling, and in that moment I knew, I knew he was going to kiss me. 

He lunged forward in the heat of the moment. Clearly not thinking straight, he held my face in his hands, and I swear to God, I could’ve kissed him back. 

I would’ve. 

“Spencer?” 

Every single head in the church turned toward the small voice, too distinct to misplace. 

“Kayla, wait!’ 

And there I stood, alone at the front of the altar, watching him run after her. 

∙•○⦾☉☼☉⦾○•∙

I sat by my phone the entire afternoon, waiting for someone - anyone - to update me. No one ever ended up texting or calling, so I figured the dinner rehearsal wasn’t cancelled. At least, in that case, my dress didn’t go to waste. 

After spending an ungodly amount of time curling my hair and putting on my makeup, even achieving a smoky eye look, I finally slipped on my navy-blue, satin, floor length dress, donning nude heels and a dainty gold necklace with a single diamond pendant that laid right on my sternum. 

It was a shame that this was a moment where I should’ve felt at my prettiest, and yet, I’d never felt so ugly. 

I was riddled with the guilt of knowing I would’ve kissed Spencer if Kayla hadn’t walked in. I felt even worse that I was so consumed by his speech that I didn’t even hear her come in. 

How long had she been standing there? Long enough to watch what I knew everyone else saw? These questions never left me. Not even when I pulled into the site of the dinner rehearsal. 

Clutching the front of my dress to walk without resistance, I came to the entrance, and opened the door to reveal . . . nothing.

Staff was removing chairs and tables. 

Waiters were collecting plates and utensils. 

And Spencer was standing in the very middle of the empty room, watching it all happen silently, like he was just the shell of a man. 

“Spencer!” I called out from the entrance, in no hurry to meet him at the middle of the room. He turned on his heels, with his hands sheepishly shoved into his pockets. 

“Gosh, I’m sorry, Y/N. I should’ve called to let you know it got cancelled, but um, Kayla broke my phone.”

“Well, it’s time you got a new phone anyway.” I chuckled, which thankfully earned a chuckle from him, too. 

“What happened, Spencer?” My voice was quiet, as if it was any decibel higher it would sound more like a scold than genuine concern. 

“She, um, she told me she needed some time to think. And I, I told her to come to the rehearsal dinner if she still wanted to get married and,” He mirthlessly chuckled. “Well, you already know.” His words were chosen carefully to deliberately avoid what he hadn’t yet come to terms with. 

She didn’t come. 

I wasn’t yet sure whether or not to console him or to berate him for what he almost did, but I chose the former. 

“I’m so sorry, Spence.” 

He looked up from the ground, still managing to avoid my gaze, by looking up at the ceiling, and pretty much everywhere my face wasn’t. 

“I understand if you want to leave right now. I just need to pay the owner and I’ll be out of here.” 

I shook my head instantly. “No, I’ll be right here. If you want me to be.” 

He bit his lip to stop a sob from escaping. “Yeah,” He nodded, cowering his head. “I’d like that a lot.” 

As soon as I saw his cheeks get red, I took it as a cue to approach him and hug him. He was grateful for my compassionate touch, immediately opening up his arms to hug me back. His embrace around me was needy and desperate, and it felt like he was clawing at my dress, acting out of anger that the fabric was stopping us from being that much closer. 

With his shoulder digging into the spot right underneath my chin, it was hard to utter the words, “You look really handsome, by the way.” I said, finally acknowledging his light beige suit and white button up shirt. 

“Thanks.” I heard him mumble into my shoulder. 

“Kayla doesn’t know what she’s missing.” 

To my surprise, he didn’t recoil, flinch, or so much as react to her name. Instead, he simply pulled away, wiping the moisture under his nose, and straightening out his suit. 

“We should . . . we should probably talk about what happened earlier, right?” 

I sighed and shook my head. “Not if you don’t want to. We can save that conversation for another day.”

He looked appreciative of my avoidance, but I knew he wanted to talk about it. 

“Hey, excuse me,” He stopped a staff member by clutching their arm gently. “Do you mind, actually? Leaving two seats behind.” 

The staff member complied, doing as he said, and leaving two chairs behind, setting one right across from the other. I took my seat, and Spencer took his.

“I probably shouldn’t have spoken from the heart, huh?” He joked, finally seeing the humor in his situation. 

“No, it was good that you did.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. I think Kayla would’ve appreciated it.” All too quickly he responded with, “I wasn’t talking about Kayla.” 

I was talking about you, his somber eyes said. 

I looked away from his gaze immediately, trying to find a reprieve from the conversation that I was doing my best to avoid. 

“It was a really good speech. It sounded so natural. Like something you knew by heart.”

“Something I knew by heart?” He didn’t seem to understand what I meant. 

“Yeah, some things we just know by heart. Like the lyrics to our favorite song, or a recipe, how to dance,” We both chuckled at the reference. “Or . . . how to love.” 

“Do you think we know who to love by heart or do you think we make that choice ourselves?”

“I think it’s both. I think we can’t control the person we’re meant to love. That, by some miracle, we’re handed this person that complements us better than anyone else. But I also think it’s our choice on whether or not we pick them. Maybe we aren’t willing to stand the test of time and wait for our person, so we don’t pick them and settle for someone else. Or maybe we do pick them and we live out the rest of our lives together. I think that’s what makes love so special. It’s a person choosing you over and over again.” 

Isn’t that what we all want? To feel chosen?

“And what if we make the wrong decision? What if we’ve met who we’re supposed to love, but we chose to love another?” His eyes were searching within mine for the words that I wasn’t saying out loud. Out of fear that my eyes might expose me to Spencer, I looked away. 

“I think -”

Spencer cut me off. “Look at me.” 

My head didn’t move, but I shifted my gaze just as he wanted.

“When two people are meant to be, nothing and no one can end them. They may get lost a time or two on their journey, but true, real love will always conquer. Nothing can compete with them. Others can only attempt to fill a void. And eventually, the two will be reunited. That’s the beauty of true love; you always end up with the right person, at the right time, regardless of any other factor.” 

Quiet fell upon us two after I said my piece. My breathing slowed down and the knot in my stomach came undone. The lump in my throat disappeared. 

All my bodily barriers broke down. There were no more emotional walls up between the two of us anymore. I was completely vulnerable - nothing to hide me. Not even my eyelids could hide the windows of my soul. Spencer had already seen into them. 

He saw my soul, my secrets. 

“Dance with me.” He extended his hand in the air between us two. With no hesitation, I accepted his offer and followed his lead. He’d never danced so naturally before. Somehow, his stiffness had withered away. The thick tension that used to loom in the air above us two dissipated. Something new replaced the contents of the atmosphere. 

Love. 

Unbounded. 

Unrestrained. 

Unbridled. 

Limitless love. 

Spencer drew me in closer so my head could lay on his chest. Previously, I was looking at his face, but now the view was of our connected hands. My fingers were intertwined with his, and I didn’t even notice how his thumb was rubbing small circles on the back of my hand until I saw it with my own eyes. 

Had he always done that, but I couldn’t feel it until I saw it for myself? If so, what else had he been doing that I couldn’t feel?

“Loving you.” 

I removed my head from his shoulder after hearing him answer the question that I pondered silently, wondering if suddenly just acquired the superpower of telepathy.

“What?”

“Loving you. That’s all I know how to do by heart.” 

A wave of relief came over me when I realized he hadn’t read my mind, he was just simply adding to our conversation from before. 

“That’s not true,” I mirthlessly chuckled. “There’s lots you know how to do. You know thousands of chess permutations, you know how to geographically profile - you know how to dance now.” I countered playfully.

He shook his head. “I know how to do those things, but sometimes, none of it makes sense. I used to lose matches against Gideon, sometimes the comfort zone is inaccurate, and until today, I couldn’t dance very well,” He chortled. “But loving you. That always made sense. It never failed me or disappointed me and it’s so all-consuming that if I try to love anyone else - it just doesn’t make sense.”

Of all the words in my vocabulary, each of them were failing me. I was rendered speechless. Spencer cleared his throat and looked away for a moment, before finding the nerve to say it. 

“I choose you.” He proclaimed. 

So, I was right. 

There are some things we know by heart. 

Lyrics to our favorite song.

A recipe. 

How to dance . . . how to love.

And who to choose. 

“I choose you, too, Spencer.” 

. . . So to answer my question from before, is life really that magical? . . . 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

[imjustwritingg]

your love lifts me up (when i’m down, down, down)

Hi friends! That season finale was absolutely insane and I am still not over it, but here’s a continuation of it because Hailey deserves better and because I love Upstead and hate Hank Voight. The title is from the song "Helium" by SIA. Enjoy and let me know what you think! 

Read on AO3 and FFNet!

----------

your love lifts me up like helium

your love lifts me up when I'm down, down, down

when I've hit the ground

you’re all I need

‘cause your love lifts me up like helium

“I’m serious. Let’s get married.”

His immediate thought is complete and utter happiness as the words tumble from her lips and a smile quirks at the corner of his mouth, his eyes staring into hers with such love and affection.

His second thought is concern. Because as much as he may want to spend the rest of his life with the woman standing in front of him, she stands there with teary eyes and a familiar look on her face that reminds him of not too long ago that had him reassuring her he wasn’t going anywhere.

“What happened Hailey?” He finds himself asking.

“What do you mean?”

“You came in here seeming not like yourself and you just said we should get married. Not that I’m opposed to that with you, but it’s a little out of left field for you. You seem scared about something and it’s kinda freaking me out a little so just tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on. I just - I just want you. I - I don’t wanna wait.”

He takes a fraction of a step toward her, squeezing her arms gently and looking at her with the same soft expression he always has for her. “Hailey, I would marry you tomorrow, right now, if that’s what I thought you really wanted, but there’s something that you’re not telling me. I can see it in your eyes. It’s all over your face. And normally I’d let it go and give you your space to figure out whatever it is that you need to figure out, but I’m really worried here so just tell me.”

She shakes her head, somehow able to hold back the tears she has in her eyes as she stares back at him. If she were being honest, she wasn’t expecting him to say yes, that they’d suddenly be engaged or running off to City Hall the next morning for some shotgun courtroom ceremony.

The way he looks at her tells her as much, that he won’t let it go, and she can’t blame him considering the bomb she just dropped on him, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been so deep inside her thoughts and reeling from the events of the day and the night. The thought of losing him snuck into her head far too quickly and sent her into a panic and she just blurted it out.

Maybe she should have thought this through a bit more before proposing to him on a whim in the middle of her living room. She’d surprised even herself as the words fell from her lips. The idea of marriage should terrify her given the fact that the only example of it she has is her parents. But the idea of marrying him, her partner, her best friend - it sends an undeniably wonderful ache through her, like she needs it. She needs him. She’s never needed anyone in her entire life. Not her parents or friends or ex-boyfriends and past lovers. But she needs him.

“I don’t know why I said it,” she breathes out then. “I just, I saw you standing there and I thought about Kim and everything that’s happened and I - I don’t know.“

“I think that’s only part of it,” he says quietly, carefully. “Tell me why else.”

She knows exactly why else. What else. Who else. And it sends another ache rushing through her, but this one goes straight to her stomach and she swallows back the feeling of needing to gag that rises at the back of her throat.

“Can we go see Kim first?” She asks suddenly.

“Hailey - “

“Please? Let’s go to the hospital and see how she’s doing, and then we can come back here and we’ll talk. I promise.”

She says it in one breath, hurried and eyes pleading. She just needs more time. Time with him before she tells him everything that happened. Before she loses the one thing that means everything to her.

“Okay,” he sighs before jutting his chin to the bathroom behind her. “You wanna take a shower and change first or just head over?”

Hailey nods, taking a step back. “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll be quick.”

She pulls herself away from him and heads into her bedroom, his eyes following her with more worry than before as she closes the door behind her.

She takes a deep breath as she stands in the middle of her bedroom, trying to calm her too fast beating heart until her eyes land on a basket of laundry on the floor by the dresser. Her clothes, his clothes, mixed together. And then her eyes scour the rest of the room. A pair of his boots sitting on the floor beneath the window. One of his watches and a phone charger on the nightstand at the side of the bed. His side of the bed.

She shakes her head at the sight of all these things, his things, and pulls off her jacket. She tosses it to the bed before making her way into the bathroom and closes the door that leads out to the living room.

When she turns back around it’s only a few seconds before her heart seizes again as she glances to the sink. His toothbrush in the holder beside hers. A bottle of his cologne on the other side of the faucet, one of her favorite smells that is so distinctly him. She turns her head to the shower stall at the bottles of products that don’t belong to her.

He’s made himself at home in her space, engraved his presence in the place she had once kept so private and guarded. A space that had quickly become theirs.

She feels the tears burning in the corners of her eyes again and her bottom lip begins to tremble as she realizes this may be it. This may be the last time she sees their lives so intimately twined together and it breaks something inside of her. Cracks her open so quickly and makes the pool of tears spill over and fall down her face.

She wipes under her eyes with one hand and covers her mouth with the other, muffling the painful sob that falls out as she becomes overwhelmed with frustration and despair over the fact that she knows she won’t come back from this. Losing Jay. Losing them. She is sure he’s going to hate her. He’s going to become so disgusted with her, he’s going to leave when she tells him and she knows she can’t not tell him.

The only thing she can do is bask in denial and hold off the heartache that she’s sure will come for a few more hours. She can pretend that everything is fine, that she hasn’t crossed a line she can’t come back from despite being pulled across it involuntarily by her Sergeant. They can still be them for just a little while longer.

She turns on her heel and leaves the bathroom, wiping under her eyes again and grabbing her jacket from the bed before pulling open the door of her bedroom. Jay looks up at her from the couch, his phone in hand, and raises an eyebrow at her and the clothes she hasn’t changed out of yet.

“Let’s just go to the hospital now,” Hailey says, slipping her arms through the sleeves of her jacket again.

“You sure?”

She nods and forces a smile, stepping toward him and reaching a hand down to him.

“Okay,” Jay says with a shrug, taking her offered hand into his and standing from the couch.

They leave her apartment and make their way out to his truck, it not being lost on him the way her hand trembles in his or how she doesn’t let go until they separate to get into the cab. When they buckle themselves in, she reaches for his hand again over the console between them.

He wants to believe it’s just because of the events of the last few days. The case and Kim and the very real possibility that tonight could have gone a lot differently if he and Kevin hadn’t found their friend and colleague when they did.

He’s not that naive though. He knows something else happened. Something big enough to scare her into bringing up marriage even though he’s definitely not against it. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had the thought of spending the rest of his life with her. He thinks about it often, but he knows there is something she’s keeping from him that she can’t find the words for right now so he won’t push her.

She said they’d talk later and he knows she needs more time to wrap her head around whatever it is that’s going on. He just holds onto her hand tightly and drives, glancing over at her every few minutes to see her staring out the window and lost in her own head.

When they get to Med and he throws the truck into park, she lets go of his hand only long enough for them to get out of the cab and for her to meet him at the hood. Her fingers twine with his once again and she holds on tightly to him.

Jay has passed the point of concern now as they enter the hospital through sliding glass doors, but Hailey still doesn’t let go of him, only holding on tighter as they walk down the corridors of the hospital. They ride the elevator in silence, huddled into a corner as it fills with staff and visitors, and Hailey lifts her other hand to place it on his arm just below his elbow. He can’t help leaning down and kissing the top of her head, pressing his lips to her hairline in a silent reminder of assurance to let her know he’s still with her.

They step off the elevator when the doors slide open a few moments later, hands still intertwined between them and Hailey’s hand holding his arm as they walk down the hallway together. When the pair rounds a corner they spot Kevin leaning against a nurse’s station, one hand tucked into the front of his vest and the other holding his phone up to his ear.

“How is she?” Hailey asks quietly as her and Jay approach him.

Kevin looks between them, his eyes glancing between their joined hands and their faces, and a soft knowing smile peeks out over his own. Because despite the horrors and the unknowns that surround them, at least there is some bit of happiness to hold onto.

“Hold up a sec bro,” Kevin says into the phone, holding it over his shoulder and then looking between the couple again. “She’s still in surgery, but they said she’s fighting, still holding on.”

“She’s been through a lot, but she’ll pull through this too. I know it,” Jay says and Hailey nods at his side in silent agreement.

“Y’all staying for a bit?” Kevin asks them.

“Yeah,” Hailey tells him. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Kevin nods and gestures to his phone. “I’m gonna head to Kim’s place. Take over for Ruze and watch Makayla so he can come down.”

“Sounds good man,” Jay says, lifting his free hand and clapping Kevin on the shoulder.

The officer gives Jay and Hailey one last look before he steps away, walking down the hall and lifting his phone back to his ear. They hear his quiet words of “I’m on my way to you” as he rounds the corner and then he’s gone.

Jay glances over at Hailey, her hold on him unwavering and the worry inside him growing heavier by the second, but he won’t bring it up here. He leads her to a small alcove of chairs and takes a seat, Hailey sitting down beside him, and he brings their joined hands to his lap and places his free hand over top of them. She leans her head against his shoulder, breathing out a quiet sigh that is quickly followed by a dragged out yawn.

He glances at her face to see her blinking slowly, fighting off exhaustion and whatever else is going through her head that he doesn’t yet know about, an unmistakable look of sadness etched across her face. He could tell she was crying when she came out of her bedroom earlier and all he wants is to ask her what is going on, but he knows he can’t do that in some hospital waiting room. They’re here for Kim. Anything and everything else can wait.

He leans down and kisses the top of her head again, hovering over her hair as he pulls back slowly, and whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispers back from beside him, squeezing his hand and his arm and not letting go.

Time moves slowly from there and Adam arrives almost forty minutes later, tears in his eyes and a disheveled mess of hair. He spots them quickly through the glass window of the alcove and walks toward them.

“Hey, any news?” He asks in a rush.

Jay shakes his head. “Before Kev left he said she was still in surgery, but we haven’t heard anything else yet.”

Adam nods slowly, pacing in a circle a few times before he finally takes a seat in the empty chair next to Hailey. He glances over at the half asleep blonde, smiling softly at the way she’s curled against her partner and clutching him with her hands.

“Is this a new development or - ?” Adam asks quietly, looking to Jay and nodding down to Hailey.

Jay smiles softly as he shakes his head and it makes Adam smile wider despite his own despair. “Well good for you guys then. It’s about damn time, man.”

“Yeah,” Jay mumbles softly, squeezing Hailey’s hand when she squeezes his fingers in her sleepy state.

Another twenty minutes pass in silence between the three until a nurse enters the alcove, a friendly look on her face.

“Are you here for the officer that was brought in? Kim Burgess?”

The two men nod and Hailey comes out of her sleepy haze at the sound of their friend’s name, looking up as the nurse smiles softly at them.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s stable right now, but still in critical condition. They’re transporting her to the ICU. Me or another nurse will come find you when you can see her.”

The nurse is gone as quickly as she appeared and they all breathe out a sigh of relief, Adam leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head lowering in front of him. They can tell by the way his shoulders heave that he’s crying as he holds his hands over his face, sniffling quietly beside them.

Hailey pulls her hand from Jay’s arm and places it on Adam’s shoulder, squeezing gently and then the dam breaks. All the worry and the anger and the not knowing where Kim was or if she was even still alive leaving the officer’s body through every sob that rips through him.

“Sounds like she’s gonna be okay,” Hailey whispers, giving his shoulder another squeeze and running her hand across his back.

He lets it all out in the safe space between him and his friends, and then lifts his head, pulling at the neckline of his shirt to wipe at his face. He stands a moment later, wiping at his face again and sniffling back his tears, and turns to face Hailey and Jay.

“Thank you,” Adam says quietly through teary eyes as he looks at Jay. “For finding her, for getting her here as fast as you did, for all of it.”

Jay nods and then Adam looks at Hailey. “And thank you for making me go home. For pulling me back from the ledge. You were right.”

Hailey smiles softly at him, nodding slowly and knowingly, as Adam breathes out another deep sigh of relief.

“I’m gonna call the others, Kev and Trudy and Voight. Let them know,” Adam tells them and Jay doesn’t miss the way Hailey flinches beside him at the mention of their Sergeant’s name.

He glances at her for a moment, but she doesn’t look at him, refusing to meet his eyes, so he looks back at Adam and gives a short nod. “You good man?”

“I will be. She’s out of surgery, still hanging on. That’s all that matters now,” Adam tells them. “It’s late. You guys go home and get some sleep. Kev’s with Makayla. I’m not leaving here anytime soon.”

“You sure man?” Jay asks, feeling Hailey stiffen beside him.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll keep you guys updated.”

“When she wakes up, tell her we love her,” Hailey says quietly as her and Jay stand to their feet.

Adam assures them that he will with a small smile and a slow nod, and then they say their goodbyes. Hailey and Jay head out of the hospital, her hand never leaving his despite the way her body froze just moments ago and she holds onto him for near dear life in the same manner as when they first left her apartment.

When they arrive back at her place after another silent drive, Hailey kicks off her boots by the door and pulls off her jacket, tossing it over the back of the armchair as Jay does the same. She pulls her hair from its ponytail and tosses the hair tie on a side table, and when she turns to face him with tearful eyes he shakes his head at her.

Jay steps toward her slowly and looks directly at her, his eyes soft as always, but full of concern maybe more so than ever before. “What did he do Hailey?”

She lets out a deep breath and runs a hand through her hair. She knew she had given herself away in that damn alcove. Hearing Voight’s name had sent a chill through her as soon as she’d heard it and she just reacted. Out of instinct or fear or anger, she can’t be sure. She steps away from Jay and moves to the couch. She sits down and folds her legs up under her, resting her arms across her lap.

“He found Roy,” Hailey spills out through trembling lips. “He found him and he - “

She stops, shaking her head and keeping her eyes down at her hands as she picks at her nails, needing something else to focus on as she lays it all out.

Jay walks to the couch and sits down beside her, sitting sideways and facing her. He reaches an arm out toward her and rests a hand over her knee. “Hailey, what happened?”

“He gave me and Adam the locations for the knock and talks that were legit. He took the red flags. Adam had to take care of Makayla so I drove him to Kim’s apartment and went after Voight,” she speaks through a croaky voice as she looks up at him, having to force herself to do so despite the tears that pool in the corners of her eyes and blur her vision. “He - he was beating him. H-he had him cuffed. We had words and fought, I pushed him back. I convinced him to bring Roy in, that we found Kim and it was the right thing to do.”

Jay stares back at her, blood boiling and his heart pounding. He already knows how the story ends. The hand that doesn’t rest on Hailey’s knee shakes and he has to force himself not to ball it up in a fist out of anger for their Sergeant. He doesn’t wanna scare Hailey, so he squeezes her knee again gently instead.

“What happened after that?” He asks carefully.

“Voight went to uncuff him and Roy reached for his gun. He was gonna sh-shoot him and I just - it was a good shoot. It was a good shoot, but no one knew we were there. No one knew Voight was there. He went off book and didn’t call it in. He wouldn’t let me call it in.”

“Where’s Voight now?”

“I don’t know. He told me to leave. To go home and I just - I came here. I - I don’t - “ she’s shaking her head, tears falling from her eyes and her heart pounding in her chest, hands shaking.

“Hey, this isn’t on you,” Jay tells her immediately.

Hailey shakes her head again as she looks back at him. “I shot him. I killed him.”

“You did that because he was reaching for a gun. It’s completely justified.”

“But I was trying to be better! I was trying to be good!” She cries out. “Like you. I wanted to be better. I wanted to do it the right way.”

It’s him who shakes his head then, reaching for her shaking hands and holding them tightly between his, their knees touching as Hailey sniffles back more tears, but they just keep pouring out from her.

“You did it the right way, Hailey. You did all of it right.”

“I’m scared Jay,” she whispers, it’s so quiet he barely even hears her. “What if something happens? What if this comes back on me? I don’t wanna pull you into this. I don’t want you caught up in it. You’re too good.”

He’s shaking his head again as he tugs on her hands and pulls her toward him. He leans back and lies down on the couch, bringing her down on top of him and wraps his arms around her. One hand moves along her back and the other cradles her head against his chest. Her entire body shakes against his, sobs racking through her small frame as she cries out against him and grips his shirt tightly in her fists.

“I’m sorry,” she cries out, her words muffled against his chest as her tears soak through the fabric of his shirt, but he just tightens his hold on her and shushes her.

“It’s not your fault. We’ll figure it out. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere,” he promises with hushed words and soft touches. “You hear me? You’re not in this alone. I’m not going anywhere.”

He holds her and reassures her until her sobs grow quiet and she hiccups through her tears as she lies on top of him, cradled between his legs and his arms. Their tight grips on one another don’t loosen as they lie on the couch, just holding onto each other.

As time passes and her cries die down, he can’t be sure if she’s just keeping quiet out of fear or panic, or if she’s cried herself to sleep. He runs a hand over the back of her head, his fingers weaving through her soft blonde hair. When he tilts his head to kiss her on the forehead, he notices her open eyes, red and puffy from the assault of tears and she blinks slowly as if she’s afraid to sleep.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers, kissing the top of her head again.

He pushes himself up with one arm into a sitting position as he keeps the other around Hailey and she clings to him, almost too scared to let him go.

“I promise you, I’m not leaving,” he tells her again, his tone gentle, but firm as he brings a hand to the side of her face to look her in the eyes.

The sight he’s met with as he looks at her crushes him. Her teary eyes, blotchy face and trembling lips. He feels tears of his own form in his eyes at the way she sits all, but in his lap, looking completely deflated, unsure, just broken down and nothing like herself.

“Come on,” Jay coaxes softly.

He stands from the couch and pulls Hailey up to her feet, keeping an arm around her shoulders. She still clings to him, her arms snaking around his waist as he leads them toward the bedroom and he switches off the lights of the living room along the way. He brings her to the bed and sits her down, the look of nothing on her face gutting him. She’s completely shut down now. He helps her undress, stripping her down to just a t-shirt and underwear, and then tucks her into her side of the bed.

He dresses down quickly to just his boxers before rounding to the other side and crawling in beside her. She reaches for him within seconds, attaching her body to his and holding on tightly and relentlessly and he just holds her, shushing her again and kissing her hair, praying for sleep to come to her quickly so she can finally rest.

It’s late as Jay lies in bed still awake, unable to settle his racing mind. Hailey sleeps beside him, breathing softly and snoring lightly from all of the crying and emotions of the last few hours, but even in her restful state she still doesn’t let go of him.

He can’t sleep. Can’t stop thinking about what she had told him, what their Sergeant had done, and it makes his heart beat faster and the anger boil hotter as he glances down at Hailey. She doesn’t deserve this.

He peels her hands from his body slowly and carefully so he doesn’t wake her, and slips out of the bed. He pulls on his jeans and grabs a t-shirt, and then walks out of the bedroom. He heads for the kitchen and grabs a notepad and pen from the island to scrawl out a quick note for Hailey. He knows the chances of her waking up are high and he knows the thoughts she’ll have if she wakes up in bed alone with him nowhere to be found.

He creeps back into the bedroom and places the note on his pillow, then checks to make sure Hailey is still asleep before he walks out to the living room. He pulls on his jacket and his boots, grabs his phone and keys, and then he sneaks out of the apartment.

It’s three in the morning, but he doesn’t care as he rings the doorbell and takes a step back. He stuffs his shaking hands into the pockets of his jacket and stays planted on his feet where he stands, afraid if he takes the tiniest step forward he might start swinging the second the door opens and that’s a mess that neither he nor Hailey can afford to handle right now.

When the door opens, his Sergeant doesn’t seem too surprised to see him standing on his front porch, even at the late hour.

“What are you doing here Jay?” Voight asks gruffly.

Jay stares back at him for a single moment and then says, “If this comes back on Hailey, in any way, I’ll bury you.”

His voice is completely calm, neutral, but there’s a layer of ice in his words that even he doesn’t think he’s ever used before with anyone let alone his boss.

Voight tenses his jaw, staring back at the man in front of him and very quietly, he says, “It won’t.”

Jay shakes his head, shuffling on his feet. “You don’t know that, Hank. You don’t know that! Look at what happened with Erin. With Al. When Ruzek got arrested. Everyone who gets close to you, who tries to help you, they take the fall. Not you. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen to Hailey. You’re not gonna drag her down with you.”

His voice comes out cold, uncharacteristically menacing, and the look on his Sergeant’s face tells him his words have stuck and they have hurt and he’s a little proud of himself for it.

Jay throws another glare at the older man in front of him, shakes his head in disgust at him, and then turns around and walks back to his truck.

By the time he gets back to Hailey’s apartment, his hands have finally stopped shaking and his heartbeat has slowed. He creeps inside and closes the door behind him as softly as he can before turning the lock and taking off his boots and his jacket. He pulls his t-shirt over his head as he moves to the bedroom and slides off his jeans before he slips back into his side of the bed again.

Hailey reaches for him immediately, snuggling into his side and he wraps his arms around her as she drops her head to his shoulder. She breathes deeply against him and he can tell she’s awake.

“You saw my note?”

She nods against him as she moves an arm across his stomach and squeezes his side. “Where’d you go?”

“I had to do something,” he says cryptically and she squeezes his side again. “He’s not gonna pull you down with him.”

“Please tell me you didn’t hit him,” she says quietly, half-joking and worried.

“Not yet,” he tells her. “I just had some words for him.”

She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head up at him and kisses his neck just under his jawline. He tightens his arms around her shoulder and her waist, and rests his chin over her head.

“It’s gonna be okay, Hailey. Whatever happens, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he tells her again. Hoping his words will stick so she can fall back to sleep easily enough.

She reaches for his hand at her waist, weaves their fingers together and squeezes, then whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he tells her, dropping a kiss to her hair as she snuggles closer against him and lets out a deep breath against him.

“I thought I was gonna lose you,” she admits a moment later amongst the silence. “I think that’s why I said what I said. The whole marriage thing.”

“You’re never gonna lose me, Hailey,” he says, breathing in and out against her hair. “That won’t ever happen.”

“I said it out of panic at first, but - but I do want it. I want that with you. I want everything with you,” she tells him and he squeezes her against him that much closer, smiling at her even though she can’t see it.

“I want everything with you too,” he says. “Except let me do the proposal okay? I’ll make it some big gesture with lots of planning and I’ll be a nervous wreck the entire time hoping you’ll say yes.”

She shakes her head against him. “I’d say yes over takeout on the couch. I’d say yes right now.”

“As tempting as that is at the moment, it’ll still be a surprise. And it’ll be a happy one. One you won’t see coming.”

She lifts her head and stares at him, smiling a tiny grin at him in the darkness of her bedroom despite her aching body and worried thoughts, through dried tears and a blotchy face, and then she leans up as he leans down. Their lips meet in the middle, pressing against one another softly, slowly, surely.

It’s an unspoken promise that is made in the safe space of her bedroom. Their bedroom. Their home. A promise of a future together filled with a proposal and a wedding and babies and everything in between. It’s a promise of a lifetime together.

[trivia-bangtan]

after - jjk (007)

pairing: patient!oc x patient!jungkook

genre: friends to lovers au, kinda a hazel and gus trope, | lots of angst, fluff and suggestive themes

warning: you already know i come in clutch with the sadness and a bit of fluff 🤪

authors note: not to seem needy or anything but i like hearing y’all’s feedback 😔 just saying 🤪

“you did good today,” yoongi smiled, his hands shoved in his pockets. jungkook, yoongi and i walked along side each other, my mind still reeling over my first confession in therapy.

“i mean, it’s been two months. i figured i would give y’all something instead of my usual awkward greeting,” i chuckle, glancing over to him. yoongi snickered and bumped my shoulder with his own.

“we love a generous queen,” jungkook smirked, throwing his arm over my shoulder. and for the first time, the act of affection didn’t bother me.

that seemed to happen a lot around him. things like double texting, phone calls and sporadic facetime chats used to make me burn with annoyance. now, with jungkook, those were just his forms of expression. and i could get used to it.

“you need to stay off the internet,” i giggle, rolling my eyes. the three of us walked through the wide opened double doors, continuing to conversate amongst ourselves.

“okay, well, i got a song to finish so i’ll head off first,” yoongi says, nodding once. jungkook and i bid him farewell before jungkook began to drag me into the opposite direction of our usual route.

“where are you taking me?” i ask, finding myself wrapping an arm around his waist. it was tinier than most, even mine, and i suddenly began to realize how physically built he was despite the degenerate disease coursing through his body. sure, i’ve noticed before, but never to this extent. despite his tiny waist, he was still pretty sculpted.

“i told you, it’s a surprise,” jungkook smiles, looking down at me. i peered up at him and our eyes locked. i took the time to finally take in his features. he had big, round eyes, brown and filled with hope. you can practically see them shimmering, the light in his character emulating within those doe like eyes. his lips were a bit on the small side, but they were stull charming nonetheless. they had lost their color since i last took them in, probably due to the medicine he took to battle the cancer. he had a small mole just under his bottom lip and it was barely noticeable but still there. his cheeks were round when he was relaxed, but the longer i stared at him, the more defined his cheekbones became. his jawline was sharp enough to cut through glass and i was jealous. as a matter of fact, i was jealous of jungkook and his beauty. it made me feel a bit insecure, making me note the fact that i will never be as beautiful as him. how was that fair?

“what?” he finally asks. i managed to pull myself from my thoughts, returning to the real world and escaping the little green monster narrowly.

“nothing, just… admiring your beauty,” i smile. jungkook was making me soft and, over time, i liked how open and honest i had become. had it not been for him, i wouldn’t have confronted hoseok the way i did. i wouldn’t have made myself vulnerable enough to speak out in session today. and i wouldn’t have just told him that i thought he was beautiful.

the smile that grew on his lips was worth me opening up to him.

“yeah well, you’re more beautiful than i am,” he smirks, booping my nose lightly. i scrunched my nose in return and shook my head, looking away finally.

“seriously, yn. i know you don’t see it that way, but you are. i’m just glad i’m the one that gets to tell you so,” jungkook smiles, his gaze still locked on my reddening face.

“me too,” i admit, again. had it been anyone else, i would’ve just pretended i didn’t hear them. ignored the words they threw out as a rebuttal rather than a fact. but i could feel the truth emitting from his words. jungkook has never treated me as less than beautiful. he never fails to remind me, and eventually, i hope to see the way he does.

“we’re almost there,” he announces. i nod and retract my arm from around his waist, feeling like i’m causing unnecessary body heat. it was already a pretty hot day out and i didn’t want to make him sweat because i was a little clingy.

“no,” jungkook pouts, grabbing my arm i just dropped and wrapping it back around his waist, making me laugh at his child-like tendencies.

“you’re not hot?” i asked. he happily shook his head and pulled me closer by my shoulders.

“i like having you close. it makes me feel a lot better,” he admits.

i never really thought about the pain jungkook must constantly feel. i knew that cancer treatments tend to be very tiring, wiping any and all energy as the body tries to combat the cancerous tumors within it. but jungkook never really openly spoke about the pain he had to endure day in and out which made it hard to think about if it’s never spoken.

“what’s the matter?” kook asks, noting the change in my demeanor.

“i was just thinking…” i hesitate. we’ve never really talked about his illness, just like we haven’t talked about mine. so i’m not really sure what is off limits and what’s good to discuss. i’ve waited for him to start that one, knowing what i was willing to talk about and what i’m trying to figure out alone first.

“about?” he pushes, breaking the seal.

“you? and how you’re feeling?” i start. the question wasn’t super invasive and left opened intentionally, in case he wanted to talk about certain things without revealing it all. i know he is a pretty open guy, and he would talk about it if i asked, but i didn’t want that. i wanted him to come to me first rather than me push him before he’s ready.

he’s silent at first and i fear i ruined the mood, loosening my grip around his waist. while i don’t remove it entirely, i do show through my body language that i feel awful for asking to begin with.

“don’t,” he says. at first i’m confused, thinking he’s talking about me asking to begin with and i immediately begin to revert into myself, preparing for the inevitable heartache that follows. but then he stops walking and moves to stand in front of me. the arm wrapped around my shoulder pulls me into his chest, his other arm wrapping itself around my waist, engulfing me in a hug.

“don’t pull away, please,” he whispers into my ear. the whisper sent a chill down my spine, igniting a spark that i can’t pinpoint. i wrap both my arms around his waist and hold him tight.

“i’m sorry,” i sigh, nuzzling into his chest.

“i know it’s scary, my cancer and all. but i want to live. right now. with you. and i don’t think i could survive any other way,” he confesses. i’m sure by now he could feel my heart beating against my chest. tears well up in my eyes and that’s when i knew that jungkook and i, we crossed that line of being just friends at some point. now it was more. as to what, i’m not sure. but i like figuring it out with him. i know we’re on a deadline we don’t know exists, but while he’s here, while i’m here, we take our time figuring it out.

“i don’t want you to think about it or feel bad when i ask. but i do get curious,” i murmur, suddenly shy at my admission. he releases a deep sigh and rests his chin on the top of my head.

“curiosity never hurt anyone. except the cat,” he says, chuckling to myself. i roll my eyes and laugh under my breath too.

“you know i care about you, right?” jungkook says. i do. i believe it without a shadow of doubt. he’s never treated me differently and i feel it every time we’re together. and as fast as we were falling, it didn’t scare me at all. it was like coming home after being away for so long. there was a certain peace to falling for him, and god i hope he felt it too.

“i care about you too.”

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Smut

Chapter 11

* * * * * * 

Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap

A slightly hairy hand shoots out and wraps around your fingers. The person it belongs to gives it a gentle squeeze, prompting you to look up at him. 

Bucky’s brown eyebrows raise in concern and his lips twitch at the corner in sympathy. 

“I know there’s a lot on your mind right now but the tapping-”

“Sorry.” You sigh, eyes moving back down to the cup of hot chocolate you’d long since stopped drinking. 

Despite the insanely cold and snowy weather of New York, Bucky and Steve persisted they take you out of the compound. 

The tense atmosphere in the facility was a bit smothering. On top of that your friends had noticed how upset you were over your current situation with Natasha.

It’s been a mere four days since everything happened and you’ve genuinely felt lost without the redhead. And while your friends have been giving you all the love and support you could ask for, it didn’t fill the void Natasha’s absence at created. 

Steve’s free hand reaches across the table and squeezes your shoulder,“ y/n it’s going to be okay.” 

“Is it though?” A sigh leaves your lips,“ how okay can it be if I’ve hurt someone I love?” 

Due to you having felt your love for Natasha for a minute now, the words are spoken casually. As if this wasn’t the first time you’d said them. But Steve and Bucky know that this is in fact the first time you have.

Which makes their shock become written on their faces. Brows raised, jaws dropped, and eyes on you. 

Looking up, you notice their expressions.“ What?” 

“You love her?” Bucky asks.

Que your shock. Not at knowing but at saying. 

“I- wh-” the groan you let out earns frowns from the few people scattered about the coffee shop, and burying your face in your hands makes your friends sigh. 

“Just, talk to her.” Bucky shrugs, not sure what else to say. 

Gaze rising to him through your fingers, you reply,“ I can’t. She doesn’t want to talk to me.” You sit up straight,“ and she has a right. I preached honesty in all of our sessions and our first date just to be lying to her the whole time. I’m the biggest hypocrite.” 

Steve nods,“ I don’t think you did it to hurt her. And I think Natasha knows that as well. But trusting someone- its-” the blonde starts off strong but seems to lose his words. 

Bucky is the one that continues,“ when you trust someone and they lie to you it fucking hurts. Regardless of their intentions. So give her time.”

You nod. 

True to Bucky’s suggestion. Time is exactly what Natasha needed. Less time than you’d expect. 

In fact she comes to you the next day. 

Your legs hand over the back of the couch, fingers brushing the soft rug as you hang upside down. Across from you, Carol sits in your chair petting Goose. 

“I’m just saying, talking about your missions to space would help. Not even in an “address your traumas” way just in general.” You tell your friend. 

A low laugh sounds from the blonde,“ I talk about my missions all the time. Maria and Monica love my space missions.”

“Are you being completely honest with them when you talk about it?” 

Her frown answers that for you. But before she can verbally reply, your office door opens. 

Glancing over, you see the ex-assassin standing in the doorway. Green eyes flicking from Carol to you. And as quickly as possible you scramble to stand from the couch, damn near kneeing yourself in the face as you do so.

Liho casually strolls in behind Natasha, eyeing the foreign cat in Carol’s lap. 

“Natasha. Hi.”

Hi? You mentally scold yourself. Is that really the best I could do?

Carol is quick to excuse herself, holding Goose, and smiling softly at you before slipping past Natasha and down the hall. 

The redhead gently closes the door behind her and looks at you silently. 

“I’m real-”

“Am I still scheduled for a session?” Her eyebrow quirks.

You nod. Silently moving to sit in your chair across from her. You give a smile to Liho who purrs as you pet her and seconds later finds her way on to your desk(a place she always puts herself in when Natasha comes by). 

It’s far too quiet for your liking but you know it’s best to let Natasha speak first. The last thing you want is to piss her off before she’s even spoken. 

The woman gets comfortable on the couch, legs crossing, as she looks over at you.“ Doc what are your thoughts on hypocrisy?” 

You breathe a humorless chuckle, mumbling an “I deserved that” before answering.“ I believe that hypocrisy is purely driven by self-interest. Most commonly, hypocrites go against their own morals because they feel that the personal benefits mean more than acting morally.”

She hums,“ you see. I have to ask because I’m currently in a situation with my girlfriend. She’s lied to me on a number of occasions even though she explicitly demanded my honesty throughout our relationship.”

 “And, um, how does that make you feel?” 

“Like-” she licks her lips, eyes diverting to the bookshelves,“ like maybe she lied to me because she doesn’t trust me. Which hurts, cause I’ve given her every reason to, despite my reservations.”

Bucky said it. She trusted you and you fucking hurt her. 

“Do you think that’s the actual reason behind her lie?” 

“Was it?” Her green eyes find your e/c ones again. 

Taking a deep breath, letting your shoulders drop with the exhale, you scoot to the edge of your chair,“ I trust you with my life Natasha and I have since the moment you let me in. I just- I lied because I didn’t want you to think I was weak. Which is stupid I know, assuming just makes me look like an ass, but I guess I was projecting.”

Your words make her frown. Her head tilts in the slightest.“ Projecting how?”

“Honestly? Sometimes I do feel weak. And it’s been a pretty prominent feeling this past year than ever before. Which- I’m not blaming any of you but, just being here? Talking to all of you? It’s like most of you have dealt with all kinds of things your entire lives.

And then I take on a mere hour of those emotions and I feel like I can’t handle it. While part of me knows I can. Another part of me feels like I’m in over my head, thinking I can help you.”

Natasha watches you as you speak and she swears you look more vulnerable in this moment than you ever have(and that’s including when you told her about the judgement you received for your powers). And it breaks her heart to hear that you don’t see how strong you are.

Which she feels she should correct.

Standing, the woman rounds the table, and squats in front of you. She takes her hands in yours and tries to catch your eyes.“ Y/n you are far from weak. The fact that you’re even able to help us cope with our traumas is strong. To then take on those emotions yourself-” she trails off with pride swirling in her eyes.

Her admission is definitely soothing in the moment at least. But you’re suddenly reminded of how this started in the first place.

“My reasons for hiding it don’t make it better. I never should’ve lied to you, regardless of my insecurities.” Your eyes flicker away in uncertainty, before returning to those gorgeous green orbs.“ I- I love you Natasha and I’m sorry for making you questions your own trustworthiness. I also promise to never ever lie to you again, just, please, give me another chance.” 

If she’s being honest you had her at I love you, but your promise makes it a million times better. And she trusts you to hold that promise. 

Gently, she brushes a strand of hair from your face, and cups your cheek,“ you get one,” her serious expression morphs to a smile,“ mainly because I love you too.”

This takes the top spot for your favorite moments with Natasha, effectively knocking your first kiss and date to spots two and three. 

Leaning forward, you cup Natasha’s cheek, and pull her into a kiss. For the first time you feel love communicated through the action. Perhaps it had been there before and you hadn’t noticed, either way you love it. 

As does Natasha, possibly even more so, proven by the way she lifts up, deepening the kiss as she situates herself on your lap. 

The woman’s legs rest either side of yours, effectively trapping you beneath her, as her tongue dances with yours. 

Daring to go further, you trail away from her lips, taking in a deep breath before attaching yours to her neck and collarbone. If the tightening of her legs around you is anything to go based off of, she enjoys your actions. 

So much so that an involuntary moan quietly escapes her as you gently suck a mark onto her skin. 

When she pulls away, you think that’s the end of this, at least for now. 

Natasha climbs off your lap and walks across the room to the door. The lock clicks with the twist of Natasha wrist, and she’s turning back to you with a dazed look in her eyes.

Holding your gaze, she slowly grasps the bottom of her shirt, and raises it above her head. Your heart pounds with every inch of skin that’s revealed to you.

Your eyes catch the scars littering her abdomen and you move without thinking. Walking over to the woman and running your fingers along a more noticeable one. 

The pink, slightly puffy, skin makes it clear it’s completely healed. But you can only imagine the pained it’d caused when inflicted.

“You’re perfectly imperfect Miss Romanoff.” You whisper, lifting your eyes to hers. 

It’s almost reeling to see the intensity in her green eyes.“ I love you.” She says for the second time and your heart beats that much faster.

“I love you too.”

The both of you seem to free fall into the passion of the moment. Hands make quick work of your clothing until it’s thrown around the room and your laid bare before each other. 

Hovering above Natasha, you kiss from her now bruised neck to her chest, sucking a nipple into your mouth until it stands at attention. Only moving to the other after she’s moaned, her fingers curling into your hair.

She gives a pleasantly painful tug when you release her second breast with a quiet pop. And as your eyes meet, you kiss her again, simultaneously running your fingers through her folds.

Her arousal wraps around your fingers and you swallow her next moan with another kiss. 

While the walls are soundproof, you aren’t interested in finding out just how much.

She bites her kiss swollen bottom lip as you ease a finger into her and press your thumb to her clit. You match each thrust of your fingers with a roll of your thumb. 

All the while loving the sound of your name falling from Natasha’s lips like a prayer.

Not wanting to be the only one receiving such immense pleasure, the redhead snakes a hand between your legs and applies the perfect amount of pressure to your bundle of nerves. 

A breathy cry of her name leaves your lips as your body jerks from the sudden touch and incredible feeling. You have little to no idea how that reaction effects Natasha, that is until another rush of arousal pushes against your fingers. 

Then reminded of your goal, you focus on bringing Natasha to heavens gates, curling your fingers inside of her.

“F-fuck Y/n.” 

Had her own fingers not been slipping into you, you definitely would have been smirking proudly. 

The fluttering of her walls around your fingers gives away how close she is so you increase the speed in which your roll your thumb against her clit.

“Let go, I got you.” You assure her, the words a breath against her ear, and exactly what she needs to do so. 

Clenching around you, her back arches, effectively pushing your chests together. She shuts her eyes and slowly grinds against your fingers to ride out her high. 

A moment passes of you feeling her heart pound against her chest as she comes down. And the second she does, without warning, she curls her fingers inside you. 

“You are going to give me the pleasure of watching you come undone aren’t you?” She asks, lips barely pecking yours. 

But you nod, climbing higher and higher with each thrust.“ Y-yes.” You verbally answer.

Natasha takes delight in seeing your usually calm self seemingly so undone. A smirk tugs at her slips and she deliberately presses harder against your clit. That action timed with one seemingly deep thrust of her fingers sends you over. 

Your girlfriend even more please to hear your curse her name in ecstasy. 

Breathlessly, you rest your forehead against her shoulder. Catching her obvious action of licking you off her fingers. 

Spurned on by her action, you pull her into a bruising kiss. Your hand gripping her hip as you press ever closer. 

And you don’t even try to stop yourself from, once again, telling her,“ I love you.” 

Earning a glorious laugh from the woman who then kisses you,“ I love you too.” And god you could hear those words forever and die happy.

* * * * * *

taglist: @username23345 @muffliat-o  @aaron-despair @natasha-danvers​ @wildhoney32 @criminallyhamilton @fayhar @nat-km-mh @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch

[sugoi-writes]

Hope you're having a lovely day!! If its not too much, how do you think Fatgum, and Hawks would react to their s/o that has wings ( angel wings 😳) that got torn off in battle? Mm angst 🤩

OHM-- AGH?? OUCH??? Absolutely (also yeah the day has been good! Thank you so much! Safe from Hurricane Sally at least!)

Tw: Violence, body horror, gore... y e ah (slight yandere*?)

Premise: You were pinned to the ground, breathing ragged from your attempts to get free. There was a foot to the base of your spine, just beneath your ethereal wings.

You were going feral, your arms pulled behind your back to further hinder you as you thrashed violently. You were terrified, and praying for any help. And with one swift tug and a press of the heel… CRACK. 

Your wings were dislocated violently, leaving you unable to fly, even if you could. You screamed in agony as your vision turned hazy from the pain. You struggled in vain, afraid of what would happen next. And as soon as it had started, your pain quadrupled. 

A clean edged katana cut through your wings, right at the compromised base. You were now a flightless hero.... and this terrified you. Your screaming fell on deaf ears as you let out a slew of curses and pleas. This wasn’t real, right? You were dreaming, RIGHT? 

Fatgum

The moment he heard you scream, he was on the verge of losing self control. He tripled his pace, but his speed is still TERRIBLE. He hustled anyway, praying that you could walk this off, whatever injury you had. 

He heard your second scream, and immediately knew something was terribly wrong. He called for you by your hero’s name, and rounded the corner. And there you were... a broken, wingless hero. 

If your wings weren’t severed, the look of you, folded on the ground weakly would have been almost beautiful. But this... this was something that brought along a feeling of fury and absolute horror. 

How could this happen? How could he let this happen?

It didn’t take you long to black out from the pain, the sounds of Fatgum’s frenzied shouting filling your senses. You came in and out of consciousness, and feeling your body shift around before being lifted. No doubt, your wings were tenderly taken off of you, before you were gently draped over Fatgum’s shoulder (as to avoid touching your wounds). 

By the time you wake up, you’re in a hospital, and you have the urge to stretch.

As you stretch your legs, straining as your toes popped from curling, but suddenly you wince in pain. You can’t stretch your back, let alone your... your...

Your eyes widen in realization, as you’re unable to feel your wings. You start to shake, your breath picking up. However, before you let your tears fall, you feel a hand rest on your shoulder,” Please... don’t move around too much. You need to rest.” 

You look to see Taishiro next to you, in between his slim and fat form. By the number of takeout boxes, beer bottles, and snack wrappers... you could tell he was stress eating. You asked how long you’d been out, and you pale when he bites his lip. 

“About... 3 days. They really did a number on you... and me, but... I’m not nearly as bad off.” You notice one of Taishiro’s arms are in a sling, and you want to throw yourself onto him, hugging him close. You know that with him being in this weaker form, with a broken arm... this was something that probably drove your partner crazy. 

“Tai... I’m so sorry...” 

Fatgum smiles sadly, cupping your cheek,” I should be the one to apologize to you... maybe... maybe if I had made it to you in time, I could have stopped this. Maybe... you could’ve... had your wings, still...” 

You glance away, shaking your head,” This isn’t your fault... I rushed in without you, and... well, I faced the consequences.” You see Taishiro tense up at your words, and he immediately pulls you in for a hug, shuddering.

” D-Don’t... angel, don’t you ever blame yourself for this... Heroes like you and me know the dangers associated with our work, but... this... this wasn’t a rookie mistake. You were doing your job, and you actually managed to wear this asshole out. This... that villain was powerful. He could take out anyone if he tried... we were lucky to have subdued him... The fact that you lasted as long as you did, before I got there... it’s a miracle. I really... could have lost you...’you know that?”

Fatgum would continue to hold you, nearly crumbling as he recounts how scared he was when he found you, and how hard everyone fought to save you. It turns out you got a pretty horrible infection from your wound, and that was why you were out for as long as you were. You could have died in the fight, AND outside of it. 

You had no idea... and, you were equally upset, knowing that Taishiro risked his ass to save you. But, you could hardly scold him, as he did save your life. 

You both unload and unpack a lot from what happened that day, and end up in a pile of discarded chip bags and blankets. Fatgum would lay his head in your lap as you stroked his hair, since he couldn’t immediately cuddle you (even in his skinnier form). 

There were tears and reflection. Confessions and promises. Fatgum still feels guilty, but you were able to help him understand that this wasn’t on him. He is grateful that you are alive, and promises to do whatever he can to help you physically and mentally recover. 

And of course, you take FG’s word for it, as you’ll need all the support you could get to feel even a little bit normal again. 

Hawks

On the scene, the both of you are doing a major number on the BBEG, until he gets a hold of you. He had managed to incapacitate Hawks, knocking him out momentarily as he did the unthinkable to you. As he came back to, he awoke to the sounds of your wails and curses. He can’t believe what he’s hearing.

And he goes. Absolutely. Ballistic. 

He immediately turns ever single feather on his body into a sharp, pristine blade, and shows zero mercy. He had full intentions of taking this villain in, and having him reflect in jail for his crimes... but it was past the point of no return. 

As you lay on the ground, your pleas for Keigo to stop fall on deaf ears. He was absolutely feral, and would not let this man walk away. 

Once others arrived on the scene, you had immediately been picked up and rushed to the hospital. Hawks was still on the scene, blood splattering his hero’s uniform as his legs bounced, and his wings bowed up uncontrollably. He was shaking. He was absolutely blindsided by rage... but he knew that he needed to give a statement, and face his punishment for what he did to the villain. Murder is still murder. 

When you do come to (suffering from the aforementioned infection), you didn’t see Hawks at first. This puzzled you, as you knew he was the one who saved you. Then, the weight of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. When a doctor walks in to check on you, you gently ask about Hawks as you still reel from your new reality. 

Luckily, the hero only get a firm slap on the wrist, and is currently on house arrest. He would have to take some training/classes to better process what he had done, and to manage the stress from the encounter... but he had no idea that you still did not have your wings. He had prayed that there was a chance they could be reattached. 

When you facetimed him later, his heart shattered at the sight of you, without your beautiful wings. He would almost cover his face, shaking his head,” Babybird... I’m... I’m so sorry... this is... I shouldn’t have taken you with me...” 

You try to talk Hawks down, but he can hardly listen to you, and you can hardly get through to him. Hawks will always harbor the blame on himself, and will go absolutely ballistic on any person who tries to hurt you or touch you. Despite him working on it, the event itself has made him hyper protective of you, to a fault. 

When you get out of the hospital, you move in with him. You mutually take care of each other, and help each other heal. But the wounds that are left on Keigo’s heart are deep, and will take many years to heal. 

Most nights, he will lovingly caress your back, and tell you how stunning and angelic you are. You can never see the glassy look in his eyes when he says this, his hands slowly tracing your scars.

When he finally gets off of house arrest, he makes it his personal, top priority mission to infiltrate, and track down the rest of this villain’s organization. This is the most vigilante/anti-hero he will go, but damn if he doesn’t do his best to make you happy when he’s “off work”.

He is a mess and a half, but will absolutely get revenge for what they did to his Babybird.  

.

.

.

Thank you for this request, I hope it’s up to snazz! I am a little burnt out, hoduhdoudho

[twink-frank]

hi i’ve noticed the pencey prep gay conversation going on over on @awsugar and i have spent lots of time dissecting pencey prep lyrics and subjecting nathan @faggot-frank to my deranged ramblings so Here is my pencey prep super ultra mega gay lyrical analysis masterpost. it’s very long so its all under the cut but i will include a TL;DR for those who dont wanna read paragraphs of my deranged ramblings: Pencey prep uses lots of themes of: heartbreak, forbidden love, keeping love a secret, and toxic relationships. which none of that is gay on its own but combined with them almost never using gender indicators in their songs and the “nail in the coffin song” of 8th grade it ends up being a very Fruity Album.

I will be going through heart break in stereo in order and pointing out which lyrics and elements of certain songs jump out to me as Super Mega Gay and then summarizing my conclusions at the end <3

1 ) PS Don't Write

PS don't write is about leaving a toxic relationship, it has notes of moving on and leaving someone behind. "packed up all my shit / stole back all my tapes / left your spare key under the mat / this is not a joke / you'd better learn to take a hint / 'cause i'm not coming back / maybe you'll understand / when you're waking up alone / in a cold and empty bed." it has no gender indicators or pronouns which is the case in a lot of pencey prep songs, and something i'll bring up quite a bit. it also has general "coming of age" themes, something common in lots of pencey prep songs. which Yeah apply to straight people to but read in this context combined with future evidence can be pretty Fuckin Gay. "somewhere along the line / i found a hidden strength / i didn't know i had / standing on my own / cutting all the strings / that you used to control / surprise surprise / i am long gone / if you thought you could hold me down / by holding me up / you were wrong / you don't call the shots anymore." not to say only gay people can find inner strength and the room to love themselves but combined with other context it is a really poignant message about accepting yourself for who you are.

2) Yesterday

Yesterday is very repetitive and has a lot less to analyze, but the constant themes of wanting to "run away" strike me as very Fruity. once again, not saying gay people are the only people who can want to run away or escape from something But Combined With Other Context. and once again a song with no gender indicators, doesnt specify who the speaker is running away with or what they are running away from. just that they want to Leave. "i wanna run with you / i don't care what we do / gotta get out of this place / because it feels like yesterday." also saying "it feels like yesterday" could mean that the town feels backwards or old timey in its beliefs, implying homophobia. how the speaker wants to run away from an old fashioned town.

3) Don Quixote

i'm going to bring up the cultural significance of this title and literary reference first. Don Quixote is a classical novel by Cervantes which is about a crazy dude who thinks he's a knight, and goes on weird adventures with his best friend. It's typically used as a symbol of following your dreams and breaking free from what people expect of you. In the context of the song its used as a symbol of following your dreams with Someone. once again this someone is given no gender indicators. "you say it's not worth it / been burned too many times / if your spine's receding / you can borrow some of mine / don't go and quit right now / cause i'd follow you through hell." "you say so many things / and not a word of it was true / if you're still in that state of mind / i'd still vacation inside of you / cause i think you're worth every minute / and every dime that i spend / i'd spend all my time fighting dragons / just to keep you alive and talking." it's about wanting to spend time with someone, wanting to be with them no matter what. and its also about how this person feels unreachable, like being with them would be a fairytail but the speaker Still Reaches for it. "your imaginations running wild / round your deceptive heart / this is my crusade / and you're the unreachable star / but i'm reaching." talking about this person being unreachable and unattainble. which isnt gay By Itself  but again combined with the other context. FRUIT BEHAVIOR.

4) 10 Rings

another breakup song once again with no gender indicators, are you guys sensing a theme here? anyways this song is about someone cutting you off and then coming back suddenly wanting to talk again after breaking your heart. it has a sense of forbidden love, like this person Told the speaker they cant be together for Whatever Reason ;] and is now trying to come back and repair their mistake when the speaker is already hurt and reeling. "learn to live with decisions you make / i learned things from the break i can't forget / catch you doing drive-bys at 1 AM / it must kill you to know we can't be friends." "end of the summer you cut me off / i cut you out all the pictures i have." which this Isnt Gay By Itself. but bringing that phrase back with other context this is such a uniquely gay experience. being in love with someone and they cut you off Because theyre weirded out by that and then they try to come back, convince you it meant nothing.

5) The Secret Goldfish

my FAVORITE pencey song. this one has a lot. it's another breakup song about heartbreak and loss and im not even gonna dwell on the no gender indicators because yall see the theme now. it has themes of heartbreak and losing someone who is very close to you and having to let go of them and having to accept that this person cant be yours and you cant be with them. "land of the lost / i found myself in nothing / this time, promises broken find me / clutching to you for something / something that you're not / believing in what you say / it makes me lie awake at night / the truth, the truth is not what scares me / it's why you have to lie / all the time." here we see these themes of having to let someone go because they just Aren't The Same as you. "clutching to you for something / something that you're not." maybe like chasing after a straight boy and getting rejected? also the repetition of "heartbreak is forever" when you're young and gay losing that first person you felt some kind of love and attraction to can feel like the end of the world and can be a huge deal because of the lack of representation and guidance young gays get. and the themes of nothing lasting forever, the fact that gay people never get promised eternal love the same way straight people do.

6) 8th Grade

this song is the nail in penceys fucking coffin honestly. the rest of these songs have a lot of plausible deniability, just vague enough to maybe Not Be Gay. but framed in the context of 8th grade they all start to get a lil fruity. Im just gonna go through lyric by lyric for this one. "caught staring again / like a deer in the headlights / when you can't move fast enough / i take a hit for the team / pretty girl is blushing / i can't tell if she's disgusted / laughter starts to swell / someone gets the joke." this kid was staring at some cute boy ass and got caught and everyone is laughing at him for being gay. the "pretty girl" here is what most people think he's staring at but with the rest of the song it's obvious she's not the one he's looking at. "bells ring, i make my escape / helps a little, but doesn't save / beat downs a common thing / with us every day / maybe im just strange / cause i dont change schools / so maybe i like the abuse / or maybe i just like you." literally This is the nail in penceys fucking coffin. "maybe i like the abuse or maybe i just like you." this kid purposefully takes beatings from his bully who is Obviously male if you take into context the next verse. because he Likes Him. "maybe im just strange / cause i dont change schools" literally willingly taking beatings from his bully bc he has a crush. "another confrontation / you've got something to prove / your girl can't tell how tough you are / when you beat me up in the boys room." this just confirms that the subject of the song is a boy, and a tough macho boy with something to prove. maybe also hiding his own internalized homophobia through bullying? "well i made a big mistake / but i can't help who i like / this may not cost my life / but i am branded forever lame." LITERALLY ITS RIGHT IN YOUR FACE. "can't help who i like" "branded forever lame" do i even need to fucking explain this oh my god. he got outed as gay, he Can't Help Who He Likes and is now branded forever as "the gay kid." the rest of the song is general "im gonna get back at my bully" stuff but literally THIS. THIS is the song that brands all penceys other very vague songs as 100% verified super mega ultra gay.

7) 19

this song has a lot less, and is more about internal struggle than anything. but it is the only song with a "she" pronoun in it. but there is one thing i wanna mention. "I scream out loud / but no one hears a sound / i take my life with lack of sleep / i believe the things i feel / the things i see are fooling only me." this song is about not believing what the world shows you, believing what you think is true in your heart and what You feel. not what anyone else tells you. which is a gay experience. believing in yourself and your heart and your feelings, believing theyre right and theyre true and valid. Also this song has a significance in coming right after 8th grade on the album, going from being 13 to 19, from being unsure in your feelings and angry about the people who dont like you to lost and hopeless but somewhat grounded in yourself.

8) Trying To Escape The Inevitable

this song is about an abusive and toxic relationship, knowing you Need to escape it but being so infatuated with the person you literally cant. “i have this reoccurring dream / you make it hard for me to breathe / i gave you everything i could / i gave up everything i owned / and when you smile it’s not for me / you offer little sympathy / your grasp so far exceeds your reach / i wake up, this is not a dream.” “i have this reoccuring dream / where you admit that you’re not happy / i know that you will never leave / you’re here just to torment me.” which like again this isnt an exclusively gay experience but it is very interesting when framed that way. in that gay people are way more likely to throw themselves into abusive and toxic relationships because they dont feel like they can get anybody else. the repetition of “i know i should run” makes it seem like the speaker Knows he should get out but he just Cant because what if he never finds love again? and the little reprise in the middle “i have a new dream / and everything is perfect / the sky is pink, yellow, green, blue, and orange / and all the past has been forgotten / and we fell in love / and we fell in love / and we fell in love / and i fell into your trap.” implying that even if he escapes, even in his dreams he still falls for this person because he feels like he cant have anything else.

9) Lloyd Dobbler

another love song about wanting to have someone but not being able to because of Unspecified Forbidden Reasons. “why are you so far away / even when you’re standing next to me? / your eyes give you away / telling secrets your mouht don’t feel like talking.” falling in love with someone, maybe sensing that they like you too. that they Are Like You and that they have a Secret they dont want to vocalize. do i even need to explain it at this point? and in the chorus “That I’ll be your lloyd dobbler / with a boom box out in the street / and i’ll be there if you need someone / even if he isn’t me.” saying you’ll be there for someone even if that person isn’t you, also the use of Pronouns which is big for pencey prep. which yes the use of “even if he isnt me” could imply a straight girl ooorrr....Fruit Behavior. also this line “There’s a norman rockewll painting / of two kids sitting on a bench / it reminds me of all the stupid things / i’d like for us to share, but i dont care.” normal rockwell is a painter that paints traditionally “american” scenes. like the american ideal, that maybe he wants with this person. but he knows he cant have, but its stupid and domestic and he wants it but he Cant Have It because of FRUIT BEHAVIOR.

10) Florida Plates

another of my favorite pencey songs, and this one brings back those tragic “love but we cant have it” themes, except with a more somber tone. instead of being angry or resentful or spiteful in the face of adversity. its an Acceptance, of what they had and how good it was and how it just Cant Last. “kiss a mouth to open eyes / stall one last moment before goodbye / drive in different cars in different directions / never write all the letters full of good words, better intentions / it’s for the best although we don’t know it / paper words will cheapen the moments we shared / it’s better if i say nothing at all.” it’s about knowing you have to leave someone, even if having them in the moment is great they Can’t Stay and you can’t even talk or write about the moments you had. which do i even need to explain it at this point? forbidden love, not being able to have each other, not even being able to Talk about it. its a secret, and painful one but its beautiful while you have it. Conclusion alright!!! thank you so so much if you read all the way through that i Know it was long i Know it was a lot of repetition but i wanted to make my point. pencey prep has very big gay themes in their music. with forbidden love, letting go, heartbreak, keeping secrets, toxic realtionships. which none of it is gay on its own but in the context of: almost none of the songs having clear gender indicators and always speaking really vaguely about the subject and Eight Grade the “nail in the coffin song” you can see my point thank you and goodnight.

[spaceybot]

Welcome / Home

Whirl of Polyhex should not be here.

Flash fic inspired by @thanksjro 's tumblr No Face November challenge Day 15: Whirl + two bonus ideas.

Word Count: 751

---

The first thing that strikes Whirl as off is the doorbell of his watch shop.

“Welcome!”

Its synthetic voice, Whirl knows, is that of a war-time drone.

It is not a watchmaker’s greeting system.

The second thing that throws him is what comes walking through the door.

“Well,” Whirl drawls, “if it isn’t the prick himself. Hiya.”

The bot on the other side of his counter (Whirl does not recall him walking up to it) narrows his optics; the red chevrons on his helm tipped askance.

“Excuse me?” He says.

“What. Never heard it said to your face before?” Whirl asks. “Here, I’ll say it again, p--”

Prowl raises a hand, half to stop him, half in self-defense. Ooh. High Command-style verbal beatdown commencing in 3, 2, 1:

“I don’t even know who you are.”

Whirl wants to scoff. Prowl not knowing him of all bots.

But he takes a glance down and there is no Autobrand on his chassis. Pre-war. Of course it is. He’s still in his shop in Polyhex. He sighs.

“Right, I...I mistook you for someone else. Whatever,” Whirl replies. “Uh. What brings you here?”

He can’t tell if the look Prowl gives him is because he’s just asked a stupid question or if it's just residual disbelief from their shaky "introduction." To his credit, he waves it off.

“I’m looking for a chronometer. For my partner,” Prowl explains. “Thinking it might actually help him show up on time.”

Whirl remembers the things he’d say to prospective customers. He tries. But there's no point.

He shouldn’t even be here.

“Partner, huh. Your Conjunx? This a gift?”

Prowl’s optic twitches even while the rest of his face remains one notch below neutral.

“A partner.” He repeats.

“Well ya know what, buddy? I got just the thing,” Whirl says. “Real proud of this one.”

And then quieter, at the thought of parting with one of his first hand-made chronometers:

“I really am.”

He reaches down to lift the lid of the featured tempered-glass box display but it is not his hands that come into view.

Pincers.

Great. He pushes through the contradiction, squeezing the display handle with his claws. Whirl raises the lid.

With his other claw, he pinches the tiny, round chronometer and airlifts it out of its confines. He’s almost got it out when the force of his grip slips. A hideous shriek of metal--identical to the noise of a bot being torn limb from limb--resounds in the shop. The gold plating has crumpled entirely.

Whirl has destroyed the watch.

In a rush of anger, his claws clamp down even harder, crunching the chronometer into meaningless metal, snapping it in two from the hinges.

Prowl says nothing. In fact, he doesn’t even react. He merely looks dead ahead: a cold frame without a spark.

“Just stay here,” Whirl tells him, as if Prowl would disappear. He slips into the backroom: his workshop. Except it isn’t his familiar workshop that welcomes him home the moment he glances up.

It’s his cell in Garrus-1.

The back door of his shop in Polyhex had led him here. Fine. If this is how it’s gonna be, he thinks.

Whirl spins around, targeting systems primed and ready to show him a good place to blast an exit. He stops mid way.

There’s a mirror on the back wall, from floor to ceiling, and when he stares deep into it a pale copper faceplate stares back at him: two gold optics, like the round chronometers in his shop. A mouth with which to scream.

Whirl draws his arm back.

He drives the apex of his claw into the glass and watches that face shatter into nothing. A million fragments, none of which hold the image of him. Whirl reels back for another one: he has no face. Not anymore.

In the distance, Rung calls to him:

“Whirl. It’s alright. You can stop now.”

It always falls apart.

“Whirl.”

He opens his eye.

The presiding psychiatrist aboard the Lost Light simply watches him sit up from his resting position.

Re-experience therapy: find your happy place, and relieve it over and over again, Rung had told him. He looks like he’s about to start apologizing for it.

So Whirl brings himself to his feet, heading for the exit, and ignores the way Rung tries to protest and stop him.

“Don’t worry about it, Eyebrows...” Whirl mutters on his way out.

“I knew it wouldn’t work anyway.”

---

Rungian Re-experience Therapy: relive your happiest moment, over and over and over - MTMTE #12

[idmakeitbehave]

This I Know {Spencer x Reader}

Chapter One

masterlist

series table of contents

a/n: this is an angsty, fluffy 12 part series i’ve been working on. no real warnings aside from memory loss and the emotional angst that comes with that. you can read ahead on my AO3 if you’re so inclined!

word count: 1.5k

*beep beep beep beep beep*

The rhythmic droning of beeps was the first thing you noticed when you woke up. You groggily blinked the sleep out of your eyes. How did you get here? And… where exactly was here?

The fluorescent lights were almost blinding and it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust. You could just make out a monitor to your right, the source of the steady beeping. As you shifted, you winced at the slight pull on your hand- an IV was taped to it. A hospital. Alright, that mystery was settled at least. 

You tried desperately to remember how you got there, but your mind was blank. Vague memories pushed at the horizon- a blurred silhouette, the faint scent of vanilla and old books, music playing softly in the background. Nothing clear, nothing certain. 

The last solid memory you had was staring out of your kitchen window, holding your cup of coffee and watching the hot summer sun rise. But now you turned to look out of the hospital window and there was no sun. The sky was white, snowflakes dancing across it. 

The monitor started beeping faster as you panicked to put together what this realization meant. What it had to mean. Something awful had happened. It obviously wasn’t snowing in July in Georgia. So where were you? When were you? 

There was a shuffling at the door and a doctor hurried in, smiling brightly at you. “Oh, it’s so good to see you awake.” 

You pulled yourself up, groaning at the strain. “Where am I? What happened?” Your voice was raspy from disuse. 

 “You’re at the hospital in Quantico. There was an incident at work and you suffered from some substantial head trauma. Can you tell me your name and the date?” 

You stared at the doctor blankly for a moment before responding, first telling him your name. “And it’s… well, that’s the problem. I remember it being July, but it’s snowing, so that’s obviously wrong. And I remember being in Georgia, but somehow I’m in Virginia?” 

“July of what year?” The doctor’s quiet question shocked you and your eyes widened at him. 

“2008?” Your answer was a whisper, the uncertainty lacing your voice.

“I’m sorry, but it’s November 15th, 2010.” 

The look of sympathy on the doctor’s face caught you off guard and the beeping besides you quickened again. You looked around the room wildly, attempting to take in the impossible information he had just given you. Two years? You had lost two years of your life? This had to be a mistake. This could not be happening to you. Your vision started blurring, the room in front of you swimming. Hot, panicked tears ran down your cheeks as you attempted to take in shallow breaths. 

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” the doctor spoke soothingly as he adjusted your medication. “I’m just going to give you a mild sedative to help you calm down. Take a deep breath, as deep as you can.” 

The drugs were fast, and the beeping slowed down again. You took a measured breath in through your nose, exhaling slowly through your mouth. A warm haze washed over you and you looked back at the doctor, asking him the same question as before. “What happened to me?”

“You have amnesia from your head trauma. I know it’s a lot to take in, but from your scans it does look like it will only be temporary. With support from your loved ones and some techniques for recall, you should be able to regain most, if not all, of your lost memories.” 

You nodded shakily, trying to wrap your mind around all of this. Loved ones. Loved ones? Who? The last you had seen of your family had been three years ago- well, apparently five years ago. “I’m in Quantico?” 

The doctor nodded. “Yes, you live and work here. I’m afraid I can’t help to fill in the gaps beyond that, but your friends have been here for the majority of the past week, so I’m sure they will be able to help you out.”

Friends. Okay, you had friends. You almost laughed at the stupidity of that small thought. But, it was slightly reassuring to know that you weren’t alone here- wherever here might be. Home, you supposed. Your home. The idea was unfamiliar, strange even. You had a job- apparently a dangerous one at that, a house, friends who visited you while you were unconscious in the hospital for a week. That gave you the smallest bit of hope. 

“I have to go finish my rounds, but we’ve contacted your emergency contact to let him know that you’re awake. He should be here shortly. Just push the call button here if you need anything and one of the nurses will help you out.”

You murmured your quiet thanks as he left the room, your mind reeling. There wasn’t much else you could do, confined to this tiny hospital bed. You leaned back, willing yourself to relax as much as possible. Eventually you succumbed to the heaviness of your eyelids, drifting off to sleep, dreams laden with vaguely familiar shapes and faraway voices just out of your reach. 

The sound of footsteps woke you up again, and you struggled to remember where you were in your daze. The hospital. Quantico. You reminded yourself firmly of the facts, trying to ground yourself.

A figure lingered in the doorway, coming into focus as you rubbed your eyes wearily. The figure- it was a man, a tall, lanky man- moved closer to you, sinking into the chair beside you. 

You studied his face for a second. He was handsome, a strong jawline and striking hazel eyes hidden partially by messy, curly hair. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake,” the man breathed out, whispering your name before leaning over you and holding your hand tightly. The touch was comforting. You detected the faintest scent of vanilla, making you almost dizzy. That smell. You remembered that smell.

You must have been lost in thought, because the man was saying something again. You just barely caught the tail end. “We’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed you so much.”

Staring at the man, you fixed your eyes on his. Your gaze was disconcerting and he squirmed in his chair for a moment. 

He said your name again, his voice a tremulous question as his eyes darted back and forth across your face. 

“I,” you started, “I’m sorry but… who are you?” 

The man’s jaw slackened, his shoulders dropping.  His eyes filled with tears almost immediately as the color left his face. There was silence between the two of you, the only sound the steady beeping of the monitor beside you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again, twisting in the bed to get a better look at this man. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad. I just- I don’t know you. Are you one of my friends?”

He bit his lip, a tear making its way down one of his cheeks. You felt the strangest urge to reach out and wipe the tear away. “I’m Spencer.”

“Hi Spencer,” you smiled at him, a tentative, watery smile. “You’re one of my friends?”

The man- Spencer, you reminded yourself- swallowed thickly. He opened his mouth, seemed to rethink his words, and closed it again. You looked at him quizzically and he finally answered. “I’m your boyfriend.” 

“What?” The shock was evident in your voice, though your hand tightened instinctively around his. He glanced down at the gesture, a small smile on his face. 

Spencer ran his hand through his hair, sighing shakily. His eyes met yours again and there was something strange there. You had no idea who this man was, and yet you couldn’t look away. “What do you remember?” 

You told him of your last memories, of the two lost years, and you recited the facts that the doctor had given you. His face remained pale as he listened, tears still brimming in his eyes. 

“He said- he said it probably won’t be permanent,” you murmured, looking down at your entwined hands. “I just need help remembering.”

“I can do that.” The sudden steadiness in his voice made you look up. It was the most sure you had heard him since this stranger had entered your hospital room. 

“You’d do that for me?” Your words were shaky. “Even though- even though I don’t remember you? Us?” 

Spencer smiled again, a tiny bittersweet smile. “I remember everything- enough for the both of us. And besides, I love you. I’d do anything.”

You stared at him, eyes searching his. Of all the things you had thought could happen after the impossible news from this morning, this was the last thing you had expected. This handsome stranger, his comforting touch, the familiar scent of vanilla. 

The exhaustion of this unbelievable day washed over you, and your eyes felt heavy again. Your head lolled to the side, studying Spencer’s face silently. You squeezed his hand again, whispering as your eyes closed. “Please stay with me.” 

You heard his voice in the distance as you drifted off to sleep. “Always.” 

“It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.”

 -Chuck Palahniuk

next chapter

[tinyboxxtink]

"Clueless" *Part 15* (Finale)

I'll admit the last bit of this wasn't TOTALLY amazing, BUT I'm stoked to start "Black Magic", and I got the major points that I wanted in this ending. So, I hope you guys like it. 😉

[Black Magic starts tonight.]

Part 14

Gif's UNDER the cut, so there's no spoilers.

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@lolliepopsicle

@wanniiieeee

@milkshqke

@objection-argumentative

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@aprildecker-blog

-----

To your relief, the last two classes were Rafael free. However, that third week was the big court cases final argument finals.

To make it extra stressful, your professor had gotten permission to use a real live courtroom for you all to present your cases. And not only that, filled the gallery with judiciary members, and to your absolute horror that included the SVU squad.

When you walked into the courtroom, you were already panicking with all the spectators. But seeing the panelists standing up front, including Rafael with a smug smile, your palms began to sweat. You and Josh exchanged worried glances, but held hands and stayed strong together. You glanced over to the gallery to see Ariel giving you a thumbs up. What the…?

“What is Ariel doing here?” You whispered to Josh. “I thought only law students were allowed in here,”

“Oh I asked her to be here,” Josh smiled, waving at Ariel.

“Why…?” You gave him a confused look.

“Uh, for you obviously,” He nervously smiled. “I wanted you to have a friendly face in the audience, y’know besides me,”

“That’s really sweet babe,” You nuzzled his neck. “How’d she manage it though?”

“I’m pretty sure she paid off one of the guards,” He chuckled.

“Figures,” You rolled your eyes.

You took your seats with the rest of the class on one side of the gallery, awaiting your turns. It made you sick to your stomach to see just how happy Rafael was, why was he in such a good mood?

“Look at him, he’s such a smug bastard,” Josh whispered.

“I know right?” You scoffed back, glaring right at Rafael. But his smile didn’t dissipate, it only grew bigger. What the hell was happening?

Soon the courtroom was completely full, buzzing with conversation. Until a guard started clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Attention, the honorable Judge Walker,”

A very old, very mean looking judge came walking from his chambers and settled into his seat. Great, another thing to panic about.

“Attention, Attention, thank you all for coming today. I am very excited to see the fresh young minds of law at work, but first--” He paused and looked down at the panelists.

“Mr. Barba has asked to make an announcement to the court,”

Wait, what? What was happening? You looked at Ariel with panic, Josh squeezed your hand harder as you gave him a very worried look. You looked at Olivia, who looked uncomfortable. She didn’t know what was going on, that couldn’t be good.

“Ahem,” Rafael adjusted his jacket as he got ready to address the court.

“Ladies and gentleman; as the students here are aware, I’ve been sitting in on their classes for the last few weeks so that I could get a better, well rounded assessment of each one of them so I could go into these ‘trials’ with an idea of who I wanted to work with this summer,” He looked around at each and everyone in the court, except for you and Josh. Of course.

“...But, unfortunately, those evaluations are going to have to suffice as a suggestion to my colleagues here. As I am recusing myself from the proceedings today,”

The court began buzzing with even more conversation, you looked at Ariel who had the same stunned and confused look on her face. You glanced at the SVU squad who looked concerned. Seriously, what was happening? You looked at Josh, he was completely lost and-- worried?

“Babe...are you ok?” You whispered.

He looked at you, not being able to speak. Okay did HE have an idea what was going on?

“Order, Order!!!” The judge banged his gavel. Then he addressed Rafael: “Mr. Barba, why exactly are you recusing yourself?”

Rafael took a deep breath as he looked at the floor. After a pause, he looked back up to the court.

“Because, I could not in good conscience cast a vote when I have a conflict of interest,” He answered, the smile crossing across his face once again.

Your heart started pounding, your breath quickened. Everything went fuzzy and it suddenly felt like you were underwater.

“...And what exactly would that be?” The judge raised an eyebrow.

Your palms began to sweat, you wanted so badly to look at Ariel but you literally could not move. You couldn’t tell if Josh was still holding your hand because your whole body was numb.

Everyone in the courtroom watched Rafael with bated breath, nobody spoke, nobody breathed. Rafael finally fixed his sights right on you:

“...Because I am in love with one of the candidates,” He said with the same huge smile he had since you walked in.

Your heart COMPLETELY stopped, along with your breath. You desperately made pleadings with any higher power that you would NOT pass out in this courtroom in front of every person you admire and knew in your entire academic career.

“Oh my God…” You heard Josh mutter. Oh God, Josh. He was probably crushed right now, so humiliated. You couldn’t even look at him, all you could do was stare at Rafael. He was still beaming at you, so proud of himself. It would be extremely annoying if he hadn’t just announced to an entire room full of his colleagues that he was IN LOVE WITH YOU.

You felt yourself begin to breathe, your heartbeat began to beat, but now it was pounding out of your chest. Wait, he didn’t actually say your name. Yet…?

“Order, Order!” The judge banged his gavel once again, and you finally noticed during your little black out the entire room had erupted into even more chatter.

“Mr. Barba, you really could have just told your colleagues here your reason, there’s no need for this showboating,” He told Rafael in a very annoyed tone.

“Yes your honor, I understand,” He nodded. “But I wanted Miss Y/N to know that I am NOT ashamed of her,” Rafael looked at you once again, his smile still plastered on his face.

You couldn’t help but smile back, you were absolutely floored. Any thoughts of how Josh, Ariel, or even Olivia were reacting were out of your mind. Any panic that you wouldn’t be able to present your case now was a million miles away, all you could see was Rafael, the man who was in love with you.

“...Great. Well, I’m glad you and Miss Y/N are happy, but if you don’t mind I’d like to continue our proceedings,” He tried to speak over the crowd. “Alright maybe we need a brief recess,” He sighed, looking at Rafael exasperated. “Barba, really?”

“I’m sorry Mike, It’s a whole thing,” Rafael gave him an apologetic smile.

“Mike” The Judge, banged his gavel once again. “A 15 minute recess and then we’ll begin,”

Rafael took this moment to immediately run to you, you met him halfway. You wanted so desperately to just kiss him right there, but you were still technically in class. Even you knew you needed to stay professional right now.

“I...You...You…” You couldn’t stop smiling.

“I know,” He took your hands. “I am so sorry I left you the other night, but I knew after everything I put you through-- I needed to go big,” He gestured to the courtroom.

“I...Y-You…” Your head was reeling, thinking back to the last night you saw him. You thought for sure that it was absolutely over, and this whole time he had this huge display of an act of true love planned out.

“I love you, Y/N,” He stroked your face. “I love you and I want everyone to know it,” He stared at your lips, you knew you were both thinking the exact same thing.

“Screw it…” You grabbed his hand and pulled Rafael outside into the lobby of the courthouse. Before he could register what was happening, you grabbed him in a deep, passionate kiss. He kissed you back deeply, even more passionate than he had in his office.

“And that was…?” He gave you a weird smile.

“Well, you already announced ‘us’, I didn’t think they needed a free show on top of it,” You bit your lip with a smile.

“It probably wouldn’t have thrilled Josh,” He nodded towards the courtroom.

Crap. Josh. Your face fell, you stared back into the courtroom. As if summoned by the mention of his name, Josh came walking out of the courtroom, quickly trailed by Ariel.

“Oh God…” You muttered. Rafael took your hand gently, letting you know he was there for you. You gave him a small smile as Josh and Ariel approached you.

“Josh…” You started to talk, but Josh put a hand up.

“Wait, Y/N. Before you say anything, I need to say something,” He looked back at Ariel, who walked up next to him. You looked at Rafael with a quizzical look, he returned the look.

“The truth is, Ariel and I--” He looked at Ariel, who looked guilty. “We’ve been...spending time together,”

“What?!” You looked between the two of them, shocked.

“Nothing ever happened,” Josh put up his hands. “It was just as friends,”

“Technically,” Ariel added with a smile.

“Wow,” You muttered.

“Well that’s great news,” Rafael chimed in. “I’m very happy for you, Ariel. Josh seems like a great guy,”

“....Really?” You, Ariel AND Josh asked at the same time, in scary unison.

“Really,” He nodded. “Why do you think I hated him so much?” He looked at Josh. “In fact, I recommended you for the internship,”

“Really?” Josh’s eyes brightened. “I never thought--”

“You were a formidable opponent, sir,” Rafael held out a hand.

“Yeah well,” Josh took his hand and shook it. “I suppose you can’t really stop true love,” He nodded at you.

“Gag,” Ariel made a gagging sound, making Josh hit her. “Quiet you, or I’m going to tell you I love you,”

“Oh please don’t,” She hit him playfully. “I’ll throw up on you,”

“Oh I’ll--” He grabbed her and kissed her.

“....And I don’t think we need to be here for this,” You pulled Rafael away. You both looked at each other in absolute confusement, then both busted out laughing.

“I...I can’t even…” You gestured to your best friend and now ex boyfriend kissing in front of you and your...new boyfriend?

All of a sudden, Olivia came storming out of the courtroom.

“Here we go…” Rafael muttered softly. You began to get worried; this was the real test.

“Rafael...what do you think you’re doing?!” She cried angrily.

“Ah, Olivia,” Rafael ignored her tone. “Have you met my girlfriend, Y/N?”

He said it. He called you his girlfriend. In public. To OLIVIA BENSON.

“You…” She glanced between the two of you, you gave her a triumphant smile. “This will ruin your career,” She addressed Rafael.

“I’ll take that risk,” He took your hand, you laid your head on his shoulder. You were a united front.

“....Whatever,” She brushed both of you off and stomped back into the courtroom.

“I can’t-- You just--” You looked to where Olivia had stormed off, back to him with the smile that you decided was a permanent attribute of your face now.

“I did,” He nodded, reading your mind.

“Court will resume in one minute!” A guard came out and announced. Josh and Ariel nodded to you and Rafael as they walked back inside hand in hand.

“So…” You turned to Rafael with your excited grin. “You gonna stick around?”

“Are you kidding?” He put a thumb on your chin. “I wanna see you in action,”

“Oh God,” You bit your lip. “As if I wasn’t nervous enough,”

“Baby I’ll be right there, cheering you on,” He kissed your forehead. “Forever,”

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

In the end, Josh got the internship, like everyone knew he would. But you got something even better, you got the love of your life, and Ariel got herself an ACTUAL Josh.

At the end of the day, it turned out you weren’t totally clueless.

(again let's pretend the Raul kiss is the reader. )

[makeste]

Are there any headcanons that you would like to share? About anything you want.

anon in the absence of specific guidelines I have managed to make this post pretty much entirely about Bakugou. I apologize if you really wanted to know all of my headcanons about Kouda or something lol. but all joking aside he really is the character I think about the most and so probably like 80% of my headcanons are about him, including close to 100% of the headcanons I actually have a solid enough grip on to put into words. anyway here goes.

he does not know how to tie a tie. he was a rowdy little free range knee-scraping grass-staining run-don’t-walk child whose parents only ever managed to wrestle him into formal attire a handful of times for special occasions when he was younger, and then he went to a middle school that used gakuran-style uniforms so he never learned then, either. his dad offered to teach him when U.A. rolled around, but he was all, “fuck off dad, I know how to tie a stupid tie,” because by that time he had grown into a cocky little brat confident in his own skill and naive as to the reality checks of the world, and he genuinely believed with the conviction that only a fifteen-year-old can muster that when the time came he would just magically know how to do it. on the first day of school he got as far as draping the loose tie over his neck and holding one end in each hand before staring at the mirror and abruptly realizing the hole he’d dug himself into. and so rather than admit defeat, he just straight up decided not to wear it. which became a permanent life choice once he got to school and saw how badly Deku’s tie was tied and realized there was no way he could ever risk that kind of humiliation.

in a similar vein, I know there’s a popular fanon that because of his parents’ influence Katsuki has a good sense of fashion, but my own personal headcanon is that this could not be further from the truth lol. it’s not that he has a terrible sense of style, mind you; it’s just that he doesn’t care about it at all. he’s a nerdy jock who spends all his free time studying and lifting weights. this kid literally only wears one color, and that color just so happens to be the easiest possible color to coordinate. he owns like three pairs of shoes max. he wears his pants three sizes up and they drag so much that the hems are all frayed from him constantly stepping on them (literally canon, and one of my favorite details from chapter 218). he just doesn’t give a fuck, so long as the clothes are comfortable and don’t look stupid. he has about a million things he’s more concerned about than what he or anyone else is wearing. in fact I’m 90% sure that his mom still buys most of his clothes, and about 70% convinced he does not even know what size he is.

he’s good at household chores (because he’s good at everything), but hates doing them. aside from cooking, which he enjoys, he will bitch and whine nonstop if forced to do tedious-yet-necessary things like washing dishes and folding laundry. that said, he is a perfectionist, and he also has a lot of experience because his mom made him do chores all the time during the seven trillion times he was grounded while growing up (that’s his estimate, btw, so it may be slightly exaggerated. he was not an easy kid to raise. when your kid’s fuse is about a millimeter long and he has a tendency to literally blow up whenever he throws a fit, you end up with a lot of objects in your house that have been replaced at some point), so if you do actually manage to get him to do the chore, rest assured that chore is getting fucking DONE.

when he was very little he watched an Avengers Endgame-style All Might film where a bunch of bad guys attacked earth and various assorted heroes tried and failed to stop them. then at the climax of the film, All Might showed up and said “I am here”, and everyone got super pumped up and excited because they knew the heroes were going to win with All Might on their side. this scene remains Katsuki’s favorite scene in anything. not the fight -- just the moment where All Might shows up and grins and the audience knows right there and then that he’s going to win. this is the feeling that inspired his dream. he wants to be the one who shows up and everyone is like, “we’re good now; Katsuki is here.”

when he was six or seven he got into a big fight with an older boy over that scene because he said it was fake and that there was no way All Might could have beaten those guys in real life. Katsuki insisted he definitely would have because All Might never loses. the other boy replied that everyone loses sometimes. Katsuki kicked his ass and got suspended for a week.

ten years later, Katsuki watched All Might battle All for One at Kamino and realized two things. one, that the other boy was right and that anyone can lose. and two, that he, the one who had so proudly defended All Might back then, was going to end up being the reason why he finally lost.

for a long time afterwards, he couldn’t bring himself to watch that movie again.

when he and Izuku were three years old their moms sent them out on a first errand (google Hajimete no Otsukai if you’re unfamiliar with this tradition, I promise you it is the cutest fucking thing you’ll ever see) to buy ingredients for katsudon. Izuku was full of bouncy childish enthusiasm and could rattle off the full shopping list of ingredients front to back, but when the moment finally came his confidence wilted as soon as their parents were out of sight. Katsuki also had a moment of panic when they first rounded the corner and he couldn’t see his house anymore, but rallied once Izuku burst into tears and he realized that he had to be the one to take charge. he proceeded to morph into an absurdly over-the-top caricature of his own mother for the duration of the errand, to the point where in addition to telling Izuku to stop crying he also ordered him to stand up straight and tuck in his shirt. the two of them went on to complete the errand flawlessly and their moms were PROUD AS FUCK and took a billion pictures. Izuku and Katsuki have only a few scattered memories of this milestone in the present day but it’s enough to send both of them absolutely reeling with embarrassment whenever they’re reminded of it.

he and his mom don’t often get along but sometimes they’ll bond over roasting a mutual target. they have watched many a trashy reality TV show together for this purpose. Masaru lives for these moments but never comments on them lest he spoil the rare moments of peace.

Katsuki is perfectly capable of using keigo (i.e. normal polite Japanese with no rude language/cursing), otherwise he would not be one of the top students in his ivy-league high school. code-switching is a thing guys! anyways his teachers are aware of this, because all of his essays and homework assignments are written normally. he merely chooses to go about his daily business acting like a wannabe yakuza stereotype because that’s just his personality, and he’s not about to start censoring himself and acting like some weird little goody two shoes robot person just to please people he mostly doesn’t give two shits about. but if you put a gun to his head and told him you’d pull the trigger if he said “fuck”, he would probably be all right; he’d just have to concentrate.

when he was little he went through a phase of collecting cicada shells and leaving them EVERYWHERE -- in the bathroom sink, on his mom’s pillow, you name it. Mitsuki often tells people this is when she started getting gray hairs. one time she opened a box of cereal and there was one in there and a little bit of her soul died that day.

he generally doesn’t care who calls him Kacchan. it doesn’t particularly bother him and it never occurred to him to pretend like it did just for appearance’s sake. also secretly for some reason the thought of Deku ever calling him anything else really bothers him. he’s not sure what it would mean if that ever happened, or what he would do.

all of his workouts are designed to strengthen his arms and back and shoulders because those are the parts of his body that take the most abuse from his quirk. other than that he avoids building up excess muscle anywhere else because the more weight he puts on the harder it is to fly around. for this reason he is never going to end up being a big bulky guy like All Might. one day Deku is going to surpass him in muscle, but he doesn’t care because he’ll still be a match for him in firepower and speed.

he’s one of those kids who will not so much as take a sip of alcohol until he’s twenty-five. partly because he’s experienced enough concussions that he doesn’t particularly want to give hangovers a try, and partly because he’s a control freak and honestly afraid of getting drunk and making an idiot of himself somehow. the rowdier members of class A try virtually every trick in their wheelhouse and then some to try and persuade him over the years, but not even the reverse psychology “aw, don’t worry, it’s okay if you’re... scared :)” thing works, because that’s only actually effective when he secretly wants to do the thing.

then one day he just wakes up and is all “you know what, I’m gonna try it”, and for the next few days his google history is basically just “how many drinks does it take to get drunk” and “how to avoid getting drunk” and “how to prevent hangovers.” somehow word gets out through the grapevine (he probably told Todoroki, who is the one person in class A you’d think wouldn’t be a big ol’ gossip but in fact IS) that Bakugou is finally going to get his drink on that weekend, and pretty much EVERYONE shows up at the izakaya that Friday night excited as FUCK.

Katsuki proceeds to drink a grand total of two beers over the span of several hours, and drinks like five glasses of water in between, and literally nothing happens to him at all except that Kaminari almost fights him out of frustration. the rest of class A never fully gets over their disappointment.

he actually knows like 90% of class 1-A’s names by this point. there are still a few people he doesn’t and will never know, though. twenty years from now Aoyama will still be “that weird fucking french kid” in his mind.

he had no idea who Eri was until the Christmas party. sometimes he’d hear the other kids talking about someone named Eri, and from context clues he somehow ended up thinking it was one of Aizawa’s cats. when Eri came to the party he had a brief moment of curiosity wondering if she was Sensei’s niece or something, and then he heard someone say her name and he was all “THAT’S ERI?!” and his entire worldview was briefly shaken up.

he pulled Kirishima aside to ask him and Kirishima basically gave him Eri’s whole entire life story which was way more than he actually wanted to know. he’s now kind of terrified of ever being in the same room as her for fear of having to interact with her because he’s pretty sure he’d do or say the wrong thing. most of the time being intimidating is something he strives for and puts a lot of effort into, including when he’s around kids (who are basically just smaller, sloppier adults in his mind), but he doesn’t want to be the guy who scared an abused kid, so he basically just hopes the others will have enough common sense not to ever go “oh hey you know who should totally interact with each other?? Eri and Bakugou!”

that being said, if circumstances ever arose which forced Katsuki to protect Eri, the two of them would totally bond and they would have a really sweet relationship in which Eri looked up to him just like she looks up to Deku and Mirio and the rest, and where Katsuki was constantly trying to be on his best behavior around her, like genuinely, sincerely trying, and kind of failing at it a lot but still being sweet in a gruff sort of restrained-disaster way.

...and after sitting there for a while trying to think of more I couldn’t come up with any so I guess that’s it! basically most of my headcanons are about how secretly boring Katsuki is. honestly if it weren’t for him having the vocabulary of a 52-year-old sailor whose foot was caught in a bear trap, he and Iida would probably be best friends.

[capri-ramblings]

Yandere Malleus and Vil and Leona really wanting to start a family but there s/o isn't into the idea and just straight up refuses the idea Even quickly changing the subject saying she'd rather get a pet

I had my dad drive me around the neighborhood to have my braincells function for this and it still ended up bad (╥﹏╥) I'm sorry, I really tried but Vil and Malleus are so hard for me to write atm

Warning: Mention of toxic relationships

Vil Schoenheit

- Someone must've said something to him to make him actually want children.

- It's not that it never crossed his mind,it did, and he was planning to have a kid eventually,I mean, genes as beautiful as him should have an heir so this world would never run short of impeccable beauty,but you didn't expect it to be this soon.

- The question made your head reel and your stomach churned.

- "Daffodil,a young one running around would be a sight wouldn't it?" He had put it very subtly,but the thought still made you cringe. You were never really fond of kids.

- "I don't know,Vil...Why not get a cat or a pony or something?" When your words reached him, it had the male turning around with a slightly dark expression. The way the light seemed to scatter over his skin made him look almost ethereal.

- You bit your lower lip.

- "I saw your post about that new skincare earlier. I was thinking of trying it out tonight, your tips never fail to give results" You changed the topic fast, and Vil couldn't help but feel a swell of irritation build up in his chest.

- You were so easy to read. The least you could do was lie a little better.

- "I don't think you understand the situation here,mein lieb, I'm saying I want a family with you." He was smiling then but something in the way he looked at you gave away the fact he wasn't liking your attitude toward the whole idea

- "I mean,Vil...I wouldn't be such a good mom in the first place and ugh,don't kids just take up too much space? Why can't we just stay like this?"

- "Like what? Me always trying to see if you're still not trying to find a way to not be with me?"

- "Or are you talking about the fact that you'll never be as devoted to this relationship as I am?"

- The accusation rang clear in his voice and Vil didn't try to hide the anger in his gaze. You tried to find a way to calm him down, but your clear rejection really set him off bad.

- "I didn't mean it like that,Vil. It's just that —"

- "Stop talking, Daffodil. You're making my head ache."

- So you kept your mouth shut

- Vil sighed.

- "See? This is what I meant. You act like you care, but really when you're shoved into a corner you become this timid rat curling its tail around its body."

- "Vil.."

- "I said,don't speak." Vil tore down your defenses without hesitation, and you found yourself unable to withstand the glare daggering its way into your soul.

- "A child would mean the highest mark of love,and a child from my seed would mean the highest of blessings for you." Vil took your chin in his hand,gently tugging it towards him,as he brushed his lips against yours. "Why don't you embroider that understanding into your head, love?"

- Then,he let go and stood up. The fragrance of his perfume stilling your nerves. His eyes didn't meet yours again as he turned around to leave the room.

- "Because, the next time I ask, your answer should be a single word. Or I simply won't bother to make it a question."

Leona Kingscholar

- Cheka was playfully sitting on your lap when Leona asked you the question, and while the small little red haired beamed at the idea of having a baby cousin, your heart dreaded the notion.

- "A kid..?" You repeated the words almost fearfully, Cheka stirring in your lap. You tried your best not to let him slip off.

- Leona's green gaze met yours with a smugness you knew all too well.

- "Last time I checked,you weren't deaf,mousey",he said with a slight yawn.

- "And last time I checked, you didn't like kids" You shot back, earning a confused look on the small male currently in your grasp.

- "That's not true! Leona ojichan likes me!" Cheka whined then laughed when he did almost fall off and you managed to catch him, albeit hastily. Your grip tightened on him slightly as Cheka settled back in your lap.

- "Yeah, course I do, kiddo. You tell her,won't you?"

- "Kiddo!" Cheka grinned, easily falling for the display of affection from his uncle,but you knew better.

- The abyss of his eyes where he kept his darkest intent shone brightly amidst its emerald sheen. An uneasiness came over you then.

- "Why?" You asked before evaluating the question. It had Leona arching both his brows, expression unimpressed.

- He was being mildly aggressive today, and you were sure it was because of Cheka. If you didn't ask him about it now, there wouldn't be any other chances.

- "I need an heir too,isn't that just obvious?" The words were a drawl, lazy and casual, but they rang in your ears like a sore tune and you couldn't help but frown.

- "And you seem like you need something to take care of whenever I'm gone"

- "If that's the case, why not just get a horse? That takes just as much time to raise"

- Leona laughed, yet humour seemed so far away from his tone.

- "I don't know" He yawned,gaze shifting to Cheka. "What do you think,kiddo?"

- Cheka jumped up on your lap, his bright round eyes beaming when he looked at you. It's not that you hated kids, you thought they were cute, sure and obviously you adored the small bundle of joy whenever you and Leona came to visit, but the thought of having your own...It just stresses you out.

- It was one thing taking care of another person's kid, and a whole other topic to have your own. You just weren't up for it.

- "Cheka,why don't you go and see if Papa's done with his meeting,hm? He might need your help"

- "Papa needs my help? Aha! Yay!" He leaped down easily from your grasp,curls bouncing and eyes wide with enthusiasm. He was scurrying off well when he turned to you one last time.

- "Can I still come back and sit with you?"

- You smiled, even when he tired you out most of the time, Cheka was sweet and genuine, the complete opposite of Leona. Maybe that was why you tolerated him more than the said male himself.

- "Anytime"

- "Yay!"

- When he turned the corner and went completely out of your reach, your didn't hesitate to face Leona sitting right across you.

- "I don't want to have kids." You told him firmly, which he was expecting since he was well aware of how you felt about kids, but his smugness didn't fade.

- "Sure"

- "I'm serious,Leona. I don't want any,you know how I feel about it"

- He yawned, leaning against his chair as his emerald gaze fixated on you. There was something hidden in the smile he gave you then.

- "And what about how I feel,mousey? What if I want a kid?"

- You scoffed,maybe you didn't really mean it, but it came out and Leona growled.

- "Something amusing you?"

- The dark undertone of the words had you refraining your spite towards him, but the refusal remained unwavering.

- Leona applauded you for standing your ground,he wasn't going to lie, he enjoyed it when you fought or had the nerves to bite back. It felt more thrilling that way.

- When he laughed again,you really thought he was going to lose it right there and then, but as the familiar footsteps of Cheka and a second person, which you assumed was Farena, began approaching the two of you,Leona bared his fangs,a nerve trembling growl lacing his words possessively when they slipped pass his lips.

- "Let's see you try and stop me from seeding inside you,mousey"

Malleus Draconia

- If this man wanted a kid, the reason would be similar to all his others; Curiousity.

- Malleus adores you though, and when he came up with a plan that would make you his forever, he fell deeper into this abyss of infatuation. Perhaps made him a bit more extreme.

- He was always the inquisitive kind,this you knew was in his nature, and so when the question had came about, you simply thought shrugging it off would solve it

- It didn't of course. Nothing you said swayed his decision on wanting a child with you.

- This conversation turned bitter quick, and you remember just denying him the dream he'd been so thrilled to achieve, and how dark he seemed then.

- "Malleus,you know I care about you, but a child isn't something I want"

- "Care?" He repeated, and although the words left him blandly, there was a frothing rage in the depths of his tone, and somehow you knew you had already lost this argument.

- "Is that why you refuse? Because you care about me rather than loving me?"

- You looked at him almost exasperatedly. "Caring means I love you, Malleus"

- His dark brows arched, prominent and haughty, almost as if he was laughing at you despite the silence weighing down the room. His figure seemed to look over you, and the garden lost its floral hue.

- "Pray tell then,why don't you ever say it to me?" The words were a dark drawl, and they were meant to ensnare you; No answer was relevant now.

- You tittered on your toes,every inch of your nerves aching to retaliate,but Malleus held you in place, more with his demeanor rather than the hold he had on your hand.

- "I do love you, Malleus." You managed,eyes casted down before he lifted your chin up with one finger.

- "Then,prove it,my sweet. Give me a child."

Imsosorrythisisbad

[justalittletomato]

Hungry ( angsty dad!maul drabble)

TW: child malnourishment, food mention

Summary: Maul is adamant that the baby’s schedule is followed, things don't always pan out but this instance brings Maul to recall a feeling that wouldn’t go away. 

@brilliantbutbatty @mother-0f-monsters  @tupdidtherightthing  @zabrak-show

@savagesbonergarage @apocalypticwafflekitten @and-claudia @danger-xylophones @theknightsofwren @imgonnabuildatardis @literatureandqueen   @justanotherpadawan @hannagoldworthy 

His little one is still too small to hold the bottle. Small and reliant on his family, a task Maul, his  Starlight and Savage take turns to do. One thing is certain it has to be done on schedule. Maul is adamant that it is done accordingly to the schedule.

The baby will excitedly kick his legs and eagerly latch on to the bottle. Soon it's only the sound of the little one drinking away and being held close till he’s done. It's a reassuring sound and helped by the fact that baby was growing.

Savage jokes that the baby was even squishier, his little arms resembling a row of bread rolls. His Starlight had giggled only a little, and kissed the baby’s face, “ He’s supposed to be soft, he’s a baby.”

 Maul did not share in the laughter, he stared at his child. round and rosy and currently giggling as Savage tickled his belly.

“That means he’s healthy right?” its spoken low enough that neither of them hear, to quiet that they can’t hear how relieved he is to see it.

His baby had red cheeks that were often poked just to see how soft they really were, a chubby little chin and now a little heavier than before. All good signs. Maul nuzzled him, soft and squishy like he was supposed to be.

However not everything can be as one plans, and eventually a feeding is late. In the little crib the little one woke, alone and with the first feeling of hunger. The little one whined.

He was not accustomed to waiting, usually someone is ready with a bottle in hand and picking him out of his crib.  His tummy grumbled.

Oh he did not like the feeling or the sound!  

It startled him and like any baby would he cried.

It was at first a tiny cry, usually that was enough to bring someone in. The battery in the comm has died. No answer, so the cry grew louder as did the little growls in his belly.

Maul had lost track of time…against all odds he had.

 It was an hour past. The bond now pushing at full force, crying, his baby crying as his tummy grumbled.

The baby!

Savage and his Starlight had meetings of their own they would not be there…and it was Maul’s turn. He was the one  who chided them if they were late. Maul didn’t bother excusing himself from the meeting and rushed to the nursery he had something more important to attend to.

The little cries echoed into the hallway, of course no one was there, as he walked closer the cries intensified. His baby crying and hungry.

The little face scrunched up and tears in his eyes, Maul heard the grumbles. “ I am so sorry, my Star. Oh don’t cry.” he lifts his son into his arms, “ I’m here. I’m here, just give me a moment.”

He holds his baby close and the cries lessen but the rumbles from his baby’s belly continue.  

He’s been waiting..waiting and his little tummy empty. Maul rushes a bit, his baby was hungry, hungry because Maul did not come on time.

The bottles and formula were on the shelves,  a bit high up so one would have to reach. Why he made the choice? He did not know but he knew it was all there. He had the bottle in hand and places it down on the table. His little one eagerly coos. “ Just another moment little one. “

He just needed the formula. He reaches up again for the container.

Empty.

He sighs, he had told savage to get rid of the empty canisters. no matter, he will just get another. he feels around the shelf.

There is no canister. He moves his hand to one side. Nothing there. the other side. no.

That’s impossible.

He has always made sure to have more and extra. Always.  Maul holds tighter to his little one as his hands moves back and forth, there just to be one!

The cries return, and his belly again rumbles. A hungry little cry, the baby is hungry and there is no canister.

Maul opens the lower shelf, nothing but the baby’s clothes. He finds himself tossing them aside, there has to be one!

 His mind drifts to opening the tiny slot in his room to peek out for the tray that sometimes came.  No nothing today.

He opens another shelf more clothes and napkins. Again the items are tossed aside, Where is it?!

Again he opens the slot, there’s something outside but the droid had neglected to bring it in. His stomach growls. By the time the droid finishes the lesson something had taken his food.

The gnawing feeling builds.

No canister in the top shelf, none in the bottom. The drawers are half out and the clothes strewn over the floor . There’s not a drop of it.

The food is always here! where was it? Where was his baby’s food?!  

The crying continued and Maul is reminded that his little one is hungry, hungry and with no food to give him.  The slight concern surges to panic.

Maul recalls that Savage had shoved a ration bar into  his hand after Maul had neglected to eat this morning. He still had that! 

Its squished but it’s still food! Food for the baby…food he is too little to eat..maybe he could make sure its soft enough maybe he can get water and…no he can’t, the baby can’t eat it…

His mind is reeling. Years without enough of anything, the days with nothing. His ribs had stuck out and it took him longer to heal without anything in his belly to help. The gnawing feeling ever present in his gut more so as a child. As he grew he ignored the aches and rationed what he was given. He could make it last.

He was often hungry but was careful, he trained himself to be, not to show it, but the effects are present. He should have been taller and maybe a bit fuller, but he was not. Smaller than his opponents but feeding himself on hate, it helped.  On Lotho Minor it was always on his mind and like before there was never enough or never anything. Again his ribs showed and his face had become gaunt living on whatever scraps or rats had come around.

“ Maul?” his Starlights calls stepping into the room,” I heard crying..”

They see Maul standing with all the babies clothes tossed onto the floor and the shelves and drawers almost threatening to fall out. He holds the baby in one arm and the bottle in the other, its empty and held in a tight grip. His eyes widened in alarm and mouth clamped shut for a moment, “We are out of food,” the baby cries, “He’s hungry and we are out of food” he glances back the shelves.

They carefully step toward him, “Maul…” they try to bring him back, “Li-“

Maul isn’t listening, eyes transfixed on the shelves and drawers, “ I know it was full. It was full Starlight. I always make sure it is..”

He would have eaten anything before.. anything to fill the ache..even the fish he had seen grown as a child. There had been nothing else besides that red and black fish, not even cooked when he ate it.

His baby is hungry and he had no food for them, he can hear the little belly growl and his baby cries louder.

“ Maul we moved it. Remember we moved it? “ his Starlight takes his hand, Maul flinches, “ We moved it, it's all here, “ they take him to another part of the nursery to a set of cabinets. They  hesitantly let go “Look here.” They open the cabinet wide so he can see.

The cabinet is fully stocked, each little canister neatly displayed and forward. It reminds him of the few times where he had gotten enough to eat, just enough to keep the grumbling away.

Maul sets the bottle down hard on the cabinet. He grabs at a  canister knocking down the other and struggles to rip it open, “Maul plea-“ they try again, but Maul is not having it. They can see his panic is still there

“We did not discuss it.” He’s shaking too much.  The canister won’t open,he needs to get it open! 

His baby had missed his feeding, HOW had he forgotten? 

Now his baby was crying out for food. “ We can’t move the food. We can’t.” How did he forget. 

“He was supposed to eat an hour ago.” Maul flinches when they take the canister and open it. They pick up the bottle and fill it all the way. His baby cries and suckles at the air upon seeing the bottle filled.

“ I was supposed to feed him…he’s been hungry and I was supposed to feed him.” Maul tries to hand off the baby but his Starlight just puts the bottle back his hand and shakes their head, “ He’s okay Maul, it's just a little late. He will be okay, my love.” 

The two of them sit back against the cabinets as Maul feeds the baby. His little one tries to drink it fast and his starlight has to remind Maul to make sure the baby takes it slow.

Maul  huddles over his baby, “He’s hungry. If he’s hungry…”

“ He’ll drink it too fast and get sick.” They remind him, “ Then he will be hungry and not want to eat.”

Maul relents and takes his starlight’s advice. “ I’m sorry.” he whispers to the baby.

“ Maul you were late. It’s okay things like this happen.” his Starlight  assured him.

Maul bows his head, “ I don’t want him to be hungry, I want him to grow as he should.” he strokes a little round cheek, “ My little star is never going to go without Starlight. I swear he won't.”

There’s no arguing with Maul right now. He was recalling what he had missed, what he lacked all the things he had been desperate to ensure his child would have. 

His Starlight kisses his cheek in comfort, “ I know you will Maul. I know.”

His little one coos as he finishes the last of the bottle and maul gives a shaky sigh of relief at the sight of his happy baby. His cheeks are rosy, and Maul pinches his cheek gently.

His baby is happy and healthy and growing as he should.

[twooneztaylorthecat]

Delirious - Adam Stanheight / Reader

Adam Faulkner sat up frantically, his body rigid and his mind reeling, his hands grasping uselessly at the edge of his confines, his hair plastered to his face, and his mouth filled with grimy water. He spluttered, trying to breath without getting water in his lungs, and his fingers fumbled inconveniently all along the edge of his restraints. Coughing, Adam hauled himself out of the tub. He was weak and fatigued, but most of all he was scared. In a few frightening moments, that seemed entirely too long, he tried pounding on the walls; first slowly then gradually getting faster with every passing second. Through the darkness, Adam could feel the freezing tile on his fingers, and the sharp sting as he slapped his palms against it. When this proved futile, Adam backed away hesitantly, spinning 'round and 'round as if trying to find something that wasn't there, and then resorted to screaming. His attempts at being heard were unavailing, but he kept at it anyway mostly for the sake of his very own sanity; if he remained silent he was sure to lose his goddamn mind.

"No one can hear you," came a sudden voice from the darkness. It sounded so dismissive; in fact it almost pissed Adam off how apathetic it appeared. "Just calm down. Are you hurt?"

Adam's mind struggled to form a single coherent thought. Between his confusion and his fear, thinking was made difficult. He stuttered over his words for a couple short seconds. "I-I-I-I don't- don't know." He looked over himself, even though he couldn't see anything. "Yeah?"

There was a faint sound of stumbling around, and then a high-pitched buzz filled the room. In an abrupt flicker the darkness was replaced with a bright yellow light. The ceiling lights had come on, and Adam groaned, shielding his eyes away from the brightness. "I couldn't find them before..." The man apologized.

When Adam could see clearly again, he glanced over at the object to his right. Immediately upon seeing the results, he wished he had been a little more thoughtful on that prospect, for keeping him grounded was a metal chain connecting him to a metal pipe protruding from the tile walls. What calmness he had left evaporated all together and once again he found himself panicking. Adam yanked and tugged but it didn't matter, he wasn't going anywhere. "Holy shit. You did this, didn't you!?"

His companion pressed himself against the wall in alarm. "I haven't done anything!" He exclaimed defensively. "But we're going to have to trust each other if we want to get out of this. I mean, clearly someone didn't want us going very far."

Adam huffed. "But what the hell did I do?"

"Apparently you did something, or you wouldn't be here. Now, what's your name?"

That's a personal question, Adam thought. Why does he want to know?

Looking the man up and down suspiciously, Faulkner muttered carefully, "My name is very fucking confused... What's YOUR name...?"

"Lawrence Gordon," Gordon answered practically.

Adam laughed. "Sounds like a doctor's name," he whispered wryly.

"I AM a doctor," Doctor Lawrence snapped.

Adam stared at him awkwardly. Neither of them spoke a word to each other for a couple of never-ending minutes, then Lawrence stood up. "Here, let me try the door."

"Why didn't you?" Adam retorted, not expecting a reply. He was aware of the fact that, with the lights off, it was impossible to see your surroundings. Lawrence ignored him, but did cast him an annoyed look, as if echoing Adam's exact thoughts. He got to his feet.

Adam watched Lawrence stretch himself along the wall, reaching for the door. It was locked, but even if wasn't, Lawrence's chain didn't stretch far enough to get him to the handle. "Well fuck," Adam uttered hopelessly.

Lawrence gave him an apologetic look, but didn't say anything to reassure him. It was then that Adam's eyes found the chainsaw resting right next to Lawrence's feet, and that's when everything changed. He started freaking out. In flashbacks he saw THAT moment replaying over and over again in his head, and he reacted violently, twisting his body and lashing out against his restraint.

The pictures burned his eyes, at least it felt like they did. With each passing second the flashbacks became more clear. He could almost feel Lawrence's pain when he cut through his flesh. Adam screamed. Agony ripped through his temples and he doubled over.

Lawrence's longing and flustered exclamations were lost on poor Adam as he writhed miserably on the tile floor in capable of regaining himself, his tormented mind struggling to cope with the memories. "Hey! I think I've found something! Pass me that tape."

Adam kicked, and flailed, but didn't hear Lawrence.

"What's wrong? Will you at least tell me your name?"

Still, Adam couldn't get the vision out of his eyes. It lingered there like a bloodstain on a white dress. It refused to put him at ease.

"Adam!" Lawrence threw his wallet at him. "Adam!" His voice was starting to blend into the buzz of the lights. "Goddamn it, Adam! What's happening?"

Faulkner tossed and turned. His heart was beating so fast in his chest he was sure it would pop at any given moment. His temperature was so high it was like he was in an oven that was set to self-destruct. His shirt and flannel were drenched in so much sweat, he could have easily been rolling around in the wet grass before arriving.

"Adam!" Lawrence threw something else at him. Was it the package of cigarettes? "Sit up! Sit up!"

Adam tried to latch onto what Lawrence was telling him, but he felt fried. His mind was so exhausted...

"Adam!" Gordon's voice was gone completely now, as well as the images that he had been seeing before. Adam was plunged straight back into darkness, and then THAT voice reached his ears. The melodic voice of his significant other.

In a frenzy, hastily and dazedly, Adam Faulkner exploded from the covers, his face burning up with fever. He was hotter than he had ever felt in his entire life. He gasped, paranoia engulfing him. His eyes darted around the room, taking in his surroundings quickly, fearfully. He was not where he expected to find himself. He was not with the person he was expecting to be with. Adrenaline pumped through him, making him fidgety, but finally he brought his attention to his partner. You were leaning over him, terror in your bright eyes.

Adam's breath slowed down audibly, once he realized where he was. You pushed him to the pillow again. You had tears on your cheeks but Adam wasn't in the mental state to be concerned about that right now. He let you adjust him on the bed, as you whispered, "You're so hot, baby. I tried to stop the fever, but... it just kept rising, and... You scared me, I thought for sure... Never mind. You were kicking and sleep talking. I don't what you said, though."

Adam stared ahead, grabbing hold of your hand. He held it so tightly you whimpered. You had to use all your strength to rip your hand out of his grasp. "What time is it?" He choked.

"Twelve AM. It's hasn't even been two hours yet."

"I... I can't go back to sleep. I need a walk." But Adam knew it was a lie. And he knew what you would say.

You stared into his face. His eyes had dark circles under them, they were bloodshot already themselves, and his skin was ghostly white. You frowned at him in dismay. Lately, he had stopped sleeping. His trauma was getting to him again, and you knew that was the only reason for it; his dreams were haunting him too much. "No, Adam," You said firmly this time. You weren't going to allow him to do this again.

Adam shook his head. "Let me. It helps."

"You are going to kill yourself one of these days," You growled, and gently held him down. You didn't want to cause him to feel trapped, that would only make things worse, but you didn't want him to get up. "You need to sleep, baby. You have a fever tonight."

"Maybe that's good?" Adam asked halfheartedly. He hadn't meant to alarm you.

You felt sick. "No." You combed your fingers through his hair. "Relax, Adam. You're going to be just fine. I know it, you know it."

Adam relaxed under his partner's soothing strokes. "I feel so cold..."

You gazed at him sadly. "A hundred and one degrees, Adam."

"Me?"

"No, the cat," You snapped sarcastically.

"Oh..."

Adam could feel himself losing himself to sleep. He was afraid of what would happen next in his dreams, but he trusted you to take care of him. Your careful caress was enough to put him back under. And as he wandered through a blurry haze of darkness, he heard your soft voice one last time. "I love you." A kiss was planted on his lips and when he started dreaming again, it was with you.

You in your favorite attire.

You with your prettiest smile.

You with your pleasant laugh.

And he leaned right into that beloved and charming kiss. All the while you stayed awake in the night, protecting him, keeping him away from his fears, and allowing your precious boyfriend to gather up on his much desired sleep.