#another five minute poem i hope it holds up

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

Ducks out on the lake; prayer unanswered

another 13x01 poem. i was rewatching the episode and couldn't get over the beauty of the surroundings; the movement of the water and the family of ducks in the background of a shot of the pyre. the sunlight and saturation of this episode haunts its grief and i can't stop writing about it

transcript under cut!

Ducks out on the lake; prayer unasnwered

There are ducks out on the lake.

Behind the pyre,

behind the smell of gasoline on wood

they are a family silhouetted on the water.

Everything is still:

there is no wind to fake breath

in your stiff lungs under the cream sheet

but the water is always moving;

in the sun it is shimmering, tipsy,

blue and glistening into the sky

as the sun sends long shadows

over the purpleing hills on the horizon.

I want you to say sorry for leaving.

I closed my eyes shut praying for you to come back

and the sun pressed in,

lit the skin of my eyelids golden.

I strike the match to burn your body

and there are ducks out on the lake,

everything living.

[succcession]

Not Another Weekend Out

Kendall Roy x f!reader (smut) 1.8k words

AN: this is my first story ya'll go easy, but its simple soft dom Kendall stuff so I hope you all enjoy♡

Lately it had felt like every weekend with your boyfriend Kendall Roy meant you spent the night walking into some abandoned looking warehouse in Queens. Or occasionally a glamorous but to be honest, boring night club in Soho. 

Where did he even find these parties? You thought to yourself as you strapped on your high heels, mentally preparing for another night of being Kendall’s arm candy. 

Kendall wasn’t always like this though. Of course, you were well aware of your boyfriend’s heavy partying “habits”. In your first month of dating, he showed up to your apartment three times in the middle of the night. High off of a combination of god knows what, reciting Harvard level love poems at your window. You soon realized the parties were just a part of the Kendall package. 

However, it felt like for a minute you two had started to get truly…close! He began taking you to five star restaurants as opposed to the typical nightclub. Updating you about his schedule, sending “I miss you texts”. You two even had a weekly ritual of falling asleep to 90s cartoons! He had been working out more and doing cocaine less. Why the sudden shift backwards? Was it all in your head? Is he really just a rich, party addicted, man child? Your anxious thoughts began to spiral as you stared at your reflection in his grandiose bathroom mirror. 

“Fucking Beautiful” your mental spiral was interrupted by the grasp of Kendall’s arms squeezing tightly around your waist while placing soft kisses down your neck. 

He seemed to instantly notice the fake smile you put on and the slight sigh that left your lips. Kendall could always tell when you were upset. It was like he was an expert at reading your body language after years of navigating his complex family. 

The Tom Ford suited man turned you around to face him and his soft hands lifted your chin up to meet his eyes. “What’s up? What are you thinking?” He expressed flatly.

“Nothing Ken, I just-“ his lips instantly, forming into a frown. While his almost angelic eyes remained softly looking down at you.

God, he looks so hot when he pouts, you thought. You considered for a moment just forgetting everything. Saying fuck it and just going out. But you were genuinely starting to fall for Kendall and it seemed important at that moment to tell him how you felt.

“I just don’t think I feel like going out tonight” you said, doing your best to sound sweet as opposed to disappointing. 

“Oh uhh yeah well” Kendall stumbled. 

“I was hoping to maybe spend time with just you Ken…” you smiled up at him, reaching for his tie to pull him closer for a soft peck. Kendall quickly deepened the peck wrapping his arms lower around your body and stepping closer to trap you between him and the bathroom counter.

“Mm look at you, so cute and needy for me” Kendall said, as his hand moved up your back, grabbing a handful of your hair and gently tilting your head back to leave soft kisses on your neck. “You know… if you want me. You should be a good girl and just tell me.” Kendall whispered in your ear. His harsh kisses along your collarbone paired with his words cause a soft moan to slip from your mouth. 

Kendall took a slight step back holding your face in his hands. Your lips both parted and nearly brushing against each others as he looked down at you. 

“Tell me what you want y/n.”

A soft breath left your mouth before you stumbled to get the words out.

 “I..mm. I want you Kendall. Right now” This wasn’t exactly how you intended for this conversation to go but you definitely weren’t upset at his reaction.

“Good girl” Kendall softly drew the words out in response. 

Pulling you closer yet again into another deep kiss. The intensity of his lips against yours increased along with the butterflies in your stomach. The way he seamlessly switched between gently caressing you, as if he was too rough you would break. To devouring every inch of your body with kisses and love bites. Squeezing your ass, gripping your hips and thighs, his hands were everywhere. Before they eventually landed on your dress zipper. The room filled with heavy breaths and sighs, your clothes feeling more like a barrier every second.

 As Kendall began roughly pulling your dress down your body, your hands swiftly reached up to begin loosening his tie. His large hands quickly interrupted yours, enclosing around your fingers, roughly bringing your hands back to your side and behind your back as he spun you around. Faced again with your own reflection in the mirror. Although, this time instead of negative thoughts of Kendall, only the thought of his tongue carelessly licking your clit filled your mind. Kendalls dark eyes stared into your reflection as his hands journeyed down your body. His rough finger brushing over your clit, stopping to draw light circles as he toyed with the hem of your lace thong. 

His hands slowly slipping underneath the fabric made you gasp and drop your head down. Kendall was quick to object to that reaction, roughly grabbing your face with one hand, returning your eyes to his hard gaze. 

“I want you to watch yourself cum for me” “okay?” Kendall firmly demanded while slipping your thong down your thighs. 

“Yes..please.. I want to cum for you” you managed to get out as you felt Kendall's middle finger begin to slowly slip into your pussy. His solo finger easily slid in and out and Kendall quickly added in a second. You could feel your wetness spreading as it slowly began to coat the inside of your thighs.

 Kendall was nearly shocked by how quickly you were ready for him. Your soft walls were already beginning to tighten around his fingers, and the lewd echo of your dripping cunt was almost too much for him as his growing cock strained against his pants. But he couldn’t help but tease you a little more.

“God this little pussy is so fucking wet for me. Do you really need my cock that bad?” 

“Mm- yes Ken..please” You pleaded with him. One of Ken’s biggest turn ons was begging, and at this point you wanted to rile him up. His aggressive yet tender tone behind all his words was driving you crazy. You could feel your pussy throbbing, needing more than just his fingers inside you.

“I want to cum all over your cock! God, please ken… fuck me!”

Kendalls hands withdrew from your body as he began undoing his belt, and lowering his dress pants.

“Sh sh sh” Kendall hushed into your ear before leaning down to spit on your pussy. Rubbing the head of his dick in between your folds.

 “How do you still sound so fucking innocent while your begging me to fuck your little pussy?” 

Kendall couldn't hold back his moans as looked down at his dick spreading your wetness, from your slit to your sensitive clit. His teasing was growing unbearable and you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing your ass further back, closer to Kendall. This was quickly met with a hard slap on your ass. The whimper that left your mouth nearly sounded pathetic. 

Kendall began pushing the thick tip of his dick painfully slowly into your pussy. His head dropped to fall against your shoulder and you could feel deep breaths leave his body as he tried not to already cum in your tight pussy. God, the way you stretched around his length slowly squeezing every inch of his dick made him feel like your pussy was made for him. Like you were made just for him. To hold, and kiss and fuck however he wanted.

Kendall pulled out slowly before roughly snapping his hips forward slamming against your ass. He kept this slow yet aggressive pace as his hands made their way up your body and to your tits. He gently pinched your nipples, squeezing the small buds between his fingers. Earning multiple high pitched squeals from you encouraging him to quicken the rate at which he was thrusting into you. 

“Omg Kendall, your cock feels so good inside me, so fucking good” you moan.

 “Oh look at you. You take my cock so fucking good baby don’t you? Mm fuck, look at how pretty you look while you get fucked. God, you make me so fucking happy baby” 

His patronizing tone echoed in your head and you continued doing your best to maintain eye contact with Kendall in the mirror. It was turning you on even more watching yourself become undone for him. Mascara beginning to run down your face as Kendall continued roughly fucking into you. 

You could feel your eyes rolling back as that familiar warmth of your coming orgasm grew in your pussy and Kendall could feel your release coming as you tightened around him. He watched as your attention from him began to fall as you came close to finishing. But he was going to make sure you watched yourself cum all over cock and grabbed a handful of your hair and roughly pulled down returning your gaze to your reflection. 

“Aw don’t look away now baby. You were being such a good girl for me. Don’t you want me to let you cum all over my cock princess?” he says. The final pet name made you shiver “Yes Ken, please I am going to cum. Please let me cum on your cock” you cry out clenching around him. Your voice, so desperate and needy, whining for his permission to let go. 

“Mm cum, cum for me baby.” He praises in your ear, leaving soft kisses on your temple. Still maintaining his brutal pace. Desperately, your hands grip the bathroom sink in front of you feeling your hips involuntarily grinding backward onto Kendall as you feel yourself pulsing around him, milking his hard cock. “Good girl, my good fucking girl” he praises you through your orgasm, all the breath and weight leaving your body. Kendall’s thrust gains aggression before finally stuttering as he finishes into you deeply, dropping nearly all of his weight onto your back.

Kendall hovers above you for a moment letting out deep breaths, staying deep inside of you. Now coming down from your high, you study your two reflections in the mirror. How, Kendalls arms are wrapped so tightly around you. The feeling of his chest rising up and down against you with every breath. You wanted to savor this moment. Hold onto the feeling of him pressed so close against you for when he was gone again.

Eventually Kendall slowly pulled out of you with a soft sigh, peppering kisses along your neck. “I’ve been doing some thinking. And uh.. I think we should stay in more weekends”. 

[rogueddie]

Is That All It Takes / Slither

At the end of the world, Steve is sure that there's no better time for romance. They need all the positives they can get and, in his mind, resolving potential romantic tension is great.

Even if he ends up rejected, like with Robin, he knows that it has the potential to make them better friends. He's not sure he would be as tightly bonded to Robin if he hadn't tried to ask her out- it's a decision he's always been strangely proud of.

The only problem? Steve is usually put into different groups- Robin, Nancy, the kids...

"Good job you've both got tonight off," Robin points out.

Steve qucikly sits up. "What? The whole night?"

With the teams they have, almost everyone is on rotation for patrol of their little camp every night. Having a night off, completely, is rare. Having a night off at the same time as Argyle?

"The whole night," Robin confirms. "Someone said something about him being the only one in that group not on rotation tonight, so I offered to cover for you."

"I was supposed to be with Nancy, wasn't I?"

She throws a notebook at him. It's the one she uses for her notes and doodles- as well as her 'poems'.

When he catches the book, she immediately realizes her mistake and dives after it. They're tangled on the floor, giggling from their attempt at wrestling, when Hopper pokes his head in to call Robin out for her turn on patrol.

"You kids having fun?" He asks.

They both scramble to their feet, despite the smile he has that reassures them that they aren't in trouble.

"Sorry," Steve smiles sheepishly.

"It's fine," Hopper waves him off. "You ready, Buckley?"

"Yep! Let's go!"

A beat after she leaves, Steve realizes he forgot to ask where Argyle will actually be for the night.

It shouldn't be hard, he thinks, trying to reassure himself. From what Steve has seen, or heard through Robin, he usually sticks to the same three spots. It shouldn't take too long to check them out.

And, hopefully, Argyle won't be in his bunk already. Steve crosses his fingers as he heads out.

He finds him in the second place he checks- he's just behind the building they use for storage. He's smoking.

"Hi," Steve greets. He tries to smile, hope it doesn't look as awkward as it feels. "You doing alright?"

"Not bad," Argyle nods. He offers his cigerrette, but Steve shakes his head. He shrugs as he gestures towards the woods. "Quiet."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, not sure what else to say.

He leans against the wall, crossing his arms, slowly realizing that he should have thought of something to actually talk about before he went looking for him.

"We should grow weed," he blurts out. He nearly slaps himself, barely holding back a wince.

Argyle hums, thankfully keeping his eyes forward as he thinks it over. "Yeah. We should. It'd be nice to be able to chill again. Shit's stressful."

"Right," Steve agrees. He does wince this time, hating how lame he sounds. He's sure he's better at this sort of thing.

"How you doing?" Argyle asks, turning to him. "Never see much of you."

"Oh, yeah, I'm alright. This sort of thing is like... well, it's becoming a sort of comfort. I'm kinda thankful for it." He pauses, almost stumbling over his words when he tries to quickly point out; "patroling, I mean! Like, guarding and... that."

"Mm, yeah. One of the small ones mentioned that you're, like, the babysitter. Patrolling is another way of keeping an eye on the kids."

"Right, exactly. Yeah."

"It's good, you know," Argyle continues, before Steve can start to internally scold himself again. "Nice to know you're looking out for us."

"I'm on a good a good team," he shrugs.

"You're not very good at this, huh?"

"What?"

"There you are!" Someone calls suddenly, loud enough to make Steve flinch. It's Mike, leaning around the corner, frowning. "You said five minutes!"

"Slow your roll, dude! I'm on my way!"

"Hurry up!"

Argyle snorts. He turns to Steve, raising an eyebrow. "You know which one is my room, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so?"

"Cool. See you in, like, an hour."

Steve wants to feel frustrated. If Argyle wasn't the one to take initiative, the whole interaction would have gone to shit. Steve could feel any potential slipping straight through his fingers.

But, judging by the implications... well. At least he knows that Argyle is also interested.

[meganwasbored]

The Dragon Prince Thoughts Season 5 Episode 1

-i can’t believe i had to wait a whole extra week to watch this this is all i’ve been thinking about i’m so ready

-also i think it goes without saying that this is gonna be a hard season for rayla

-callum and rayla aren’t with them meaning they’re probably together rn

-love how we already have no idea what’s going on

-oh boy it’s the same intro as season 4

-is she in the castle???

-oh my gosh callum doesn’t know about the coins yet i totally forgot

-i still haven’t fully processed what that poem means but i never get tired of hearing it

-hold up… connect with the ocean arcanum as in… CONNECT to the ocean arcanum?????? IS HE GONNA TRY TO GET ANOTHER ARCANUM DUDE YOU ALMOST DIED GETTING THE LAST ONE

-stop i love them so much

-lady y’all are the only two people in the library

-what’s wrong karim i thought you were all for the death penalty

karim: you need to be more ruthless if you’re going to be queen

janai: ok

karim: *shocked pikachu face*

-mr. no mercy is really expecting sympathy rn

-is that the dragon prince logo or am i tripping

-still very confused about stella’s portals are they just like pockets?

-there is no way that giant key fit in callum’s tiny pocket it’s the size of stella

-literally what is the aaravos creature’s purpose he’s kinda just there

-claudia needs to stop being so mean to terry

-has this room not been looked through once since viren “died”

-STELLA YOU CANT JUST EAT WHAT YOU WANT THERE WAS A HIGH CHANCE THAT THAT WASNT PEANUT BUTTER

-UHHHHHHHHHHHH

-how did they even know shes was there

-“soon you’ll be feeling like a tree in the springtime… re-leaved” this was funny idc

-A GIANT ADORABURR??????

-I WANT IT I WANT IT

-callum really said “my wife can do what she wants”

-claudia finally calms down for five minutes and a demon has a mental breakdown behind her

-also i really really hope “blood of child” is not referring to soren, don’t ask me why or how i had this thought

-WAIT WHY WAS SHE BRACING THE ADORABURR LIKE THAT IF YALL HURT THAT ADORABURR YOURE AS DEAD TO ME AS VIREN IS

-bait and stella becoming friends is something i didn’t know i needed

-DO THEY HAVE A DOGGY DOOR IN BETWEEN THEIR ROOMS FOR BAIT THATS SO CUTE

-oh yeah i totally forgot about what ezran was doing

-DRAGON DRAGON DRAGON

-does this dragon have another map perhaps?

-ezran is always so unfazed by everything that ever happens to him, like he’s always shocked for five seconds and then is right back to business

[schuylerpeck]

Hey, my little trip feels like a pilgrimage and I love you.

Getting off the train, my feet brought me on a familiar path before I even realised. The sundial that marked the "almost~there" threw me out of my reverie and I tried to go further, regretting it with every step forward. It felt like these dreams you try to force back after the alarm was snoozed, five more minutes of fighting to keep the story on track. It never works well enough and I stopped when I saw the apartment block at the end of the street, not knowing what I was looking for anyway: the flat, the old piano and the furniture had been sold years ago.

Don't you wish you could knock at a stranger's door and say "Someone I lost but still love lived there, and there's a ghost of the child I was in this place. I'd like to offer them to leave with me, can I enter"? I wish, but in this world we can't, and this echo of little me will stay there, running in the corridor laughing, haunting someone else instead of me. Still, I hope their joy will be heard.

I never liked nor hated this city before, but now it holds hostage both an unfinished story and many memories. It's not a healing, more a bandaid, to roam in the museum, forgetting to eat or drink, finding peace for a few hours hidden at the heart of a place that smells of grief and grime, a place on which I can't extend any forgiveness yet.

But I come back again and again, despite, in hope the laughter of a friend can lift this fog, in hope eight thousand voices can mend my heart for a little while. And they do live up to my hopes: softened by their light, my heart gets torn open by a line in unison —A moment for the poet's play, until there's nothing left to say— and appeased by another —Come on in, the fire's warm, dull the blade and dance some more.

There's something about crowds singing together, isn't there? So along with the safe harbour of slightly cracked paintings, this something I can't seem to pinpoint will be my gift for you today, for no other reason than we're here in this world at the same time. I hope you sleep tight, when night reaches you. I don't know you but I love you.

Hey, the heater kicks on and I love you.

the sky yawns blue after 3PM and I race to get all my best living in before the sun sets. in the last few weeks, I’ve grabbed coffee with a writer I admire, watched the snow fall in bright flakes from a warm bookstore with a friend, and woken up in the middle of the night to feel the dog sneak closer into my arms. this bliss — this joy in feeling at the steering wheel of my life. saying I've decided to take the scenic route, but finding eighteen wrong ways of getting there. taking a hill too quickly and bracing when the earth beneath me groans and gives; realizing the driver’s seat can be terrifying.

sadness feels too sticky to write about, though with every letter, I love to watch the picture of you grow clearer and want to honor your honesty with my own. there’s a book of poems I’m writing. I’m proud of it. when I flip through the pages, even as pencil- and tear-stained as they are now that I’m elbow-deep in editing, I think it may be the most important thing I’ve ever done, but it also feels like tracing the outline of a gash the skin hasn’t stitched over fully yet. I don’t know if I can stand raw to the world, let alone in the solitude of my room.

have you ever felt too stained by the world, by your past, you don’t know where to begin in washing it away? I know we were here before everything could touch us. I know we are still here, still ourselves, resting just beneath this feeling. there’s a mineral spring not far from this road. let me patch up the tires and we can wade there for a while. this spot in the hot bath of the earth, to sit in the quiet and let the weight of what we carry lift a little, is my gift to you, if for no other reason than we’re here, experiencing the happiness and pain life has to offer in this world at the same time. we can breathe in the steam and watch the canopy move above us, held in the forest’s palm. we can talk about it all or we don't have to say a thing. the trees will keep watch for us. let’s close our eyes.

I hope you sleep tight, when night reaches you. I don’t know you, but I love you.

[chrisevansmentee]

i love you anyway, bruised, battered, broken or whole.

As his blood dripped from his lips to the floor, he wrote, he held the pen with shaky fingers and penned the letter, if Steve would find him, he would see reasons to just finish him. he did not deserve to live.

"choose the light, no matter how bright it is, hold the sun responsible for daylight crimes, smile at the moon..." it was a poem his mother used to read for them when they were little, Steve would get it, Steve would be livid and he would just end it all. He leaned on the wall and took a deep breath, it was a big mistake because his bruised rib hurt and he could not suppress the whine that escaped his lip. God he was pathetic, how did he go from being the scary bad guy to being beaten around by a self righteous prick. In a sick twisted way, he enjoyed it, he enjoyed seeing Steve worked up and bothered because of him, he loved seeing the crease of his brows when he sights him, the self suffering sigh that escapes his lip, the suppressed groans, signs he had come to love, little expressions he had began to admire.

He enjoyed the crunch, crunch, crunch of his bones under Steve's fists, he enjoyed the way he'd hold him down and choke him, it wasn't supposed to be sexy but he found it sexy, he wished it was under different circumstances, he was positive Steve would have been gentler.

The crazy thing was that he was strong enough to overpower Steve, pin him down, kill him with one punch and live normally but he enjoyed it. if they both survived this, he'd treat him to a lavish dinner, look deep into his eyes while they ate and after he'd speak sweet nothings into his ear as they made love but that was wishful thinking. Steve was a super hero and he was a villain, they'd never get along.

He finished the short poem and was about to slide it under the door when he heard Steve's voice.

"buck?" it was said passionately as if they were already lovers, as if they were just fighting some minutes ago.

"babe hey" he shook him gently as though he were waking him from a dream. it was too real to be a dream and who the hell is babe?

"sweetheart, you are scaring me, please open your yes" he was frantic now, frantic was never good, he'd better just do as he said to avoid another punch.

his past handlers were never this patient, if they became frantic, a really painful punishment would follow.

he opened his eyes and yup it was a dream, a dream. it never even existed, he was here with his sweet husband of five years and they had never gotten into a fight, he was safe.

Steve's blue eyes were safe, his strong arms were safe, his soft calloused palms were safe, they were pk, they were not super heroes, they were just two men who were in love and were in their bedroom. no handlers, no cryo, no guns.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief "you had me worried for a second" he struggled and failed to hide the tremor in his voice.

Bucky sighed, he lacked words to explain what he'd seen. he was sure Steve understood.

"those dreams are becoming frequent"  Steve said as he helped him sit up. they had a rule; no touching after nightmares. yet it broke him to see Steve struggle to obey the rule but it was for their own good.

the last time it happened, Steve was left with a broken nurse, nobody knew how it happened but it happened, it took Bucky two weeks to get over the guilt no matter how much Steve tried to reassure him.

Steve went out and returned with a cup of water for him to drink.

he took a sip and ignored the pointed look he was getting from Steve.

"what did you see?" it was a familiar dance, one that he had mastered all the steps to. Steve  still had some hope though that one day he would tell him the truth.

he took his time to swallow.

Steve groaned.

"where do i even start?"

"the part where you agree to go for therapy"

he was too exhausted to argue, so he busied himself with taking little sips of water and huffing.

"grown man, hiding behind a glass of water and i thought I've seen it all" he mumbled. Bucky wanted to laugh but it was not a good time.

he wished he could say something but there was nothing to say, he could not even understand himself.

so he sighed.

Steve visibly jerked "you always do this"

"babe" he said grogilly

"not now, i want us to talk about this, we have danced around it for too long, let's come clean with each other"

"I've never lied to you"

"but you are not telling me everything either"

he nodded

"its ok but i just need you to get help"

"i think its all coming back to me"

Steve turned to him "what?"

"my past" he handed the empty glass to Steve " I keep seeing faces and reliving the same moments and in those dreams there is handler's and i'm always fighting with you"

Steve- God bless his soul- was genuinely confused.

"i don't get it either" Bucky said

he wanted Steve to be happy, he wanted peace and if going for therapy or whatever Steve wanted him to do would keep the peace then it was a small price to pay.

"i don't get it" he said again

"can i hug you now?" Steve asked

he opened his arms and Steve crawled into his embrace,they kissed for a while before Steve, lay on his chest.

"I'll go for therapy' he said after a long pause

Steve hummed

"I'm serious and no you are not forcing me, i will do anything to keep us safe" he kissed his forehead again "i can't sleep peacefully anymore without fearing that the people i love would die because of me, i can't keep living with the nagging feeling that one night, somebody would come and destroy our peace"  that was all he could say.

Steve kissed his arm. "i could climb you now, but it's too early to cut my lip"

"when has that ever stopped you"

"i love you, Bucky, battered, bruised or broken."

"i love you too Stevie, cut lips or not"

"little shit" Steve said playfully.

it wasn't a perfect start but it was good enough.

[pointreyesjournal]

They Do, She Doesn't : ep217

The Certificate of Ordination reads “In accordance with the authority vested in them, the trustees of this institution certify that you have been ordained as a minister of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.”

In keeping with the Scandinavian irreverence for religion in general, I’ll be officiating the wedding as a Pastafarian. My official garb for the ceremony includes my “nice” jeans and a sport coat, but excludes the traditional headwear worn by Pastafarians - meaning I will not be administering the wedding vows wearing a colander on my head. I do however stuff a couple of sticks of angel hair (the holiest of pastas) in the inside pocket of my blazer to give me strength and connection to the higher power.

I’ve sketched out a general outline for the ceremony, including a few words of welcome. Henrik, Beri and I have co-written the vows, and Floody is in charge of the rings. The day is perfect for a wedding. Clear azure blue skies and a warm and gentle breeze.

Beri and Autumn have holed up, turning the master suite into a makeshift brides studio. Henrik is driving in from Napa, dressed and ready to tie the knot. An hour before the ceremony is due to begin, guests are arriving but Cheyenne is thus far a “no show.”

2PM comes and goes. Henrik is greeting the small cadre of guests, and delaying the start per Beri’s instructions hoping Cheyenne will arrive. Thirty minutes pass. Then forty five. An hour past and we assemble the wedding party to begin the ceremony.

I take my place in the center, Henrik and Floody to my left, Beri and Autumn to my right. Earlier in the week I ordered a leather notepad from Amazon, and I’m holding it to make myself look official. It’s got the vows and a few notes scribbled in it. I give a tastefully brief introduction and share a couple of anecdotes, then read an inspirational passage and a short poem. The vows follow. Henrik and Beri are facing one another and join hands. Henrik goes first and recites back the vows I read to him. As he finishes his vows, movement near the kitchen catches my eye. I look up and see Cheyenne standing at the back of the little audience, a mere five rows of folding chairs away, staring right into my eyes.

It is as glorious a sight as I’ve ever seen. A woman that I so desperately want to love, deep within my gaze, standing there in a delicate dress of layered gossamer and tulle with a pink a white rose behind her ear. I silently pause the wedding for the briefest of seconds between his and her vows so that Beri can take notice of Cheyenne’s late arrival.

A quick, silent glance from Beri tells Cheyenne that it would be inappropriate of her to walk down the aisle mid-ceremony, and that it’s better to stay put at the back of the house until the wedding is over. And while we all know that Cheyenne has been the victim on more occasions than one of having her best intentions bite her in the ass, this is a faux pas of her own making.

I give Cheyenne a quick glance to tell her “I see you” and “I love you” before confidently carrying on with the reading of the vows. I bury my nose in my leather notebook to recite Beri’s vows, and when I look up, Cheyenne is gone.

[doodle-pops]

This Could Not Get Any Better

Elladan x reader

Request: May I request a fluff fic for Elladan? - him and reader on their first date and he being clumsy? Congratulations on your milestone 🎉🤗 - Anon

Warnings: humour, fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Synopsis: Elladan takes you on your first date and forgets his gift.

“Are you sure this is the right way Elladan because you look lost?” Your voice was trembling as you walked directly behind the raven-haired ellon before you.

“Now why would you say that? I’m one of the best hunters around and I know this forest like the back of my hand.” His chest was puffed out as he spoke to emphasize his abilities. Little did he know that he was truly lost and was following a blind trail.

“Do you even know what the back of your hand looks like?”

“Hey! That’s mean and we’re not too far from the spot, I see light ahead.”

Quickening your steps to walk beside him, Elladan peeked at you from the corner of his eyes and smiled at the serious look adorning your face. You were focused on your destination and hoped that you won’t be lost, and you had a good enough reason for such. It was your first date with the young lord after months of him swooning you from your balcony almost every night.

You couldn’t forget the way he’d used to sing or recite poems for you every night. Sometimes, he’ll bring flowers and baskets of treats and send them up using the pulley system he insisted you build. After nights of him serenading you, he worked up the courage to ask you on a date night and to his self-conscious self, he couldn’t believe you agreed. So now, he was praying that he didn’t get you lost or mess up on your first date with him.

“If you’re afraid of us being lost, you can always hold my hand…” His voice trailed off at the end as he cast his eyes to look at your swinging hand knocking against his.

Tilting your head to the side and gaping at him, you saw him intensively staring at your hand waiting for you to link it with his. The mesmerized look on his face was truly a sight to see. You were accustomed to the awestruck expressions he’d give you, but this was different, and it was all for hand-holding.

“If you wanted to hold my hand, you could have just asked Elladan.”

The mention of his name from your lips made his head snap upwards to meet your teasing smirk. Biting his lips at being caught in an awkward state, he gave a nervous chuckle and raised his hand to rub the back of his neck. Keeping your gaze on him, you waited the moment his hand fell to his side before reaching for it and interlocking your fingers together. Gaping at your hands, Elladan fumbled around with his words to form a coherent sentence only to stutter incomprehensible babblings.

“Come on now, we have somewhere to be don’t we?”

Staring at you pensively, he cocked his head completely forgetting that you both needed to be elsewhere for your date.

“…our date, Elladan?”

At your reminder, his brows shot to his hairline, and he gave a confused nod before regaining his momentum and continuing walking. Walking alongside him hand in hand, you couldn’t help but swing your hands to add some flare to your little trekking causing him to laugh.

“We’re almost there, just pass these trees and we’re there.”

And he was right. Walking for another five minutes and hopping over moss-covered roots and rocks, you saw light ahead peeking through the trees. Quickening your footsteps, you walked past Elladan and practically dragged him along, you rushed past the trees until you stepped into the small meadow. Gazing at the little canopy surrounding the small expanse, you saw the branches intertwined creating an intricated pattern above.

Releasing his hand, you rushed forward in your little glee to run through the flowers and gather a few before returning to his side and placing them in his hair. The action was enough to make him fold completely and blush like a mad man. One could see how hard he was fighting the urge to smoulder you in affections in response. Instead, he cleared his throat and gulped before casting his eyes away from your smile.

“C-Come on, let’s set up over t-there.” He nudged his head over to the elm tree standing in the corner of the meadow, indicating that it was best due to its shade.

Strolling over to the elm tree, you danced your way over to his side and outstretched your hand to adjust the flowers in his hair. As you did so, he stumbled over his feet as he approached the base of the tree. The entire time he unpacked everything from the basket, you maintained your gaze on him and he couldn’t help but blush at the feeling. He enjoyed the attention you were giving him, but he just didn’t know how to respond. Naturally, it was the other way around when it came to flirting, but for some reason, he felt shy under your gaze.

Having laid everything out on the blanket, you both positioned yourself opposite each other and stared. Neither of you said anything, afraid of ruining the ambience in the meadow.

It was Elladan who chose to break the silence by reaching into the basket for the jam so he could eat it with the bread. Unfortunately, the bottle was nowhere to be found as he searched the entire basket. Widening his eyes in horror, he protested before throwing everything out of the basket. Emptying the contents onto the blanket, he started beating the poor straw basket on the ground in hopes of the jam appearing and falling out.

Sitting there in absolute confusion as you observed Elladan throw a fit for his jam not being present, you brought your hands to your mouth to hide your laughter. It was an entertaining sight to behold. You knew just how much of a dramatic person he was and the great lengths he went to produce a smile on your face, but this was outrageous.

“Elladan, is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes! ...no, the jam. I forgot the jam.”

“It’s okay though, I didn’t want any jam – I mean we have cheese and meat to eat with the bread.” You spoke calmly to reassure him that the situation wasn’t serious. But little did you know that it was to him.

“No, no, the jam is important. How could I have forgotten it?” He moved to sit on his hunches and brought his hands to rake them through his hair in frustration.

“It’s just jam Elladan, not the end of the world.” You had shifted to sit on your knees as you placed your hand on his right arm.

“No no no no, the jam – the jam is important. You can’t have a picnic without the jam.” His voice was trembling as he spoke, and you could hear the fear. Turning to lock eyes, he noticed your confusion. You hadn't a single clue about the jams' purpose.

“You…you don’t realize why the jam is important?” he waited for your answer before continuing and saw you frowning, “The jam – um – I had…something in it for you. A gift.”

Once finished with his words, he dipped his head to hide his face at the belief of his actions being cringy. He knew he was young and prone to try new and exciting dating customs, but wasn’t sure if they would be well received on your end.

“Oh…” The dawn of realization had finally flooded your mind, “You didn’t need to get me a gift you Elladan, I’m fine with just spending time with you.”

Hearing your words, he lifted his head and slid his eyes over to you. Opening his mouth and closing it like a fish out of water, he released an airy incoherent phrase that sounded like a moan. Widening your eyes at the sound, you hung your head to laugh shaking it in disbelief.

“You’re not mad that I forgot your gift?”

“I – I didn’t even know you had one for me, but no, I’m not mad. I’m surprised.”

“My brother is going to kill me when I return, and he questions me on it.” He spoke humorously as he stared into your eyes with a frown adorning his face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have your back.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @welcometomordor

If anyone wants to be tagged, click the link or request in the asks.

[bubblyqueer000]

Hi there! May I request the thh girls with an male ultimate singer/songwriter s/o who dedicates his songs to her?

THH Girls x Ultimate!Singer/SongWriter!Reader Who Writes Songs For Them

I've never even had a poem written for me ٩(๑ `н´๑)۶

I need better friends!! (Kidding)

Oh, also I added some J-Pop songs that I love that remind me of each of the characters so I hope you enjoy the song recs!!

Love you! Hope you all enjoy it!

Kyoko Kirigiri

♡ She genuinely doesn’t know how to respond when you tell her you wrote a song about her. 

♡ Sure, she was flattered, but Kyoko isn’t normally all that affectionate. Still though, she was completely willing to sit and listen to what you wrote for her. 

♡ On the inside though she’s way more excited than she’s pretending to be. 

♡ All through the song, Kyoko smiled timidly. At the very end, you looked up at her.

♡ “Kyoko- are you alright.”

♡ “Yes. I’m completely fine.” She spoke in a whisper, while wiping her eyes gently. “I’m… Better than fine actually.” For the first time in your relationship, Kyoko slowly began removing her gloves, shaking as she did. Hesitantly, she reached out for your hands and hoped that you would take them. When you finally did she jumped… And finally smiled. 

♡ You kissed her hands while she smiled at you lovingly, trying not to let any more tears spill out onto her face.  

♡ Song that reminded me of her: Stay With Me- Miki Matsubara

Aoi Asahina

♡ Hina smiled so wide when you told her you’re writing a song about her! She sat next to you the whole time you were writing it.

♡ “Is it done yet?”

♡ “No.”

♡ *Ten minutes pass*

♡ “How about now?”

♡ “Still no.”

♡ *Five minutes pass*

♡ “Now?”

♡ “Hina.”

♡ She was so impatient waiting for you to finish her song!! She knows how talented you are and was so happy to know you would use your talent for her. 

♡ When it was finally done she danced to it while you performed. Awkward right? Aoi didn’t care. She couldn’t hold back how happy she was.

♡ After that, she made you your favorite baked good and shared it with you! 

♡ “I loved your song so much, Y/N! I’m going to listen to it every day!

♡ Song that reminded me of her: Bay City- Junko Yagami

Toko Fukawa 

♡ She. Would. Cry if you wrote a song for her.

♡ Toko would be so honored!! Going on and on about how kind you are for writing a song about ‘someone like her’

♡ She won't even know what to say when you perform the song that you wrote for her. She becomes a sweaty, stuttering mess, and mumbles incoherently about how much she doesn’t deserve such a sweet gift.

♡ A few hours after you perform your song for her, you realize that you can’t seem to find Toko anywhere around the school. Eventually, you give up on finding her and go sit in your room to write more music, but after only a few minutes of this, Toko bursts through your door holding a stack of papers. It looked like it could have been hundreds of them. 

♡ “Uh… what’s all that paper for?”

♡ “Well… It’s n-nothing compared t-t-to what you- you wrote me, Master… But… I wrote you some poems!”   

♡ You spent the rest of the afternoon listening to the impressive amount of love poems Toko wrote for you.

♡ Song that reminded me of her: Suki Suki Daisuki- Jun Togawa

Sayaka Maizono

♡ Another character who would probably cry. 

♡ She’s an idol so music is so, so important to her, but as far as she knew no one had ever written a song about her.

♡ After you get done performing she would run over and hug you so tightly.

♡ “I loved it so much, sweetheart! You’re the best boyfriend in the whole world!” She’s so sweet to you about it!! I’m sorry I love Sayaka vbhvnjbhn

♡ Sayaka loves your songs and tries to get her managers to let her and her idol group sing covers of them.  

♡ Song that reminded me of her: Plastic Love: Mariya Takeuchi

Celestia Ludenberg

♡ “Oh you have something for me, dear? I’d love to see it.” 

♡ Celeste kept her cool when she heard you had a song for her, but on the inside, she was so excited. 

♡ You performed it for her while she drank her tea. 

♡ After it was over she held your hand and thanked you, telling you how much she loved your music. 

♡ “Your songs are truly befitting for royalty, my love,” Celestia told you with a giggle.

♡ Song that reminded me of her: Deal with the Devil- Tia

Sakura Ogami

♡ At first, she worries that you’re making fun of her.

♡ Why would you want to write about a girl like her?

♡ But when you played her song she was so happy. Sakura fell in love with you again and again with every note that you played and every word you sang. 

♡ After you finished she walked over and hugged you.

♡ She didn’t cry but she really wanted to. 

♡ “Thank you, my dear. I can’t tell you how much I love this… How much I love you.”

♡ She ended up saving the song to her playlist and listened to it whenever she worked out. It’s usually the first thing she listens to in the morning during her early workouts.

♡ Song that reminded me of her: Update- Miwa

[strawberryspence]

red + green

Fluff | Spencer Reid x FEM! Reader

Summary: Spencer is a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory. He can recite the whole english monarch family tree while sleeping if he wants to. So who the hell is Chris Martin, where did he come from and why are you dating him?

Word Count: 4,5k <3

Warnings: a hand full of cursing, self-deprecation, self doubt, mentions of coldplay/chris martin, mentions of alcohol, characters getting drunk, angst if you squint REALLY HARD, other than that its all fluff.

Writer’s Note: Hello! This is written for Dory's 1K Celebration! Congratulations, Dory (and Happy Advance Birthday!) Its a bit late but I am here! I honestly had a SADDER version of this but I scraped all of it for the fluff! I've been having writers block but this one I really wanted to finish, so i still hope you guys love it! <3 @shemarmooresfedora

Gif is mine!

Spencer Reid's intelligence has been his best tool since he was young. He has an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute. He has used these skills all through his life to learn things and further widen his knowledge about the world.

You can ask him anything. He knows the most random facts about the most random animals, things that has happened a hundred years ago and even books that he has read when he was seven is still stored somewhere in his mind.

Derek once told him that there were some things that cannot be learned from books and he just scoffed at him. He has learned everything he knows from books and well, from his Mom.

That was until Maeve. Spencer learns that Love was one of the things he can’t learn from books. I mean, yeah, he can read Edgar Allan Poe poems and he can dive on the deeper meaning that these poems have but it only makes him long for something he can’t get from the pages of an old book.

Maeve taught him a few things that he can’t get from books or from his Mom or the BAU. Spencer learned that loving someone was easy, even without seeing them or holding them physically, that loving someone will make him do anything for them and he learned that love hurts, it will hurt so much that no words will ever be enough to describe the pain of watching Maeve be killed in front of him.

After getting through that, he promised himself to not fall in love again. He has learned what he can about love and that was enough for a life time. That was until you came.

You were the replacement for Emily, and though it was big shoes to fill, you did it with so much grace and passion that the team welcomed you with open arms.

Spencer found a new friend in you. Every day you spent with each other was filled with learning, Spencer learned things from you that he knows he won’t learn from words compiled in a book. You, on the other hand, surprisingly found his random facts fascinating and you always looked at him with wide eye curiosity as he tells another random fact.

Tonight was one of the nights where the team has decided to go the bar they usually visited to blow off some steam. Spencer was set on saying no but all you had to do was say please, tuck your hair behind your ears and he was putty in your hands. He ignores the looks Derek and Penelope exchanges when they see the interaction.

“One more shot! One more shot! One more shot!” Penelope and JJ chants as they watch you bite into a lime and gulp down the shot, “AHHH.” You cough as the hot liquid pass through your throat.

Penelope and JJ laugh as they high five, “You’re like the best drinking buddy!” Penelope exclaims as she looks back the bartender, “Three more margaritas please!” She giggles as she looks at the girls, passing the newly made drinks.

“How about enough margaritas? You’re pretty drunk, Y/N.” Spencer suddenly pops out of no where, taking the newly placed glass from your hands, “Spencer no! My margarita!”

“How many have you guys drunk?” He looks at JJ who holds up 7 fingers as she says, “We had 3! Each!”

He can’t help but snicker, “JJ, you’re holding up 7.”

JJ’s forehead scrunches up in confusion as she looks down her fingers, “That’s seven!?”

“Pen? How about you?” He looks around and Penelope was gone from the bar and is now clinging at Derek in the booth with Rossi and Hotch.

“Y/N, how much did you drink?” You smile proudly at him, crossing your arms and puffing your chest, “200.” Spencer rolls his eyes at your answer as he takes out JJ’s phone to call Will to come pick her up.

Derek passes by him with a very drunk technical analyst wrapped around his waist, “Hey, pretty boy, I am taking Penelope home. Do you want me to take Y/N too?”

Spencer shakes his head no, “She brought a car with her, I have to drive her home. It’s okay I haven’t had a drop of drink.”

Derek smirks, “I don’t doubt that. Will’s picking up JJ?” Spencer nods and they exchange their goodbyes. Soon, Rossi and Hotch pass by and say their goodbyes, bringing JJ with them as Will was outside waiting for her.

“Okay, we have to go now. Gimme your keys, Y/L/N.” Spencer takes your purse and swings it on his shoulder before digging for your keys.

“Did you say gimme a kiss? Because wow, that was smooooooth.” You giggle as you lean on him, making him smile as he feels his cheeks heat up from the insinuation.

“No, you silly goose. I said, keys.” He holds it up your face, making you pout, “Okay, lets go.” He holds you up, with his hands around your waist but you push yourself off of him and whimper.

“No! I don’t want to walk! I want to fly!” Spencer laughs as he watches you sit on the floor like a toddler, “Wow, you aren’t joking when you said you drank 200 drinks.”

“How about a piggyback?” Spencer watches as your eyes lit up in excitement with the option he has offered, you clap your hands, “Yes! I haven’t done that in a long time!” Spencer laughs as he crouches down with his back in front of you.

Spencer feels your arms snake around his neck while your legs wrap around his waist. He knows he wasn’t the most athletic guy but he had some strength in him to carry you.

He slowly stands up as he holds your legs for extra support, “Where did you park?” You mumble a few incoherent words before saying, “Parking lot.” Spencer can only smile as he exits the bar, looking left and right before he sees your car in the parking lot.

"You smell good, Spencer.” You mumble as you try to bury your face deeper into his neck, he laughs, “Thank you, I guess.”

“You always smell good. Like cinnamon and books. If I close my eyes, I can imagine I am in a library.” Spencer grins at how cute you were being as you snuggle closer to him, “And you’re really soft.”

“Okaaay, we’re here, hold on for a minute okay? I have to open your car.” Spencer clicks the remote and opens the door for the passenger sit.

“Its time to let go.” Spencer sits you on the passenger seat slouching down, with you still in his back. He tries to leave but you cling harder on him.

“Y/N, you have to let go.” You whine as answer, “But I want to cuddle you! I can be big spoon!”

“I know, but someone has to drive.” Spencer laughs as he tries to get pull out of your grasp, he had enough strength to let go, but he can’t find the will to get out of your warm embrace.

“Oh, yeah. You’re so smart.” You finally let go of him and somehow, Spencer regrets asking you to let go. Why? He doesn’t really know. He laughs as he walks over the other side and starts driving out of the lot. He has been in your house a few times before for dinner.

“Why are you driving? Don’t you hate driving?” You ask, fidgeting in you sit. You had your seat belt on but you were facing him, your back on the door.

“Yes, I do hate driving. But you’re drunk.” Spencer gives you a teasing smile before turning back to the road again.

You turn yourself away from him and place your head to the windows, “I miss Christmas.” Spencer smiles at how random you were being.

“Why do you miss Christmas?” It was the middle of June, so the question just makes him grin bigger.

“I miss the bright lights and people are always singing. I love the green and red. And we get to play in snow and wear sweaters and scarfs.” You were right, he does miss winter, sweaters and not feeling sticky, “I do miss Christmas too.”

“Spencer, what colors do you get if you combine green and red? I love Christmas colors, I wish I could get them in one color.” Spencer takes a quick glimpse at you as you stare out of the window with amazement.

“Green and red makes yellow.” He answers with the same smile that has been stuck on his face since the piggyback.

“Oh! Yellow! Just like you! You’re my yellow!” Spencer’s forehead scrunched up in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“You know! Yellow!” You trail, and Spencer takes a look at you and you were tapping your fingers on your chin, “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know... You can ask, Chris Martin.” He scoffs, his forehead lines digging deeper as he tries to think of who Chris Martin was and questions flooding his mind. Were you dating someone? You were close but maybe not close enough to know each others dating lives? What kind of name is Chris Martin? Maybe he should get Penelope to do a background check on him, “Who’s Chris Martin?”

"I... Dating... Dakota." He didn't really understand what you said but the words dating was clear and the place where he lives was also clear as crystal. Spencer gives you a quick look. You were falling asleep so fast, your mouth was gaped open. He chuckles to himself as he stops right in front of your house.

It was a small, two bedroom house but you were proud of it as you got it from your first desk job in the FBI and Derek has helped you renovate a few things since he found out that you lived in a house rather than a condo.

He carries you on his arms to the front steps of your house, before setting you down on your porch swing and opening your door. Surprisingly, bringing you to your room asleep is so much easier than carrying you awake to your car.

Spencer watches as you snuggles closer to the few stuff toys on your bed. Some would think it was weird that a grown woman still have stuff toys with her but he finds it endearing, as a friend.

Your converse comes off easily as he pulls it off your feet and a smile lands on his face as it reveals two different kinds of socks. He remembers when you asked why he wore different socks on your second day in the BAU.

“Why are you asking?” He can remember the way your lips purse together, he can see that you were contemplating if he’ll get offended.

“Yesterday, you were wearing different ones. I thought it was a mistake. But today, you’re also wearing different ones. I just wanted to ask.” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, a gesture that he will learn is your tell whenever your nervous, “I think its bad luck. The one time I didn’t wear mismatched socks I broke my leg.”

The next day, you come into work with a coffee (for him) and mismatched socks, one with rainbows and the other with plants.

Spencer takes off your jacket, just so you won’t get hot over the night and leaves a glass of water and tylenol on your bed side table.

He doesn’t leave, he sleeps at the guest room, with his own clothes and own toothbrush that he has left in your house after a few sleepovers.

Because being friends with you means lots of friendly sleepovers. It was great being friends with you.

-

You wake up the next morning with a throbbing head and a new promise to never ever drink with Penelope and JJ again, but then again you’ve made this promise before.

“Ugh... Why do I have to suffer from the consequences of my choices?” Your head snaps to your doorway when you hear someone laughing, Spencer stands in your doorway still with his bed hair and a tray of food.

“Well, last night you told me you drunk 200 drinks. Yeah, you are going to be having one massive headache.” He comes over your bed, placing the tray on your bed. The tray consists of toast with avocados, two eggs and a cup of coffee with the side of tylenols.

“Spencer, you didn’t have to do this.” You felt embarrassed that he had to take care of you. You brush your nest of a hair with your fingers before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Spencer smiles as he sees this, “It’s fine. Plus, it’s a nice way to practice my cooking skills.” You barely even give him a second to answer him as you basically gulp down your coffee.

Spencer is... honest to god, your ideal man. Do you have feelings for him? Yeah, there was something there and you just can’t deny it. A cute, handsome, smart FBI agent that’s willing to cook you breakfasts when you are hangover? Who wouldn’t like to have that in their life forever?

“Hey, you should eat the bread. Avocado is actually really good because of the potassium.” You nod as you scarf down the toast with the egg, “Tish ish really good.” You chew while talking making Spencer laugh.

“Thank you. I had a great teacher.” He winks and smiles before sitting beside you in your bed.

One of the best things Spencer has learned from you is cooking and eating dinner. He knows this was such an insignificant thing to learn at 30 but he has been used to ordering take outs and eating microwavable meals since he was 8. When you found out about this you have made it your life mission to make sure that he ate proper dinner every night.

You roll your eyes, “Did you eat?” You ask as you try to offer him your toast, but he waves his hands, “I ate already. You woke up pretty late.” You look behind you and see that it was already 10 in the morning. Thank God, it’s Saturday.

“How’s your head?” He asks, as he watches you take the tray to your lap and munch on the egg, “It’s killing me. But that’s what happens when I drink 200 drinks.” He laughs.

“Just drink water and you’ll feel better later. Get some reset after eating. I am sure Penelope feels worse.” You nod your head in agreement.

“Hey, don’t move.” You stopped on chewing, holding a toast in your hand. He raises his hand to your face, his hands softly touching your jaw to hold it in place and his thumb removing a crumb off your lips, “Sorry, there was a crumb.”

His hand lingers a bit more before letting your jaw go. You chew your breakfast in quietly, as the air fills with awkward silence.

“Thank you for breakfast and las—“ You start the sentence and at the exact same time he says, “I should leave.”

“Oh yeah! Sure! I am sorry for keeping you long! Thank you.” You set aside the tray and try to stand up but your head has other plans as you immediately sit back down. Spencer catches you by your arms.

“Just stay in bed, I can let myself out. I’ll lock it.” Before you can say anything else, he walks out of the door and leaves you with your headache and thoughts.

-

Spencer has not slept well over the weekend. Who was Chris Martin? Why haven't you said anything? What does yellow mean other than the fact that is one of the three primary colors? So, the first thing Spencer does on Monday morning was give his good friend, Penelope, a visit.

“Well, Good Morning, Reid. I didn’t expect you to be here.” She flicks a light open, “In my office. Early in the morning. In the dark like a murderer.”

“I need you to do a background check for me.” Penelope raises her eyebrows, “For who?”

“Y/N. I think she’s dating someone and he sounds... weird.” Spencer sees Penelope’s lip turn into a smirk. He watches as she sets up her things and turns on the whole system.

“What’s his name?” Penelope starts to type on her keyboard to open up her programs, a fuzzy pink pen on her other hand.

“This guy called Chris Martin.” She laughs out loud, pressing a few more keys with her pen, “Stop joking, what’s the name?”

“Why are you laughing?” Spencer asks, confused as to why she was laughing, “I am serious, it’s Chris Martin.”

Penelope turns in her chair, “You think, Y/N is dating Chris Martin. The lead vocalist of Cold Play and who is dating Dakota Johnson right now?”

Spencer whines at her with a completely scrunched up face, “Who are these people and how do you know them?”

“Okay, pause,” Penelope raises her finger, “What was the context? Why were you talking about Chris Martin?”

“She was drunk and she said she misses the Christmas. She asked me what the combination of red and green was and when I said yellow, she said and I quote “You’re my yellow!” and when I asked what that meant she said ask Chris Martin.”

“She called you her yellow?” Spencer nods as he watches Penelope squeal and she clicks on her telephone to calls someone.

“Hey Baby Girl.” Derek’s deep voice booms over the phone, "Hey beautiful man, can you come in my office?”

“Coming.” The phone beeps and Spencer looks at her in confusion, “What does he have to do with this?”

"Spencer, listen Chris Martin is the lead singer of a group called Coldplay. They sang the song Y/N is talking about, it's called Yellow." Spencer's nose scrunches up, "Why would she call me yellow then?"

Penelope hushes him, “So… you think he’s shady or you just don’t like that the idea of her dating anyone?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Why would I think that?” Penelope rolls her eyes, “Duh, because you like her.”

Spencer laughs, “No. I don’t.” Penelope’s mouth gapes open as he looks at him.

“Are you sure you have an IQ of 187? Because that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever told me.” Spencer counters back, “What? You don’t think I know what I feel?”

“No. I think, you’re scared of falling in love again and your in denial.” Penelope raises her eyebrows at Spencer but he only stares at her mouth gaped.

“I-I am not in l-love with her. Y/N’s one of my best friends and that’s it.”

-

Derek walks swiftly to Penelope’s office with a bag of muffins on his hand. He types in the security code to Penelope’s office and he stops on his tracks when he opens it and sees you on the side of the next door.

You were leaning on the wall right beside the door and it was ajar. It was obvious that you were eavesdropping. You were biting down on your nails, your real nervous tell. You jump a little and your eyes widen when you see Derek step in.

“Uh… Can you please give this Penelope? Hotch asked me to give it to her.” You hand Derek a file while looks at you with worry. Derek nods and before he can even ask if you were okay, you rush away from him.

Derek proceeds to Penelope’s office, “What were the two of you talking about?”

“Y/N just called Spencer her yellow and Spencer just said he isn’t in love with her.” Spencer scoffs at Penelope, “How are you even sure that she’s in love with me?”

Penelope rolls her eyes, “Yellow is a song made by Coldplay or Chris Martin. When you call someone you’re yellow…” Penelope sighs with a smile, “you just love them and care for them in a certain level.”

“It’s obvious that she likes you.” Derek says, handing Penelope the bag of muffins and the folder you have passed him, “She always tucks her hair around her ear whenever she’s around you.”

“That’s her nervous tell.” Spencer says. Penelope actually laughs as Derek shakes his head, “Spencer, you’re a profiler. That’s not her tell.”

“She only does it when she’s around you.” Penelope adds.

Spencer leans back on his chair, this was too much information in one go. All the alarms in his brain was going off? Did he like you? Was he in denial? He recounts all the moments you tucked your hair whenever he was around you. Was he really wrong?

“Kid, don’t overthink it. I know falling in love hasn’t been the easiest thing for you, but don’t let fear stop you from being happy.” Derek gives his shoulder a pat before continuing, “And, when I came in here, Y/N is outside your door, so I am pretty sure she just heard everything you both said.”

“What!?” Spencer jumps off the chair, “Why didn’t you lead with that!?” He runs off to the bullpen only to find your desk empty.

“You’re looking for Y/N?” He turns around to see Hotch climbing down the stairs and he nods to the question.

“She just left. She’s taking a sick day.” Spencer knows that isn’t real and with the look Hotch is giving him he’s sure he knows too.

“It’s paper work day. You can go home early if you finish your work early.” Hotch assures him before giving him a pile of files. He nods, immediately taking a sit on his desk and tries to reach you but immediately slams the phone down when he realizes he doesn't even know what to say.

Spencer needs to get his thoughts and feelings straight and maybe, just maybe, that will be the solution for his problems.

-

One tub of ice cream and a whole season of your favorite sitcom later, your eyes were still swollen from the crying even with the sitcom you were watching.

Maybe you were overreacting or maybe there really was nothing there and you made yourself believe that maybe there is a chance with you and Spencer. He was sweet, but then again he was sweet with everyone. You were lucky to be one of his closest friends and that was good enough for you.

After deciding to eat and cook something healthy, you decided to order some tacos and nachos from Taco Bell. You try to clean up a bit while waiting for the food.

It hasn’t been 10 minutes after you ordered when a knock comes to your door. Expecting that it was your food, you were more than surprised to see a disheveled looking Spencer standing on your porch with his satchel hanging on his body and a bunched up bouquet of flowers.

“What… What are you doing here?” You stutter as Spencer runs his hand through his hair, as the same time you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Spencer's lips form into a thin line, that damn gesture confuses him even more.

“You called me yellow and Penelope told me that it meant something else. But it’s a song and it’s so vague to conclude anything from that. I don’t want our friendship to hurt because of some song and if its the only thing I can have with you then its enough. I know you heard me say some things.” Spencer looks like he’s going to burst into tears anytime soon, and it makes your heart ache.

He shakes his head, his hair tossing with it, “None of it was true, I was scared and Derek talked to me and made me see things and I’ve finally admitted it to myself. But… I need it to be clear. I need you to…” He exhales and you watch as his hands tighten around the flowers, “Say it.”

Disbelief floods your body and you can hear the ringing in your ear. The whole speech stays stuck in your head, and no matter how much you want it to sink in, it feels more and more like a dream. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

Spencer feels the blood rushing to his face, as the flower in his bends from his tight hold, “I am… I am sure I got it all wrong. I am… going to go. Forget this happened…” He turns his back on you but you hastily grab a hold of his arm to stop him.

“I love you. In a, more than friend way.” You sigh as Spencer faces you again, his eyes wide, “Penelope was right about the Yellow thing. I don’t why I decided to drunk tell you what I am feeling. It’s so fucking dum—“

You never get to finish what you say because Spencer drops the flowers he has been clutching to pull you in his embrace.

You’ve kissed before and you’ve been kissed before but nothing has ever felt like this moment. One of Spencer’s arms is wrapped around your waist, pushing you closer to his chest and his other hand is cupping your face, guiding your lips with every move.

Spencer feels his heart thump louder against his chest as your arm snakes on his neck and your hands tangle on his hair. You taste like peach lip balm and everything sweet in this world. He never want this to end. He wants this moment in every single day of his life.

“Uh… Uber Eats?” The both of you immediately pull away when a foreign voice booms over the two of you. A young boy, maybe 17, has the Taco Bell you ordered in his hands. His eyes are wide from the scene he caught.

“Oh god, yes. I forgot. Sorry.” You run to your entryway table, taking the nearest bill you can get, “Here!” He stares back with mouth gaped as he accepts the money and hands Spencer your order.

“50? You already paid online.” You nod, “Keep it, its your tip. Thank you!” You pull Spencer in your house before shutting the door close. For a few seconds, you stare at each other before Spencer smiles and it leads to you laughing.

“That’s so embarrassing! I can’t believe the delivery boy saw us doing that.” Spencer laughs as he sets down the bag of food on your coffee table before sitting at the couch pulling you with him.

“I love you. I’ve been scared to fall in love ever since Maeve and when you came I just… I got scared.” You nod, completely understanding where he was coming from but most of all, your heart feels full with just the fact that he feels the same, “The yellow song. I listened to it a lot today.”

“Uhhhh.” You throw your head down, covering your face with your hands, “It’s so embarrassing that you found out that way.” Spencer giggles as he sees you do the tuck again and it melts his heart. This was not any nervous tell. This was for him. He reaches for your hands and gives your knuckles soft kisses.

“You called me your yellow. But you… the stars shine for you, Y/N.” Spencer gives your forehead a kiss before pulling you closer to him. He quietly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, his heart finally at ease.

Spencer will learn many things as he spends the rest of his life with you. However, tonight Spencer will learn how to open his heart to the one who will teach him that love can be good and kind.

-

taglist (if you want to be added, please message me 🥰): @all-tings-diego @shemarmooresfedora @averyhotchner @samuel-de-champagne-problems @bingereid @sweetandsunny @reidsbookclub @spencerreid-187

[reputationmunson]

Right Where You Left Me

Summary: During a rough patch in their relationship, reader gives Spencer one last chance to make things right

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst w/ a (somewhat) hopeful ending

Content Warning(s): Breakup, swearing, mention of food, mention of alcohol, allusion to depression (Please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hi, everyone! This is my first fic and I hope you enjoy it! I wrote this in about an hour after listening to “Right Where You Left Me” by Taylor Swift, so it’s not the best and a bit rushed but I’m excited about it! 

I sit in the dimly lit restaurant, patiently waiting for him to show up and prove me wrong. Prove to me he still wanted me as much as he did when we first met. Ten minutes turned into twenty minutes and before I knew it, an hour had passed. I was still alone looking at the empty seat across from me, imagining he was sitting there looking at me with that doe-eyed look and a smile upon his face. I found myself slightly smiling at the fantasy before I was interrupted by the waitress.

 “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but if you don’t order something we’re going to have to ask you to leave. Are you still waiting on someone?” I gave a small chuckle before replying “Uh- no, I’m sorry. I’ll take the check to pay for the wine.” “Don’t worry, it’s taken care of.” She gives me a pity smile. 

He left me. He actually left me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though, things had been different for almost a year. We were less intimate, he was sleeping on the couch or at the office, and whenever he looked at me he no longer had that sparkle in his eye that always reassured that he would love me forever.I never would have guessed our forever would be this short lived. I shamefully walk out of the restaurant and I’m so embarrassed that all these people witnessed me getting stood up by a man I never thought could make me feel this way. 

How am I supposed to go back to our shared home? Would he be there? Maybe he got off work too late and is waiting to surprise me with flowers? My anticipation was too much to handle and I press the gas pedal with a bit more pressure, hanging on to the last string of hope I had. Unfortunately, my instincts were a bit off as I walk into what was once our happy home that was always filled with love and laughter that I never thought would end and now there was just an empty feeling. 

It’s colder than usual and without him, it already no longer felt like home. Spencer is, was, my home. I need to be in his arms. He was the only one that could put me together and he’s the one that is fucking breaking me. I don’t remember who I was before him besides a girl who had never been loved the way he loved me. The love you read about wasn’t something I believed in until I met him and now I’m right back to square one. 

I walk back to our bedroom to change into something more comfortable, but I stop when I see a piece of paper folded on the bed. I feel the tears forming before I even open it up. This was the last thing he touched and the last piece I have of him. It feels so delicate in my hand like it’s made of glass. I dread reading this. Our story is ending with a single piece of paper that lies in my hand. I take a deep breath and work up the courage to read the inevitable. 

Y/N, I’m a coward. I couldn’t even face you tonight to give you the proper closure you deserve. You deserve someone who is able to give you that, and so much more. While I was packing, I noticed your red dress was off the hanger and I’m assuming that’s what you wore tonight. That was always my favorite dress on you. I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. I need you to know that I never have stopped, and probably never will stop, loving you. Sadly, love isn’t enough sometimes and I wish it really fucking was. Don’t think for a single second any of this is your fault. I could go on and on about how you deserve more than me, but I know you and you would fight me on that statement until you were blue in the face. I could write forever, but I should get going. I left you that cardigan of mine you like so much, the one I wrapped around you our first date. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but please never forget me. -Yours, Spencer. 

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

I still think about it everyday. I think about him everyday. Five years later it still hasn’t escaped my mind. But, on the bright side, I only think about it for about half of the day instead of letting it consume my entirety. I felt pathetic. Everyone in my life was married, having kids, or getting promoted and here I was still holding onto this false dream that he would come back to me. I pretended that I moved on. I even lied about going on dates. What was the point? I already had the greatest love I could ask for. I would rather be alone right now than try to recreate what I had with Spencer with some stranger. 

I distract myself with the music on the radio, considering thinking of Spencer while driving was about as dangerous as driving while intoxicated. Moments later, I’m pulling into the grocery store. Maybe I’ll meet someone new here. The love of my life could be right under my nose, but I wouldn’t even know because I’m stuck in a delusion. 

I stroll the the cereal isle and laugh quietly at myself, realizing that the most exciting thing this week was trying a new flavor of cheerios. “This works” I whisper to myself as I throw the box in my cart and make my way down the isle. 

“Y/N?” I stop in my tracks. I know that voice. It’s the voice that never leaves my thoughts. I can’t turn around. Is he actually here? He can’t be. What are the odds of this happening? I bet he would actually know the statistics on that. I put on a fake smile and turn around. “Spencer! It’s been what? Five years? How are you?” I think I might be overdoing the friendliness. “Yeah five years, two months, and eight days.” He nervously laughs. “Still have that big brain, I see. And who’s this?” I was so distracted by his presence I didn’t even notice the literal child sitting in the shopping cart. 

“This is my son, Oliver, like the Charlemagne Knight from the twelfth century poem, Chanson de Roland. He’s turning two next month.” He smiles at his son in awe. “It’s my weekend with him. My ex and I are trying the whole shared parenting thing. It’s hard to be away from him” He continues. “I’m sorry to hear about your separation. I hope the note you left her was different from mine” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. “Sorry. Bad joke.” I add, causing us to laugh through the tension. “Ouch. I -uh- guess I deserve that” He looks down and shakes his head. “I should get going. It was nice to see you, Spence. I’m glad you’ve found happiness.” 

“Maybe we could grab coffee and truly catch up.I still have your number, unless you’ve changed it.” I shake my head in response to his last statement. “Um, yeah, that would be nice. Just don’t ask for your cardigan back” I joke and immediately regret letting him know I’ve held onto it all these years. “Of course not. You always looked better in my clothes than I did.” “Goodbye, Spencer.” It’s the last thing I say. I turn around and try my hardest to keep my composure. 

“Y/N, wait.” I turn back and meet his eyes once again. I can’t tell if I’m imagining it or if the sparkle in his eyes is back. “What about you? Are you happy?” There is a sincerity in his voice. “Yeah. I am.” I lie, hoping it was convincing enough for him to not question it and we went our separate ways after sharing a final smile.

My mind is having a thousand thoughts a minute. Spencer had a baby. Not only did Spencer have baby, he had another relationship. I didn’t expect him to wait around like I was, but I really didn’t expect to get hit with all this at once. All the things I wanted, needed, with him had already happened with someone else. He had moved on with his life and I was still right where he left me. 

[lesbiulmo]

Be Fruitful And Multiply

The sweet sound of a child struggling through the first sentence of Rochon Methestel greet the captain of the guard as he turns the corner. Strange, that this family chose to do a chalakah around the white tree- that practice was all but abandoned in 2872 with its death. Most of the residents of Minas Tirith began to do it around regular fruit trees like everyone else. A very few abandoned the ceremony altogether, saying anyone who still celebrates this tradition in the face of the death of the tree of Gondor is a fool. Only the stewards still do the ceremony around the white tree.

The somewhat somber air lent by the dead tree was dispelled in a sudden burst of laughter as the boy licked the honey off of the entire first sentence. "Damrod, sweetie, you need to say each word before you lick it," his mother reminds him. He nods, bashful, and more honey is spread on the wooden board inscribed with the song that tells of the ride of Borondir.

Boromir had made no such mistakes at his own chalakah. He read each word loud and clear, then carefully licked the honey, making sure not to get any from the words he wasn't up to. That morning he had walked around with his chest puffed out, so proud. He wasn't a baby anymore! He was a budding hero! Five years old, like all the fingers on his hand, and one day they would sing of him like they do of Borondir. Already his worries from the night before had dissipated. He had been a bit nervous, despite his parents promise that it doesn't hurt to have your hair cut, that it's just like nails. He didn't want to say goodbye to his long gorgeous curls, even if there was no pain.

No, he was over that already. Boromir learned young that the sacrifice of beauty was a small price to pay for the safety of his home. But back then he still thought being a hero would be sweet as the honey the story was coated in.

The boy finishes reading. All the schoolchildren clap for him. His father gives him a bag of sweets to hand out to the students, and laughter fills the yard again as he tries to discreetly stuff some in his pocket.

Boromir closes his eyes and allows himself half a minute to imagine Theodred's laugh amongst the rest.

Theodred. Ah, Theodred. The sweetest reminder of the failure of all that his chalakah stood for. Once, soon after they had discovered all the ways that they are the same, Theodred had joked that Boromir was this way because his chalakah had been under a dead and fruitless tree. Theodred always managed to make him laugh at the things that plagued his sleepless nights. Sometimes Boromir wondered if Tarannon Falastur was like this, too, and Narmacil. 

It was Narmacil's brother who instituted the tradition. Until five years of age (to represent the five generations between the two childless kings), sons in the king's line should have no haircuts, as a symbol for his line not to be cut off early. It was meant only for the royal family, but everyone liked the idea and it became a nationwide tradition. Those who lived near the tree did it there, as another symbol for a fruitful life, and those who lived farther away did it by their own fruit trees. After Borondir's time, the honey-licking was added to the ceremony. At five years old, a child is no longer a baby, and he starts his journey to serve his country with the taste of honey on his tongue.

Sometimes Boromir wondered, if Gondor survived past his time, would his own brother be left to take over his destiny? Would he be the next Narmacil? Boromir II, first childless steward of Gondor. No, he didn't wonder. Somehow he always knew that if anyone was left to write, it would be his brother's name written after his father's.

Boromir sighs and leaves the boy to his celebration. In his room, he takes out a drawing Theodred made for him that same night he jokes about Boromir's chalakah. It's a drawing of young Boromir, huge round cheeks smeared with honey. His curls have the sharp look of freshly cut hair, and he grins, eyes sparkling. He looks so alive. Theodred had made two copies, one for each of them, and it was a comfort to know that his beloved might right now be holding the copy of what he has in his hands. Almost as if they're holding hands from far away, looking at the same sky when they can't look at each other.

Boromir could not forget those fruits; destiny, ancient childless kings, what they lived for and he will die for- but he is alive now, and he has Theodred now. 

Background

A chalakah (also called upsherin) is the Jewish tradition for boys to get their first haircut at age three. It's when little boys take on a lot of other traditions:

Peyot- sidelocks. This is the primary purpose of the chalakah. Jewish men are not allowed to cut certain areas of hair around the temples, and the first haircut is when that becomes visible.

Boys get their first kipah and tzitzit at the chalakah.

Some have the tradition to bring boys to a school after the chalakah. There, they lick honey off a board printed with the aleph-bet (Hebrew alphabet) so that learning Torah should be sweet for them. I substituted the aleph-bet for Rochon Methestel, Ride of the Last Hope, which is an epic poem/song that tells of Borondir's ride. When Balchoth threatened Gondor, six riders were sent to seek help from Eorl, but only Borondir returned. Heroic deeds to save the country is similar enough to being central to Gondorian life in the way Torah is to Jewish life.

There are a couple reasons cited as the source of the tradition. Some sources say to do the first haircut as early as thirteen weeks while other say as late as five years. I chose five years to fit with the five generations between Falastur and Narmacil.

There was a feast when Isaac was weaned on his third birthday.

Three years old marks the transition from babyhood to childhood, when the child is no longer completely dependent on the mother.

For three years after a fruit tree is planted, the fruit cannot be eaten. This is where I got the theme of fruitfulness.

:)

[greatandquestionablecontent]

trystan comes back from solitary

Excerpt from the full story on AO3.

Content warnings: discussion of inhumane solitary confinement, self harm, suicide attempts, suicidal ideation. Also they kiss and it’s really weird.

---

The Trystan who came back after thirty two days in solitary confinement bore little resemblance to the laughing roommate Gavin had been looking forward to seeing again. His hair hung around his face like shredded curtains, tangled only at the ends, like he’d combed his fingers through it and gotten all the snarls bunched up at the end, then given up. Had he gotten skinnier, too?

Most noticeably, he had facial hair, less than a centimeter, scruffy, a lighter brown than his hair and eyebrows. Trystan always shaved so religiously, Gavin had barely ever seen him with even a five o’clock shadow. It might have looked handsome, Gavin thought, if it hadn’t been so bizarre for him, and scabs along his jaw made Gavin wonder if he’d been scratching at his face. He looked like he was trying to retreat into his jail-issue jacket as the guard uncuffed him and released him into the cell.

Seeing him again was both an immense relief, and a jolt of horror.

He didn't say anything at first, but went straight to Gavin's bed. Gavin didn't correct him, even when he put his muddy shoes on the bed and hugged his knees, staring blankly at the floor.

"So, they took you outside," Gavin tried, nodding at his shoes.

Trystan's eyes flicked to him, and after a second he gave a small smile, barely a curl of his lips. "Yeah." His voice was hoarse and flat.

Gavin missed his real smiles. "Solitary's in a different building?" He prompted, joining him on the bed.

Trystan nodded, and rubbed at his face with an open hand. Just as Gavin was about to speak again, after a too-long silence that wrenched Gavin’s heart, he said, “It’s gonna take me a minute to adjust. It was nice to see the sky again, though. It’s nice to see you again, too.”

“Take your time,” Gavin said.

“I haven’t been myself lately.”

That much was obvious. “I understand.”

Another long pause. When Trystan spoke again, it was slowly and quietly, like someone who’d only just woken up. But Trystan was such a light sleeper. He’d always woken up in an instant and sounded perfectly awake so quickly.

“I got Ari’s letter. Thanks.”

“Good! I wasn’t sure it would make it on time. I had her print out a couple of poems for you. The first one is about that author I told you about. The second one, you might have heard of him? I thought you’d find it, uh, reassuring. I hope that isn’t too presumptive of me. It’s one I’ve always liked, and —”

Trystan wrapped his arms around Gavin's shoulders. Gavin gave him a tight squeeze. It felt good to be able to hold onto him, to have him there against his body, corporeal and present, very much alive, not transferred to another cell block or held in detention indefinitely. Trystan scooted closer, one of his legs pressing against Gavin’s. When Trystan didn't let go, Gavin rubbed his back through the jacket.

“You smell like cigarettes,” Trystan murmured.

“Shit, really?”

“It’s not bad.”

Gavin snorted. “I’m more worried about the guards but glad to hear it.”

Trystan ran cool fingers over Gavin’s bruised and scraped knuckles. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Downsides of needing more space to get through places.”

He made a sound of understanding, stroking the little hairs on the first joint of Gavin’s finger with just the pad of his own. Gavin hesitated, then took his other hand. Trystan let out a breath, and scooted somehow even closer.

“So, um…” Gavin said, his brain temporarily going blank. “Did anything interesting happen in solitary?”

“Ha,” Trystan said, instead of actually laughing. “No.”

“I missed you,” Gavin said.

Trystan was half in his lap now, his breath cool by the time it reached Gavin's neck. His face was very close. It crossed Gavin’s mind to kiss him, which of course was a silly intrusive thought, an out of place compulsion, something he obviously wasn’t going to do.

“I wrote you poems,” Trystan said.

“O- oh, really? That’s — that’s good.”

“I threw them out. Because what kind of loser writes poetry,” he said, his mouth twisting toward the faintest hint of a familiar smile.

“What were they about?”

“What you’d expect. How solitary sucks, some emotional bullshit, how I miss you, and I hope things go okay for you once you get out.” He tucked a chunk of Gavin’s hair out of his eyes, and Gavin shuddered. “Other stuff.”

His face was very close.

Trystan rested his head on Gavin’s shoulder, and Gavin was sure his heart must be thumping in his chest hard enough for Trystan to feel it. What was going on? This was definitely not a normal reunion between two friends who’d only known each other such a short time.

Gavin patted the back of Trystan’s head. His hair was slightly greasy. “I was scared I wouldn’t see you again,” Gavin admitted, partly just for something to say.

“Me too.” Trystan's lips brushed against Gavin’s neck, his stubble tickling Gavin’s skin.

Gavin couldn’t quite convince himself it was an accident.

The next kiss was clearly defined, though still feather soft, and each one after, slow and spaced out, had the little sound of his mouth. It was pleasant, not sexually, but in the way that sinking into a warm bath is pleasant. Gavin's jaw tingled as Trystan's bottom lip dragged over the bristles of his beard, and his own lips felt shaky. He noticed he was breathing so shallowly he barely moved, and took a deep breath. His entire body was tense. What was he supposed to be doing?

Trystan stopped, and rested his head back on Gavin’s shoulder, and slowly, slowly Gavin relaxed again. He was sure he ought to have done something besides just sit there, but for the life of him he couldn’t decide what. Kiss him back? Push him away? Make a joke to diffuse tension?

“Sometimes they put people in there for years,” Trystan said after another silence that dragged on for too many long seconds.

It took Gavin a second to realize they were talking about the solitary units again and to forcibly shift the gears in his mind. “Oh. Yeah.”

“I hated it.”

“Of course you did.” Selfishly, Gavin almost wanted to postpone this discussion. “I’d argue it counts as torture,” he agreed, and the words were already there, from conversations before this, in a world much more theoretical.

They spilled out, like they were being said by someone else, on autopilot, while Gavin’s brain still sluggishly tried to process that Trystan had been kissing him a few moments ago. “Sensory deprivation is used as torture in interrogation camps, and they try to argue it isn’t technically a war crime, but extended time in solitary confinement can have extreme adverse effects as well as lasting impact on the brain — I’ve done some looking into it --”

“That’s cute,” Trystan said dismissively. “It is torture. I’d rather die than be in there again.”

Shit. “Ever?”

“I’m pro'lly not gonna off myself over a couple days.”

Gavin thought about, but did not voice, a number of horrifying statistical correlations he’d read. “Good,” he said instead. “Don’t die.”

“I tried to before.”

Gavin had no words for that.

“After Kosta. Denna was the one who found me.”

“Oh. Well… it’s good she found you then.”

Trystan combed his fingers up the hair at the base of Gavin’s neck, sending chills down Gavin’s arms. Gavin would have rather had this conversation any other time, or had whatever this was happen another time. He couldn’t do both at once, especially not as he discovered his body was desperately touch starved, while his mind was going in the opposite direction. He couldn’t think of a less sensual and arousing topic, which was probably good.

He tried to think of something helpful to say. “Once you get out, you’ll be glad you didn’t,” he said.

He let Trystan pull him down onto the bed and settle half on his chest, one leg slung over Gavin’s. He took careful breaths, aware of the many inches where their bodies pressed together, and tried to assess if this would trigger a panic attack. It didn’t feel like it. (Yet?) He could feel the warmth of Trystan’s leg through their thin pants, but Trystan’s jacket still felt cold.

“Unless there’s some kind of miracle,” Trystan said, “after my court date they’ll take me to max, and I’ll be sentenced ten years to life.”

“Uh, well, if you get voluntary manslaughter instead of murder, that’s only two to ten years.”

“I’m not living through ten years of this.”

Gavin started to protest, but Trystan continued, “I think about it all the time, Gavin.” His voice, still quiet, had an unsettling mixture of intensity and soberness. “Less, since you’ve been around. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in this place.”

Gavin’s heart lurched.

“But sometimes I still don’t even sleep because I’m just laying there, thinking about it. I don’t think I’d make it through five years, let alone life. Some days I’m not sure I can make it through the months left until my trial. Ten years and you’re a different fucking person, dead inside or hard and vicious and you don’t know how to be anything anymore except someone who can survive prison.”

Gavin could see it. He could see it in Trystan already, in half the guys around the prisoners around them, even in himself. It was too easy to imagine what Trystan might be a decade from now.

“You can’t do anything to get out except shut your brain down completely,” Trystan continued. “They’ll turn you into a robot with no ability to do anything but obey. And suicide watch is hell — if you didn’t want to die before then, you will after a few days of that. They keep you apart so you can’t fight or touch anyone, they confiscate crayons and books and windows, and they take your clothes away so you can’t hang yourself and chain your hands outside the door while you eat and watch you every second so you can’t even try to use a plastic spoon to cut yourself —”

Gavin pulled him back down into a hug, holding Trystan’s face to his breast. “When I get out,” he said, emphasizing the first word, “I’m going to have the best damn defense advisers there are put on your case. Okay? We’re going to get you out, you just have to stick it out until then. I’ll write you letters.”

“That last one actually means something,” Trystan muttered into his shirt. “Recommending a nice DA doesn’t guarantee shit.”

Gavin petted his unwashed hair, fighting back a tide of hopelessness. He had to remember that he couldn’t save everyone, but he wanted so desperately to save this one. He wanted someone to save both of them. “Call me. Once I’m out. I’ll answer. I’ll talk to you.”

Trystan broke free from his grip to stare him in the eye. “Promise.”

“Promise.”

Trystan kissed him on the mouth, and Gavin made a split second, slightly panicked decision and kissed back.

So this was happening.

And strangely, Gavin didn’t feel trapped, even though Trystan was effectively pinning him between the bed and the wall. He sure felt a lot of other things, none of which he knew how to deal with right now. Pleasant tingles radiated through the nerves in his jaw, and he was still frantically trying to think of something fucking useful to say.

He turned his face away when the kiss started to get wet and was going on rather too long, and he wiped his mouth off with a muttered apology. Trystan settled his head on Gavin’s chest, and they didn’t talk about it.

Trystan sat on the floor that night, leaning against the wall by the head of Gavin’s bed, and sometimes they held hands. He stayed there for most of the night, returning to his own bed at some point while Gavin slept.

[bukojuiice]

25 lives — katsuki bakugo

ೃ  pairing: pro! hero katsuki bakugo x fem! reader

ೃ  tags: alternate universe/time traveler au,  a lot of angst, fluff but the sentimental and nostalgic kind, flashbacks, bakugo travels through so many parallel worlds just to find you.

ೃ  warnings: strong language. wc: 4,764 words

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau 

ೃ i created a spotify playlist for this fic, feel free to listen to it while reading here!

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr!  if you want to be a part of my mha taglist. send me an ask!  ♡

 ೃ  Heavily Inspired by one of my favorite written poetry/prose of all time, 25 Lives by Tongari. The poem will be heavily referenced and mentioned in this fic!  The lines from said poem can be identified [❝ like this❞.]

 ೃ After losing the love of his life in a brutal villain incident, Katsuki Bakugo had lost a part of him. Nothing and no one could ever bring her back. He became the shell of a person he once was; fiery, bright, and the driven #2 Pro-hero in the country. He continues to live life with guilt, all hope still lost until he is gifted a time device that can transport him to parallel universes, dimensions and alternate worlds, where he begins his quest to find his lost love. Crossing a hundred of realities and living twenty-five lifetimes just to bring her back into his arms.

“Stars die. they die and they are not sorry

No matter how much the moon says otherwise.

Stars die and your whole galaxy explodes.”

For the majority of Katsuki Bakugo’s life, he is the main star of the show.

Then, you came into his life and made everything else feel like a rehearsal.

In a world where he mostly treated everyone in his life as extras, you were the main heroine.

When he put up walls around himself, you brought them crashing down.

To him, the concept of love and loving someone romantically was foreign. It always came to him as a question, If whether or not love was something worth living for and sacrificing for, giving your half to another person to be whole, when he can already live for himself.

It was always a question… until you became the answer.

 “Use my new baby wisely! Okay, Bakugo-san!?”

Hatsume Mei, a schoolmate of Katsuki back in his UA days, warned him cautiously. She was now an esteemed scientist, one of the best in the country. Katsuki was the first one to come into her mind when she finally completed her new invention, a gadget that can transfer a person’s soul and being to a different body; one in a different space time continuum.

It was as if living a new and different life.

In another universe.

The concept of the device was pretty straight-forward. You are able to go to different dimensions and live the life of your other self; then if it wasn’t the world you wanted to live in, you are free to disappear and go to another parallel universe. It raised skepticism at first and it sounded too good to be true, as how could something as extravagant and complex as this become possible? But they were living in a world full of heroes with the most unique and bizarre quirks, so why can’t it be possible?

This was his chance.

Maybe, with this, he can bring back (Y/N)…

All along, there had been hope.

He was finally going to see her again.

His thoughts bring him back to the day of the incident.

What was reported to be a regular villain attack, escalated into something that no one could expect.

She was the only casualty-

 And he was a minute too late.

Was he not fast enough? What could have happened if he had gotten there in time? Hundreds of hundreds of scenarios of what could’ve been still continue to haunt him until this very day, what could have happened if he had only arrived there earlier to save her? The things he would do to see her beautiful face and feel her calming presence once more, to see the loving woman he went back to after a tiring day, to pepper kisses on, to be dancing with in the kitchen at 2 am, to be the sharing the first cup of coffee with in the morning, the one to wake up to every single morning…

The one whom you’d share the rest of your life with.

But, now… that life was gone.

Seeing your limp and unmoving body surrounded by debris was the most devastating experience and image he had to see and go through in his entire life.

He could do nothing but hold you in his arms, gritting his teeth, tears streaming down from his cheeks, feeling nothing but frustration and powerlessness as the world came crashing down on him.

 “Dammit (Y/N!) Why you? Why did it have to be you?”

Your resting eyes and dormant body remain steady and… cold. Your boyfriend rests his head on your shoulder, trying to hide that he was bawling in pain and sorrow. Katsuki began to feel the weight of his emotions pulling him down, his thoughts reminding him of his past failures and mistakes, and now that this accident that met your demise became one of those said mistakes, how will he be able to recover? If he was able to overcome his demons and insecurities solely because of you, his friends, and his parental figures to guide him… will he even be able to do the same once again?

He was the #2 Pro Hero too… What will the public think of him?

After he had failed to save the one that he had loved the most?

It has been a year since then.

Katsuki’s life went on without you. 

Well, of course it did, Of course it does. It was just an ending, they told him. Not the end.

He told the general public that he had been slowly recovering and that he was able to bounce back to his usual explosive self. Still yelling, still being the competitive and pompous ass he is, even as a Pro-hero. But his friends and family weren’t dumb. Kirishima, his closest confidante knew there was something wrong with him. His parents noticed too that he still wasn’t himself. All of them did.

They all knew Katsuki still hasn’t recovered from the incident at all.

I mean, who would right?

It was perfectly normal to mourn. It was part of the healing process. The Pro Hero Dynamight still can’t move on and that feeling was valid. It takes time to fully heal and he had already made it clear time and time again that he will never ever love someone like the way he loved (Y/N).

But, if there was a way to bring her back, then he wanted to take that chance.

When Izuku heard of news from Hatsume Mei’s newest invention, Katsuki’s green-haired childhood friend immediately told him about it.

Although he was unsure at first, the quirky scientist assured him to wait a little bit more for the trials of the device to finish if he wasn’t sure about it. And when her test subject came back safely, bringing home their lost relative from another universe, that was when Katsuki became sure of his plans.

This was the key to bring (Y/N) back.

It wasn’t going to be easy but he would do absolutely everything just to see you again.

And with that, the day of his world-jumping adventure (literally) had finally arrived.

Bidding farewell to his family and friends, a small gut feeling inside of him says that this might be the last time he’ll ever see them again… and so, in the most Katsuki Bakugo fashion ever, he thanked everyone present that day… indirectly. He expressed appreciation to those who supported him and helped him throughout his life.

Now, it was his time to find the girl who had been there for him the most.

(through his darkest times and saddest nights, she was the ray of sunshine.)

He took a deep breath, turning to his loved ones one last time, a solemn nod yet the cheekiest smirk present on his face as he disappears, whisked away to another world.

The parallel universes that he was going through dropped him into different years of his life. So, Bakugo had to adapt to knowing what age his other self was in the timeline he was currently in. He was lucky that most of the time he landed in a world and at the time where he was a student at UA.

The time where he originally met you.

He needed to take note of every world he had been too because not only were each and every one so different. Katsuki wasn’t a poetic person (his vocabulary mostly composed of colorful words.) but as he continued to jump through so many parallel universes, he had begun to take note of the ones that stood out to him the most. In the form of a poem, one that he thought you would appreciate when he finally reunites with you. Another you at least.

[❝ The very first time I remember you, you are blonde and don’t love me back.❞

✧  This is the first parallel universe in where you were an upperclassman. From Class 3-A. A friend of Nejire, one of the big three. Katsuki was so delighted to see you, only for you to not know him. He was currently one of the most popular students in UA, of course he is, but you paid him no attention, passing by him in the hallways as if he was just another regular freshman, instead, you were seen holding hands with some slimey-looking guy that Katsuki has never ever seen in school. This wasn’t you. Or, at least, this wasn’t the (Y/N) he was looking for. This was only the first parallel world. He wasn’t going to give up.

[❝  The next time you are brunette, and you do.❞ ]

✧ Unrequited love. What a stupid cliché. In this world, he was an idiot too far up his own ass, whilst the entirety of Class 1-A loathed him and did not look up to him like the way they did in his original world. Katsuki was so caught up in trying to change his personality, that he failed to notice you. The girl who was always in the back of the classroom, looking out the window. You were always just there. Never noticed. Admiring him from afar.

[❝ After a while I give up trying to guess if the color of your hair means anything. because even if you don’t exist, I am always in love with you. ❞ ]

✧  This was practically the same world that Katsuki originated from. Only you were missing. Every single event that transpired in his life, had happened in this parallel universe. The USJ Incident, The Forest Camp Training, The Trip to to Nabu Island… everything. There was this huge empty space that you were supposed to fill. Except, you didn’t exist in this universe. It was the quietness and the lack of your presence in this world that bothers him. Katsuki wonders how this other self of his could continue this life without you in the picture.

[❝ I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together, when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me. ❞ ]

✧  This universe surprised him with puppy love. Here, he was brought back to his childhood. You were his dearest friend and childhood sweetheart. The three of you along with Deku, were a trio. At a very young age, you kept his feet on the ground, never wanting him to think that he was above everyone else despite his powerful quirk. The young Bakugo was able to share his frustrations and insecurities to you, while you always listened. You were always there. He talked about his quirk and his complaints about how the other kids only liked him for his powers, but not for who he actually is. You continued to support him and love him wholesomely for who he was and he was glad to have a friend like you and…. Deku. (as much as he didn’t want to admit it 

However, it ended there. The two of you lying down on the hill, looking up at the stars, and shyly holding hands. Just randomly faded away. And in a blink of an eye, the timeline shifts forward to middle school. His worst years, he would say.

He was so eager to see you again and hopefully remain friends with Izuku after all this time.

Yet, you were nowhere to be found and… Izuku wasn’t his friend anymore.

Apparently, the two of you became distant after graduating elementary because you moved away and never got into contact with him ever again.

This was too heartbreaking for this universe’s Bakugo. To have such a wonderful and healthy social life when he was a kid, only for all of that to just disappear when he started middle school. On to the next parallel world then.

[❝ I love how you play along with my bad ideas, before you grow up and realize they are bad ideas. And in our times together I have many bad ideas.❞ ]

✧  The Sludge Villain. A very traumatizing experience that still haunts Katsuki until this very day. In this world, you were still friends with him. Always following him around and making sure he didn’t get into trouble. He continuously pushes you away, telling you that he didn’t need you and you shouldn’t be controlling of him.

You finally had enough of his arrogance that day and… got into an argument with him.  It was the same day as the Sludge Villain incident.

It happened in this universe too.

After he was captured by said villain, you ran after him, tears welling up in your eyes, wanting to reach out and save him. The sludge villain noticed you, and became more interested in your quirk, targeting you instead. All Might was a little too late and…

The incident led you to losing your quirk and having to live in a hospital for the rest of your years.

It felt like a long bad dream. One that reminded him of your demise in his original world. Bakugo immediately teleported to a different parallel universe. Not wanting to deal with that kind of sadness ever again.

[❝ When we meet as adults you’re always much more discerning. I don’t blame you. Yet, always, you forgive me.❞ ]

✧ In this universe, you were in the same hero agency. Not knowing each other prior to this. Bakugo was the new hotshot that all the other heroes in your agency were going crazy about, just because he was from UA and was attractive. You didn’t get the hype and why everyone else was fawning over him. He was a Pro-hero just like all of you. So, when you finally met him in the flesh, you could immediately tell he was a conceited ass by the way he looked at you and by the way he presented himself.

Unbeknownst to you, Dynamight’s heart was fluttering with happiness at the sight of seeing you again. Your Pro-hero self. Caring, Bad-ass, Confident, and Courageous… It was you.

Almost you.

After being partnered up with him in hero work for the past months, he began to turn soft, a bit annoying, and act flustered whenever you were around which you immediately thought was very out of character for him.

Then he confesses.

You said no.

It just didn’t feel right. First, your hero career was more important to you and you just couldn’t reciprocate those feelings back. The two of you weren’t for each other, and he understood that. He left you for a moment to go get get some “fresh air.”

Bakugo was getting frustrated. His mind going hazy at the thought that he’s gone to so many parallel worlds yet still haven’t found you is slowly beginning to take a toll on him. But he still wasn’t going to give up.

[❝ As if you understand what’s going on, and you’re making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn’t exist, and the ones where we just, barely, never meet. I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.❞ ]

✧  The next alternate worlds he went to were an absolute mess. One of them where the two of you barely meet. Merely passing by each other in the street, opening the door for you or entering the same convenience store. Fate not wanting the two of you to meet. Like magnets being pulled away from each other. A romance movie without the romance. As if telling Katsuki that the two of you were never meant to meet in this universe. Don’t even bother.

Then there’s the other one where you were a merciless villain and he was a pro-hero who had to defeat you. He couldn’t do that. You overpowered him.

But, hey, at least he got to see you as the girl who didn’t put up with his shit and could care less about him. Not to mention you were a part of the organization that was against everything that he stood for as a hero.

It was a tragedy. Not the Romeo and Juliet kind, but reminiscent of it. With Romeo sacrificing his life, yet Juliet remains the same and indifferent.

[❝ But when all’s said and done, I’d surrender to you in other ways. Even though each time, I know I’ll see you again, I always wonder is this the last time? Is that really you? And what if you’re perfectly happy without me?❞ ]

✧ Bakugo was finally teleported to a reality where he was a high school student again. However, he wasn’t studying in UA. Instead, having to go to a regular high school (which he was totally irritated about because why is his parallel self here going to a regular school in the first place? What happened to him?) The two of you pass by each other on your way home. Going off in different directions. You were a student at UA, laughing and mindlessly chatting with his friends. Mina, Kirishima, Denki, and Sero…

All of you barely even noticing him and acknowledging his presence.

At this moment, he realized that maybe you weren’t meant to meet in this world again. He felt like a simple character in the background. A small speck of dust in your universe. God, why was he thinking this? This wasn’t like him. He slowly lost his confidence as he goes from one parallel world to the next to find you. He couldn’t even motivate and give himself pep talks anymore. Has he reached the breaking point? Is he still even himself? Is he still Katsuki Bakugo?

Maybe, he should just give up trying at this point. Every single alternate reality so far all ended in tragedy. Not once were the two of you able to reconcile and have a happy ending. It was not like him to give up, but the chances at this point were slim and in each alternate universe, Bakugo just become more and more disappointed with how things turned out with your other-worldly selves…

It was as if the only universe where the two of you became happy was in his original world.

Was he going to stop here?

[❝ Ah, but I don’t blame you; I’ll never burn as brilliantly as you. It’s only fair that I should be the one to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes.❞ ]

✧  This was it. The twenty-fifth parallel world. Hopefully, the last one that he has to go to and hopefully the one where he finally he finds you.

Bakugo jumps into the portal, expecting the vibrant colors and hues of the city to appear around him, only for him to be transported to a white box.

In the middle of this white void was a cherry blossom tree. Blooming in the prettiest pink colors, and swaying with the non-existent wind. Near it was a small bench. A feminine figure sitting on it, facing the tree.

It was you.

You.

Katsuki knows it’s you because it’s the same dress you wore that day.

A beautiful blue dress that the two of you bought when you were out for some errands. It was the kind of blue that reminded you of the sky, which is why you bought it in the first place. You were saving it for that day, to wear when you visit Katsuki at work and drop him off his bento lunch.

That day.

Instead of a sky reflecting off of your dress, it became grey. Like the color of a storm instead.

He remembers fondly what happened at that same morning. He was getting ready for hero work, whilst you were rummaging for something inside the closet.

“Ahah!” You exclaimed, finally pulling out something to wear. The sound of the wardrobe hangers clinking from the inside.

Katsuki wanted to take a peek of you but you were giving him no chances. You see him trying to take a look when you noticed his blonde hair spiking up more than usual.

“Hey! No peeking!” You giggled, hiding yourself even further inside your closet.

“Gah. Come on! Just one?” He groans, teasing you, trying his best to pull out his puppy tone. “Please?”

“No.” You deadpanned seriously and you could practically feel him pop a vein.

“Hey! What was that for!? I was just joking-“

“I was just joking too you weirdo.” You giggled again, stepping out of the closet. You take a deep breath and straighten your dress, twirling around for him to see. “How do I look?”

He dashes towards you, picking you up from the ground as he begins to twirl you around.

“Katsuki! Put me down!” You chuckle, feeling his strong arms wrapped around you. “You’re going to be late for work!” You tap his back lightly, trying to get him to put you back on the ground.

“You’re beautiful. You always are.” He says seriously. Not a tinge of playfulness or abrasive in his voice. He was still holding you up, but positioned you in a way that the both of your faces were inches away from each other, gazing at each other’s eyes.

The both of you lean in for a sweet and blissful kiss. It felt light and comforting. A feeling that you always have whenever you were with him. A very giddy feeling.

And at that same day, when he saw you again, surrounded by darkness, your eyes closed, your body tranquil and your gentle face looking ever so at peace…

You still looked beautiful, even then.

“Suki-kun.” You wave at him from afar, a solemn smile present on your face. You beckon him to sit next to you but he hesitates.

“(Y/N)…” His voice cracks, not really noticeable, but you could hear it. “Tch… are you.. real? Is this really you?”

“It’s me, love.” You continue to show him your smile. As you blink, you were suddenly caught in his arms. Katsuki was hugging you tightly like there was no tomorrow, his head nestled on your shoulder. His hug felt warm yet cold, like he had been hugging skeletons all this time whilst trying to find you.

You had no words to say to him.

It was just that kind of moment.

Hearing your voice, hugging you tight, holding your hand, and seeing your smile was enough for him at the moment.

This was you.

Actually you.

“It seemed like a lifetime ago when I began searching for you.” He whispered softly, his voice still so rough yet loving all the same.  

A lifetime of pain and sorrow. Of disappointment and missed opportunities.

“Ah…” Your voice trails off. “We don’t have much time left.”

“Huh? What the hell do you mean?” You untangle yourself from his arms, cupping his cheek and rubbing your thumb whilst he holds your hand still.

“I-I can’t go back to our original universe.” You mumble, trying to fight back the tears and continuing to caress his face. “We can’t go back together.”

“(Y/N)!” Bakugo’s face goes stern, as realization hits him. “Shit! (Y/N)! Look, We can get out of here okay!? There’s this device I have-“ The device on his wrist dissolves into nothing as the room around you begins to be consumed by darkness, like sucking you into a black hole.

“Katsuki… no. It’s hopeless! We can’t-“

“Damn it (Y/N)! I’ve traveled through every fucking imaginable universe possible just to find you again! I’ve gone through hell and back just to see you again! I’m not going to leave without you!”

Before you could answer his rebuttal, the bench that both of you were sitting on vanishes and now the two of you were falling in an endless black hole.

As this parallel world around you began spinning faster and faster, the two of you floated upwards, hands locked tightly together, and your eyes sad and bewildered.

The two of you watched as your faces grew younger back to your high school years, like this universe was going in reverse, moving the both of you backwards in time.

You were still holding onto Katsuki’s hands, trying to savor the last few moments with him as you began to say your goodbyes, tears coursing down your face.

“Katsuki… I know you had seen things you wish you hadn’t. You have done things you wish you could take back and I know you’ve been wondering why you’ve been thrown into all of this, why you had to suffer the way you did and why you had to go through so much just to find me. The ghost of me. And as you were going through all these alternate universes alone and hurting, I wish I could tell you that it’s okay. Even if you don’t find me again, I will always be here. My presence will always be lingering. I will live in your heart, Katsuki Bakugo. You deserve the whole world for traveling through twenty-five lifetimes just to look for me. I love you with all my heart, my soul, my being, and all that is left of me… I love you.”

“I-I love you too. Through all these lifetimes I’ve spent with another you, you will always be the one.” Katsuki mumbled, pulling you for one last kiss.

A kiss ever so soft and sweet, worth all the lives he’s experienced.

“Let’s meet again in another lifetime.”

Time continued to reverse back, to the point you no longer knew who you were with. Their face being blocked by a gleam of light. You were grasping the hands of a stranger, but you didn’t let go. And neither did they.

For a moment, there was a calming presence. A whole new world was opening up like a vortex, swallowing the both of you…

Into a whole new universe.

“(Y/N)-chan! Wait up!”

“Oh? Ochaco-chan!”

The brown-haired girl catches up to you, holding on to your arm as she catches her breath. “Can you believe it’s our first day in UA!?”

“I can’t believe it either!” You giggle along with her, taking in the sight that was the top hero academy of Japan.

It was finally the month of April.

The Cherry blossoms were blooming, symbolizing a time of renewal, a time for change and a time to turn over a new leaf.

Today is your first day in UA  Academy.

You still haven’t even grasped the fact that you even got in the first place.

Everything still feels so surreal.

The entrance exams and the excitement you felt whilst waiting for the results to release and now, you were about to step foot into the school of your dreams?

What an amazing start to your high school life indeed.

You and Ochaco were standing in the middle of the walkway, still in awe of all the pretty sights when someone bumped into you.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” You called out.

No response.

You turn to take a good look at the person who knocked against you and it was… a guy.

Blonde. Spiky Hair. Hand in his Pockets. Earphones on. His pants worn loose.

God, what a dork.

“It’s alright (Y/N)-chan! He probably didn’t hear us.” Ochaco assured you, trying to pull you away from him before you could even start a fight.

You sighed, turning to your friend with a smile. “Fine. Fineee. Shall we head to class?”

“Class 1-A! Here we go!” She holds onto your arm once more as the both of you giggle and hop your way into the classroom.

“Ochaco-chan! What are you saying!? You do know I got sorted into a different class right? I’m in Class 1-B!”

“A-ah! You’re right! I’m sorryyyy (Y/N)-chan!”

Bakugo turns his head to look back at your animated figure walking behind him. He stares at you for a good second whilst readjusting the earphone on his left ear, as he too, heads on his way to his Class 1-A.

There is something so delicate about time, so fragile. In a slight moment, you can miss something so pivotal, yet never have the chance to see or witness it ever again.

 Feeling the presence of the person you would be spending the rest of your life with, joining the dots in the sky, and wondering when your stars would align.

Until then, you will dream of him, and he will do the same. 

It was only a matter of time. You will cross paths again.

[❝ until I find the one where you’ll return to me.❞ ]

- Fin.

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34​ @sparkykatsuki​ @ramunegoddess, @serossimpy @drinktheramune​

[holdingforgeneralhugs]

Bitter Pill to Swallow

Chapter 16 (Chapter Masterlist)

"Well aren't you two a sight for sore eyes!"

Valarie grinned in delight at the two men walking towards her, holding out her arms and inviting them in for a well overdue hug.

"Hope you didn't miss us too much Val," Smokey teased, and she rolled her eyes at the cheeky looks on their faces.

"Maybe for the first five minutes," she quipped, "then I realised how much more peace I'd have without you two around driving me nuts."

"Aw it's alright Val," Tab smirked, throwing an arm around her shoulder casually, "We all know we're your favourites, but we promise we won't tell."

"You two are completely ridiculous," she chuckled, "and of course you arrived back just in time for lunch. It's almost like you planned it."

"Maybe we did," agreed Smokey, "Plus now I get to perform my new poem for a packed audience."

Tab groaned, and Valerie looked between the two of them in amusement. "What's this about a poem Smokey?" she asked, arching a curious eyebrow at him.

"All will be revealed my dear Lieutenant," he said mysteriously. The rest of the walk to the mess hall was spent chatting amicably, with the boys telling her all about their time recovering in the hospital. By the sounds of it there were quite a few nurses who'd taken their eye, but that wasn't even remotely surprising with those two.

When they walked into the already packed mess hall, Valerie spotted Lew and Harry standing by the opposite door, so with a parting promise to Smokey that she'd listen to his dramatic poem, she made her way over to the little group.

"About time you got here," Harry teased, laughing when she socked him in the arm.

"I bumped into the boys on their way here," she explained, plucking a cigarette from his proffered packet, "And Smokey has promised a doozy of a poem to mark his grand return to Easy." Just as she said it the man himself stood on a chair and cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the rowdy group in the hall.

Valerie leaned against the wall with one shoulder and watched in amusement as Smokey dramatically began his tale. She was glad to see him and Tab, who was at that moment shaking his head in embarrassment, both looking well rested and healthy.

She was so wrapped up with Smokey and his theatrics that she didn't hear the newcomer stepping into the hall and coming to stand beside her.

"What's going on here?" Dick murmured, causing Valerie to startle. Her heart thudded strangely in her chest when she turned to face him and realised just how close he was to her.

"Sorry," he chuckled, smiling sheepishly at her, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't don't worry," she laughed, shaking her head, "I was just so wrapped up in listening to Smokey the showman." Dick gave her another small smile, but she could see that it didn't reach his eyes. His brow was furrowed and his jaw tight, and she knew then that something wasn't right.

"What's the matter Dick?" She asked quietly, catching the attention of Lew and Harry also. Dick heaved in a sigh and looked down, his brow furrowing further.

"There's a jump scheduled" he whispered gravely, and Valerie knew she wasn't the only one who felt the temperature drop around them at that statement. They all knew it would come eventually, they'd just hoped eventually was a little further down the line.

Valerie shared a worried look with Lew and Harry, the three of them having a silent conversation as Dick made his way over to Lip and told him the news. Dick came back to stand beside her again as Lip called the attention of the gathered crowd. The happiness and mirth from just a few minutes before had suddenly been sapped out of the room, and a cold grey cloud had settled over them all. Valerie peered up at Dick, who to a casual observer would look like the epitome of calm strength. But she could see the worried tick in his jaw and the slight furrow of his brow. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"It'll be fine Dick," she muttered quietly, "We're the best damn company in the whole AEF."

Dick snorted and shook his head, but she was glad to see an amused little smile rising on his lips all the same.

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

"I can't believe I'm losing you Tab," Valerie sighed as she sat down in the seat across from him and nestled her cup of coffee in her cold hands.

"It's devastating I know," he teased, giving her a cheeky grin, "but alas my skills are needed elsewhere."

"You'll do great in first Tab, no doubt about it," she replied, and she meant every word of it too. Tab was an excellent sergeant and she'd miss having his help keeping her platoon in check, especially now she had some new faces.

"Don't worry Val, I won't forget about you and third, I promise," he teased, laughing as she kicked his shin under the table. She spotted Dick approaching them from over Tab's shoulder, and she straightened up slightly, giving him a small smile.

"Morning Valerie, Tab," he greeted, "Mind if I join you?"

Valerie shook her head and shuffled down the bench a little, giving him enough space to slot in beside her. He started talking to Tab, asking him all about his move to first platoon, but Valerie found she couldn't focus on the conversation. Dick's thigh was pressed ever so gently against hers, and his hand was resting so close to hers on the table that if she reached out with her little finger she'd be able to touch his. She felt a flush rising on her cheeks at the mere thought of it. Of course, Dick was an attractive man, no doubt about that, and Valerie wasn't too stubborn to admit it. But that didn't mean anything. Just because she thought he was handsome didn't mean she had some sort of interest in him. It was just an observation.

"Everything alright Valerie?" Dick asked, and she shook herself out of her reverie and refocused on the conversation at hand. tab was giving her a strange look, but she ignored it and instead turned to Dick.

"Of course," she assured, deciding to quickly steer the conversation away from herself, "So how many more drops you think Patton will ruin for us?"

"Who knows," Tab laughed, shaking his head, "Patton just wants all the glory for himself."

The running joke was that Patton was determined to keep the Airborne out of the picture so he could have all the fun. Every time they'd gotten ready for a jump in the last few weeks, it had been cancelled at the last minute because Patton and his Third Army had overrun the drop zone.

"Maybe we should thank him," she continued, taking a sip from her cooling coffee, "if anything he's just getting us one step closer to a drop on Hitler's doorstep."

"Suppose you're right," Tab laughed, before standing from the table and bidding them farewell. Dick and Valerie sat in comfortable silence for a time, both of them nursing their coffees. Dick was staring into his cup, thinking intently about something or another.

"I know you're always pretty serious," Valerie started casually, swirling the end of her coffee before downing it, "but if you stare any harder at that coffee it'll jump out and hit you. What's the matter?"

He huffed out a small laugh and shook his head in amusement. "Nothing ever passes you does it?" he laughed. He drained his coffee before turning to face her properly, his knee bumping against her leg. "There's chatter about our next drop," he explained, looking around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping, "And I probably shouldn't say anything about it but I trust you not to blab. They're talking about sending us to Holland."

"Shit really?" she replied, chewing on her bottom lip, "what do we know about it?"

"They think it's just old men and boys, that we won't face too much of a fight there," he sighed, glancing around the hall with worried eyes.

"Something tells me you don't agree with that," she observed, smirking when he shook his head, "Like you said, nothing passes me."

"I'd noticed," he said ruefully, before growing serious again, "I just think it's a bit risky is all. The Brits are supposedly leading this one and Nix doesn't seem to have much faith in them." Valerie watched him fiddle with the handle of his cup, the rarely seen nervous habit telling her that he was more worried than he was letting on.

She bumped her knee against his and gave him a half smile. "Ain't nothin' you or I can do about that. Just gotta do our best and hope it doesn't all go to shit."

"You always seem to know the right thing to say," he said softly as he stood from the table, his bright smile making her gut do an unexpected little flip, "Now c'mon, I've got a field exercise to run and I'd hate to have to give you latrine duty for being late."

"Careful Winters," she laughed, coming to stand beside him and bumping her shoulder against his affectionately, "people might start to think you're actually funny if you keep cracking jokes like that."

Dick snorted, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Don't worry," he replied, "I'm sure Nix will set them straight if they do. Now seriously we need to get to that exercise."

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

"You all set Shifty? Got everything you need"

"Yes Ma'am," he replied, giving her a thumbs up and a small grin, "got everythin' all packed and double checked." Valerie patted him on the shoulder before moving further down the runway, checking in with More and McClung before spotting a particularly disgruntled Heffron wrestling with his bag and muttering to himself.

"Everything alright Babe?" she asked, squatting down beside him and peering at his bag in amusement. He glanced sideways at her before quickly looking back down at the offending bag, a pink blush rising on his cheeks.

"Oh yes ma'am," he replied quickly, "just got a little extra weight in my bag and I can't goddamn close it up, 'scuse my language." Valerie huffed out a laugh and reached to take the buckles from him.

"You hold that part and I'll pull the buckles alright? I'm sure we can get the damn thing closed between us." Babe stared at her in surprise, but when she gave him an expectant look he rushed to do as she asked. It took a little bit of tugging, but eventually they managed to close the bag.

"A little word of advice Babe," she chuckled, placing a gentle hand on his arm and tampering down her amusement as his blush deepened, "next time the others take advantage of you and dump extra stuff on you, tell 'em fuck off, ya hear?"

Babe's eyes widened and his jaw dropped open, but after a second the corners of his mouth tilted up and his shoulders shook with laughter. "You know what Ma'am, that's some good advice."

Valerie left Babe with a parting pat on the shoulder before walking towards Lipton. As she was coming up to him a truck pulled up, and she laughed in delight when she saw who hopped off the back.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that Popeye Wynn, in the flesh?"

Popeye laughed as she approached him and clapped him on the back. "Had to get back to Easy for the drop, just can't believe that Sobel didn't report me for going AWOL."

"Well now that is a miracle Pop," Lip chuckled, throwing an arm around his shoulder, "now let's get you sorted out and ready to jump."

Valerie bid them farewell and walked back along the runway, double checking everyone was alright. She spotted Sobel talking to Malarkey but she barely spared him a second glance, unwilling to get into a sparring match with him right before a jump.

She spotted Dick with Lew and Harry, so she made her way over to them, giving them a small wave "Everything going to plan?" she asked, looking between the three of them intently.

"As well as can be expected given we're under command of the Brit's," Lew scoffed, rolling his eyes, "and don't give me that disapproving look Dick, you know as well as I do that they're far too arrogant about this Market Garden."

Dick shook his head, but deep down he knew his friend was right. In fact, they were all a little nervous about it, not that they'd let it on. They'd all much prefer to be under their own American command, but they had a job to do and complaining wasn't an option. Valerie looked around the airfield once again, and in that moment she could see the disparity between the replacements and the Normandy vets crystal clear; the replacements with their excited chatter and wide shining eyes, the vets more subdued, more experienced on what could be coming next. Valerie just hoped that they could keep the replacements moving when the shellshock of real action knocked them on their asses.

"It's time to start loading up," Dick said quietly, looking between Valerie and Harry, "you both have your sticks and know your plane numbers, you know the rallying points and the initial objectives. Stick to the plan and we'll see you on the other side.

"Don't worry Dick, Holland won't know what hit it," Harry grinned, sauntering off with a lazy salute. Valerie shook her head fondly and watched him go before turning back to the two captains.

"He's an idiot, but he's right," she laughed, "we'll be fine." With that she turned to follow after Harry, but something made her pause and turn back. "You two look after yourselves too," she added, her eyes lingering on Dick's a little longer than strictly necessary, "We can't do this without you."

Taglist:  @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @cagzzz107 @howunexpectedlyso @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck @now-im-a-belieber @its1000cuts @50svibes @eugene-emt-roe @pennyllane @televisionboy @sparkyluz @ask-you-what-sir @parajumpboots @mads-weasley

[ofmythsandmadness]

to be called beautiful | d.h.

❛ do you ever miss, having someone around to love you?❜

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SUMMARY: vigilantes!au. you push the boundaries of your relationship, and ask for a wish you know won't be given back. (or — it's late, and after another night of patrol, loneliness sets in deep.) WARNINGS: slightly nsfw??? mentions to sex, no descriptions. it's not a sexual story, just a part of an inner monologue. WORD COUNT: 2.6k+ NOTES: reposting this in hopes it shows up this time (pls pls pls i'm gonna cry). i've been writing a whole other series that is a totally different writing style, but i've been trying to work out my emotions in small, focused pieces like this one when i can't focus. i might develop this into a small ficlit series of it's own, bc i think it's kinda fun — but we'll see how this goes.

THE BEAST THAT IS YOUR LONELINESS has been your burden for too long to say.

It's hold on you is a familiar ache, one you've felt for years, like a chronic tight tugging on your heart that refuses to give in no matter what you try. But you still refuse to name it for fear of coming to terms with the implications of it all. That you're really alone in this life and you're terrified of what that means and the fact that you can't have what your childhood stories promised would be yours.

Like the fool you are, you cling to the idea that it's just passing notions. You'll get over it one day. The flitting daydreams of a fairytale romance better fit for a vanilla Hallmark flick suck, but one day they won't hurt so bad. You'll numb and find a way to fill the void. And you try, you really do, pushing it down for the quick release of meaningless acts and walks of shames and cold bedsheets.

Sex is a toxic friend. You choose it's pull when your heart aches most and the loneliness begs for your breath to the point where every gasp of air is a privilege, not the bare minimum. It's not what you crave. There's no romance, no love. It's a trade and one that always leaves you feeling robbed of something you're not sure you ever even had.

You rarely remember their names. You know they probably won't remember yours. And why would they? The shudders, the whimpers, the cold moans that amount to nothing but crumbs of a supposedly passionate act only pass an hour, then they're gone. Or you're gone, if you're lonely enough to risk it. A bit of fun, a breath of pink and white and the feeling of someone pulling you closer, begging for your skin against theirs.

And then, it's all grey again. And you're alone at your apartment, washing your body free of the marks some stranger dared to press into your wilting skin, wondering what it would feel like for a lover to kiss you that same way. Running your fingers over every inch that has been caressed by so many faceless guests, trying to hold yourself in the way your foolish heart pounds for. But it's never enough. Your hands don't cup your flesh, don't mould and kiss and promise the carefully knitted lies any lover had dealt you in the past. And you're as cold as ever when they fall back to your sides. Nothing enflames your skin like you wishes it could — like those you wish would.

It's a discontent you live with. Just as you're sure millions of others do. That's what life is; you push yourself through the day, through your mundane day job and your taxing nighttime hobbies (because you sure as hell can't claim what you do as real work if your only pay is in blood and tears). You cling to the good times that happened too long ago to remember clearly, and make the moments that you're alone with your thoughts as small as possible.

But there's no time to consider all that now.

You scrunch your face up as tight as you can, squeezing your eyes shut to the point where you see stars, exploding like confetti in some absurd black void that hides behind your lids. For a moment you hold the pose, watching the stars erupt, until the position hurts too much and you have to release.

Surroundings blur and then clear as your eyes readjust from their disassociation. You stare blearily at the random coffee shop you and your 'associate' chose for the night. It's just as generic as the last five visited, a thousand shades of brown and red and weary smiles the bored baristas wear just for a cheap check that'll barely cover their asses. It's worn and empty; no one's hear except the two of you and the workers who probably hate you for being here so late.

Normally, you would feel like an asshole staying so late. But you can't bring yourself to move, or even suggest to. It's all too heavy. And even if it's in brooding silence, you don't want to leave your partner. Not yet, you beg the universe, just a few more minutes.

And, speaking of—

"What's got you so blue today?"

You blink. Look over to him, only to see him already watching you.

There's really no point lying. He always unravels you too quickly, too easily — it's the detective in him, unravelling anyone and scooping their truths from shivering flesh. Some sort of childhood trauma response he developed into another super power.

You used to hate it. Now...if you concentrate hard enough, his sharp gaze feels like one of a lover's.

"Don't know what you mean," you tell him, foolish and flustered. "I'm just fine."

"Bullshit. You've sighed a dozen times in the last five minutes."

"Tch. No I haven't."

"Did too!"

His teeth glint, white and clashing against the full pink of his lips. You wish you could denounce all the times you wondered what it would feel like to have them graze against your keening skin — but not even all the gods could cleanse of you of those thoughts. Those desperate, pleading, melancholic memories stain; he can't see them, but you do when you look close enough. And you can't escape it, much as you try.

"Seriously, though. What's up with you?"

Your gaze falls down to your hands, eager to escape his allure, though it's not a great distraction. It only makes you more bitter, really, taking in all the flaws that litter your weaponised limbs. They're calloused from a million fights. Your knuckles are scarred, aching from wounds you reopen every other night. A thousand scars from a thousand scrapes, cuts, slashes and grazes linger on once perfect skin. You don't know how many there are, anymore, only that you wish you could wipe them off. Start over, have a clean slate. Erase all your mistakes and be beautiful again.

"I'm just tired," you lie. It's tense and pitiful; you know you've screwed it up the second the words leave your lips. "S'all."

"Ri-i-ight, and I'm the goddamn queen of England."

The absurdity of his retort makes your lips twitch. It's not enough for a smile, your self-inflicted misery makes sure of that, but it's a seed of something. "Wow. Didn't know I was in the presence of royalty."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut it."

"My apologies, your highness."

"Shut up, you little shit," he grumbles, but it's as soft as you get from him. It's practically a cry of love — or your foolish mind paints it as such. You take his teasing insults as promises of adorations and his arguments are poems of lust and infatuation that tug on your heartstrings in ways you know they shouldn't.

You're partners, for crying out loud. Professional coworkers (if you call the bloody mess you two create work). You don't get to miss him, or crave him, or love him like you do.

"Something happen to you?"

You watch his own hands fold and unfold on the table. The long, delicate fingers stand out on a man like him; someone who paints himself in only sharp angles and cutting lines. But you think they match him well. They promise life. Bleed hope, even in the raised scars that lace his skin like your own. You've watched those fingers grip a blade, launch it into flesh, pull and push and dig and rip and take and committed acts of atrocity most people would run from. You know he probably thinks of his hands the same way you do. But you think they're beautiful.

"Nah. It's...it's nothing. Really."

You can't see his face, but you imagine his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows asking for an answer you're just not willing to give. "C'mon, just tell me. Can't be that bad."

Your body laughs. You hear it from some place far away. It's cold and hoarse; you wonder how long it's been since you've heard a genuine laugh from yourself. You wonder if he notices (and wishes he did, foolishly, frivolously...).

It's probably stupid, but you go for it.

"You ever miss having someone?"

Something creaks; his chair, groaning as he shifts his weight. One of his fingers taps against his empty coffee cup; idle music for a restless soul.

"Like, in what way?"

"I..." Your nails dig into your palms. This was a mistake, but one you have to follow through with. He won't accept silence after something like that. "In the cheesy, domestic sorta way? That whole, havin' someone to come home to, someone who you can talk to, someone who..." the words stick like molasses in the back of your throat. Try as you do, they refuse to give themselves to him, so you have to substitute. "Just, someone who likes you, past your body or, or whatever."

"Oh."

"Sorry." It's your turn to shift in your seat, awkwardly searching for something to occupy yourself with as this uncomfortable energy you've created carries on. But your cup's empty, and you don't have the cash to ask for another overpriced latte. "Forget about it. Let's talk about somethin' else, yeah?"

He doesn't answer that. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if you've just crossed the line of no return. You can't bring yourself to look at him, hell your cowardice is painful enough to make you wonder if you should just make a run for it, say au revoir! to the bond you've built with this knife-obsessed robin hood and crush your heart forever.

It's tempting, and you consider it, but then he fills the silence.

"I miss Eudora sometimes."

Finally, your gaze tilts up. Your eyes meet his lips. He's not smiling anymore.

You guys don't talk about exes together. It's a forbidden topic, same as family or childhoods or the number of people that have cut you open and bled you dry for fun. It's too personal, and in this line of work, personal doesn't fly. But you know Eudora Patch, because this line of work requires a couple run ins with people like her, and because your partner in crime has never learned how to stop his emotions from bleeding into his expression.

"Not because I still love her, but y'know..." his fingers wave aimlessly. "It was nice, when it worked. I liked having someone to sleep with. In a non-sexual manner." His lip curls a little. "Guess the sex part was nice too, though."

You nod. "Yeah, I get that. It's...it was nice, having someone who knew you. Who wanted to make you feel good, not just for themselves but 'cause that sort of things matters."

"Mm."

"Y'ever consider pursuing that sort of thing?"

He shakes his head. His adamancy is a truck smashing into your heart — though you know you should have expected no less, it still hurts. "I can't. It never works, with people like us. Y'know?"

"Yeah. Makes sense." You want to say more. You probably should say more — but you doubt he wants to hear your woes about intimacy, and the pathetic ways you crave affection you probably don't deserve. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Hm?"

His brows knot. "Why're you asking? Someone do somethin'?"

"What? No."

"Cause, like, if someone's hurt you, I'll—"

"I'm fine," you promise, and without thinking, you reach across the table to pat his hand. To reassure him like one would a lover. But just before your fingers meet his, the bitter reminder that he's not yours sets in and you draw back. Your hand falls a couple inches from his own. "And I can take care of myself, if I wasn't. Don't worry."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "Y'sure about that? You're still the dumbass that tripped over her own feet twice walking down an empty sidewalk, and—"

"—oh, you are such an asshole, why can't you just—"

"—so if you need someone to cut a bitch, I'm available."

You soften slightly. Try to smile, even if it's a false promise and probably hangs like a broken door on mismatched hinges. "I appreciate that. But I'm okay. Think I'm just tired, and a little lonely."

"What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

Bitterness seeps onto your tongue; it speaks before you can shut your lips around it. "You're fine as a partner against crime. But you're not anything otherwise, are you?" It feels like a taunt. You hadn't meant it to be — though, maybe you had.

If he takes your jeer poorly, though, it doesn't show on his face. He's still smiling and watching you, eyes simmering with a joke you wish you were in on.

"It doesn't matter though. Having someone's too complicated, 'specially for fools like us. Sometimes it's just..." you don't have a good answer. Not one he'd want to hear, anyways. "I just miss it sometimes. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to, or eat breakfast with in the mornings."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Was nice, having another body around."

"Yeah. Ha. I," you stutter out a chuckle. Tug at your lip, nibbling at the cracked skin that comes with your long nights. "No one prepares you for how lonely adulthood is. Like, I'm half tempted to make friends with the takeout guys, just so I have a friend at all."

"We're friends."

"You know what I mean," you mumble, swallowing the bitter 'are we?' that almost makes its way off your tongue. "It was just nice when I had the time, to have a person around. Someone to like, hold hands with, or-or call me beautiful, sometimes. I-I can't remember the last time called me that, any..."

Fuck.

You hadn't meant for that last confession.

He wasn't supposed to hear that. It's too personal, too personal, too fucking personal for someone you don't even know.

Everything trembles; you're shaking like an avalanche, ready to sweep it all away under some snow drift. Never to be seen again. But you can't do that, there's no taking back the way your voice cracked as it reaches it's last word, and how your hand slips into a fist, ready to charge even though there's no punching your way out of this fumble.

You crack. Stumble out of your seat. Before he can talk you're moving, throwing a couple bills (too many for your poor wallet, you'll pay for that later) down and mumbling something about heading home. Your head's spinning and you just want to sit down again, pretend like this never happened and ask about some meaningless moment in a meaningless day that you wish could be yours and his, not just—

"—text me when you're goin' out again," you say, high and nervous. "I'll be around."

You turn.

"You don't have to leave."

"I got work tomorrow. Early."

"Thought you had the day off?"

Fuck, la deuxième acte. "Taking a shift for someone."

"Oh." He doesn't believe you. He would be a fool to. But he agrees anyways. "Okay."

"See ya, Kraken."

He doesn't answer you back. It's probably better that way.

BONUS

Many hours later, you're in bed, finally dozing off. You've rinsed off the filth of the night and resigned yourself to a barely adequate rest alone, too tired to consider what usually makes your mind race. It's been a long day; let future you contemplate all the ways you've screwed up.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, however, there's a small ping! that immediately wakes you up A notification sound reserved for only one person.

You groan but still roll over. Your heart may be a humiliated, burning mess, but it still beats for him, much as you've tried to stifle it.

kraken // 2:36 am. you available at 11p tomorrow?

kraken // 2:37 am. got word somethin going down at east docks, wanna check it out before it gets bad.

Relief is a sweet blessing. You exhale and smile into the darkness. He's still a professional, even if you seem unable to understand what that means.

you // 2:40 am. for sure. meet me at my place whenever and we can prep.

You leave it at that. Whatever he has to say after that, cannot be too important to waste your precious hours of sleep. So you roll over and shut your eyes and let yourself forget about the empty space that fills your place.

It's a decision you regret the next morning, when you wake up and realise what you missed.

kraken // 3:31 am. you ever get lonely for someone, feel free to let me know.

kraken // 3:32 am. might not make a great boyfriend, but i'll eat breakfast with you. so long as you're cooking.

A/N - I had a whole idea for two tired vigilantes (like what Diego does in season one, but partnered up) who both are really lonely and tired of life and all it's shit, and rely on each other more than they'll ever admit, and...I'll probably never write it, but this was a fun bit of that. two lonely emotionally deprived assholes who can't accept that maybe they can be loved and the person who wants to is right in front of them. :)