#way sadder than i intended

[moonlightsmasquerade]

me n the bestie! (we are both plagued by the horrors)

[dynamicdiplomacy]

Do you ever wonder that, after he arrived in the Undying Lands with Gimli, Legolas felt this crushing regret that maybe if he'd just fought harder, pleaded and begged more, Aragorn might have been allowed to come with?

He convinced them to allow Gimli across the sea, why couldn’t Aragorn, King of Gondor and Child of Imladris, join them in eternal glory?

And there is one day, when the sorrow overwhelms him knowing it will be so long before he sees his friend again, that Gimli finally sits him down:

“It is the Gift of Men that their lives have an end, it is the way the world was made. And while I know you ache to see him again just as I do, we will see him when the Second Song is sung. The Three Hunters will be once more, with new land to explore and adventures abound. You knew such a day would come for Aragorn - and for me - and yet you became friends with us anyway.”

“I thought I would be prepared for it, in the end. But instead I find that it is worse than any other sorrow. Why should he be denied what he, out of all of us, deserves most? Eternity’s rest after a lifetime of authority and strife?”

“That is a question you must ask of Ilúvatar yourself, my friend. They know the ways of this world far better than me.”

“When the world is made anew, do you think... he will remember us?”

“Lad, if that foolish man does not, I shall shave his ridiculous beard off myself.”

[stcrforged]

do you really have to go? ( zaahyr to dorian! )

" oh, amatus. " his heart broke into a thousand pieces, shattering all around him. he didn't dare to move, too afraid that he might cut himself on the SHARP fragments around him. shards of memories were scattered around his feet. of the good and the bad. of zaahyr and him. of everything they have gone through. maybe that was why it ached terribly so - both in his bones and his very soul. together they had went through heaven and hell. it was DIFFICULT to imagine a life where zaahyr wasn't by his side.

hues of gray looked at the other with such sadness that it was impossible not to DROWN in those silver waves. " my heart belongs to you, only you, zaahyr and i will always be by your side, even though we might be miles apart. " dorian took a step forward, accepting the pain. it was a confirmation that this - their LOVE - meant something and as he felt now, their love was greather than the world itself, greater than the whole universe for it was crushing him, but he didn't mind. it was all worth it. his life would have been a boring tragedy without him. " and i would like to be yours. FOREVER. " the mage leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on the other's lips while a hand picked up a small box from his pocket. " i have something for you. with this around your neck i will never be far away from you. " /@fadedpath

[funnywormz]

"Thanks, now leave." w/ the auditor/the hotel please and thank

The void pulses darkly. Nervously tugging at her shirt sleeves, the Auditor delivers her audit, orating it to the nothingness. All around her is darkness, but she knows that the Hotel's gaze is upon her. She trembles. Her voice stays steady.

"-and they've both been performing excellently lately. Sometimes Hop gets... a little too excited, but she still does her job well, and I can't fault her for being enthusiastic! And Cierge, he keeps her in line and does his own work with poise and elegance. I have no complaints about either of them."

The void is silent. The Auditor wonders if the Hotel is actually listening to her. She clears her throat.

"I, well... You can look at my notes for a more detailed recount. Is there... Is there anything else you needed me for? Ma'am?"

Silence. Then a voice rumbles up from nowhere, gurgling and bubbling into sound. It sounds like the entire void is speaking, like each particle is emitting speech. It's a woman's voice. Purring dispassionately.

"That will be all, thanks. Now leave."

There is a long, pained pause. The Auditor's face twitches, the stretched skin around her mouth sagging into a frown.

"What?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, little midge. Run along and do... Whatever it is that you do."

The Auditor flutters upwards instinctively, looking for something to respond to. Nothing changes. It's like she had stayed in the same place. Like she had never even moved.

"A-are you sure I can't be of more use to you? This is the first time we've... Talked, surely there's something I can-"

"Midge, midge, midge..." The Hotel tuts. "We've talked umpteen times before."

"We have...? I don't..." The Auditor feels dizzy, suddenly aware of the void stretching in every direction, dropping into infinity below her feet. "I don't remember, ma'am. My apologies, I-"

"Yes, well, things work differently for you. I don't really want to explain this again. Anyways..." The Hotel's voice darkens. "Didn't you hear what I said, midge? I told you to leave."

The palms of her hands feel sweaty under her gloves. The Auditor tries to smile again, but all she can think about now is the infinity around her, how she could fly forever and never move at all. Her professionalism begins to desert her completely.

"M-ma'am, please, you don't..." Her voice cracks. "You don't understand, I... The others, they can't see me, can't talk to me, and it's alright, because I serve you, but I thought maybe that I could do more for you, that I could... That we could... That I could play a more active role, in, in..."

"I told you to LEAVE, midge. What is it about that that you don't understand?"

"Please!" Something is wrong. The void is nothing and everything, and yet it's slipping out from under her feet. "Please, I want to stay with you, I want to help you, I don't want to be alone aga-"

The Auditor cuts herself off with a gasp as she falls. She doesn't know how she's falling, because there is nothing here to fall from and nothing to fall into, and no gravity to pull her down, but she's still falling. She tries to unfurl her wings, but the force of her descent keeps them flat on her back. All she can do is wriggle helplessly, like a beetle on its back, legs flailing in the air.

If she fell, there must be somewhere to fall to, something to stop her. But she waits, and nothing comes to meet her. It's hard to tell where she even fell from. She might be falling sideways, or backwards, or upwards, or maybe she isn't falling at all, but she can't breathe.

She can't breathe and her head pounds. Something is pushing in on her, crushing her, squeezing her skull like a vice.

She's falling. She's falling. She can't stop.

Her eyes feel like they're going to pop out of their sockets. Trying to think, to do something, she grips her head but only finds swirling terror within.

She's falling, she's falling, she's falling. She can't stop.

-

Madam Hotel chuckles quietly, watching the Auditor curl up into a twitching, drooling ball. "Poor midge. I did tell you to leave." She clicks her tongue in mock pity. "Maybe you'll think before you get to clingy next time, OK? I'm a busy woman, I can't just throw my schedule out the window to make small talk, as much as I'd love to."

She waits for a response, giggling to herself when it doesn't come. "That's better! You've got to be more independent! You know, girl power, and all that?"

A guest demands her attention, their screams punctuated by a cackle from the Bellhop. "Ooh, sounds like I'm going to miss out on the fun..."

She grins, a smile that nobody else can see. "I'll give you some time to think things through, OK, midge?"

The void is silent in response.

[mejomonster]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 盗墓笔记 | The Lost Tomb (TV 2015), 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling, Wu Xie/Monsters Characters: Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Zhang Qiling Additional Tags: Tentacles, Monsters, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Horror, Angst Summary:

All the monsters love Wu Xie. Zhang Qiling is no exception.

WELL I wrote a fic about all the monsters liking Wu Xie but instead of feeling like a crack fit its actually fairly angsty. Go figure (/>o<)/

[bruh-im-aggro]

This is random but

Imperium relationships/characters as some of my favorite song lyrics bc I said so

@fuzzy-melonlord @vampire-bite @sam-collins

Lust:

"If you love me let me go, and run away before I know. " Snuff - Slipknot. I think this is self explanatory-

Sam:

"And if you go, I wanna go with you. And it you die, I wanna die with you." Lonely Day - System of a down.

Pride:

"I spent so much time..believing all the lies, to keep the dream alive. Now it makes me sadIt makes me mad at truth, for loving what was you" Eyes without a face - Billy idol

Wrath:

"The world is on fire, and you are here to burn with me." Dues In Absentia - Ghost

Chris:

"Your beauty never ever scared me" Mary on a cross - Ghost

Greed:

"Oh, who is she?A misty memory? A haunting face? Is she a lost embrace? I call her name, across an endless plain..she'll answer me..wherever she may be" Who is She? - I monster

Asher:

"I ain't got many friends left to talk to. Nowhere to run when I'm in trouble. You know I'd do anything for you, stay the night but keep it undercover.." Your love - The Outfield

[rossefincha]

sometimes  i'm  tempted  to  turn  this  into  an  all  oc  multi  ,  but  i  love  my  canon  ladies  &  their  threads  too  much  to  do  that  

[biteapple]

I love Posy as she is and I would never replace her but I do wanna make a larger version of her and remake her dress too just as a fun thing to do. I love my friend Posy

[pathologicalreid]

in sickness and in health | S.R.

Minutes before your wedding is supposed to start, Spencer gets cold feet, and you have to find out why.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff (a smidge angsty) content warnings: alzheimers, weddings, children, babies, sad!spencer, reader wears a dress and makeup, cursing word count: 1.8k a/n: so this became sadder than I had initially intended. also i decided to try something new and write in a different POV and i don't know if i like it. this is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins' new beginnings challenge, because nothing says new beginning quite like getting married! thank you for having this challenge!

If it were up to you and Spencer, your wedding would’ve taken place at a courthouse with no fuss, just rings and a certificate. Especially after he shot down your idea of a 24-hour wedding chapel in Las Vegas.

In your defense, you pitched it to him as an intimate wedding in his hometown, but he didn’t take the bait.

But when the team found out that the two of you were planning what they deemed unsuitable, they all volunteered to help throw together a ceremony and reception. Everyone was under the duress of Penelope at the time, but they all volunteered.

She could be very formidable when she wanted to.

Your now maid of honor’s eyes were shimmering as she carefully adjusted some of the last few strands of hair upon your head, you had managed to talk her out of a tiara, but to Penelope Garcia, a veil was non-negotiable. “You look gorgeous,” she says, “the perfect bride.”

Laughing uncomfortably, you turn to look at yourself in the full-length mirror and take a deep breath, “Thank you, Pen.”

“I know I may have slightly nudged you in the direction of a bigger wedding-“

“More like punted,” you interrupt, an affectionate smile on your face.

Rolling her eyes, she leaned over to grab her buzzing phone on the velvet chair in your ready room. “Whatever, I just think that after everything you and Spencer have made it out of, you deserve a celebration that reflected that,” she speaks passionately, as she always does when discussing people in love.

Turning around to look back at the mirror, the tulle of your veil cascading over your shoulders as you grew giddy. Your dress was a whimsical, white chiffon that fell to the floor and moved with you as you walked. Small straps of fabric were delicately draped over your arms for an off-the-shoulder effect, you had never felt more glamorous. Although, if there was a day for glamor, your wedding day would certainly qualify.

You snap your head around to see Penelope furiously typing on her phone, “Uh oh,” she whispers, looking at the screen.

Humming, you step off of the pedestal and over to her, careful not to trip on your dress, “What’s wrong?” You murmur, trying to see what was distressing her. Dread built in your stomach; the team couldn’t be getting called away? Two of its members were about to get married. This is why you should’ve just gone to the courthouse; you never should’ve let Garcia talk you into this.

Jolting you out of your panic induced stupor, she answers, “Something’s up with Reid.”

Your heart clenches, “Reid? My Reid?” You whisper, “Is he okay?”

The two of you jump when someone bangs on the door, and she moves to open it, just a crack at first – to see who it is – and then all the way open to reveal Luke on the other side. Naturally, the members of the BAU made up your wedding party, and Luke as the best man was the easy choice.

He was mostly dressed, save for the bowtie that remained undone around his neck, “I need to steal Y/N.” His shoulders were rising and falling quickly like he had run across the building.

“She’s getting ready for the wedding. Her wedding,” Penelope answers, gesturing back to you. “Besides, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

Really, you were mostly ready, you just needed to put your shoes on and line up. “There won’t be a wedding if we can’t get the groom out there,” Luke replies.

You warily approach the doorway, peeking around the door, “What’s wrong?”

“He just needs you,” Luke explains, gesturing toward you with his hands.

Nodding determinedly, you step out the door and run over to the other side of the building to where the groom’s ready room is, pulling the fabric of your dress up so that you don’t trip. Along the way, you pass a few guests, but you don’t stop.

It wasn’t news to most of them that you were a grounding force for Spencer, the two of you had been put through, as Luke put it, the wringer together and still managed to come out the other side. You skid to a halt in front of the door and knock quickly, “Spence, it’s me.”

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony,” he murmurs through the door, echoing the earlier sentiments of Penelope. You know he doesn’t believe in it, which only adds to your concern.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fidgeting with the doorknob just to discover it’s locked. “If you don’t unlock the door, I’m going to go find Derek and have him kick it down for me,” you threaten, wondering if the reminder of all of the people here would coax him out.

There was no response from the other side of the door.

Sighing, you turn to look at Luke, “Can you give us a minute?” He nods, letting you know he’ll talk to Garcia before walking down the long hallway.

Once he’s gone, you hear the tell-tale click of the door unlocking, “Garcia will kill you if you walk in here.”

“Penny isn’t here, baby. It’s just you and me, okay?” You speak lowly, “What’s wrong, my love?” Dropping your hand on the doorknob, you startle slightly when it turns and the door swings open.

You yelp when Spencer pulls you in, closing the door behind you before he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. Immediately, you feel his body relax against yours, “Isn’t this supposed to be bad luck?” He murmurs.

Humming, you return his hug gratefully, “We’ve had enough bad luck, don’t you think? It’ll be okay.” His arms loosen around you, and you pull away slightly so you can look up at him, placing your hands tenderly on his chest, thumbing the satin fabric of his lapels. “And besides, I’m not fully dressed yet. I’m fairly certain that means it doesn’t count.”

“You look beautiful,” he whispers, holding you out at arm’s length. “You’re perfect, and I’m…” His voice trails off as he takes a step back from you, sighing as he takes a seat in one of the white chairs in the ready room.

Tilting your head to the side, you felt the fabric of your veil flow to the side, “You’re what, Spence?” You ask, slowly approaching the chair he was sitting in.

He furrows his brows in apprehension, “I think I might be scared of you,” he answers candidly.

You couldn’t help the giggle that spurted from your lips, “Am I really that scary?” You inquire softly, seeking more answers from him. You saw him better now, the darkness of his tux offset by the purple bowtie and handkerchief, joined with the light florals of his boutonnière. Spencer’s hair was a mess, a tell-tale sign that he had been running his hands through it.

Clearing his throat, Spencer looks up at you with a look in his eye that you can’t quite place, “I passed by your room earlier, and I heard you laughing.” He took a deep, tentative breath, “I thought you sounded so happy, and now I’m not sure I can keep you happy.”

Sighing, you duck your head slightly, “Spencer,” you say seriously, “are we still getting married today?”

“What?” He says in disbelief. “Of course we are, that’s not- I’m sorry,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “We’re still getting married; I’ve quite literally never wanted anything more in my entire life. I’m just worried,” he speaks quietly.

Gingerly, you step closer to the chair before he reaches out for you, placing a hand on your waist and gently guiding you down until you are sitting on his lap. “You make me so happy, Spencer Reid. I know that somewhere in that gorgeous brain of yours you know that, but I also know that you are your own worst critic.”

You’re sitting sideways on his lap with your legs latticed on top of each other. Gingerly, he places a hand on your thigh and another on the small of your back, “You deserve everything you want in the world.”

“And I want you. Doesn’t that count for something?” You ask him, emotion beginning to rise in your throat – you cannot cry, then the wedding would really be delayed. “Spencer, I’m so ecstatic that at the end of today, I get to be your wife. That’s such a privilege to me. You and I, we get to be so fucking happy today. We deserve that.” You tell him gently, “We get to be married and go on our honeymoon and come home and we can tell all of your stories to your mom, and we’ll have a baby or two and we’ll be so fucking happy.” You swallow your emotion, looking up at the light in the hope that it will clear your tears. “For the rest of our lives, we’ll be so happy.”

Then it came, “I don’t want to forget you.” His voice is almost imperceptible, but you hear him still.

The ache in his voice feels like a stab to your heart, you were well aware that his mother had Alzheimer’s. She wasn’t having a good day today, but the two of you had gone to visit her in the morning. Ever since she was diagnosed, it’s been like Spencer has a storm cloud hovering over him – he can’t be tested for the gene markers, not for a few more years. Taking a deep breath, you reach over and smooth his hair back, “If you get Alzheimer’s, I will sit down with you every day and remind you. I’m going to walk down that aisle today and tell you that I’m going to love you in sickness and in health and I’m going to mean it.”

“I’m scared,” he murmurs, leaning into your touch.

Using your free hand, you reach up and tenderly wipe a tear from his cheek, “We can take it.”

He nods in agreement with you, “Together, as a team,” he concurs, a slight amount of confidence returning to his voice.

Resting your head on his shoulder, the two of you take your moment. The last moment before you officially unite as one, and you let that moment take as long as you need. “I should go,” you whisper, looking over at the clock, the ceremony was supposed to have started by now.

Spencer leans down and kisses you, “I’ll see you out there?” He asks expectantly.

Nodding assuredly, you reach up and wipe a smudge of lipstick from his mouth, “I’ll be there.”

During the ceremony, you impressively were able to keep yourself together, until you promised him you would love him in sickness and in health.

please remember to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

[imbored1201]

hiii!

could you write something where teen r lives w ona and is always attatched to her but then lucy moves in with her and now r is upset bc she has to actually use her own bed and ona ends up buying a new bed or something.

:)

Ona’s Follower

Lucy x Ona x Teen Reader

Word Count: 2k

Yours and Ona's bond ran deep; the two of you had played in Manchester together. You were just 15 when you started playing with her; it was your first season coming from the academy, and she convinced you to move to Barcelona with her.

She always took care of you, and you practically followed her everywhere. She enjoyed the company though, teaching you everything, like how to cook her favorite Spanish dishes and even trying to teach you Spanish.

You feel the moment you really got attached to Ona was when she comforted you because of your frequent nightmares.

The two of you ended up being roommates when staying at a hotel with the United girls. 

You had hoped you wouldn't get a nightmare. That didn't go your way, considering you had one. 

You were woken up by Ona, who held you that night, and the next night, you had another one. 

Back at the apartment, you continued to sleep in Ona's bed. You realized sleeping with Ona helped you a lot since you stopped having nightmares, and it turns out Ona hated being alone in a bed to the point she had a lot of stuffed animals on her bed while she slept so she didn't feel alone. 

It was a huge win for both of you. 

————

You noticed something was going on between Ona and Lucy. Lucy was coming over every day now. You would always find them cuddling on the couch, and she would even pick you guys up to take you to training and games. 

You liked Lucy; she was funny and always brought you candy, and you always destroyed her in FIFA, so it was fun. 

————

Then the next step happened. Lucy moved in. You were panicking, to you, that meant you and Ona couldn't sleep in the same bed anymore. That made you disappointed, even sadder, watching Lucy unpack all her things. The good thing about it was that you were able to see Nala every day now. 

"Want to help me build this?" She was referring to a new dresser she had gotten. "Sorry, Luce, I need to go riding around." Lucy grinned, happy you were actually using the bike she had given you.

Ona was always complaining that you spent too much time in your room, so Lucy got you a bike, hoping it would motivate you to get out and go around the city.

That bike ride took a little bit longer than you intended. You did get caught up in your own head because, by the time you knew it, it was nighttime. Way past your cerfew. 

————

"Ona, calm down; she's fine; she probably just got caught up." Ona's eyes widened. "What if she got caught up doing something she isn't supposed to?" Lucy sighed, regretting her word choice. 

"Ona, she's a good kid; she knows not to do anything bad. She'll be back soon; you're tired; come on." Lucy led her to bed. Ona continued to stare down at her phone, waiting for any little text from you. 

She spent a couple of minutes lying down in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. "She has a key, Ona. Come on, you have to let the kid do her own thing at times. She'll be back soon; if it makes you feel better, I'll stay up and wait for her." Ona sighed and nodded. 

By the time you got home, Lucy had already fallen asleep. She did wait an hour though; she was worried too, but once she finally received a 'I'm okay' text from you, that worry went away, and she fell asleep spooning Ona.

Once you finished your routine, you went to Ona's room. It was just a habit of yours at that point, and when you saw her and Lucy sleeping cuddled up in bed, something burned up inside you. Jealously and sadness. Tears started to build up in your eyes

You know it was probably childish, but it was just something you were used to. Ona had been your anchor; every time something went wrong, you went running to her. With Lucy there now, you felt like you couldn't do that anymore. 

You gently closed the door and walked to your room. It was weird sleeping in your own bed for once. You hadn't done that in forever; you grabbed one of Ona's hoodies that you stole and laid down, using it as a pillow. You hoped you wouldn't have a nightmare and fell asleep. 

————

Lucy was the first to wake that morning; she hated to admit it, but she completely forgot she didn't see you come the front door; she got lost in admiring Ona's beauty to remember. 

When Ona stirred, the first thing that came to her mind was you. She thought about last night and quickly sat up, not needing any time to fully wake up. 

Lucy noticed Ona's panicked expression when she looked at her. "What?" She asked, getting up. "Where's Y/N?!" She was panicky, walking out of the room to search for you.

Lucy quickly got up and followed her as Ona checked the living room and kitchen. Lucy checked your room, and there you were. Using Ona's sweater as a pillow and holding onto a stuffed teddy bear, Lucy won you at the fair. She even won Ona one, then bragged about being too good at everything. 

"Ona, she's in here," she quietly said, gently closing your door. Ona was about to barge into your room, but Lucy gently grabbed her. "She's sleeping." Ona sighed in relief and went back to the kitchen to make apology pancakes for you. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" Lucy put her hand on Ona's hips. "Fuck Lucy, we shouldn't have slept in the same bed. I'm sorry. Y/N, she always sleeps with me; the poor girl gets these bad nightmares, and they stopped when she started sleeping with me" 

Lucy looked understanding and thought for a little bit. "You know, we need to get a bigger bed anyway; it would be beneficial for everyone and maybe even encourage a little more action," she smirked. Ona raised her eyebrows. "Lucy, we are not talking about sex while there is a child in the bedroom."

"Of course not; that's why we send her to Mapi and Ingrid's. What I'm trying to say is, let's get a bigger bed so she can sleep with us."

Ona's face lit up, and she immediately grabbed her car keys. "I'm going to look at bigger beds," she told Lucy, and left. Lucy quickly took over, smirking to herself for being a genius. 

————

That whole day, you only came out to eat the pancakes and for dinner. Lucy took control and barged into your room. You ended up crushing her in FIFA again.

It was now 10 p.m., and you were thirsty, your eyes hurt from playing video games all day, and you had done nothing productive all day. Mostly trying to get used to the fact that your room was actually going to be your room for once. 

————

"What's wrong?" Ona asked noticing your frown, you jumped, almost dropping your water. You weren't expecting Ona and Lucy to still be up at this time watching their romantic movies. "Nothing, just thirsty."

"Come watch the movie with us." Lucy made room between her and Ona. You shook your head, "I'm going to bed." Lucy didn't give up, though; she got up and threw you over her shoulders. 

"Luce," you whined. She threw you on the couch, and Ona was quick to hug you, so you couldn't get up. You sighed, paying attention to the movie. 

You were exhausted by the end of the movie, the comfort of Ona being next to you made it harder to keep your eyes open. You let your head fall against Lucy's shoulder. 

"How about you two snuggle in tonight? I'll take the couch. Then we'll go get the thing tomorrow." Lucy winked at Ona at the last part. You were confused but too tired to argue. The bed was being delivered tomorrow morning; it was just up to Lucy to bring it in on her own and build it. 

Ona led you to her room, where you collapsed on her bed. “Did you have any nightmares last night?” She asked as she got in beside you. You shook your head, rolling into her body and cuddling into her chest. She wanted to apologize for making you sleep in your own bed that night, but you had already fallen asleep. 

————

Once again, you woke up to no Ona. You huffed and got up, stealing a sweater that you were pretty sure was Lucy’s. “Ona?” You called out. 

You heard the front door opening and someone grunting. Nala started barking at whatever it was, so you made your way to the noise, thinking it was Ona. You let out a sad sigh when you saw it was Lucy. You loved her, but all the woman made was eggs in the morning, and you wanted Ona’s special pancakes again.

"Where's Ona?" You asked Lucy, who was struggling to bring in a mattress. "Store," she spoke out of breath. 

"What are you doing?" You asked. It was pretty obvious, but your brain was way too confused right now, and you had to ask questions. She let out some deep breaths before speaking. "Putting in the new mattress"

"Can I help?" She shrugged. "Sure, pull it," you grunted as you did what you were told. Ona wasn’t actually sure if the mattress would fit through the door; she just hoped it would. "Finally,” Lucy said, when the mattress finally got past the door. 

You were Lucy’s helper, playing with the tools, giving her whatever she needed, completely forgetting about your hunger. She proudly patted your back when everything was finished. 

"This calls for ice cream." She put a hand on your shoulder and led you out. You looked at her confused, but just went along with it. "I haven’t had breakfast," she shrugged. "It's fine.”

————

"Kid, you know I'm not going to take Ona from you, right?" You paused from where you were eating your ice cream and nodded, but you weren't actually sure how you felt. 

"Ona adores you; trust me, in a house fire, she would save you over me." You smiled at that. “But it’s fair; I would save Nala before the both of you."

"You promise you'll take care of her?" She nodded before adding, "I'm going to take care of both of you, I promise." She put out her pinky finger, which you took with yours. 

"That's why we bought the new mattress; it's bigger so all three of us could fit on that bed," you had a confused look on your face again, "Won't you be uncomfortable?" Lucy shook her head and let out a little laugh.

“Of course not; at this point, you’re my stepkid, you’re my favorite stepkid, and Nala is my favorite kid." She smiled proudly at that, and you appreciated it in a way. "Thanks, Lucy; I guess I understand why Ona fell for you now." “I’m just charming, ain’t I?” "Nevermind"

————

You still didn’t believe Lucy was actually comfortable with you being there, which is why you got ready to sleep in your own bed again. Lucy broke into your room once again, a rare stern look on her face. 

“What are you doing?” Lucy asked, her arms crossed. “I don’t want to disturb.” Lucy once again threw you over her shoulder and carried you to the bed. 

She set you down close to Ona who smiled at you. 

“Sleep bebita,” Ona spoke, spooning you. Lucy got into bed, leaving you squished in between them. Lucy got closer to you, making you push her away. “You have all that space over there."

“Shut up and let me cuddle you." You rolled your eyes and squirmed away from her, but she felt you relaxing after a couple of seconds. Your eyes were closing, and in a couple of seconds, you were out.

“Thank you for making an effort with her, Lucia.” Lucy nodded as she stroked your hair. 

“I’m just the stepdad that stepped up, ain’t I?” Lucy grinned, Ona rolled her eyes, holding you tighter. “Buenas noches Bronze”

[elliebarker]

yessss cc fic plz there’s not nearly enough

fuɔk me. ( c. clark )

category: caitlin clark x girlfriend!reader (angst, fluff)

summary: after seeing you talking to another after one of her games, caitlin goes into an obsessive spiral of jealousy, unknowingly sending you down your own rabbit hole.

warnings: way sadder than i intended 

word count: 1.2k

author’s note: i tried capital letters, y’all fw it?

_________________________________________

“I mean, it was electric, truly.”

Caitlin’s voice echoed into the microphone of a random media reporter who was interviewing her. She tried her best to stay focused on the questions whilst the camera clicked and pump-up music blared. Iowa had just won a home game and she knew you were in the crowd. She regained consciousness with the present and began answering the interview questions with basic textbook answers about ‘the Iowa culture’ and how great her shots felt, whilst scouring the stadium for you. You interlocked eyes and waved to her. She waved back and politely wrapped things up with the media girl (hehe) and headed your way. 

In the minutes she had spent with her eyes off of you, an umich girl from the opposing team had walked up to you. She was, in Caitlin’s eyes, getting a little too friendly. Smirking, and smiling too wide. Caitlin backed away, choosing to head to her teammates instead and pose in photos with fans. See… people love me she thought. And we literally bet them and that fucking umich girl had the nerv-

“Caitlin!” you ran, hugging her from behind. “You do so good, omg!” 

“Thanks, babe.” She slipped away from you, cold and isolated. Caitlin spent the night with the girls on her team, which wasn’t irregular for away games, but you were looking forward to getting to spend time with her when she was actually in town. You were slumped in your apartment, staring at yourself in the mirror, picking a pulling at your skin, hair, and hair. Meanwhile, Caitlin was glued to her phone in the corner of the room her teammates were in. Staring at that umich girl’s stats and Instagram. Caitlin knew she was a good player, she knew she was a good girlfriend, she knew you. She knew you wouldn’t do her wrong but she couldn’t stop thinking about it. About finding someone different. She knew she wasn’t there for you all the time, on account of her schedule with basketball that seemed never-ending. She felt like a bad girlfriend. You deserved the world, more than she could ever give you.

Sounds of shoes squeaking and balls dribbling filled her ears as Caitlin entered Iowa’s gym. After nights of stressing, overthinking, and flashes of your interaction with the umich girl appearing in her head, Caitlin was ready to clear her head with some practice. She stretched, dripped the ball a bit, and began shooting. First shot, miss. She went and grabbed the ball. Second shot, miss. Everyone has bad days. The third shot, she could barely focus, overwhelmed with this stinging feeling of inferiority as she missed that basket. “Fuɔk me,” she muttered under her breath. She suddenly turned around when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Kate was standing, now facing her. “Hey Caitlin, can we talk?” 

“Yeah of course, what’s up?”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of off…down, you okay?”

“Um yeah,” she tried to hold her guard up, “yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled, “Need to lock in.” Kate laughed, agreed, and went on with her practice.

Later that day you, being friendly with the Iowa team, reached out to Kate. You texted her, 

You: hi kate!

i haven’t seen caitlin in a bit and just wanted to check in and make sure she’s doing okay

Kate: Hey! Thanks for reaching out, she has been acting a little weird. 

I was going to ask you but I guess you don’t know what’s up either.

You: no, i don’t know

has she talked about me?

at all?

Kate: No, not really. Is everything okay?

You: (…)

You stared at your phone for a solid five minutes attempting to keep your emotions under control.

You: yep! everything's good

just been a hot minute since ive seen her

but thats prob just cause shes so busy lol

Kate: Fair. But if anything does you can always talk to me.’

You: awww thanks kate! that's so sweet.

Days passed and you finally got a day to spend with Caitlin. You had invited her over to your apartment. You had excitedly and worriedly done up your hair and makeup, cleaned and refreshed every inch of your apartment: fresh sheets and fresh flowers, and made sure to wear an outfit you knew she liked. You felt it in your bones that your behavior was suspicious and 100% fueled by insecurity but you told yourself that you were doing this to make Caitlin feel comfortable, let her relax from working so hard. Totally not convincing her to want to stay with you. 

You and Caitlin were in your bed watching a tv-show and you could sense something was off. “Hey baby, can I get you anything?” you ask, trying to make yourself useful. 

“Um, yeah sure,” she replied, “water works.” You scoot yourself off the bed and head to the kitchen. Caitlin watches as you walk away, thinking about how you’re perfect in every way. She pulls out her phone, and her most recent search on instagram, umich bitch, is controlling her thoughts again. 

You come back with a glass of water for Caitlin and see she’s engulfed in her phone. Goddamnit you’ve bored her.

“I’m sorry,” you muster out. The stress of the possible end of your relationship that you conquered up in your head makes you almost fold into tears.

Caitlin sprung up, “Sorry, babe, sorry about what?” she went to hold you. You slithered yourself out of her arms,

“You’re probably sick of me, I need to stop holding onto you.” 

“What?” Caitlin asked, “Okay, first of all, I would never be sick of you. You are the most gorgeous, fearless, kindest, perfect girl I’ve ever seen. I would be crazy to ever let you go. But I know you deserve, you need better than me.” your tears turned to happy ones as you exclaimed,

“Caitlin what? You are the best girlfriend in the whole wide world.” You grabbed her face in your hands as hers found their natural place around your hips.

“I love you,” she whispered before moving her face close to yours and kissing you passionately. Your arms wrapped themselves around her neck as you leaned into the kiss. You slightly pulled away, whispering back, 

“I love you too.” Caitlin then pulled open her phone, to delete the umich player from her search history, but not without catching your nosy eye. “Wait. This was about her?” 

“What?” Caitlin said, trying to sound clueless.

“I spoke to her for five seconds? Wait…you were jealous?” you inquired. 

“No- I- who-” she stuttered, trying to deny it. “Also, I don’t get jealous.”

“You goofball,” you said, pulling her into a deeper kiss, to which Caitlin picked you up and plopped you back onto your bed, pulling you into her chest, and kissing your forehead.

“I don’t get jealous” she re-enstated.

“Mhmmmmm…” you replied, nodding your head, in a non-believeing tone. “Got it. Not jealous.”

“I’m being serious,” she said. You, too lazy to lift your head, nodded and closed your eyes falling into a deep sleep, to which Caitlin would follow you.

[lila-went-missing]

Saw you want to write Clarisse x Reader and I NEED more clarisee x reader fics SO!

Can you a Clarisse x reader of when Percy broke her spear and just like readers reaction to the her scream and just very angsty but very fully at the same time! Pls and thank u!

I swear on my life reverse hurt/comfort is one of my favorite things to write on this planet. Also, I feel like it’s worth mentioning that Dior said she literally BLEW OUT HER VOICE when she did that scream?!?! She never fails to amaze me.

This got a bit sadder than intended but it's not too bad. Also, sorry this took so long, I had a math test, two essays, and a debate, on top of personal shit. But I FINALLY got it finished.

My Love is Waiting For You to Come Home

Warnings: Slight violence, mild angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, small amounts of blood, mentions of wounds, lmk if I left anything out.

Pair: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Apollo!Reader

For the first time in what felt like forever, capture the flag was going great. It had been a long time since the red team had won, but you were actually doing really well. You were up in a tree close to the flag, shooting anyone who got too close with your arrows. They weren't sharp, but they had enough of a point to hurt.

Clarisse was hunting in the woods below you. You'd occasionally catch sight of her from the place you were perched on your branch. She always looked amazing like this. Hair pulled back, armor on, spear in hand. She was in her element, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't extremely attractive. The way she looked so tough, her lucky red bandanna tied around her bicep.

Anyone else would say she looked terrifying. But to you, she was the most beautiful person you'd ever laid eyes on. You were the only one who got that side of her.

It wasn't long before she disappeared again, hunting down anyone who dared to get close to the flag or your tree. She had mentioned something before the game. Something about revenge on the new kid. She didn't go into detail about said revenge, but you new it wouldn't end well for someone.

You didn't move from your tree, assuming her and her siblings had everything handled. And they did, for a while at least. You had shot down another four people by the time you heard your girlfriend scream in a way that genuinely terrified you.

Jumping down from the tree, you raced to the sound as the conch horn blue. You made it in time to see her storm off as the blue team carried the flag over. Just before she made it out of sight, you saw the spear in her hand. Or rather, what was left of it.

Oh gods. You thought.

You tipped your head back, letting out a breath before turning in the direction she went. You found her in the arena, tearing dummy after dummy into shreds. You let her go at it for a while, watching from the doorway.

Eventually, you slowly walked towards her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Clar.." You whisper.

She jumps, turning quickly, ready to knock you into the ground before relaxing. All of the tension disappears from her face, her bottom lip trembling. You reach forward, taking the sword from her hand and tossing it into the rack haphazardly.

"I- fuck.." She drops her head forward, breathing hard.

"Come on.. it'll be okay." You lead her towards your cabin, knowing all of your siblings would be in the infirmary tending to peoples wounds. You can see cuts and bruises on her arms, giving you a feeling that her back will be even worse. You make sure to grab the pieces of her spear on your way out.

On the way to your cabin, her eyes don't leave the ground. Your hand stays on her back the the whole walk, not leaving even as you open the door for her.

She sits on your bed, putting her head in her hands. The broken weapon lays on the foot of your bed as you sit next to her. Her breath shakes with her body.

"Let me clean you up, okay?" She nods, at your words.

"Okay.." Her voice is smaller than you've ever heard it before. You lean forward and pull her shirt over her head, confirming your suspicions about her back. An angry red covers almost the entirety of her tan skin, small amounts of blood leaking from a few spots.

You hover a hand over the scrapes and cuts, a warm glow emanating from your palm. Her wounds slowly heal as her muscles relax. Your heart breaks for her every time you hear her wince or feel her breath hitch. Your free hand reaches forward, grasping hers. A few small scars form over the area, but nothing that won't fade.

You lean your chin on her shoulder when you finish, wrapping your arm around her front. Her other hand reaches up to hold your wrist.

"I love you.." You whisper into her ear.

She hesitates, not speaking for a few moments. When she does her voice is as shaky as her body.

"That was the only thing- the only proof he-" She can't finish either sentence. You can feel her holding her breath as if she's trying not to cry.

"I know, my love. I know." Your lips press into her shoulder. "I'm gonna talk to some Hephaestus kids, I think there's a couple of Hecate kids in the Hermes cabin. I'll do everything I can to fix it."

Her whole body shudders. She's never had the best relationship with her dad. He'd always said that she should've been a son. That spear was the only acknowledgement she'd ever gotten from him. And now it was broken.

A few tears slip down her cheek that you pretend not to see.

"It'll be okay, Clar'." Your arms tighten around her as her head leans into you.

"Thank you." She mutters. If it wasn't for your close proximity you probably wouldn't have heard it at all.

"You deserve someone to care about you.. I'll be damned if I don't do everything I can to be that person."

"I love you. So much." Her voices is so soft, so gentle.

"I love you more." You're not sure how long you sit like that, but it's long enough for your legs to go numb. You can bring yourself to care as she looks so comfortable. She's always had to fight for her dad's love. It gets tiring after you do everything you can to get no recognition. It was nice to know she had someone. If she didn't have anyone else, she would have you.

Eventually you moved positions to her laying on your chest. Your hand rubs up and down her back as her wrap around your waist. She traces patterns across your skin with her finger tips. It's not long before you're both sound asleep in each other's arms. She would never have to fight for your love, it was just there, ready for her when she came home.

[achenetype]

Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” 

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment. 

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod. 

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out. 

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold. 

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off. 

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says. 

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly. 

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?” 

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil. 

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded. 

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed. 

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.” 

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said. 

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.” 

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this. 

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday. 

You think you’re going to die. 

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it. 

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all. 

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—” 

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.

[jeannineee]

please grace us with a gojo x reader where they take care of cynical toodler megumi I BEG YOU

birthday

author's note: this ended up being slightly sadder than intended, but the ending is happy i promise!!

warnings: slight hurt/comfort. happy ending though bc I can't do more angst rn.

"happy birthday, megumi!"

confused, midnight blue eyes met your own, then slid over to your boyfriend's lanky form. the outstretched arms, the wide grin, slowly melting away into furrowed brows and concern as the seven year-old stood before the two of you, unmoving.

megumi sighed, tossed his backpack on the couch. "it's my birthday."

a statement, not a question.

a quick glance your way, then satoru was back to all smiles, kneeling before megumi, brushing the hair from his face. "it is your birthday. we got you a cake, a few presents. you can pick a movie, and y/n is gonna make some popcorn--"

"why?" megumi questioned, eyes darting between the two of you. there was no anger in his tone, no boredom or sadness. only genuine confusion.

you assumed your position beside satoru, brows kneading together as you helped megumi remove his jacket. "because it's your birthday."

"i've never done that before." a twinge of disappointment laced megumi's words.

"what?" noticing the drop in your expression, satoru took over immediately, guiding megumi to the dining table as you placed candles on the cake. "you've never celebrated your birthday?"

megumi stared. "i already said that. what's the point?"

satoru placed his hands on megumi's shoulders, looking to you for an answer.

"well..." you began, lighting the eight candles one by one. "today is your day. we're gonna celebrate you every year on your birthday."

megumi seemed inclined to understand, focusing in on the candles for a moment before halting again. "but why?"

"because you deserve it," satoru replied, placing a quick kiss to the top of his head. "you deserve to be celebrated, you deserve to have a day that's all about you. these candles aren't gonna blow themselves out. make a wish, gumi."

megumi merely watched the two of you at first, as if waiting for either of you to change your mind; waiting for that 'aha, gotcha!' moment. your heart broke at the sight, but you kept the smile on your face.

when there seemed to be no prank; no incoming punchline, megumi relented, loosing a quiet, uncharacteristically childlike "thank you," as he blew out the candles.

"what'd you wish for?" satoru asked him.

you didn't miss the barely-there smile as megumi shrugged, voice flat and matter-of-fact. "three dogs and a trip to disneyworld."

[dandylovesturtles]

I should be in bed lol but I wanted to write a turtle tot sick fic so here

I went into this with no plan and it ended up uh. way sadder than I intended. whoops.

cw: mentions of vomit

...

Blue slept through naptime. That should have been Splinter's first clue.

In the moment, he'd just been so happy to actually have four sleeping children that he'd taken the opportunity for his own nap, the old, tattered storybook he'd been reading them draped over his face. He never managed to get Blue to wind down enough to sleep, so he usually had to quietly entertain him with books or the tv on low until the others woke up. But his Baby Blue had conked out almost immediately today, and soon Splinter was snoozing right along with them.

Blue was also the last to wake up. That should have been the second clue.

Splinter was woken up by Orange, talking in loud, disjointed sentences with plenty of nonsense words as he played with an old plastic telephone Splinter had found them. Red was racing his toy cars, making his own sound effects as they skid across the floor and crashed into the wall. Only Purple was quiet, industriously sorting his legos by color and size.

Splinter sat up, letting the book slide off his face, and took stock. It was surprising to see Blue still curled up against his leg even in the midst of all the racket his brothers were making. "Blue?" he said softly, giving the little turtle a nudge. Blue blinked his eyes open, groggily looking around. "Naptime is over."

Blue pushed himself up into a sitting position, then rubbed clumsily at his eyes. He looked so tired still that Splinter debated telling him he could keep sleeping, even if it might make putting him to bed later more difficult.

But once Blue was up, he saw Red racing his cars and pushed quickly to his feet, hurrying over to join in the game. Almost immediately he was demanding Red hand over one of the cars and setting up an elaborate make-believe track for their race, so Splinter let it go.

Thirty minutes later, Blue tugged on Splinter's old sweatpants and said, "Daddy, my tummy hurts." In hindsight, this is exactly when Splinter should have put it together.

But the kids rarely got sick - a benefit of whatever Draxum had put in the gunk that turned them into this, Splinter assumed. Which was a blessing, because he was pretty limited in what medicine he could get in his condition. The boys having a hearty immune system was one of the few things Splinter had going for him.

So he hadn't moved to that conclusion. Instead he said, "Do you need to go potty?" and Blue had considered that very seriously for a few seconds before nodding and rushing off to the bathroom.

Orange threw the plastic phone into Purple's meticulously organized lego piles and Splinter moved on to the next crisis without another thought.

It was at dinner, when he caught Blue pushing his food (mac'n'cheese!) around without interest, that it finally clicked that maybe he should be worried.

"Blue, what's wrong?"

Blue didn't so much as look up. He shrugged, swirling his noodles around and around.

Splinter would be embarrassed to admit how long it took him to remember their earlier conversation, but it eventually came back to him. "Ah... Is your stomach still hurting?"

Blue's face scrunched up in misery, and he nodded.

Splinter groaned in exasperation. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did!"

"I mean after you went potty."

Blue grimaced. Instead of answering, he scooped up some mac'n'cheese and stuffed it in his mouth. He looked like he regretted it as soon as he'd done it.

"Do not spit that out," said Splinter immediately, because mac'n'cheese was one of the few things Purple would eat and if Blue spat it out in front of him it would go on his Bad Foods list for at least a month. And Orange had a habit of mimicking anything Blue did, which would only compound the problem.

Blue chewed and swallowed the mouthful agonizingly slowly. He looked so miserable afterward that Splinter felt bad about it.

"Are you going to throw up, Blue?" he asked, and got a furious head shake in response. "Are you just telling me that?" Another shake. "Do you want to keep eating?" A third shake. Splinter sighed and took his bowl from him. "Alright. I'll put this in the fridge, if you want it later."

Their mini-fridge was already stuffed full, but Splinter would simply have to make space, or throw all this mac'n'cheese out. He wished they had a bigger fridge, but just getting this back to the juncture in the sewers he called a home had been difficult enough.

He wished he had a bigger fridge. He wished he had a house. He wished he had a pediatrician to take Blue to. He wished he wasn't a rat man. He wished he and his kids were... normal.

It was a bad thought. He knew that as soon as he thought it, and he tried to push it down. The kids didn't need to know they weren't normal. That none of this was normal. He knew that, but...

"Throw up?" he heard Purple say, and then the telltale sound of him pushing his bowl away. Mac'n'cheese was on the Bad Foods list. Splinter groaned.

...

He found their old thermometer after the boys were finished eating. Getting a temperature from Blue was near impossible because he moved it around too much or spat it out before time was up, but Splinter would have to do his best.

After three tries, he got a reading that seemed accurate enough. Blue's body ran colder than a human child's, and it had taken observation and trial and error for Splinter to learn what constituted as a fever. As it was, Blue was only two degrees above his normal. So at least that wasn't too worrying.

He was still complaining that his stomach hurt, though. A stomach bug, then? Or just something he ate? Usually Red was the one who would put random things in his mouth unless Splinter kept a careful watch, but Blue and Orange were... adventurous eaters, too. It was possible.

They continued with their normal bedtime routine. Another thing Splinter had going for him was that his boys loved baths; getting them into their makeshift tub, even with lukewarm water, was always easy. From his research, Red, Blue, and Purple were all aquatic turtles, and Orange was not one to be left out of his brothers’ games no matter his biology.

Blue wasn't excited for bath time tonight, though. He sat quietly in the tub, making grumpy noises anytime he got splashed and playing only with his favorite blue shark toy, ignoring everything else. He definitely felt bad. Splinter was feeling increasingly terrible that he hadn't noticed.

He got them all toweled off and into their pajamas. Then into the pallet beds he had for them, all in one big shared alcove, a tattered curtain strung up for a semblance of privacy. They would need something more as they got older, but for now the boys seemed content to share space.

He tucked Red, Purple, and Orange in, then turned his attention to Blue. He had found an old bucket earlier that he (theoretically) used for mopping, and this he presented to Blue.

"If you are going to throw up, please do it in this," he told Blue. "We don't have any spare sheets."

"Not gonna," said Blue grumpily, pushing the bucket away.

"Ewww," whined Purple. "I don't want to share with Leo if he throws up."

"Not gonna!" Blue insisted, glaring at Purple, who glared back. Splinter sighed and pushed the bucket at Blue again.

"I am serious, Leonardo," he said, and that got Blue's attention. "If you throw up, do it in this bucket."

Instead of answering, Blue rolled over and scrunched himself up in a ball. That was the best Splinter was going to get, he supposed, so he just sighed and put the bucket next to Blue's bed.

"Good night, boys," he said as he got to his feet, ignoring the crackles from his back and knees.

"Good niiiight," came three echoes. Blue was giving him the silent treatment. Alright.

He went back to his own bed, sectioned off by an old divider screen he'd managed to find. Hopefully they could at least get through the night without disaster striking.

...

According to his beat up alarm clock, it was only two hours later when Red showed up by his bedside, shaking him awake urgently.

Splinter groaned his way into consciousness, blinking groggy eyes until his eldest son came into focus.

"Leo threw up," came Red's predictable report.

Splinter sighed, pushing his sheets aside and rising from his futon. "Did he make it in the bucket?"

Red's expression was not encouraging.

...

He had not made it in the bucket.

Blue sat stock still in the puddle of his own sick, eyes teary and expression a mix between stunned and embarrassed. Purple was pressed as close to the opposite wall as he could get, hands pressed tight over his nose and mouth. Orange was at Blue's side, patting his arm with his chubby little hand.

"Blue," Splinter snapped as soon as he saw the mess. "Why didn't you throw up in the bucket!?"

"Didn't think I was gonna," Blue croaked.

"Well, you did. All over your sheets." Splinter ran his hands over his tired eyes. "Now you have nothing for tonight. And who knows if I'll even be able to get the stain out. I may have to go all the way to the surface to get new ones, and do you know what a hassle that is!? The bucket was right here, Blue!"

"I'm sorry."

The miserable hiccup in Blue's voice effectively stopped Splinter's tirade, and he refocused on his son. Blue's tears had spilled over, streaking down his miserable face. He was shivering, hands clutching the fabric of his ruined sheets, wringing them tight. He looked terrified.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," he repeated. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Something inside Splinter cracked.

Leo was only four, by his best guess. He was a baby, still. A sick baby, and Splinter was yelling at him about... about bed sheets?

Blue didn't know that Splinter would have to steal him new sheets. He didn't know that Splinter feared every time he did something so risky, that it might expose their tiny family to hostile forces - the human authorities, Big Mama's goons, Draxum's gargoyles. He didn't know that Splinter should be taking him to a doctor right now. He didn't know that sleeping on a pallet bed in the sewers wasn't normal.

He just knew that he had thrown up, and his dad was mad about it.

Immediately, Splinter stooped and scooped the still-apologizing Blue into his arms. He was getting bigger all the time, and, somehow, Splinter was getting smaller, but he could still hold his boys in his arms, still cradle them against his chest.

"Blue... Leo, listen to me."

"I'm sorry," Blue mumbled again, followed by a sad, wet hiccup.

"Shh, shh, no, my son, please listen." He waited until teary eyes were turned on him to continue. "You don't need to apologize. You did nothing wrong."

"Missed the bucket," said Blue, and Splinter shook his head.

"That's alright. You're sick. It is my job to take care of these things." He scratched at the back of Blue's shell with the arm holding him, something he knew always calmed Blue down. Sure enough, he felt his boy begin to relax. "Do not worry about the sheets. If Daddy needs to get more, he will. For now we will all share."

Blue sniffed, and buried his face in Splinter's chest. That was a good sign. Splinter kept up the scraching.

"I'm sorry I yelled. You aren't in trouble, Blue. You're alright."

Blue sniffled again. Hiccupped one last time. His tears were drying up, and his little voice said, "S'okay, Daddy."

"Oh, my Baby Blue... Thank you."

He still felt terrible as he lowered Leo back to his bed and started to strip away the soiled sheets, but Leo had calmed down considerably. He kept the bucket close, though, even as he laid back down again on his pillow.

"Leo can have my blanket," said Red, already pulling the old thing over. Splinter smiled gratefully at him.

"Thank you, Red. Blue, do you think you will throw up again?"

Blue shrugged. "Dunno."

"That's alright. It's okay if you do." Splinter smoothed the blanket over Blue, not tucking him in so he could move if he needed to. "I'll get this sheet washed out and be back, alright?"

Blue nodded. He was still gripping the bucket with one hand. Splinter rubbed his head, then stood up with his bundle of soiled sheets.

When he returned, with water for Blue, he'd thrown up again - in the bucket, this time. Orange was still by him, rubbing his arm, while Red sat behind him, supporting his back. Even Purple had come close, awkwardly patting at Blue's leg while pointedly avoiding looking at the bucket.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Blue," he told them, getting three beaming smiles in return.

They were all going to have the bug by tomorrow. Splinter would need to find more buckets.

[tlou-reid]

visitor's list ✰ spencer reid

warnings ✰ angst, cursing, prison spencer

summary ✰ when spencer goes to prison, his visitor's list seems to be missing a name

notes ✰ idk if i like this but it's an idea i had since i first saw s12 lol i hope u like it!

you don't know if anything has ever hurt as much as this. you've had emily prentiss tell you bad news before, this was definitely not the first. but, damn, this was the worst. every word felt like a gunshot right into your heart.

"spencer was found in mexico."

bang

"we are still trying to figure out how and why he ended up there."

bang

"he was, thankfully, extradited back to the united states due to a complication in the case."

bang

"we are still figuring everything out but for now he's here and he is safe."

okay, that part felt good. knowing he was safe was comforting, a little. but, that feeling did not last long. emily had that look on her face. her sad eyes with a soft tilt of her head. she was hiding something. "emily, what else?"

well, she was actually hiding a lot from you. she was hiding that there was drugs involved. she was hiding that reid was on said drugs. she was hiding that he decided not to take a plea deal and was going to have to remain in jail. she was hiding that the fbi would not be helping him at all. she was hiding that he is not in protective custody. she was hiding that you were not on his visitors list.

"we're still figuring everything out, there's a lot of details i don't know and even more i cannot tell you," she takes a sigh, "he has been allowed to have visitors, garcia is going to the first-"

"why not me?" you interrupted with a furrow of your brain. you were spencer's lover. spencer's person. spencer's other half. sure, you did not go out in the field with him. sure, you weren't equipped to handle the legal side, but you knew spencer. physically, mentally and emotionally; you knew spencer. he needed you. he needed you more than someone to talk about what he is missing on the field. he needed comfort, stability, love. all of these things only you could provide for him.

"y/n," emily says, her eyes even sadder, "there are some," she takes a breathe, letting the statement hang in the air for a couple seconds, "complications".

"what kind of complications?" your voice is harsher than you intend for it to be. the tears that have been welling up in your eyes since she knocked on your door are threatening to fall. your whole body is tense as you rush out each inquisitive statement.

"y/n, you cannot see spencer." her tone was more authoritative, but her look, that fucking stare, that was full of pity. full of sadness. god, you hated it.

"what the fuck do you mean?" you rush out, tears finally falling. they had changed their composition. the tears that had welled up in your eyes were full of sadness, full of fear. but the ones that hit your cheek were full of anger, full of distrust. of course you could see spencer, he's yours. he's more yours than any of the bau agents, that's one thing you were sure of.

"spencer, he uh, he had to create his list. the list of people who could go visit him while he is in prison. your name was never put on it."

bang. bang. bang. bang. bang. bang. bang.

emily tried to break the news gently, she did not want you to be hurt and she did not want to be the one hurting you. but there was no way to prevent it. your knees started to wobble and your hands started to shake. your breathing became ragged. this was a new feeling, one you'd never experienced before. you felt sad, angry, distrustful, resentful, jealous. you felt so many things.

emily reached out to put a gentle hand on your shoulder but you dodged it. "he chose not to let me see him." you declared, not leaving any room for emily to reply. emily prentiss is a smart woman, one who rarely doesn't know what to say or do. but she was speechless. she hurt for you. she was sad for you.

"i need to go," you stepped away from her, closing the door and walking into your house. she didn't come in when you invited her and now you knew why. she had nothing but bad news for you.

your tears were flowing freely. you didn't know what to do, so you sunk to the middle of the living room floor, trying to find comfort within yourself. what did this mean for you? what did this mean for spencer? what did this mean for your relationship? here you were, laying in the middle of your shared living room, surrounded by his books, the art he liked, the blanket jj's mom made for him. and yet, he was behind bars not even acknowledging your feelings, your hurt, your uncertainity. upon this realization, the tears turned into sobs, echoing through your home that now felt so empty.

but you were so wrong. so so so wrong. every single thought that wracked his brain was you. from the time he had enough clarity in his brain to think after coming down off of the drugs, you were on his mind. he had written his list with your name at the top, before recalling all of the things he'd been told.

"You just gotta learn how to survive"

"But if you keep this up, keep thinking the normal rules apply in here, then I cannot help you"

"They're gonna beat you again. Might even kill you"

the first time he removed your name from the list, it was selfish. he was struggling in here already, how would he get by if they knew he had a beautiful, loving, kind woman coming into to see him? being happy he was alive? feeling protective over him? loving him? sure, he knew he was a good person, and he knew he was probably the smartest person in here, but he felt so weak. he felt exposed, vulnerable. he did not want them to use the one thing in the world that made him feel those things in a safe, positive way, and run with it. so, for the first time, he removed your name from the list. he was being selfish, he knew that. but he also knew he needed to survive. otherwise, he wouldn't get to come home to you. so, going a few months, just until his team proved his innocence, without you seemed like the best course of action.

once he got over those fears, he decided he'd need to see you eventually. he missed you. he missed your smile. he missed talking to you. and so, he put your name back on the list. he might've even smiled as he went to turn it in, thinking about the day he got to see you.

and then he pictured you. your radiant smile and bubbly energy, walking into such a dark, desolate place. he looked at himself in the mirror, and he imagined you. he imagined you with dark circles under your eyes, the smile wiped off of your face. he imagined you in his spot, weak, scared and unsure of the future. he ripped the list up, re-writing it one last time. to any normal person, it was irrational. obviously visiting a prison and being imprisoned are two very different things. but to spencer, it was the same. you were an extension of him. you felt the things he felt, you saw things the way he did. and he knew that him seeing you, and you seeing him, would not be good for you. so, the list was ripped up. then, it was rewritten with the bau members, then it was turned in.

and then it was forgotten. by him, at least.

as time went on, he had other things to prioritize. he was focused on his safety, as well as the safety of the other inmates. he feels as though he has a duty to protect them, so he moves on and takes action in the prison.

you, on other-hand, are never going to forget his list. the pain you felt because of that stupid fucking list.

so, you keep yourself busy. you work longer hours, picking up extra work in your job. you meet up with your friends, not spencer's friends, your friends. you don't tell them about where he is, just some off handed comment about his job when they ask.

your favorite activity becomes visiting ms. diana. spencer's mom has grown to love you, and you enjoy your talks, even if she doesn't remember all of them. you make it a point to be there when the nurse is taking her lunch, just because you know that jj comes later than lunch time, and you do not want to see her. so, naturally, you do not see the nurse or jj, getting to enjoy your time with ms. diana all by yourself.

you have not seen any of the team. penelope and luke have both left messages on your phone that you haven't bothered to listen to. jj has called and texted, you even answered one time. but when she told you she was on her way to see spencer, you quickly, but politely, ended the call. it wasn't that you didn't want to hear about spencer or didn't want to talk to the team, it just hurt too much. it's been over a month and you haven't gotten to see spencer, or even hear his voice. because of a choice he made. so, seeing those who did get those privileges was too much and you avoided it.

until rossi was knocking on your door, and luke was creeping in your windows. the knocks were quick and heavy, clearly indicating that they needed you. reluctantly, you opened it.

"y/n," rossi smiles, "we did it." you thought you knew what he was talking about, but just in case you were wrong, you furrowed your eyebrows and cocked your head. "reid's out," luke calls from behind rossi. they are expecting you to look excited, to move to the car to go see him right now. but you don't.

your body relaxes. it was a natural instinct. despite all of your feelings about this situation, knowing he was both innocent and out of prison was a comforting thought. a lot of the pent-up negative energy releases from your body once you know he is safe.

"he is coming to the bureau, we came to get you so you can be there when he arrives," rossi clarifies, slightly confused by your lack of excitement.

"he doesn't want me." you were going to say 'he doesn't want me there', but your brain stops you. it's not that he didn't want you at the bureau; spencer did not want you. he did not want you to visit. he did not want to call you. he did simply did not want you.

"what are you talking about?" luke asks. you were getting real tired of crying in front of fbi agents, but here you were. standing in your doorway, crying over spencer reid, just as you had done a few months ago. rossi's face softens, understanding your pain now.

"he didn't let me visit, he didn't call. he didn't want me, luke. he didn't want me when he needed me most and he definitely doesn't want me now." you feel bad for talking to luke the way you were, he was always nice to you. but, fuck, you were hurting.

"he loves you so much," rossi starts one of his speeches, "he was scared, y/n. please, give him a chance. the spencer you knew was not the same spencer in prison. he asked about you every time anyone went to see him. he tried to explain and apologize. not seeing you destroyed him. please, just come with us."

you had never heard rossi beg for anything before. you could see the sincerity in his eyes. right now, rossi knew spencer better than you did. you felt like you didn't know anything about him. so you decided to listen to the person who does. you climbed into the car, letting rossi and luke take you to see spencer.

you arrived before him, taking the elevator up to the bau floor. you were familiar with this room, having dropped off plenty of lunches that spencer had forgotten at home. your eyes fell on his desk. there was a picture frame that you knew had a picture of you and him. despite keeping a neat, proper desk, he always made sure to have a way to show you off. everyone in the room was looking at you with sad expressions.

what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes passed before the elevator dinged, signaling his arrival. when he stepped out, his eyes immediately fell on you. he looked so tired. so scared. so weak. he didn't even glance at anybody else, making his way straight to you. as he approached, you looked at his chest, too sensitive to bring your eyes to meet his.

"i'm sorry," was the first thing he said. he couldn't imagine the pain you were feeling. he had a million things to say but also nothing at all. he let this statement hang in the air before he continued, "and i love you. so much."

you finally looked him in the eyes. you didn't say anything, just looked at him.

"can i hug you?" he asked cautiously. you hesitated and then nodded. you were quickly enveloped by his arms, his scent, his love. him.