Me coming to the abrupt realization that Johnny Seo is the most caring, corniest and loving man out there and therefore the Best Man Alive™ and I can’t BELIEVE I exist on this planet at the same time as him
Okay, so this moment? It slayed me for several reasons. Not only ZOMG LUNYX HAND-HOLDING YESSSSS, of course ;) but because of his reaction.
(Lousy quality, sorry, but it was the only way I could get it into a single GIF.)
That bit of a double-take that he does when he realizes that not only did she not run like he’d told her to but that she’d come back for him? *clutches heart* And look at his hand… She startles him at first, then his hand comes up like he’s going to reach for her then stops himself. Then while his hand is sorta hovering there, she curls her fingers around his and he squeezes her hand, not once but twice. And when he looks forward again…
…look at that determination on his face. His arm is now back in a clear protective position. Nobody is getting their hands on Luna. NOBODY. He’s 1000% willing *sobs loudly* to give his own life to keep her safe.
If I didn’t love Nyx Ulric before this moment (which I did but that’s besides the point ;) ), then this alone would’ve given me *hearteyes* for daaaaaays. ;)
(GIFs are from my vid “Gangsta” which would’ve been done a lot sooner if I wouldn’t have stopped every 10 seconds to GIF/*sigh wistfully*/just generally fangirl over mah bbs. ;) )
but sweet. This person would put her food in the (only) office
microwave and leave the break room while it was cooking. She would
never return on time, and would give you crap if you moved her food out
of the microwave to cook your own. She’d take anywhere from 2-5 minutes
to come back after he food finished.
Attempts to talk to he about it met with pettiness.
And pettiness begets pettiness…
After her food finished one day I waited a minute for her to come
back and decided to add a minute to her cook time. After that extra
minute was finished, The next guy in the microwave line did the same
thing. Then the whole line. In total, 5 extra minutes.
By the time she got back her micromeal was baked down to a piece of
charcoal. (We knew she had more micromeals in the freezer so she would
still get lunch). Her food was utterly ruined. She looked around for
the culprit but we all just ignored her and played ignorant.
Unsurprisingly, she never left her food at our mercy again.
A/N: Hey guys! I recently watched Say Anything for the first time and it sparked some cute Remus stuff. (If you’re here for the boombox scene then I’m going to have to apologize.) Remember to request Imagines, Preferences, Ships, Storylines, and Aesthetics. Hope you all enjoy! <3
M/N: Mother’s Name
D/N: Dad’s Name
(A/N/N): This takes place in the summer after your 6th year.
The car rattles as the train races down the tracks. Your head rests on the frame of the windows. From thee other side of the door you hear loud cackles. The door slides open and Remus gives an exasperated sigh. Behind him follows James, Sirius, and Peter. Remus sits beside you as the others take their seats across from the two of you. Peter places a pile of sweets between himself and Sirius before unwrapping one and popping it in his mouth.
“So Y/n, you excited to spend a whole week with lover boy this summer.” James motions to Remus.
“Actually, about that.”,you reply,”My father refuses to let me stay at Remus’ home for one day let alone a week.”
“This true mate?” Sirius asks.
“I’m afraid so.” Says Remus in a gloomy manner.
You lean against Remus,”Don’t fret love, I’ll write you everyday.”
“Remus gives a shy smile,”I know. It just won’t be the same.”
James and Sirius proceed to make loud vomiting noises while Remus rolls his eyes. You chuckle and peck Remus on the lips, earning another series of vomit sounds from across the car.
“You’re both such children.” Remus grins.
The train halts to a stop in the busy station.Outside your compartment the clusters of students pass through the hall, eager for summer holiday to begin.Remus reluctantly hands you your trunk before grabbing his own. Peter, Sirius, and James all file out, chatting about the upcoming quidditch game cup.
Once they had left, Remus set his trunk down and wrapped his arms around your waist. You shuffle your trunk from your grasp and place your hands on Remus’ cheeks, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. He tightened his grasp on you, pressing your body against his. The train’s whistle blows and you pull apart hoping for just one more second with each other. Instead you both grab your trunks and exit with the last of your classmates.
After exiting the train you engulf Remus in a hug. He holds you tightly until his mum calls his name in a singsong tone.
“Goodbye Remus.” You grimace.
“Goodbye love.” Remus kisses the top of your head and breaks away from you embrace, picking up his trunk and heading off to meet his mum. He waves back to you as he disappears into the crowd.
The following week you receive a letter in the post. Immediately knowing who it’s from, you rip open the envelope. Before you can read anything the owl, who had been lingering at the table, nipped your finger.
“Oh! Of course! Here you are.” You beam placing a pile of seeds in front of the owl.
You read the letter intently as your mum cooks breakfast, humming lightly as she does so. Thin handwriting is scrawled all across the parchment.
I know it’s only been a week but I miss you so very much. I have to see you. I don’t quite know how yet but I’ll find a way.
You smile at the thought of seeing Remus, even though it’s unlikely.
“Who’s that from?” Your mum smirks.
“A friend.” You blush.
She turns back to the counter and you could have sworn you heard her say,”Mhm friend.”
That evening, after dinner, a knock came from your front door.your father stands up from his chair in the living room and answers the door. At the door stands a tall thin boy with wild brown hair, attempted to be combed.
“Who are you?” Your father asks.
The boy at the door shuffles his feet and looks sheepishly at your father.
“I’m Remus Lupin sir.” He holds out his hand to shake.
Your father reluctantly shakes his hand and stares at him clearly not amused.
“I assume you’re here to see my daughter.”
“Actually I would like to speak to you sir.” Remus says.
“Me?” Your father says, puzzled.”Why would that be?”
Remus becomes quiet. He draws his eyes away from your father, not quite ready to be sent off yet.
“I would like to get your permission to take your daughter out tonight.”
Your father opens his mouth to speak but decides to let Remus continue.
“Not just tonight, but every night. I understand that you don’t approve of me. But before you make a final decision let me tell you a few things about myself.”
Remus waits. Your father gives a firm nod to encourage him to go on. Remus gulps and takes a breath.
“I read a lot sir, mysteries mostly, classics as well. I love chocolate, who needs drugs when you got it? I believe smoking is a nasty habit, my best mate does it and it’s rather stupid. My mother raised me to respect all women sir and I live by it. Lastly I care for Y/n’s safety more than my own and will always put her first.”
Your father stares at Remus with a blank expression. They both stand on either sides of the doorway. Your father takes a deep breath and finally speaks.
“Here’s the real question boy. Do you love my daughter? Or are you gonna dump her next week for someone else?”
Remus furrows his brows and puts his hand on his chest, stepping forward slightly.
“Sir, Y/n is not a fling. She’s never been a fling. I love your daughter and if I’m quite frank sir I hope to marry your daughter.” Remus sees you at the top of the staircase. “That is, if she’ll take me.”
Your father stands in silence, eyes wide and mouth shut. He turns around to see you with a big smile spread across your face. Remus hears footsteps from the left of the door and sees your mum walk to the door smiling warmly.
“Hello Remus. Nice to meet you.” She slides out from behind your father and holds out her hand to shake. Remus smiles,”Nice to meet you as well Mrs. L/n.”
“Oh you can call me M/n. and this is D/n. Come in come in.” She trots back inside.
Before Remus could go inside your father places a hand on his shoulder and looks at Remus.
“You meant all that?”
“Every word.” Remus responds instantly.
Your father nods with a smile and guides Remus inside,”I still don’t like you though.”
Hey Guys hope you liked it! Thanks for reading!! Happy Monday!
| Request: “i have a request (if it’s fine with you): you have a shibe and you’re neighbors with dan. so your shibe runs out of the door and dan actually played with it and that’s how you guys met lol” |
| Warnings: None. |
She taped a lost dog sign to her front door before heading out to tape them around London.
Her dog, a shiba inu, ran out the door as she walked out to get her mail.
“[Y/D/N]! Come back!” She yelled, but the dog was out of her sight.
So she’d made fliers and started placing them around, hoping someone would see her dog and bring him home.
[ Dan’s POV ]
I heard barking.
I got up and walked to the front door, attempting to peek my head out but instead being nearly knocked over by a giant tan ball of fluff running in the door.
I turned to look at the shibe sitting in the middle of the room, tongue hanging out and fluffy tail wagging wildly.
Almost as if it were smiling.
I walked over to it and put my hand out for it to assess, it licked my hand and I began to pet it.
“Good doggo.” I smirked, noticing it’s collar, I grabbed it’s name tag, [Y/D/N], it stated, followed by a phone number and a females name.
“Did you run away?” I asked the dog, who only tilted it’s head and began barking at me again.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I stood, pulling my phone from my pocket and dialling the girls number.
Ring, ring, voicemail.
She must not have her phone on her.
“You’re stuck with me for awhile.” I told the dog, who happily barked.
[ Normal POV ]
After plastering my dogs face all over the main part of the city, she returned home.
Throwing herself on the couch, she finally noticed the missing rectangle in her back pocket.
Not only had she lost her dog, she managed to somehow lose her phone as well.
But then her phone began ringing, following the sound to her kitchen, she picked up the phone and answered the unknown number.
“Um, yes, hi, is this [Y/N] [Y/L/N]?”
“Yes I am, who is this?”
“Hi, yeah, my name is Dan, I have your dog, did it run away?”
“Yes! Is he okay?” She spoke, relieved.
“He’s fine, he’s been in my apartment all day, I called earlier but you never answered, so.”
“Yeah about that, I lost my phone too.”
“Wow.” He chuckled.
“Where do you live? I’ll come get my dog.”
After telling her which apartment was his, [Y/N] knocked on his front door.
“Come in!” He called.
She walked in, immediately being greeted by her dog.
“[Y/D/N]!” She said between barks and slobbery dog kisses.
She looked up when she heard laughter.
“He really loves you huh?” The man spoke. He looked about her age.
Tall, slender, dark eyes, dark, curly hair.
He was cute, she couldn’t deny it.
“Thank you for taking care of him.” She spoke.
“No problem, I love dogs.” He said sincerely. “In fact it was nice having a dog around, even for a few hours.”
She smiled, thanking the man once more and taking [Y/D/N] home.
When she arrived home, her phone buzzed, a text from the same number who called about her dog.
“We should hang out sometime, maybe you could even bring [Y/D/N] around? - Dan”
She smiled, a pink tint crossing her cheeks, she quickly replied-
“I’d love that, only if you don’t steal my dog.”
Just as fast, her phone buzzed again, another text from Dan.
“Fine, but I can’t promise I won’t steal something else.”
Requested by @lydia-and-cheryl:
You should do an imagine where Madelaine Petsch and the reader are dating and they’re cuddling on the couch behind the scenes and before they do a scene of Riverdale and Camila tries to pull her away from y/n but she’s too lazy to get up and madelaine calls y/n for backup but Camila just ends up dragging her by her arms to the set. I feel like this would be cute and is needed.
Notes: Okay so this isn’t smut, but its really cute ahh. I can’t really think of a super long plot for this so it’s just going to be really short. But I hope you like it!
Warnings: Hmm, Mila being a butt. Madelaine being just the cutest. Dassit.
It’s been so long since Madelaine and I have had time to ourselves since she started shooting season 2 of Riverdale. In between takes, she’d come right back to her dressing room and we’d either sleep or just cuddle until she had to go. Right now, we were just watching TV with our arms wrapped around each other. Being in Madelaine’s arms made me feel safe, from the way she played with my hair to the way she’d lock her legs around my waist. She was the literal best cuddler. She was always so warm, and she smelled like cinnamon spice. Sometimes if I really needed it, she’d hum my favorite song until I fell asleep. “Mads, you’re gonna have to go soon. I hope you know that.” “Shhhh, stop talking. Just enjoy babe.” She said as she kissed the top of my head. I just laughed and nodded. It was very peaceful, until Camila burst through the door. “Madelaine we have to go shoot the next scene.” Mila said, whilst she tugged on my girlfriend’s arm. Madelaine looked me dead in my eyes and said “you spoke too soon.” I slapped her arm while she had a death grip on mine. “Y/N help me!” She screamed. “I’m sorry, darling. My legs hurt.” I pretended to be in pain. “Y/N, you ass. We’re going to fight when I come back!” She screamed as Camila dragged her out of the room. By fighting, she meant tickling, and Jesus I am not ready.
Terrible day anon, and that is extremely generous... I know creativity isn't a faucet. But if some Hansy lightening bolt struck you, I could not would not complain.
The thing Harry hated most about Pansy Parkinson was the way she pushed her hair back when she was reading. She’d been coming into the same coffee shop he liked for three weeks, always ordering the same thing, always sitting in the broken down green arm chair by the window with the spider plant. She’d kick her shoes off, tuck one foot under her, and read her book for an hour, then leave. And the whole time she shoved her hair back behind one ear only to have it fall forward again. She’d do it over and over again for the whole hour and he kept seeing the motion out of the corner of his eye and it distracted him.
He was supposed to be reviewing a long series of dull regulations. There were rules for Aurors - so many rules - and most of them hadn’t been updated since 1479. In 1479 some poor sucker had been asked to review them all, and had.
Apparently it was his turn to be the sucker.
He hated it.
He didn’t like fighting dark wizards. The idea had seemed noble when he’d been fifteen but now he thought he might have changed his mind and being asked to read through pages and pages of this garbage and make suggestions for changes wasn’t making the job any more appealing. He’d taken to abandoning the Ministry offices to work here where the coffee was better because there was no way any human being could read through this stuff without coffee. He’d asked Hermione for help and she’d laughed at him - actually laughed - and told him no friendship was great enough to take that on.
And he’d been doing fine until Pansy had starting appearing. Every little shove of her hair distracted him, and then he’d realize he’d been staring at her cute nose and her perfect lips and her smart little skirts for ten minutes and he’d force his eyes back to the parchment in front of him.
Then she’d push that hair back again.
He finally couldn’t stand it and on a Monday at 2:37 in the afternoon he shoved his hand in her face with the elastic hair tie he’d taken from the table where Hermione had left it when she’d gone up to Ron’s room the night before. “If you tied that mess back you’d stop having to play with it,” he said.
She looked slowly up from her book and met his eyes for so long he began to squirm under that gaze. “Potter,” she said at last. She plucked the elastic from his fingers, placed it between the pages of her book, and closed the cover with a snap. “What’s it to you?”
“You’re bothering me,” he said, realizing how stupid that sounded as soon as the words left his lips.
“So?” she asked.
He had to bluster on now. He’d trapped himself. “I have to read this,” he said. He had the day’s pages in his other hand. They were confidential. He couldn’t just go about leaving them on coffee shop tables. “I can’t focus with you around.”
She shrugged. “So stay in your office,” she said.
“I hate my office.” Sometimes you only hear the truth when you say it out loud, and all the ways he’s resented this work, and all the ways being an Auror was a letdown, and all the ways he didn’t want to ever have to fight a Dark wizard again crystalized in that one sentence and he sank down into the hard, wooden chair directly opposite her and said again, “I hate it.”
The spider plant brushed against his cheek and he batted it away with annoyance. Pansy reached over and took the pages out of his hand and skimmed them. “You read through this on purpose?” she asked.
“It’s my job,” he said helplessly.
“So quit,” she said. “You’re rich aren’t you?”
Harry nodded, though he still felt poor. He still felt like the kid wearing ill-fitting hand-me-downs and he suspected he always would. Her face softened for a moment and he wondered bitterly which of the ‘Poor Harry’ unauthorized biographies she’d read. They ranged from sentimental to salacious and none of them did more than flirt with the truth but most liked to dwell on the horrific Muggle parenting he’d endured. Abuse sold.
She slipped her book down into her bag, put her foot back into her shoe, and stood up. “Good,” she said. “Since you’re rich you can afford to take me to dinner.”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Harry said. “I have to go back to - “
“Ugh,” she said. “You do not. Are you taking me on a date or not?”
Harry decided he was. He most emphatically was. And he did. The Ministry sent three owls demanding the classified and confidential files back and one Howler denouncing him for quitting after they’d made a special accommodation for a man with no N.E.W.T.s Pansy sent one back.
He watched her write it.
She kept shoving her hair back behind one ear and he thought how much he loved that absent-minded gesture.
Everyone left eventually. He was convinced as much. Maybe it
wasn’t because they’d willingly left, but the universe somehow decided that
when he was born, people would come and go, and apparently the words would too,
so he decided if he never knew who his second soulmate was, he’d never lose
Maeve had left – taken away at just over the age of 30 after
the universe taunted him with her love for just over 100 days. Elle had left,
unable to reconcile her desire for revenge and her role as a law enforcement
agent. Emily had left, and fuck if that wasn’t too complicated a situation to
delve into on his way into work. Granted she’d come back from the dead, but it
wasn’t the same, because she needed to create a new life for herself. Gideon
had left, with just a note saying he was sorry for how him leaving was going to
No one’s life revolved around Spencer. He knew that. And
that was fine. Everyone’s lives were intertwined with someone else, who was
affiliated with someone else and so on and so forth, so did Spencer ever expect
anyone to make a decision for themselves based on how he’d react? Of course
not, but it didn’t help him from wondering whether or not anyone of his friends
or loved ones who’d left realized or cared how it would affect him. Emily was
the only one he knew of for sure that regretted the way everything had
happened, but that was because she had been the only to ever return.
Elle and Gideon were god knows where. As he rounded the
corner to pull into the Bureau parking lot, a meeting with Hotch waiting, he
let his brain wander. If he had his way, they’d be back, but in lieu of them
returning, he hoped for their happiness. He hoped that Gideon had found love
again. After losing his college sweetheart to Frank Breitkopf, he couldn’t deal
with the horrors of the world, vanishing into thin air. Spencer hoped that he’d
found someone else, a light coming to his eyes that had been ripped away so
violently years earlier, as he saw new words spring to life across his
skin. Together, they would travel across
country over and over again, taking in the beauty of the world that had been
eroded away during Gideon’s 30 years with the BAU.
In Elle’s case, Spencer couldn’t even hazard a guess as to
where she was. In the time he’d known her, she didn’t have those blessed or
damned words (depending on who you spoke to). Maybe she had found someone since
then. Maybe not. But wherever she was, he hoped she happy. In a perfect world,
she’d have formed on organization for sexual assault victims, something to help
the people she had so desperately wanted to help, in a way that didn’t require
breaking the laws she swore to uphold.
So that was what, five, six people that had left in one way
or another? Gideon, Elle, Emily, Maeve, his father, and most recently Blake.
Like a mother to him, she’d left after he got shot. Again, the horrors of this
job kept taking their toll on the ones he loved. Having Blake leave hurt more
than he thought it would
The friends he did have he loved more than anything else in
the world. However, they definitely weren’t known for minding their own
business. Actually quite the opposite, which was bothersome no matter how pure
the intentions. But Blake was different. Blake always made it known that she
was there for him if he wanted to talk, but never forced him too, through words
or body language. She was effortless to be around, but in a familial way rather
than a romantic way. He was convinced that if the universe hadn’t already
showed him that it was possible for him to have a romantic soulmate, he
would’ve seen Blake’s first words to him on his arm. For all he knew, they
could be lying under the bandage he continued to wear – more than a year later.
Although Maeve’s death was getting easier to handle day by day, he still wasn’t
ready to see those words. There were too many awful possibilities that he
couldn’t handle after all he’d been through.
After parking at 7:13 in the morning, he’d apparently sat in
the car in deep thought for the past six minutes. His brain told him to move
(he did have a meeting to go to after all). While he took the steps up slowly,
wanting more time to himself and his mind to wander, he tried to decipher
Hotch’s words. What did he want to talk about? Hotch had only said that he
wanted to talk to Spencer before work in the morning, but it was a solo
Gently, Spencer knocked on the door, cracking a small smile as Hotch said good
morning. “Come on in, Reid,” he said, sitting down at his desk and searching
the younger agent’s eyes for how he was feeling this morning. “How’re you
“Sleepy,” Spencer replied with a shrug. He sipped at his
coffee, which he wished he could ingest in IV form because once he was
physically up he hated wasting time on actually getting up mentally. “But
otherwise okay. Why did you want to talk to me this morning?”
Hotch smiled, Spencer, much like himself, was always the
kind of man to cut to the chase, but for his extensive IQ, he hadn’t deduced
what it was that Hotch wanted to talk to him about. “I just wanted to talk
about how you’ve been feeling since Blake left.”
In a huff, Spencer got up to leave. “Sit, Reid. I’m not
Spencer rolled his eyes and turned back into the seat,
taking another large cup of coffee and nearly burning his throat. “Why do we
need to talk about this? It sucks. End of story.”
“Not end of story. You dam up your feelings and when it gets
to be too much we both know what happens.” Spencer saw the smallest of glances
between Hotch and his own arm. He was referencing the dilauded he turned to, or
desperately wanted turn to, during times of great stress. “Reid, you and an
invaluable asset to this team, for your mind, and just the dynamic of the team.
We all need you, but we need you at your best, and when you keep these emotions
bottled up, you are not at your best.”
A minute or two passed by, during which time Spencer stared
everywhere but where he was supposed to. “Everyone leaves Hotch. That’s my
life. What can I say? My father left, then Gideon left, then Elle left, then
Emily left, came back and left again, then the love of my life got shot, and
now Blake is gone. What am I supposed to do with that? Am I supposed to
operating at full capacity barely a month after Blake left?” When he was
younger and had just joined the Bureau, Spencer wouldn’t have allowed himself
to get so snappy with a superior, but aside from being his boss, Spencer also
considered Hotch a friend, and right now his friend was making him angry.
“Because I’m not. But I always get back to where I need to be when people leave
me alone to grieve in my own way. Blake understood that.” He said that last bit
under his breath, a lone tear stinging at the corner of his eye as he looked
down at the floor.
Hotch understood. They all got each other to a deeper degree
than most people understood their friends given what they did for a living, but
Blake’s connection with Spencer went deeper still. “I know Blake leaving hurt
you, but that’s all the more reason to seek someone out to confide in. Does
keeping in all make you happy?”
“Of course not,” Spencer snapped, raising his voice slightly
higher than he’d intended. “What would make you think that? It makes me
“Nothing,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Then why don’t you
speak to someone?”
“Because either way I’m miserable. I keep it in, I’m
miserable by myself, or I let it out and make everyone around me miserable. Why
would I do that to the people I love?”
“Because we love you,” Hotch said. It was rare he said those
exact words to his co-workers. He was more the type to imply it than say it,
but Reid needed to realize that despite his childhood, where he was, in
essence, alone, it wasn’t that way any longer. “Talk to someone. Anyone.
Whether it be one of us or not.”
In his head, Spencer knew he didn’t want to be an ass, but
that’s where his heart was headed, so he just shut his mouth…until he couldn’t
anymore. “Do you ever take your own advice?” Hotch was the king of keeping in
his emotions, or at least that’s what Spencer thought. “Do you ever talk to
Beth about the cases that get under your skin?” The sentiment was filled with
such vitriol, probably because Spencer assumed that Beth had been Hotch’s
“Not anymore,” he said, getting up and walking around to sit
on top of the desk. “Beth and I broke up.”
Spencer had been looking down at the floor the entire time,
but his head sprung up at the realization that Hotch’s second soulmate didn’t
last. “I’m sorry,” he said. “After…” he didn’t want to say Hayley’s name. It
was still a sore subject; Spencer could tell. “I was really happy that you’d
found your soulmate again.”
“She wasn’t my soulmate.” Hotch watched as the surprise
spread across the young man’s face. “I don’t know whose words these are.” On
his arm was written ‘she must’ve been an incredible woman.’ “These weren’t the
words Beth first spoke to me, but we got along really well, and since neither
of us had any words on our arms, we decided to just go for it. We were both
convinced, and still are, that those words can pop after you start a
relationship. That it doesn’t have to happen before. It can. It can be
something that the universe has ordained for you, but we both believe that it
was something that individuals could change.”
“And did it?” Spencer asked, genuinely curious. He’d never
expected that Beth and Hotch hadn’t been made for each other. They just fit
together so perfectly.
“Well, no,” Hotch smiled. “But that doesn’t mean that it’s
not true. Look, I like the idea of having someone, or multiple someones, out
there in the world waiting for me, but I also like the idea of having some
control over my own destiny, that those soulmates or soul companions can be of
your own choosing as well as the universe’s.” Spencer had never really thought
of it that way before, which was astounding considering how much time and
energy he’d put into the whole concept as a child.
The earlier tension faded to the background when the
conversation had changed direction. “I never really thought of it like that,”
Spencer finally said.
“I think you have,” Hotch said, continuing when Spencer
looked confused. “Whether you’ve actively thought about it like that, I think
the reason having these people, or some of them anyway, leave, hurt so much was
because you felt a deep soulmate-like connection to them. Especially Blake,
Emily and Gideon.”
Spencer swallowed hard. When he’d come in the room, he’d
been angry, then the mood turned to pity for the demise of Hotch’s
relationship, to slightly more light-hearted, but now…now he was sad again.
Spencer was pretty sure this was the opposite of what Hotch had wanted from
this meeting. What Hotch had said made total sense though. That’s why he’d been
hit by people leaving so much more than other people, because for Spencer, the
people that came to him later in life felt like soulmates; they felt like those
childhood friends and loved ones that he’d missed out on, so seeing them leave
was like a dagger in the heart.
The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to cry, and
eventually, he couldn’t stop himself, openly sobbing in Hotch’s office.
Hotch got up and closed the blinds, just in case people
decided to start walking in a little bit earlier than usual, and once he
returned to his desk, he grabbed Spencer by the shoulder, hoisted him upward
and wrapped his arms around him. “Look, Reid. We are never telling you that you
have to talk, but we are here if you want to talk. We may not have all the same
experiences as you do, even though someone like myself has lost a loved one in
the exact same way you did, but that doesn’t mean we can’t listen, and as your
friends, that we wouldn’t want to.” Spencer hadn’t lifted his head from Hotch’s
shoulder, but he nodded that he’d heard him.
After a minute or two, Spencer’s tears dried up and he
lifted his head, making eye contact with Hotch and giving up; giving up trying
to look okay when he wasn’t. “Now listen, I think this soulmate thing is
bothering you more than you’re letting on. We’ve all noticed that you have your
arm bandaged up. You have other words?”
“I saw the faint outline of ink, so yes, but I don’t want to
look at them.”
Hotch put out his hand and reassured Spencer. “And you don’t
have to. What I want to say is that the words don’t have to dictate your life,
if you don’t want them to. If you keep that bandage on, and two years from now,
you feel a spark with someone, take that bandage off and realize that the words
don’t match, don’t give up your autonomy. We were born into this universe where
this exists, but that doesn’t mean he have to think of it as God. Pursue love
in your own way. Let it come to you. And maybe, one day, you’ll realize that
you have the power to change your fate. What I’m saying is remain open.”
Spencer breathed a cleansing breath, feeling a little bit
better after talking with Hotch. “I’ll try,” he said, walking toward the door.
As he turned the doorknob, he stopped in his tracks. “Do you think I could come
in this time next week?” He asked, realizing he sounded like he was talking to
a therapist. “I have no idea what I’m going to need to say or if I’ll need to
say anything, but I might feel better coming to you.”
“Same time next week,” Hotch replied with a laugh. “Bring a
book if you feel like it. Just know that I’m here.”
And with that, Spencer walked out and went back to his desk,
his shoulders slightly more uplifted after their talk. As Hotch sat back down
at his desk, he’d hoped he’d gotten through to him. He liked the idea of a
soulmate as much as the next person, but he would hate to see Reid close
himself off to the world and all its possibilities just because his feelings he
had didn’t align with the words painted across his skin. Whether he was romantically linked or not, he
had soulmates all around him – if only he allowed them in.
Imagine being a young child, and finding yourself lost in the streets of Nepal. You’ve had to go down dark alleyways and trek through crumbling streets to find somewhere, anywhere safe, and suddenly you find yourself ducking into a tiny building-when you end up stumbling into a monk. A monk right in the middle of prayer, no less.
“I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
You start to choke up, as the Omnic looks over at you from his place on the floor. You hadn’t noticed, but it’s only him and another odd-looking Omnic in the room, not at all like the dozens to hundreds of people that usually prayed all together in the monasteries.
“Little one, pocket your fears. You’ve interrupted only silence.”
The monk smiles at you, and presses a hand to his chest.
“My name is Tekhartha Zenyatta. I am a traveling monk, and this is my student, Shimada Genji.”
You now take notice to the second Omnic’s katana on his back, but rather than be frightened, you’re actually rather intrigued by his ninja-like appearance.
“Where are your parents, young one? It’s dangerous to stray by yourself.”
When Genji questions you about your parents, your eyes actually start welling up, and suddenly you aren’t in control of your emotions anymore. You start crying which leads for Zenyatta to reach out and take your hands in his.
“M-My mama…she told me to wait…and then she left. I d-don’t think mama’s coming back…”
At that, Zenyatta asks you to sit, and you shakily fall down next to him, and hold his hands until the tears pass.
“Have faith, my dear. You will be safe in our care, until your mother comes for you. I’m sure she will, little one.”
The Omnic pats your head, and you finally have the chance to properly introduce yourself to the two of them. Unfortunately, your mother doesn’t come back-but you’ve created an unbreakable bond with two of the people you trust most in the world. And with their love and support, you know you can do anything.
She bowed forward under the shower and let the spray cascade down her back. It burned. The water heater was very good, and the water pressure was even better, and the water was running into her eyes and stinging.
Yet, she didn’t feel clean.
She wasn’t sure if she ever would. If this feeling even could be scrubbed off her skin, out of her insides. Missing her chance.
They’d missed their moment.
She knew from painful experience that you couldn’t force it back. When Will had come back into her life, she’d had that fluttery feeling in her throat, and she’d mistaken it for hope, for a second chance. Instead it had only been a leftover grief and perhaps a little shame at how she was still NYPD and he was still FBI and they still couldn’t close that chasm.
Rick Castle would eventually pass out of her life. Maybe not today, but ‘soon’ was on both their hearts. Soon. He would have to leave, and it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault, it would be the natural way of things.
Everyone had their season. Theirs was drawing to a close.
Beckett pushed her hair back off her face, wet and running into her ears, down her neck, heavy at her back. She turned and tilted back, let it all wash away, everything.
Soap and sadness.
She turned off the water and opened the glass door, stepped out onto bare tile. She hated the cold marble under her toes, the sense of slippery danger if she moved wrong, but she’d forgotten the bath mat.
She yanked a fluffy white towel from the rack and let it fall unfolding, wrapped it around her body. Another towel because she could, because she would allow it to be ‘for her’ even thought it wasn’t, because she did deserve better, regardless what his accusations and her own mangled psyche tried to tell her.
She deserved to use as many damn wonderful towels as she wanted.
She dried her hair with the obscenely large towel and then straightened up, staring herself down in the mirror. She felt scrubbed raw if not clean, and she dropped the towel to the floor, damp and used, despite the polite placard that asked her to re-use her towels.
Also on the floor? Her smoke-and-alcohol drenched clothes from a lifetime ago.
She had no clean clothes.
She had no clean clothes.
Kate groaned softly and hid her eyes behind her hand, trying to summon the strength of will to put them back on again.
A rap on the door made her startle, her name low and apologetic. “Beckett? The concierge dropped this off for you. Can I just - or you can - open the door and take these?”
“What?” she scraped out, feeling a mess all over again. A messy frustrated stupid-
“Beckett.” The door opened and she gasped, her heart instantly in her throat, the flush of her skin and the fall of her wet hair on her shoulders making her aware in a way that was disgraceful.
“Castle,” she warned.
But he wasn’t coming in; he was shoving something through the crack in the door.
Jeans. A couple t-shirts. Something plaid that looked incredibly like a shirt she owned. Wool socks.
He had his head bowed, both hands extending his offer. His eyebrows knitted together even as she ducked to be sure his eyes were closed.
Maybe she didn’t want them to be closed.
She swallowed roughly and reached out for the clothes. “Thanks,” she whispered. “Thank you, Rick.”
His head lifted, eyes opening.
And her towel, tucked between her breasts, suddenly unraveled.
Because Bruce is too busy, Alfred picks Cass up from her dance classes(whether ballet or not, up to the fans to imagine :D). When she comes back home, she sometimes demonstrates what she learned in class while in the foyer; pirouetting after Alfred as he walks into the kitchen to fix up a post-practice snack.
Definitely some ballet. I think her favorite dance class though is interpretive hip-hop. It’s how she told Bruce the story of how Jason has been sneaking in to steal brownies. It’s much more sophisticated than charades.
Right guys my life is fulfilled because Dorothy Miranda Clark aka lower case d dodie tweeted me on her own terms because I went to her merch table on the last day of Summer in the City and asked her mum if she’d be coming back for one last time because I wasn’t actually able to see her live performance due to a flight I had to catch at the same time as her performance, but she said no. Then I tweeted her mum saying thanks and what an amazing lady she is and that I really could tell that she felt sorry for me not being able to meet dodie and she actually replied with a thank you back which made my little heart do flips and cartwheels. So now a few days later I reckon they must’ve been going through the gifts dodie got at sitc and maybe they found the chocolates I left for her and Astrid (dodie’s mum) might’ve remembered me cause dodie said that she’d been looking for my twitter all day and now SHE TWEETED: “@sevgii98 HELLO FRIEND my mums been trying to find your twitter all day! Apparently we haven’t met yet but when we do I will hug u so hard<3”
AND “Anyway thank you for the chocs!!! <3333”
So now it’s safe to say that today is the best day of my life so far and I’m still crying
I mean, I know it would never happen in a million years, but my dream scenario of Liv coming back would involve her deciding she’d rather live with Robert because he’s never actually left her and he needs someone to love him too and be on his side.