#I thought it could be a depressive episode too but it’s lasted so long like 4 years at this point I’ve been like this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

obxsummer · 4 months ago

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selfish // ghost of you

navigation -- series masterlist

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader (she/her)

summary: covering the 18 months after el dorado, the pogues are home and are attempting to work through life back in kildare. you're dealing with your trauma setting in, and jj's usual reckless decisions are not helpful in the slightest. oh, and it's time to treasure hunt. again.

warnings: s4 spoilers! for episode one, violence, cursing, the usual obx. heavy mentions of trauma/depression/anxiety/ptsd.

-- So, you might be wondering. What happens after you find the lost city of El Dorado, get blown up, two of your parents die, and you’re stranded in South America with a sack full of gold? Let’s catch up.

First, you catch a ride back home, and you sleep for like three weeks. And then when you finally get back, you make peace with the fam… or not really. And after all the loose ends are tied up, the gold.

$1,172,549…Enough money to get you back on your feet and taken care of after what had been the most insane chase of your life. Pope was the mastermind that pieced together a plan and after a heated, overpriced auction, you stood in front of the old Maybank property that had been transformed into a dream. A surf shop, JJ’s new boat, a dock, and a house full of love and friendship.

Granted, things got iffy and your plethora of money dropped quickly (no thanks to JJ’s poor budgeting), and you were already tight in terms of keeping the business alive. So, you were laying low and helping where you could.

While you were glad to be home and no longer on the run, it didn’t keep away the haunting memories that followed. This was the first time since John B went missing that you’d been able to sit with your thoughts and try to process everything that happened. And it wasn’t easy.

“Hey there, sweet thing.”

You glanced up from your spot on the hammock, having been dozing in and out of sleep for a few minutes now. JJ stood in the doorway, his cutoff shirt framing his tanned skin nicely as you smiled up at him.

“Hi.”

He moved to meet you, lips pressing against yours in a warm, feverish kiss. The two of you had just spent the weekend away in Savannah, Georgia while the other Pogues placed the finishing touches on the property and store for opening. They were more than happy to send the two of you off for time away since you were both more touchy and lovey than you had been in a while. It was the vacation you needed and deserved.

“You coming to the race?” JJ’s voice was raspy and he sat on the netting next to you. It was the annual Kildare Enduro, one that JJ loved to get involved in and you loved to watch, but after his last biking accident, you were a bit nervous.

Your fingers messed with the hair behind his neck as you hummed in agreement, pulling him back down to your lips. “Not happy about you racing on that bike but yes, I’m coming.”

One of the few things you all allowed was for John B and JJ to pick out a new dirt bike, given the fact that you only had the Twinkie as reliable transportation. Now all three of the boys had their own, so as long as the van kept running, the six of you had a fair chance.

“You love me on the bike, baby.”

You chuckled at JJ’s words, giving him another kiss before rolling off the hammock to prevent yourself from falling asleep. “I love seeing you on the bike, J. Don’t love you racing on it.”

The beach was slammed with bikes, trucks, and tents for the racers and crowd of the day when you all arrived. You and Kie business yourself grabbing lemonade as Cleo and John B made sure JJ’s bike was ready to go.

“How was your trip?” Kie asked as she shoved her reusable straw into the lemonade cup after politely declining the plastic ones the cashier had offered.

You pushed your sunglasses up and sipped your drink as the two of you started walking back to where the Twinkie was parked. “So nice and peaceful. We didn’t do too much but it was a welcomed change in the chaos.”

Your eyes caught sight of Topper Thornton in his red racing gear, no doubt having a stare-off with your boyfriend. The thought of JJ out there racing against Kooks who clearly had a bone to pick with you guys didn’t help your anxiety.

Sarah thanked you as you handed her a lemonade before sitting in the back of the van which had been pulled up to the makeshift track so you all could watch. Being in this new rhythm had been so odd for you, especially after you started to make peace with the idea that you would never have this sort of “normal” again.

“Did you know?”

You looked up to see your brother, John B, staring back at you with a frustrated frown on his face. He had pulled on his racing jacket, which added to your confusion, but you could tell he was pissed at something. And just like that, things had gone to shit again.

You glanced at Sarah, who looked just as confused before shaking your head. “What are you talking about?”

John B sighed and stepped closer, crouching in front of you. His demeanor changed when you tensed, not knowing what was happening. “Did you know JJ bet the gold?”

“He what?” Your voice was deep and angry. JJ’s lack of self-control when it came to spending money had become severely frustrating for all of you, especially when he spent so much to reclaim his house when it wasn’t worth over half of it. “Please tell me you’re lying, JB.”

He didn’t answer and instead, got to his feet to grab the handles of his own bike that had been driven over.

“John B!” You set your lemonade down and quickly got to your feet as Kiara started cussing out JJ’s behavior, Sarah mumbling her agreement. “Are you serious?”

Your brother stopped short, his eyes searching yours as if he could say everything without speaking. He knew you were already anxious about JJ racing, and putting both of them in there was slowly becoming a fearful experience for you. It didn’t make you feel any better when Rafe settled into a spot next to Topper on his bike, revving his engine to make a scene.

“I’ve got him, okay? We’re gonna make it work.”

You didn’t say anything else, watching as he made his way to the starting line and leaving you between two heated girls who had their glares set on your boyfriend.

It had been hard for you to adjust after nearly dying multiple times while in South America. You’d had a lot of talking sessions amongst each other as a group to cope with it, making sure everyone aired all their emotions when they needed to. Even as though you were practically adults, life was still scary, and you’d had too many breakdowns to not acknowledge it.

JJ had taken most of the nightmares and sleepless nights you’d been cursed with, talking you through every bit of it until you would fall back asleep. John B did his best to pull you out of your head, clocking the look on your face when you’d get too deep and try to pull away. He meant it when he said he was working on being better for everyone, but especially you.

It was a process, but it was working. Slowly but surely, you were healing. It weighed on you mentally, but you were so appreciative to have the support you did.

So, watching the two boys you loved the most get into a race with people that hated you, was scary.

“They’ll be fine,” Sarah reassured as she watched her own boyfriend pull his helmet on before adjusting his bandana around his face. “Does JJ ever think before he does anything?”

“No, never,” You were quick to answer, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not even once.”

Kie wordlessly held her joint out to you, which you took with no objection. This was slowly becoming a horror movie as they took off from the starting line, the roar of the bikes overwhelming as sand flew up behind them. You kept your eyes on JJ and John B as long as you could until they disappeared over the hill and into the treeline.

“We’ve got some serious contact in the brush. Oh, and it sounds like Topper didn’t like Maybank crowding him there. Taught him a little lesson. Stuffed him like a turkey!”

You groaned, burying your face into your hands as the announcer covered the parts of the races you couldn’t see behind the trees. Not only was JJ losing, he was losing badly.

“It looks like they’re turning around the buoy. We’ve got Rafe Cameron still in front ahead of the group of riders. Cameron seems to have things well in hand. No mistakes and he should take home the Kildare Enduro. There’s Maybank bringing up the rear. Tough race for him and oh, he’s down again in the deep sand!”

Kiara groaned loudly this time. “Fucking shit, JJ!”

“Wait, what’s he doing?” You caught on to the fact that JJ wasn’t slowing down to make the left-handed turn that would put him en route with everyone else and instead had set his eyes straight ahead where the inlet met the track. “Are we seriously doing this again?”

Sarah grabbed your hand, squeezing tightly as JJ approached the jump at full speed. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t take your eyes off the scene as he threw himself and the bike in the air, managing to catch the ground just ahead of Rafe.

“Holy shit!” Cleo yelled as JJ pushed forward, everyone bursting into cheers as he held the lead. The remaining racers turned the corner and you caught sight of John B nearing Topper, the two pushing each other for the next spot.

Rafe managed to catch up to JJ quicker than you would’ve liked as they hit the final stretch. Things were looking up and you fought the glimmer of hope bubbling in your chest that this may all end up in your favor.

Until Rafe’s tire nudged JJ’s and sent both of them flying in the air.

“Jay!” You were moving before you realized, only to get tugged back by Sarah and Pope from interfering as more racers caught up. JJ was moving though, and that was the only part you really cared about.

John B came flying into view next, barely stopping in time to miss JJ’s crumbled form that was in the sand, which gave Topper the door to win. You couldn’t even care about that though, and as soon as the bikes cleared you were flying forward to your boys on the track. You made it to them as John B pulled JJ from the ground, your boyfriend shoving your brother angrily as he mouthed off.

“Hey!” You yelled and grabbed JJ’s arm to move him as he tossed his helmet aside angrily. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

JJ shook his head and continued separating himself from the group. “I don’t want to hear it right now.”

“Then you’re going to fucking hear it later, JJ!” You shouted after him, anger overtaking your anxiety as the adrenaline wore off. So much could’ve gone wrong and you could’ve lost more than the money. You glared at him, angry tears burning your eyes as he continued to walk away as if it didn’t matter.

“Hey, hey.” John B’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, tugging you back into his chest as he turned you away from the sight of your retreating boyfriend. “He’s fine, we’re fine. That’s all that matters.”

“Get used to it.” A raspy voice cut off your response to your brother as you shifted to see Rafe pulling himself off the ground next to you.

“What’d you say?” John B’s hold disappeared from around you before he moved forward to confront the older Kook with a shove. “Nah, man. What’d you say?”

Rafe hit John B back, both boys ready to start a fight instantly before Sarah jumped in between them. “Hey!”

“This is forever, alright?” Rafe screamed, backing up a few paces. His face was burning red with anger and you feared he would lash out right in front of you. “Y’all don’t get to win.”

You shook your head, placing your hand on John B’s shoulder to keep him back. “We never get to win, Rafe. In case you haven’t fucking noticed.”

“You could’ve killed each other!” Sarah yelled back at him as she continued to force her brother away from your group.

Rafe pulled himself out of her grip and shook his head. “Yeah, like you give a shit. You gonna kill me like you killed Dad?”

Your eyes widened as Sarah attempted to defend herself from the comment, but Rafe had already walked out of hearing range. Your friends crowded around the three of you, JJ still in his own head behind the crowd where you left him.

John B shook his head, running his hand through his hair. The last hour had really wiped him out, physically and emotionally. “We are so screwed.”

Kiara nodded in agreement, the displeasure evident on her face. “Yeah. We are.”

“Why are we screwed?”

The question coming from Pope made you sigh and dig your palms into your eyes in frustration. This was the worst outcome possible for something that was supposed to be fun.

“Just come on, let’s go.” John B led the group back to the van as Pope pushed for an answer that none of you were willing to give yet. Kie busied herself tossing the lawn chairs in the van, John B taking a seat on his bike and replacing his helmet as Sarah waited for him.

“Do you want me to get him?” Cleo asked you as she nudged her head in JJ’s direction. You followed her movement to see the boy cussing at himself, kicking sand, and throwing an angry fit.

It broke your heart, but you shook your head. “Leave him, he can come home once he’s calmed down.”

That was another thing that had taken a lot of time to figure out, was how to separate yourself from everyone’s emotions. You were such an empathetic person that you wanted to solve the problems and help everyone, but it had taken its own toll for so long that you needed to end the habit. JJ included. As much as you wanted to run over and hug him and tell him it was fine, it wasn’t.

It wasn’t until you guys were back home, John B and Sarah following the van on his bike, that Pope approached the subject again. “Someone better tell me what happened before I lose it.”

Shoving the passenger door open, you forced yourself out of the car, knowing the rage was coming quickly. “JJ bet the last of the gold on himself for the race.”

Silence echoed for a moment.

“What the fuck!”

The rampage of Pope Heyward was well deserved. The poor boy had done so much to try and extend the gold payout as best as possible and lost in every way. So when JJ resurfaced at Poguelandia 2.0, all hell broke loose.

“I said it. I said it once, and I said it again. I said don’t touch the last of our nugget. That was it. That was the last of our savings! Do you not care?”

JJ spun around in a fury, his body scratched and dirty with sand from the crash. “Pope, you saw what happened, man! He stole it, okay? He cheated and he stole it. That’s not my fault, Pope.”

“Do you know how selfish you sound?”

JJ laughed, which just pissed everyone off further. “I sound selfish? I was trying to help us.”

“You helped us, you just cost us everything. Thank you!”

You curled into the sleeves of your sweater as you watched your boyfriend pace. How he thought none of this was his fault was crazy. “Jayj, why are you making it sound like you had nothing to do with it?”

He looked at you and all the anger disappeared from his face, leaving the vulnerable boy you loved so much with tears in his eyes. “Okay, babe. Babe. You know me. Okay? I was gonna bet it all. That’s who I am.”

Kiara scoffed from next to you, “You should’ve talked to us first! It was too risky this time.”

“And what were you doing?” Pope’s anger turned toward John B, who instantly went wide eye at the attack. “You knew he had it and you just let him race?”

“He told me last minute, alright?” Your brother attempted to defend himself but it fell on silent ears.

“John B, look, man. You were supposed to cover-!”

“I did cover!”

The arguing escalated loudly between all three boys until you covered your hands over your ears to block it out. You’d never faired well with yelling since everything happened with Rafe, and hearing it from the people you loved made it worse even if it wasn’t directed at you.

Cleo took one look at you and shut it down. “Hey, enough!” Her voice echoed around the space, effectively chopping the harsh words that were being through. “How bad is it, Pope?”

“How bad is it?” Pope repeated the question as he faced her. “We have a $13,000 property tax payment due in seven days. And we have zero working capital. There is nothing. And you took the last of our savings, so thank you.”

Silence followed the heaviness of his voice before he left you all outside. You winced at the severity of JJ’s actions, knowing these consequences affected all of you and it wasn’t like the hot tub episode at the Chateau where it was a rough purchase.

JJ called your name, breaking you from your thoughts as you looked up at him. His eyes were still red and clouded with tears. “Baby…”

“I’m going to go for a little bit. I’ll be back before dark.” You didn’t leave room for argument, instead taking off in the direction of the dock where the HMS Pogue was.

You weren’t trying to give anyone the cold shoulder, but you promised yourself you would try to be better about handling your emotions on your own. You needed to process and take care of yourself alone sometimes.

“Hey,” Pope’s voice was soft as you caught sight of him in the boat, looking out over the water. Seems the two of you had the same idea to come out here. He whispered your name when you didn’t answer or say anything.

You shrugged, climbing in to sit near him as you pulled your sleeves over your hands. “I’m trying.”

“You’re okay.” Pope’s affirmation sent you into tears. Your knees pulled to your chest as you let out a shaky breath. He didn’t hesitate to wrap you into a hug, letting you cry softly.

“I’m trying really hard,” You breathed out, hating how weak your voice came out. “It’s like the second a voice raises I shut down and-and-”

Pope held you tightly against him, allowing you to have time to get your emotions out. These panic episodes happened more often than you’d like since you had all gotten home an you felt so embarrassed for your friends to deal with them.

“Just breathe, I’ve got you. I promise.”

Pope had become an anchor for you since the moment that was shared on the plane to Orinocco. When it had been revealed that you felt left behind after John B disappeared, he took it personally to help where and when he could. You had always been like a sibling to him and it broke his heart to know you were struggling so much.

The two of you sat there for a few until you caught your breath and recentered. The air was brisk as you drove the HMS through the marsh, taking in the sunset as you did. As much as you loved JJ, you were disappointed he had made this decision on his own. He was trying to help, he always was, but sometimes it just didn’t go that way.

“I’m sorry about JJ,” You said as Pope slowed down for the final stretch before the dock. “I know he means well, but it doesn’t always turn out that way.”

Pope shook his head softly. “I know he does too, but his impulse will be the death of him.”

Unfortunately, you didn’t disagree.

The house was relatively quiet as you walked in, quietly thanking Pope before making your way up to your shared bedroom with JJ. You could hear the shower running, the light poking from under the door along with soft music that told you that Sarah was likely inside. The bedroom door creeked quietly as you opened it. JJ’s figure was sitting in your floating egg chair, the one thing you’d asked for at the thrift shop.

“Hi,” You greeted quietly. He immediately looked up, relief flooding his body at the sight of you as he got to his feet.

“I’m so sorry, I-”

You held your hand up, intercepting whatever he was going to say. “Jayj, I know you are. And I love you, but I really don’t want to talk about this right now. Okay?”

His hope deflated but he nodded regardless. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Um, Kie made salad. There’s leftovers in the fridge. I can… I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

You shook your head softly, giving him a small smile before wrapping your arms around his neck gently. “After today, there’s nothing more I want than to hold you and make sure you’re okay. So no, you’re sleeping here. Now come on, macho. Let’s clean up those cuts and get your ass to bed.”

And then our luck turned, and the Outer Banks Sentinel wrote about us and our journey. They finally excavated the cave we blew up and suddenly, we’re heroes. It’s pretty weird, to be honest. After the ceremony, this old guy named Wes Genrette came up to us with a request. He invited us to his private estate to discuss his proposition. So, here we are. Eighteen months after finding El Dorado, on our way to Goat Island. Back in the G game, for what we hoped was the last time.

navigation -- series masterlist

a/n: and we're back!!! send ideas, send requests, and let the angst begin !!!!

#goy series #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj x reader #john b routledge #john b outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks jj #jj maybank x routledge!reader #ghost of you

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sweatervest-obsessed · 5 months ago

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Last, Last Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: ~7.3k

TW: Angst, guns, violence, mentions of domestic violence, blood, swearing, depression, kidnapping, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, heartbreak, arguing, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure, and anything else that comes with a criminal minds episode.

a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupitar. writing this was a little bit of a catharsis since it's one of the first things I've been able to write. I'm sorry I've been so m.i.a., i just moved to a new country and that has been a crazy experience. But to cope with that, enjoy some gut-wrenching angst!

Alternate Ending! Spencer Masterlist

“Spencer I won’t—I can’t keep doing this. I’m sick of arguing in circles.”

“Y/n…”

“I-I feel like you take me for fucking granted Spencer. All I do is work and then come home and wait for you to actually be able to, I don’t know, sleep in the same bed as me for more than four hours.”

The look in his eyes almost took you out but your heart had already been broken long, long before this argument. If anything, you were starting to feel this sense of freedom as you broke his heart.

“Please. Y/n. Just–I don’t—Just give me a few days to convince Hotch to let me have some time off and we can work on this please.”

“Wait for the potential of us?”

Spencer’s jaw loosened. You couldn’t read beyond the initial layer of pain and confusion, which made your chest ache since not too long ago you could have been able to find everything you needed in his expression.

“God Spencer this can’t be fucking news to you. We’ve been drifting apart for months now.”

“I know, I know. You have been so patient with me and I’ve just been….there was that whole thing with Cat and then….I-I was trying so hard y/n…”

“No, first there was that whole thing with Maeve.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Oh that’s not fair? Really? You’re going to tell me the entire Maeve thing isn’t fair to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t trying but come one Spencer. There’s no need to deny this shit anymore. I hate it when you lie to me about these kinds of things.”

Spencer’s hand came up to his face and it dragged down, aging him significantly with the fatigue written all over his face.

“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home. A note or....”

“I-I don’t know Spencer. I just don’t…”

The tears were starting to creep in, and you had to place the box down before you lost it.

“This isn’t easy for me either…” Your chest heaved.

The both of you stood in silence, tension simmering surrounding the both of you like heat on a summer’s eve. Neither of you could really look at one another, but it felt wrong to look at anything else. Something was missing but you couldn’t say it outloud. You knew you would always love Spencer Reid but this time it was not enough.

“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.”

Your eyes met his. You felt Spencer’s arms around you before you could even feel the tears hit your cheeks. Your arms immediately went to his neck, so familiar. No longer home.

Spencer’s voice muttered into your ear. “Don’t cry Jolie. It’ll be okay..”

About three years ago, Spencer had decided that he didn’t like that you had nicknames for him, and he had none for you. He spent weeks workshopping different ones : Sugar, Honey, Pumpkin, Sweetheart, Darlin, Pookie, Lover, Sunny (like sunshine), Sunshine—it was a wild few weeks trying to figure out who he was talking to. Then one day, offhandedly, he was trying to tell you about this french film he had been watching, and trying to get Emily to watch with him.

He called you ‘tres jolie’, and blushing you had asked him what it meant. He told you it meant pretty.

And it stuck.

Now? It stung.

All you could do was squeeze tightly onto him, not ready to let go.

“You’re so pretty when you’re lying through your teeth.” You whispered after a few moments, pulling away out of his arms.

“I.” You swallow and step back, out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll...”

Spencer just looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears that were streaming down his face.

You grabbed the last box on the counter and your keys, and walked out, for the last time.

You awoke in your bed, eyes adjusting to the complete darkness the blackout curtains provided you.

Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and how your life may have gotten better because of it.

Moving to get up from the bed, you decided to leave the curtains closed for now, feeling as if you could melt from the sun touching you.

You turned on the bathroom light and started your morning routine. Wash face. Take meds. Brush teeth. Fix hair—

Somewhere in that process, you got lost, and just stared at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t sure for how long. All you could do was replay the last four years.

Did you make the right choice? You were happy, you had your dream job.

Maybe it was true what they say, you can only have a career or love, but not both—

The only thing taking you out of this spiral was the ringer on your phone going off.

This caused some hesitation because your phone’s ringer was always off––the loud noise startling you. There were only a few people who had that emergency bypass, and none of them had called you in four years.

You peaked out of the bathroom and saw the name light up on your phone.

Emily Prentiss

______________________________________________________________

The door to the round room opened up and in walked Spencer Reid. “Catch me up.”

Prentiss clicked the remote, and the TV lit up with a picture of a woman smirking facing the camera while holding a gun up to another one next to her. “Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server.”

The second woman was tied up, mouth slightly open, and eyes filled with tears, while a man on the other side just had his eyes closed, tired. .

Spencer just stared at the photo.

Rossi nodded at the picture. “She's not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”

He never pulled focus away from the screen, mouth dry at the thought of what today was going to be. “Any ideas on the unsub?”

“No.” Prentiss sighed. “Only the unsub's demand. That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours. I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions. This is just a game to her. We know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

______________________________________________________________

Receiving a call from the FBI was not entirely new to you, since you had been engaged to one of their agents, but receiving one now? Weird. Off brand. Something was deeply wrong from them to have to give you a call.

You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“

“I know who you are, Emily. It’s been a couple years, not millions.”

Emily hummed a brief laugh, and you could hear other voices behind her, unable to make out anything.

“I know this is hard to ask of you, but would you stay on the phone with me and come in?”

“What?”

“I need you to stay very calm Y/n, but I need you to stay on the line with me, leave your apartment as soon as you can, and get to the BAU.”

“Oh my god I totally forgot. It might take me an hour to get there with all this bullshit traffic, could we push the reservation an hour? Would they be willing to do that?”

Your entire tone changed, having remembered what Spencer had told you all those years ago about if people were listening into your apartment, if they bugged your car—all paranoia that didn’t pay off then, might be paying off now.

You were sure you could hear Emily sigh, and it sounded a little upset at the fact that you knew what to do–you knew how to handle a dangerous situation, which made her question everything in her life.

Quickly you pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and grabbed your keys off of the counter.

You left your apartment, waved to one of your neighbors, and hopped into your car, still on the line, just trying not to panic. Maybe something went wrong, maybe Spencer wasn’t okay, maybe he had died—you refused to even acknowledge that thought and decided it was something else entirely.

It was a very tense hour of driving, that was only about forty minutes since you knew how to drive above the speed limit.

You realized that it was past midday, and you had taken full advantage of the weekend. So at least you had a decent amount of sleep under your belt for what felt like the beginning of an extraneous night.

As you pulled into the parking garage, Emily Prentiss and someone you had never met before were standing there waiting for you. You placed your car in park, hopped out and walked up to them–only hanging up as soon as you were out of the car.

Both of them had such grim looks on their faces, but at least they were trying to pretend like the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared to your face.

Emily engulfed you in a hug. “Missed you Y/n. It’s been too long.”

“Well Em, next time I end an engagement with someone I’ll consider your feelings first.” You squeezed him back, dryly laughing at your own joke. At least it caused Emily to snort.

“Y/n this is SSA Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He gave a small smile and nodded at you.

“I wish it were under different circumstances.” You nodded back and looked over at Emily.

“Let’s head inside?”

The three of you moved inside.

Sure, you hadn’t been here in a while, but you knew your way around the BAU Bullpen if your life depended on it, which was ironic since that was what this feels like.

As soon as you were safely in their round table room, Luke shut the door, and stood by it, Emily coming and sitting down next to you.

“What do you know about Cat Adams?”

That bitch.

______________________________________________________________

“I would like to go on a date. With you.”

Spencer stared at her, face stoic as ever. “A date?”

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun.” She looked him up and down. “And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”

Spencer sat down across from her. “Come here. Closer.”

Cat leaned in, a small smile on her face, absolutely intoxicated by being so close to him.

“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

Cat scoffed. “You're just going to let her father and sister die? I don't think so.”

“I never said it was a father and daughter. You're already slipping.” He stood up from the table. “We'll find them. We always do.”

Cat leaned back and crossed her arms. “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”

His resolution had yet to change, “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.”

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

______________________________________________________________

Both the profilers watched a series of emotions run rampant across your face, before you settled on a somewhat displeased smile. “A lot.”

They exchanged a look, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend like you didn’t know what it was.

“Don’t start with me you two. I know profiling. I know what you’re doing. Ask me the questions you want to ask. Don’t try and trick me into giving the answers you want.”

Alvez bit his tongue and looked away, trying to hide a small smile that appeared on his lips.

Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better than him, but part of being previously engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their tricks too.

She nodded and pulled a file from across the table. “I’m assuming you know the basics since she, uh, is obsessed with Spencer.”

“Glad to see he still has that going for him.” You muttered and looked into the file.

Emily shot Luke a look when he let out a huff or air, trying his damndest not to laugh.

“What is the last thing you know about her?”

You recounted the days leading up to the restaurant, and then the few days after, decidedly stopping short of the engagement breaking off a week later.

They shared another look, and you didn’t enjoy whatever it was that had moved across their faces.

“What? What happened?”

“Y/n..”

“No Emily, I drove from DC to here, I deserve to know what happened. without some weird sugarcoating, alright?”

Emily then begins to explain to you the past four years of Reid’s life. Cat pretending she was pregnant with his kid in prison, kidnapping his mother, framing him for murder in Mexico, going to prison—

“Spencer went to prison and none of you thought to call me….”

“We didn’t think you’d–”

“I’m a fucking criminal defense attorney in DC Emily. Of course I’d want to know if he was arrested, especially internationally. I know that law better than all of you. If someone I knew was kidnapped, I’d call you immediately. Faster than the cops.”

Both of them went silent.

“So is he out?”

They nodded slowly, silently.

“How long was he in there.”

Nothing.

“I asked. How. Long.”

Luke spoke up. “Three months.”

“Jesus christ.” You stood up and started to pace around the room, taking the time you needed to calm down.

Why didn’t Spencer call you—well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you.

“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here?”

“Cat’s execution is coming up, and we….we found out that she’s convinced someone to kidnap some….people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.”

Your eyebrows went up at people but said nothing of it. Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her.

They entered and JJ gave you a small, yet genuine smile.

You returned it, but quickly shifted your gaze onto the woman behind.

Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily walked over and stood next to you, a hand appearing on the small of your back as a comfort.

“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?” The blonde woman spoke up, arms crossed.

At least Spencer’s taste in partners with attitude hadn’t changed.

______________________________________________________________

“Victimology is off.”

“How so?” Prentiss looked up at him as he walked into the room.

“Father and daughter. She’s never done that before.”

Lewis spoke up. “She usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children–even adult children, are off limits. Do we have an ID yet.”

Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, and JJ all looked over at Reid, and he just pulled a hand down his face. “It’s. It’s Issac and Noelle Y/l/n.”

“Y/l/n…as is Y/n Y/l/n.” Tara looked up surprised at Spencer.

Reid nodded slowly, just staring at the picture on the projector.

While Luke spoke up. “Who is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“An old friend.” Rossi quickly interjected, before any more explanation had to be said. It was clear both Alvez and Simmons, that whoever this was, was an extremely touchy subject for Reid.

Tara, who had only known you for a little while, looked back at the picture.

Rossie spoke up. “What do we know about the partner who’s helping her?”

“It’s got to be someone from her prison.” Simmons spoke up. “She hasn’t had contact with anyone else.”

______________________________________________________________

After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you left four years ago. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved in, but there was less of it.

Almost as if he was having trouble covering places where things used to be.

There were almost no photos on the walls, since you had taken half of them, and were in the rest.

Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong.

Max, as you had learned her name, was just sitting on the couch in your spot . She was looking around as you and Rossi stood by the kitchen counter.

“Cat had a cellmate named Juliette Weaver. We believe the two were working together, as a way for Cat to get something against Spencer, and as payment, Cat would get Juliette’s ex.”

You nodded. “How does this affect me?”

“She took your father and sister.”

Your back straightened and immediately brought out your phone, to call your sister, but Rossi just grabbed your wrist (gently) and shook his head. “If she finds out you know, then it’s all over. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows about you and Reid, but she knows that dragging you into all of this will hurt him more than anything else.”

His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear.

“So why is she here?” You whispered back.

“Because we don’t want anyone in danger.”

You closed your eyes and nodded. “I need a cup of tea.”

Rossi let go of your wrist, and you walked into the kitchen, mostly eyes closed from the stress of the situation.

The apartment was silent, the others watching as you grabbed a kettle, and started to make tea. It was like second nature to you as you turned the stovetop on, grabbed a mug from the cabinet (careful to not grab one of his favorites), and grabbed some tea from the cabinet.

It didn’t dawn on you that you were drinking your favorite type of tea until the second sip, while the entire apartment was still silent.

The pity from Rossi's look was palpable.

“Don’t even start.”

He shrugged and stayed silent.

Until his walkie went off and he looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.”

Rossi looked back at you and gave you a quick hug, squeezing you tightly. “You’ve got this kid. Remember everything we talked about.”

You nodded and gave them both a strained smile as they left the apartment, leaving you all alone in this place you once called home, alone.

Never once, since you left, did you think you would ever be back here. You didn’t even realize you were drinking from one of your own mugs until it was just you. The irony of it was not lost on you, and you sat down in your spot on the couch.

Well first you sat in Spencer’s seat but it felt too weird, so you shifted back into your spot on the couch.

______________________________________________________________

“Juliette staked out in Reid’s life. Found out he was dating someone, but then must have discovered his ex-fiancée.” Simmons sighed. “He was probably so focused on Max, he didn’t even realize that someone was digging into his history, following them around.”

Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. It means she must have access to all of her publicly available information. “

“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.”

“No. We found Cat’s hidden agenda. Juliette doesn’t care about Reid. There’s something we’re missing here. Do a deep dive with Garcia.”

Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.”

“I’ll go to Reid's apartment and monitor onsite. Is there a trap and trace on his landline?”

“Garcia’s almost set up.” Simmons walked away from Prentiss, and down towards Penelope’s office.

“Well this went from bad to worse.” Tara walked up to Emily.

Emily sighed in agreement.

Lewis spoke up. “Female narcissists destroy their competition.Y/n really shouldn’t be in there.”

Emily just nodded and the two of them headed out of the bullpen. “Walk with me.”

Tara kept stride with her as they pushed through the doors. Rossi was just getting off the phone with someone and turned to look at the two women approaching him and JJ.

JJ spoke up when Rossi was finished. “So, the hospital just released the dad– Issac Y/l/n. He's on his way here now.

Rossi scoffed. “Question is, why let him go at all?”

“Matt's on that.” Emily gestures in the direction of Garcia’s office. “Juliette Weaver's real agenda should tell us where she's taking Y/n’s younger sister.”

Lewis spoke next. “I still think the play here is to get Cat and Juliette to contact each other, but I have no idea how.”

Prentiss crossed her arms. “I have a plan, but first we have to talk about Y/n.”

______________________________________________________________

Just then, you heard the click of the door, and stood up, watching as the door swung open.

And there he was.

This was the first time you had seen Spencer in four years.

And here he was, kissing Catherine Adams.

The woman you could give partial credit to for ending your relationship.

After a moment Spencer looked up, and took several steps away from Cat. His eyes were wide and locked on yours.

It took a lot of self-restraint to not punch the lights out of Cat, and to stand still arms crossed.

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke a little bit.

You never would say that Spencer was unattractive. In fact, it would be a lie if you ever said it. But something about the past four years aged him like a fine wine.

His hair was a bit longer, he had some scruff—his baby face had melted away and standing in front of you was a man who thought you knew everything about, but was now a stranger.

You didn’t answer him, watching as he took you in, standing in his apartment, for the first time since…

“What are you doing here?”

You looked over at Cat, who had the most devious smirk on her face.

Remember what Prentiss had said to you.

“You know why I’m here.”

Cat nodded and the two of them moved into the apartment, the door closing behind them.

Spencer just stood ten feet away from you, eyes never leaving you, and you watched him right back.

Cat, on the other hand, was walking around, examining the apartment. You could see her take notice of the tea you had made yourself on the counter. You could see the hatred from the corner of your eyes. The two of you were starting to piss her off.

She spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your Fiancé?”

You shook your head. “No.”

Your focus had fully turned to Cat, but you swore you swore you could hear Spencer take a sharp inhale as you spoke your next words.

“Well, he's not my fiancé and I kind of have some other things on my mind.”

Cat didn’t scare you, but there was just something so off-putting about her. “Like what?”

“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”

Cat shrugged. “Not if I don't have to, no. Honestly, if she follows instructions, she might even learn from this whole experience.”

You scoffed. “What does that mean?”

Cat just started fiddling with the chess set on the dresser.

“Spencer, what does she mean?” You turned to look back at him, his name feeling so good on your tongue.

Spencer, who really hadn’t stopped looking at you and sighed. “I think…She means that Noelle isn’t learning from her, but from Juliette.”

You sat down in your spot on the couch, arms crossed. You were on the full defense.

Spencer noticed where you sat and had to look down to conceal any notions of a smile on his face.

Cat watched him before turning and looking at you, some more disdain on her face than before.

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight, I've brought you all here to make a point. You are doing so much better.”

Spencer spoke up. “With you?”

“I'm not talking to you.” Cat snapped at him before she turned to you. “I'm talking to you. Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.”

“He's not my finacé.” You were unsure about how many more times you could say that outloud.

“No kidding. When’s the last time you spoke? Right…” Cat walked over to the center of the room, right in front of the couch. “Here?”

Your head whipped around to Spencer. “You told her about that?”

Spencer was pleading with his eyes. “I had to say a lot of things tonight.”

Cat’s voice caused your head to snap back to her. “Yes, he has. He said that you never compared to me, that, um... That no matter what, he will never get me out of his mind, unlike you. Unlike that girlfriend.”

You tried not to wince at the mention of that girl Maxine out in one of the trucks.

Spencer sat down next to you. “Everything I said—I was lying to save your family.”

Cat scoffed. “Did our kiss look like a lie?”

“No.” you just looked down at your hands.

“Thank you. See, now we're getting to the heart of the matter.” Cat started mocking Spencer. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is... Is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who, uh, always saves the day and has all the answers. And has zero mommy issues, right? But, um... I know the real him.”

“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?”

“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls. And hisses that he's going to kill them.”

Spencer stood up, squaring off against her. “That was a very different situation.”

“No, it wasn't.” Cat was holding the smirk back this time, making your gut wretch.

“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to the man you realized you might have never really known beside you.

“You tell her. She's not gonna believe it coming from me.” She huffed.

Reid turned and looked at you. “Two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…”

Your chest hurts. “And you threw her against a wall?”

Cat’s smirk was breaking through whatever resolve she had. “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. She deserves to know everything.”

Every single time she said Spencie you swore a shock went up your spine.

Spencer looked down at his hands, and then over at you. His voice had gotten quieter. “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.”

“And?” She stood there expectantly, waiting for Spencer to finish. When he didn’t, her face suddenly became solemn. “The next day... I miscarried. The end.”

Spencer looked at her. “That's not true.”

“It is most certainly true. Check my medical records.”

“That doesn't mean I-I would…”

Cat held up her hand to him. “Stop. Look.”

Spencer looked over at you, just sitting on the couch, trying to process everything that was going through your head.

After thinking about everything you had gone through, especially with Spencer. “I thought you were better than that Spence.”

It was the first time you had used a nickname for him in years. And he was hearing it for the first time while you were stuck in a standoff between himself and Cat Adams, your sister being god knows where.

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.”

Cat squatted down in front of you, a sick smile on her lips. She was enjoying this. She truly enjoyed watching his life crumble to bits. “Notice how your Spencie is apologizing to you and not me.”

You clenched your hands. “He’s not mine…”

Spencer just looked over at you.

Cat nodded. “That's good. Because men are all the same. Aren't they, Jolie?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up with an emotion you rarely saw from him when you were together. “Don't call her that.”

And you couldn’t blame him. The word ran you through like a spear and you were sure if you looked behind you, the blade would be through the couch. You tried so hard to not let either of the two people near you see how much it messed with you. Luckily for you, Cat was too busy pushing Spencer’s buttons to see the way her words won against you.

Cat hissed at him. “What, are you gonna throw me against a wall and choke me, or do you only do that to pregnant women?”

You finally spoke up. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to see it.” She gestured to Spencer. “I want you to see that he is...no better than he was before, or any man after. They’re all the same.”

“Stop.”

Cat squatted down in front of you. “I can see it on your face. What's his name?”

You stared back at her. “It's none of your business.”

That damned smirk of hers returned. “It is exactly my business. In fact, it's my specialty. I mean, I could have Juliette and baby sister go over there if you want. They could take care of him.”

Reid looked over at you. “Say yes. Give her what she wants.”

“Hmm. See, he wants you to get me to make a little phone call so they can trace it.” She moved away from you both and sat down in the lounging chair across from you. “They're so good, the FBI.”

You jumped up and started pacing, a spitting image of four years ago. “What is wrong with the two of you? What is this sick, twisted thing that you have? Listen, I just want to save my sister. Will you please just tell me what I have to do to do that?”

“Tell me his name. Tell me the story. That's it. And then if they can let Juliette exit stage right, then I promise you I will let her go.”

You looked between Cat and Spencer before walking over to the kitchen, and hanging up the phone. After staring down at the decision you had just made, you walked back over and took your phone out. “Here. Use this. Use my phone. They can't trace it.”

She just watched you. “You'd be surprised.”

“I don't even need a call. Just... just a photo.” You held the phone out to her. “Something to prove to me that she's still alive. Please”.

Cat just looked up at your face. “Story first.”

“Y/n. Please.” Spencer turned to you, hoping you’d look back at him. “I have been here with her before. She called the number and told the partner to kill my mom.”

“It is so tricky, isn't it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath... Or me?”

You looked down at the ground, refusing to look over at Spencer. “His…His name was Mike Davis. We dated for two years. I met him a month after we…we split.”

Cat’s attention on you felt as if there were a million bees stinging your body all at different intervals, pain coursing through your body. “Good. When did it end?”

“Last year.”

“Was he good in bed?”

Spencer stood up. “Shut up.”

Cat was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching you make Spencer uncomfortable. She was enjoying hurting him in every masochistic way she could. “What? You have to know where you stand.”

“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response wasn't "get out." It wasn't "go to hell." It was "I'm sorry, Mike." That's when he knew he had me.”

There was a glint in Spencer’s eyes, and you could swear they were tears, but you couldn’t tell from rage or sorrow.

Cat continued to probe. “How many hospital visits were there?”

You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess.”

“But you found the strength to leave. What did you do?”

“ I planned and I... I waited.”

Cat’s eyes lit up. “Waited for what? “

“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “but I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Y/n, stop talking. Stop talking right now.”

Cat shushed him. “No, don't stop. Here. Give me the phone. Look, I'm gonna enter the text. Stick the landing and I'll hit "send."

You handed her the phone and she quickly typed out a message, her thumb hovering over send.

Fiddling with your ring finger, you started to speak again. Slowly. Concisely. “When I was ready, I picked a fight. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And he came at me with his fist just cocked back, so I pulled my Glock 19 out of my purse. I shot him.”

Spencer tried to interject. “It was self-defense. He was attacking you—”

“That's what I told 911 as he was struggling to breathe on his kitchen floor. That's why the police never charged me. I’m a lawyer, I know how to plead.” You closed your eyes. “But I... after I hung up, I... I shot him two more times.”

Cat was glowing, spinning around to face Spencer. “Wow, you really have a type, don't you? Quite a dilemma, too. She just admitted to murder.”

Spencer was in disbelief. “She'll beat it.” .

“Probably. But whatever feelings she might have still had for you, and whatever Maxine might have seen in you—-it’s all gone.”

The phone in your hand buzzed.

“Oh, wow. Look at that. Your sister. Alive and well. You're welcome.”

Your face hardened up, and you stood up straighter. Walking away from the two of them, you opened the door. “I got it.”

She took the phone from your hand and you turned back to the two of them. There was no emotion behind your eyes as you looked back at Spencer.

Cat smirked and looked up at Spencer. “I win.”

______________________________________________________________

The prison transport was quiet, with the two guards sitting across from Spencer and Cat. It had been silent for about twenty minutes, but then, Cat spoke up.

“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?”

Spencer looked down at his hands. “You wanted to prove I'm a monster just like you.”

“No... Silly. I just wanted to see you again. I just wanted to make sure that you would never forget about me.” She sighed. “'Cause when they do put that needle in my arm, I just want there to be even the slightest chance that... Maybe you're still thinking about me…”

Spencer stiffened as she placed her head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to terrorize 3 innocent people. You could've just written a letter.”

“Would you have written me back?”

When Spencer didn’t respond, Cat knew her answer.

“Bye, Spencie. I really enjoyed our date.” She smiled at him desperately, getting dragged out of the vehicle by the guards to the prison.

______________________________________________________________

The elevator door opened and Spencer walked out of it, his whole body reeked of defeat, and he barely looked at Emily as she spoke. “We need to debrief.”

Spencer just walked right past her, and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in.

“Spencer, are you okay?”

Her voice caught your ear, and immediately you looked up to see her walk over and embrace him in a hug.

He smiled at her, and grateful returned the hug before muttering that he would be back, and explain everything.

You were never going to get back together with Spencer, but watching it in real time was like unlacing an old wound.

Spencer walked over to you, and you stood up as he approached.

“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”

She nodded at him and walked away.

Both of you went to speak, trying to say something to the other.

“I should explain all of this.”

Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to explain any of that Y/n—it doesn’t.”

You cut him off. “It was fake—most of it. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.”

He just nodded, staring at you really.

You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, making you remove your hand and take a small step back.

“Thank you for saving my sister and father.”

Spencer watched your resolve fully formed, masking whatever you were feeling. He hated watching it happen to him, watching as you placed whatever feelings you had back into somewhere he couldn’t find.

Garcia walked over and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I just need you both to know, Cat Adams had a miscarriage, but it was months after whatever encounter you had. It’s not your fault. We looked at her records.” She was speaking low for you both, yet both of you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“They filled me in on everything that happened between both of you in the past couple years, and they asked me if I would be willing to…help them beat her.”

Spencer looked up at you, and unlike yourself, every single emotion Spencer was feeling was racing across his face.

“They gave me an ear piece and everything.”

Spencer shook his head. “You’re not trained—that’s extremely dangerous of you.”

You sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately Spencer, this is…this was the life I was used to when we were together. I knew the stakes. I mean the briefings I had with Hotch after you relapsed…”

Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I never knew..”

“It was like that on purpose. I didn’t want you to think that you were a burden or too much or—I was doing it for the potential of…” You cut yourself of, flinching at the parallels between this and your previous final conversation.

You looked over at Garcia. “I need my bag Pen.” You whispered, taking a step away from Spencer. “I shouldn’t…I finished my job. My family is safe…”

She had a rueful look on her face, but she nodded and took your arm, walking you back over to the desk where your stuff was.

He looked up at Emily and walked over to her. “I’m…uh. I’m gonna go walk her out and then I’ll be right back.”

Emily gave him the saddest smile, and just nodded. She knew that nothing she could say could make it any better.

You grabbed your coat, and your bag, and the two of you walked to the elevator in silence, riding it all the way down to the parking garage, where your car was still there from this afternoon, all of those hours ago.

You looked over at Spencer, tears in your eyes, having not said anything to him.

Sobbing into his arms, you just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours.

It was Spencer who spoke first.

“I’m so so sorry Y/n.” He whispered. “I never meant any of this to happen to you, and for you to get dragged back here and—”

You shook your head slightly, but didn’t move from where you were. Neither of you did.

“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately for us, this was always bound to happen.” You whispered.

The hug felt so good, but something about it was just so different.

It’s not the way it used to be.

“I need to go Spencer.”

He nodded, and this time you moved away from him. His hand came up and wiped away one of the remaining tears on your cheek.

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Oh fuck, why is this so fucking hard four years later.” You laughed, trying to regain any sort of composure.

“Y/n…”

You took another step away from him and shook your head.

“We can’t—I’m not.” You tried so hard to find the right words without bursting into tears again. “Spencer. I cannot put myself back to where I was four years ago. I can’t do it. And yes things have changed, but maybe that is for the better. Maybe you were always meant to be my maybe, and not my always.”

You took another breath, but kept going. “You are amazing, and funny, and so smart Spence. But this…we ran our course. It didn’t work then, and I don’t know if I have it in me to try again just for it to fail.”

“Y/n please.”

“I will always love you but this…It’s time to…It’s time to stop. I have to go back to my life, and you go back upstairs to yours, with Prentiss and Rossi and Penelope and…Max.”

Both of you winced as you said her name, but you took a step forward, moving to kiss him on the cheek.

Spencer gently grabbed you face, giving you enough time to back out.

You didn’t.

His lips locked with yours, his thumb rubbing against your cheek as the two of you shared one more moment, just for the two of you.

But it had to end.

You couldn’t go back to the anxiety, the arguing, the petty disagreements. It wasn’t good for you. It was good for either of you.

Stepping away again, you gently kissed his cheek, and started to slowly walk to your car.

Right as you got to your car, you turned around and made eye contact with him one last time before the elevator doors closed, both of you with the most gut wrenching smile slightly plastered across your faces.

You mouthed goodbye, unable to speak it out loud, and he nodded, tears filling his eyes as he whispered it back to you.

The doors shut.

You were all alone in this hollow parking garage.

Your heart was aching, burning.

But there was a sigh of relief, that came with the doors closing, and saying goodbye for the last, last time.

498 notes · View notes

axiina · 7 months ago

Text

I think I'm finally worn

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: Aegon managed to keep up appearances for a long time, a mask behind which he hid everything he felt... until finally, he could no longer do so.

Themes: angst, comfort

Warnings: Delulu fanon Aegon, toxic relationship, addictions, depression, mental break down

Author's note: In anticipation of the fifth episode I come with a short angst with Aegon. The scene where he cried and Alicent came out destroyed me, so here we are with comforting our broken boy

Aegon felt awful.

He had no idea if it was due to the excess of alcohol he was pouring into himself every day, or perhaps because of how he was slowly spiralling down. In truth, he felt that his whole life was one big failure heading towards a final doom.

He had always shown by his behaviour that he was not afraid of this moment or perhaps even looking forward to it. The reality, however, was different.

He was afraid. He was so damn scared.

Every moment when he wasn't drinking himself till passing out was a nightmare. He can't even remember how much time has passed since the last time he was sober.

It was easier that way. The days passed quickly and without unnecessary thoughts. Between the drinking and the whores during his days, there was no room for reflection.

Today, however, was worse, but Aegon couldn't tell why.

No one particularly bothered him. His mother didn't pop up with another argument about what a failure he was, and his father...his father ignored him as usual.

And yet, this strange feeling had been with him since the morning. Hopelessness and overwhelm. This state was already familiar to him, and yet today, it seemed several times worse.

It stifled him and left him unable to breathe. His eyes would close with tears when he least expected it, and his clenched throat made it impossible to drink.

Until he couldn't hold it in any longer.

He didn't even notice when his wife entered his chamber, immersed in an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness. Aegon was slumped in his seat, weeping without even knowing why. He was completely defenceless like a small child.

He needed something to soothe the tangle of emotions that, like ties, wrapped around his body, restraining it painfully. His skin seemed to burn, to ache. He felt like scratching it until it bled until it finally stopped.

Make it finally stop.

Aegon looked up at woman in his chamber and realized he couldn't do it. He just didn't have the strength. His wife's worried gaze only made him more upset. He hated the feeling that she could see him now, so vulnerable and broken, crying like a baby. Aegon didn't want this.

And yet, on the other hand, his heart was screaming and begging for at least a little comfort.

"I don't...I don't know..." He tried to speak, but his voice broke. He tried again, but it was clear that he was unable to explain.

Aegon took a deep breath, but after a moment it turned into a sob. He cursed inside, but it was too late to fight already. He felt pathetic, ashamed. But at the same time, he couldn't stand to be alone now. Aegon didn't want to be left alone with all these thoughts tormenting him.

"Please," he said finally, not looking at her. "Don't leave."

He was terrified by the mere thought that she could leave now.

As if waiting for this small sign of comfort, Aegon immediately leaned into her embrace when she walked closer to him in silence and pulled him closer to her body. He rested his forehead against her stomach, his arms snaking around her hips as tightly as possible. He clutched at her dress, his fingers digging into the fabric like a drowning man grasping for anything solid to keep him afloat.

The tears were streaming down his face as he wept like a little boy.

All the years of disappointment, all the suppressed anger, all the pain and despair that he had stubbornly hidden behind a mask of a heartless rake.

But at this moment, the only reality that mattered was her. Her warm and gentle caress on his hair, soft kisses on top of his head.

He just needed her to be there with him.

#hotd #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #hotd fanfic #send me asks #ask me anything #send asks #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen

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sparks-and-smoke · 1 month ago

Note

Hello!

What about an avengers reader and bucky fic where reader dosnt realize they are in an depressive episode but bucky or steve or both ( platonically or romantically) notices.

Haha I just surfaced from a major depressive episode so that's where the inspiration came from.

Also hi!

Hi <3 this one is a little longer because, well I guess I needed it too. Plus fluffy lovey Stucky is my bread and butter.

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky barnes x reader, Stucky (but not really the focus)

Content/Warnings: mental health, depression, anxiety, self care

Author Note: as someone who also struggles with mental health I personally loved this ask. Thank you, and I hope your feeling better sweets. Take care.

(Bonus note from my editor @voice-of-velhart)

Editor Note: Depression is not an easy thing to make your way out of, but I'm proud of ya'll for pushing through it and I'm glad your here. <3

The brain fog was the thing that set in first. It was hard to fall out of a routine living in the compound. Day in and Day out it was training and meal regimens. Sparring and paperwork. Someone was always around and yet you felt like you were drifting. Going through the motions with little to no reason to do so other than if you didn’t what else would fill your day. No one seemed to notice your lack of enthusiasm, or how your typically attentive nature had been slipping lately. Your reports were still on time and you weren’t pulling your punches in training so you were probably fine… right?

It was burn out or maybe you were feeling under the weather. At least that's what you told them if they asked. And while your friends and team loved you, they were busy people with the literal weight of the world on their shoulders. So who could blame them when they didn’t keep tabs, or at least you thought they didn’t keep tabs.

Bucky sat in the library trying to find a fantasy book he hadn’t already read. Tony was a brilliant guy but he had horrible taste in written fiction. As he perused, he kept you in his peripheral vision. You stared down at your now cold cup of coffee looking lost even though you weren’t moving. He had noticed you are like this a lot the last few weeks. You shower less and less, your normally shiny maintained hair more often than not on the greasy and dull side of the spectrum. And he hadn’t seen you touch the piano or your switch in days. He was getting concerned.

He taps Steve with his foot. “What?”

The big guy had been deep in thought, sprawled out in a lounge chair with his nose in a tablet. “Have you noticed Angel is different lately?”

Steve glanced up, taking a look at their girl as she swirled the coffee in her mug, totally disassociating. “Yeah, she said she was under the weather. I tried to get it out of her what was wrong but she’s being cagey.” his brows knit together in a mask of concern. “Sure is lingering a long time to be just a bug, don't cha think?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah I do… what are we gonna do about it.”

Steve sighed heavily and set down his tablet, giving the issue his full attention. He thinks back to those long cold winters in brooklyn. When the snow was deep and his bones would ache so bad he didn’t wanna get out of bed. There were always little things that would help him get out of those slumps. Bucky making him get up and shower was always a good start, followed by warm food and if they could find it, sunlight.

“I think we're gonna start by helping our girl feel human again..”

~~~~

Steve and Bucky formed a game plan. The two men are nothing if not efficient and tactical. Steve went down stairs to start food. Something starchy and savory. Comfort food. Meanwhile, Bucky started operation Angel Self Care.

“Angel.” Bucky's voice was soft, wrapped in warm velvet. And you barely registered it before he was crouching down and smoothing back your hair from your face. Taking your untouched cup out of your hand. “How long have you been sitting here, beautiful?”

You shook your head as if you could wave away the mist behind your eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Lost track of time I guess.” Bucky just hums. Yeah, he knows that feeling. He also knew it never led anywhere good.

“Lost in thought?”

You looked up to meet his gaze, warmth and concern mixing in the set of his jaw and the draw of his brows. “Yeah I guess. I’m fine babe. Don’t worry about it I’m just..”

“Feeling under the weather. Yeah, I know. You’ve been saying that a lot lately. I’m starting to think it’s a cop out.”

It is and you know it but you don’t know what else to say. “I just. I don’t know what wrong with me lately. I just… I don’t wanna do anything. Like anything ya know? It’s like sometimes waking up alone is all I have in me for the day. Do you know how that feels.”

If anyone knew how you felt it was Bucky. Hell sometimes he still felt that way, decades of torture and actions out of his own control had left him with more then his own share of depressive tendencies that drag him deep down under the current of reality pretty regularly. There are days he goes completely nonverbal, only going through the motions on autopilot. The only people who can pull him out are Steve, and you. And therapy, lots of therapy. “Of course I do. You know I do. But Angel, you can’t live there. It’s ok to feel it, but you need to acknowledge it and try to crawl back out. It’s ok if you can’t do it alone baby.”

You feel a thick lump forming in your throat that you can’t quite swallow down. The urge to argue, to tell him your fine and he’s being overbearing was there. But more then that you knew he was right. Something was wrong, and you couldn’t climb out on your own. But you weren’t ready to say it. Not yet.

“Come on honey, let’s get you cleaned up and get some food in your belly. That might help a little.” Bucky didn’t wait for you to protest, he slid one arm under your legs and the other around your back and headed up to Steve’s quarters. Not caring in the slightest if teammates or recruits saw. That was a problem for later Bucky.

~~~~

The big six had full apartments in the upper levels of the compound. Which means he could squirrel you away to Steve’s private bath and get you in the shower. Vetiver and pine, a familiar comforting scent. Gently and quietly he started the shower to an acceptable temperature for you (hot enough to turn your skin the next shade of blush.) and stripped you down to help you in.

There was nothing sexual about the way he did this. It was all just about loving you. Helping you, as he guided you into the water and let it wash away your stress. He pulled you back against his chest. “There’s my girl. That feel better Angel?”

You nod as the smell of Steve’s body wash fills the small space. “Do you mind if I wash you?”

With your permission he sets about cleaning you up. Slow loving strokes over your body as he pulls you back to lean on his chest. “You know you can talk to us about anything right. Steve and I love you. You’ve been here for us. Let us do the same.”

“I would tell you… if I knew why I felt this way.” You confess. “If I had some inkling of what I needed to get out to feel better but I don’t.”

Your voice wavers and it breaks Bucky's heart just a little. He wants to fix it. But he knows he can’t. All he can do is be there for you. “Well, I’m glad you trust me enough to help you.” He tilts your head back. Starting to wash your hair. “We’ll just take it one step at a time till we find ground again. Ok?

~~~~

Downstairs Steve fretted over the stove. Sweet potato pierogi and with onions and butter. It was easy, simple even. But it always made him feel better as a kid and the few times he had made it you liked it. He looked up as he heard feet pad down into the kitchen. Hair still damp, but clean. In fresh sweats and Bucky's shirt.

“Ahh, there you are. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah… a little.” You admit, sitting on a stool across the island.

Steve rounds the counter to kiss your forehead. “You look better.” He inhaled her skin, the longer scent of his soap and Bucky's touch still there, along with that sweet undertone that was all you. “Smell better too.” He teased.

You breath out your nose with a half hearted huff. “Thanks.”

“Always angel. Here. I made you some food. You don’t have to eat it all but at least a few bites would ease my mind. And then maybe we can go up to the room and get you some sun hmm? Would you be ok with that.” Steve slid the colorful pasta across the counter to you with a warm smile. Trying to coax you to follow his lead.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You eat mostly in silence. Steve and Bucky don’t push you to talk as you fill your stomach. You know they're worried. But even just these small gestures are helping you feel like maybe there is an end to this malaise. You see Steve smile and kiss Bucky softly in thanks as they wait for you to tell them you're ready.

They spend the rest of the day trying to get you some sun. Fresh air and movement.

“We’re gonna do this a little everyday till you start feeling better. And if you need it or feel up to it we can look into talking to a therapist too.” Steve assures. His hand firmly laced through your own. “You are not alone in this. We all feel this way sometimes. But I’m proud of you for trying love.”

A flicker of hope flies in your chest at his words. You aren’t alone, this isn’t forever. And your men are gonna love you through it till you can do it on you own.

#marvel #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #female reader #reader insert #sparks picks up

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damn-stark · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 23 Mother I’m tired

Chapter 23 of Moonlight

A/N- Daemon you big softy

Warning- swearing, some violence, talks of pregnancy and blood, angst!!, fluff!!!, SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 463-465

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

“Dear Princess,

I hope this finds you well.

Well, actually, I hope this finds you at all—

You scoff in amusement and muster a faint smile.

—We're separated by two different sides of this war so I find writing to you quite difficult, but if you ever find yourself back with your mother you’ll read this and know that you’re on my mind with every step I take throughout this relentless war.

The truth is I want rid of you. You are a married woman and no matter how much I desire the death of your perfect husband, life is cruel and may spit in the face of my desires. It already stomped on it when you had to leave to marry him, so it may pierce its hateful blade in my heart and hurt me even more so.

Alas even if I know I’m in world pain clinging onto a fragment of hope that fate will unite us for the rest of our lives, I still hope. I still wait for any word from you, or about you like a hopeless fool. Which is why when I got the message you sent with the brother from the Night’s Watch, my breath got caught. I’m gladdened by the fact that you’re doing okay, I hope it is true, words from the mouths of others can only assure me so much, and I know you too, I know the mask you put on in front of the masses.

Then again I suppose it’s necessary for people like us, now more than ever, but that is why I hope that you continue to be okay. Or really as okay as one can be after losing so much.

I am sorry, darling. My heart and my thoughts are with you. I know how much you loved your brother. He was a great and honorable man—

No matter how much you wanted to hold back, tears break out of your eyes and pour down your face, staining the silks that cover your pillows. Tears that come from a deep and great sorrow that you have refused to feel since Jacaerys death, but bombard you now over old words from a man you adore. Because of course he out of everyone you know can break the shell that shielded you from feeling deep and heavy grief that you didn’t want to feel.

And why would you want to feel it? You had already endured so much pain, why would you want to deal with a much greater one? One you could possibly never recover from?

But he made you feel it. Him, and being back with your family made you feel all the hurt.

Ever since you’ve stepped foot in King’s Landing all you have felt is a great and paralyzing depression. Ever since you fell into bed it seems like you can’t will yourself to get out of it, or will yourself to get even a short nap. You’re just awake staring at the ceiling thinking about who you lost and who you love. It’s as if being with Aemond, being away from all that reminds you of who you can’t see anymore helped you avoid the pain, but now that you’re away from Aemond and away from any excuse to distract yourself, the pain has increased tenfold.

It makes you want to stop reading the letter to at least avoid feeling a sliver of pain even though you have already been hit with stormy wave after stormy wave with no clearing in sight.

Then again how can you stop mid-way when he took time to write to you and took a risk for him and yourself?

—He did not deserve the fate he got. He deserved a good and long life, I believe that and I am sorry he didn’t get it. I’m sorry you had to watch him take his last breath, but then again I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted anyone else by his side. He loved you, I saw that. He cared deeply for you, I saw that too. Jacaerys loved you, I hope you know that darling.

Just like I hope you know that I wish I could relate to your pain, it would make your suffering a little less, but I can’t even fathom your pain. Even still I want to try, please let me try. Don't isolate yourself, please. If not me, confide in someone else, I just don’t wish you to be alone, okay?

With that said I do hope you keep making a name for yourself, My Princess.

I hope that fate puts us on the same side so we can fight side by side, that would be the greatest honor of my life.

Until then, or until we win this war.

Cregan.”

More tears stream down the curve of your cheeks, tears that bring out sob after sob and choke you up until you have to bring yourself to a stop to catch your breath.

After that, when you can find a way to stop, you stay in bed and Vanessa lets you, giving you space to wallow in your sorrow even though she worries. She tries to get you to eat, but a bite is all you take, choosing instead to lay back in bed with the balcony door and every window open, welcoming in the brisk autumn air that blows the curtains inwards and only makes you snuggle deeper in your blankets as the flowing curtains blow in all around you.

Vanessa thought the letter from Cregan would lift your spirits, but it only worked to sink you deeper, to the point she feels helpless on how to help you at least get up and get dressed or to at least go visit Helaena since she oftentimes finds a way to make you smile without as much as trying.

She almost finds herself thinking that Aemond is the solution. Yet even if he is, he could never join your side to console you, so she has to make your mother your solution. She needs you to make up because it’s something she knows you both desperately need. After all, she’s seen how much your mother has missed you, and she oftentimes finds her carrying one of your rings, or an object that reminds her of you since she doesn’t have you. So she knows you both need each other more than you both can say with words or simple aching looks.

Nevertheless, just as she tries to leave the room to go find the Queen, a knock raps on the door, piquing your interest.

“Come,” you welcome the visitor and push yourself to sit up as the visitor opens the door and reveals that it’s Rhaena and Baela.

“Cousin…” Baela’s greeting trails off as she sees you still in your nightgown. “You missed breakfast,” she says so slowly as she shares a worried glance with Rhaena that you miss since your attention drifts to Ser Jason.

“Ser please come in,” you order, making him stiffen and look at Vanessa with confusion before he very slowly and awkwardly makes his way inside whilst you finally get out of bed.

“It's cold in here,” Rhaena points out as she studies you and is quicker to make out why you’re caught under such a gloomy spell. “Let me close the windows and the balcony door.”

You pass her a mindless hum and meet Ser Jason halfway to study his neck right away, finding the bruises Aemond left him less prominent, but still marked on his skin.

“How’s your head?” You ask as you let your fingers hover over the bruise, causing him to swallow back nervously.

“Uh, I-it’s fine,” he stammers as his eyes are glued to you. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Spending my time in the cell at Harrenhal let me heal without strain.”

You meet his gaze with concern and let your hand fall on his shoulder, which he follows and keeps watching.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him softly. “He…” you trail off and can’t find it in yourself to say that Aemond didn’t mean to because deep inside you know he did. You can’t defend what he did. “He hurt you, and I know that you’re going to say it means nothing, but you are my sworn protector, not his. He shouldn’t have treated you like that, I’m sorry.”

Ser Jason quickly parts his lips but just as he draws in a breath to retort, he doesn’t, instead he drops his gaze and says, “thank you.”

He then proceeds to lift his gaze to your belly and frowns. “Are you alright? Alys said you had a scrape on your side.”

You breathe out deeply and nod. “I’m fine. It was just a stumble.”

“You fell?” Baela blurts, bringing a tense silence to the room that you don’t fill and don’t want Ser Jason to fill, but alas, he does.

“Prince Aemond pushed her.”

You shoot him a threatening glare, but he doesn’t falter. He’s proud.

“He did what?” Rhaena snaps and steps forward. “When? Why?”

“Is that why you left?” Baela bounces off her sister.

“You said you caught yourself on something,” Vanessa also adds her two cents, making you clench your jaw before you rebuttal.

“It was an accident,” you defend yourself but Baela cuts in.

“That’s what they all say. Where is he?”

You shake your head and quickly interject. “No, it was. Harrenhal…has a way of playing tricks on one’s mind. He wasn’t himself. He would never hurt me. Never.”

Baela scoffs and rolls her eyes and just before she can argue Rhaena clutches onto her arm and gives her a warning squeeze that makes her keep her mouth shut.

“I’m fine,” you assure all three women. “And the twins are fine, so please leave it be.”

Baela draws in a breath to argue, but alas Rhaena forces her to stay quiet, letting you return your attention to Ser Jason.

“If you need it, rest, alright?” You cut the conversation short since he found a way to annoy you. “Thank you, Ser.”

He bows his head and turns around on his heels to walk off, making Vanessa do the same to leave you be with your cousins. Yet once you are alone you ruminate in a tense silence that no one can find a way to break.

You all get closer to each other but the silence lingers and mingles for a while until Rhaena is the first one to break the silence. “Are you okay?” She directs at you.

You spare her a glance and nod. “Yes, I am. It was just a scrape.”

“No,” she quickly counters. “I mean are you okay?”

There’s no need for clarification, you realize she’s referring to the puffy eyes, the nightgown you still sport, the unmade bed, and the untouched breakfast Vanessa left in hopes you would finish.

“I,” your voice trembles. “I will be. I think. I just…I miss Jacaerys,” you let yourself say out loud for the first time, causing tears to well up in your eyes and start to sting in both Baela and Rhaena’s eyes since they too feel the same way—“I really miss my brother,” you add with a quiver in your voice, making Baela nod softly before she interjects with a crack in her voice.

“Me too.”

You meet her gaze and hold it, finding the same grief in her eyes and in the eyes of Rhaena.

You all share the same grief and now that you all know and see that you all feel the same way, you mindlessly come together and embrace, finding a sense of relief in your shared grief, in the shared tears you all shed, in the warmth of your embrace, and in your beating hearts thumping in sync against each other.

For so long the grief you held was shoved back. You were more mad than sad for so long, and even if you had wanted to be sad one day, you would have cried by yourself when you wanted to be comforted because Aemond would never get it. He hated your brothers, he hated what and who they were. He would have hugged you if you asked, he would kiss your head and rub your back, but you wouldn’t share the grief you share with the girls now. You would have grieved alone in the arms of the man you loved while he probably thought Jacaerys death was good riddance.

Not Baela or Rhaena though. You all understand each other and genuinely comfort each other in the silence that stays until you break it with a question you can’t hold back. “You’re not mad at me, are you? For leaving?”

You would ask if they’re mad at what you’ve done to House Strong and to support Aemond, but you wouldn’t care if they were because it’s not something that you give any doubting thought to. It happened and it’s in the past. All you care about is if they’re still mad that you left.

“No,” Rhaena reassures you, and then Baela adds her own thoughts.

“Not anymore.”

You chuckle softly and pull away to share a very faint but relieved smile. “I’m happy to be with you two again.”

Rhaena grabs your shoulder and offers you a much sweeter smile. “I’m happy you’re back where you belong too.”

Baela hums in agreement before her smile widens. “Why don’t we help you get ready for the day, hm? Get you out of your nightgown so you may feel better.”

You scoff but can’t help but let them do what they please, finding yourself enjoying the moment. It’s like a clearing in the dark storm, especially when Aerion is brought to you and joins you and the girls.

Yet a small clearing is all it is, a beam of light that breaks through the dark clouds but doesn’t rid the storm. The storm still swirls and keeps your mind and spirit dim. You still want to sulk in your bed and not do a single thing, but alas you’re distracted and thankful for it.

A part of you forgets the war happening past the city. You’re making a sweet memory with your cousins and live in the obliviousness for a short moment until the door opens and your mother walks in, bringing in the reminder of the travesty of war.

“Ma!” Aerion exclaims and grins as he points at your mother making her way into the room. “Ma!”

Your lips twitch to a smile at the reaction your son gives your mother, and you can’t help but press a gentle kiss on the back of his head before you look at your mother with a fading smile and growing concern.

“Your Grace,” Rhaena, Baela, and you greet your mother, bringing a short smile to her face before she directs her attention at just you.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she interjects as she comes to a stop a few feet before you.

“No, we’re done,” Baela responds. “We wanted to braid her hair but we left it for later so we didn’t take up her entire day.”

Your mother hums in comprehension and lets out a deep breath before she continues. “Then I hope you don’t mind that I steal the princess from your company.”

“Of course not,” Rhaena doesn’t hesitate, bringing an awkward smile to your lips—“I can take Aerion,” she adds and doesn’t linger back before she walks over and takes your son from you. Which he doesn’t mind, he goes willingly and passes your mother a happy smile.

“We’ll see you later,” Baela directs at you and then turns to your mother to curtsy before she follows Rhaena out, leaving you and your mother alone in your chambers that is riddled with a very deafening silence that neither of you know how to break. Should you linger in the silence until the tension leaves? Or just break it altogether?

What should you say first?

There’s so much you need to say—

“You look well in silver and black,” your mother breaks the silence, drifting your gaze to her and then back to your gown to stroke over the wrinkles.

“Thank you,” you respond softly and blink to slowly look back up at her, finding one of your rings attached to a gold necklace around her neck but not daring to comment on it.

“Could you accompany me to where we keep Balerion’s skull?” She finally starts to clue you in as to why she’s here, making you nod softly in agreement before following her out of your chambers and toward your destination, ending up in another deafening silence that lasts longer than before.

“I hope you don’t mind that I let Alicent see Aerion every day at dinner time,” your mother brings up, answering that certain question that you had in mind. “She requested spending time with him and she’s behaved so I let her. I hope that’s alright with you.”

You quickly respond with a nod and then follow up with a reassuring response. “Of course, that’s fine, after all, she’s also his grandmother and regardless of how she’s behaved with me she does treat him well and loves him. Besides, he loves her to bits, so I know he loves spending his time with her.”

Your mother scoffs. “That’s perhaps one of the only redeemable things about her,” she adds. “She loves her grandchildren and seems to treat them far better than she does her children.”

You hum and add an agreeing statement. “Yes, I agree.”

Silence follows after that and accompanies you the entire way to where Balerion’s skull is kept. Even when you come to a stop before the skull of the great dragon, the silence lingers with neither of you knowing what to say first. You just watch the flames dancing on the candles that surround the skull until a candle sitting in front of you dies, letting the smoke rise in an attempt to touch the high ceiling.

“Is it true that you are immune to fire?” Your mother finally asks something she’s been anticipating asking since the first whisper was heard.

“Uh, yes,” you give her a clear answer and avert your gaze. “I…didn’t mean to keep it a secret, I just…wanted to know what I was exactly before I told anyone.”

“The books,” your mother whispers as she shares the dots she connected some time ago. “That’s why you wanted to know about our histories.”

You nod gently. “Yes, but they contained nothing useful,” you say and slowly meet her gaze, finding her eyes full of wonder before they’re stricken with a flicker of sadness.

“I’m sorry I did not know before,” she interjects and glances at one of the dancing flames. “I should have. I’m your mother.”

You shift closer to her and tilt your head to the side to find her gaze and quickly console her. “No, I only recently found out myself. I would have told you. You would be the first person I would have told, but I was scared of what I was. I thought I was some curse, some demon,” you pause and can’t help but smile at the irony of that word because now you embrace such a name. But alas your smile then fades and your face returns to your previous expression. “I have learned to embrace it now though. Watch…” you trail off and lift your hand to tug the sleeve down and then put your fingers in the small candlelight.

Your mother gasps out of instinct, but when you don’t flinch and your flesh doesn’t burn, an awestruck breath gets caught in her throat whilst her eyes glimmer with the same awe.

“The Smallfolk only got to spread what I am because…I burnt a house down,” you admit with some embarrassment. “And Aemond, well he caught me, but it was actually such a relief for him to know…” you trail off and pull your hand back, letting your sleeve fall back in place.

“He made me feel seen and understood, he continued to love me for it and made me feel strong and untouchable…until…all it came to that day at the Gullet,” you didn’t mean to take the conversation to such a dark place, but you couldn’t help it. You can’t help the feelings you’re hit with, and you can’t stop them either. You don’t even try now, not now, not here because you’re with her, your own weakness that lets you let go of this invincible person that you want everyone to know you by as the moment slowly embraces you with a comfort you ached to feel.

“I left the moment I found out what was transcending,” you continue and look at the candlelight before you, unknowingly bringing light to your guilt and grief that rolls in like an angry wave—“I only stopped once to fix my armor but I continued after that and I was still…I was,” you stammer as a thick ball of emotions start to form in your throat. “I was still late. I tried to be there on time.” You nod and snap your watery gaze at her, seeing that her own eyes are starting to water.

“I did. I tried to help him. I got him out of the water, but I-I couldn’t save him, but I tried. You have to believe that I did. You have to believe I wanted to find Viserys. I would never hurt them, mama,” you cry and clutch onto your own hands to plead with all that you are. “I tried so hard. I did. I did. Mama, you have to believe me.”

Tears break out of your mother's eyes and her heart, what little is left, breaks for you, for the way you break down and beg her to believe you even though she never ever blamed you for a thing, or even thought that you had something to do with what happened at the Gullet. It’s why it’s easy for her to finally close that space between you and grab ahold of your face.

“I-I,” you can’t even continue because your tears are choking you and making it hard to breathe.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says words you barely believe but don’t take for granted. It’s like music to your wounded soul. “And I never thought it was. You tried, I know that. I heard it, and I appreciate it with every inch of my heart.”

“You do?” You question her, making her nod gently with a wobbly smile before she slides her hands down to grab your shoulders first and then slide them back to pull you in for an embrace that makes you stiffen and question if it’s real.

For so long you thought you would never feel her embrace, for so long you thought she turned her back on you, and for so long have you been mad at her. So now that you feel her arms wrapped around you, keeping you protected against her, you’re caught in disbelief.

“Mama,” you mewl, and after you realize that she really is hugging you and that it really is given with so much love, you return her embrace with a tight hold. “I…really miss them.”

Your mother nods in agreement and her shoulders shake as she does, letting you know with that alone that you’re sharing the same grief. You’re estranged souls finally connect and comfort each other in your sorrow. You only break the moment so you can pull back and continue sharing what you need to tell her.

“I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry I have been such a bad daughter. I’m sorry.”

Your mother draws in shaky breath before she shakes her head and breathes out so she can share what has been weighing her down too. “The fault is not on you alone. I have some blame too. I should have told you about your father, I trust you, he trusted you and I should have not kept that from you out of all people. I’m sorry I did, and you have every right to be mad at me for it.”

“No,” you cut in and bring your hands down to hold hers. “No. I'm not mad anymore. I forgive you, I do.”

A smile twitches on her lips but she’s far from feeling content so she continues. “And I’m sorry it made you feel the way it did. You, My Love, are loved beyond measure. Your father and I,” she says and strokes your cheek. “Have loved you since we found out we were expecting you. You are my first love and my strength. I love you in more ways than I could ever put into words.”

Tears accompany her words, making you lift your hands to wipe them off her cheeks as you cry too.

“I love you my Sweet girl. I love you so much. I could never forsake you, never. You need to know that, you need to remember that,” she presses, causing you to let out a sob as you nod in comprehension.

“I love you too mama,” you muster between sobs. “I know I don’t say it as much as I should, but I do. I Iove you.”

She grins before she presses her forehead against yours and leaves you both finding comfort in your silence and in your presence until your tears dry and your breaths don’t shutter anymore.

“Besides apologizing, I also came to tell you something else,” your mother fills the silence, piquing your curiosity even though you have a clue as to where she’s heading.

“It's a choice that I should have always chosen since the beginning but I let myself get controlled by the men around me,” she continues and grabs your hands firmly. “But I am Queen now. Things are as I say and no one will change my mind or manipulate my choice. I want you to be my heir.”

There it is, right in your reach, all you ever wanted. At long last.

No more wishing, no more questioning what and who you are. You will be heir now. You will be Queen. It’s all you ever wanted and as every word echoes in your head, and you realize that your desires are finally becoming true, you are fascinated by the proposal, by the idea that will no longer just live in your head. It will be real and how can you not be fascinated? How can you be anything but happy and proud?

You’re taken by the moment, by the joy of it all that you’re blinded by your bliss and can’t think of anything else. Not there, not yet.

“Okay,” you whisper with a sweet smile. “I will be your heir.”

Your mother grins and cups your cheek to caress it.

“But what of Aegon and Joffrey? Won’t daemon be upset that you’re picking me over Aegon?” You can’t help but ask, making her scoff as she brings her hands down to grab yours.

“No, we talked about it. He doesn’t mind. He…cares about you, you know? In his own way,” she says, making you scrunch your nose—“just…try and be friendly. He’s really turned over a new leaf. He wants to try.”

You hold her gaze with disgust, but he also didn’t do what you thought he did so you perhaps have judged him too harshly, so it wouldn't hurt to try. For her though! Only because she wants you to.

“Alright,” you reassure her and make her eyes glimmer with joy. “And before we go,” she continues. “There’s something else. Something that I need to pass down to you now that you’re my heir.”

Your eyebrows pinch together and you wait in silence for her to answer your curiosity.

“It’s about a prophecy passed down from ruler to heir since the reign of Aegon the Conqueror. It's a prophecy about the Prince that was Promised—”

“They will help defeat the dead that comes with a long winter,” you cut in after you recognize that famous name, causing your mother's eyes to widen with shock—“Yes, I have heard of them. We must help her, we must light the way for her.”

Your mother’s eyebrows furrow in confusion before she expresses it. “How do you know?”

You glance down for a brief second and scoff softly. “Friends. A red priestess, and Alys, a witch friend who resides at Harrenhal.”

Your mother huffs. “So you know her too? Daemon knows her too.”

You meet her gaze and flash her an amused smile. “She’s great, she helped me. And she let me see the Prince that was Promised. It’s why we need to win this war.”

Your mother nods. “Yes, we can only defeat the dead if the realm is united. It’s why our victory is dire. We need to do what we must to guarantee our blood continues so there’s hope in the future.”

You swallow nervously as you know what she’s referring to when she says, ‘we need to do what we must’. You know she’s referring to Aemond when says those words, and knowing it makes your chest heavy.

No matter what happened, regardless of why you left, you…still love him.

“I know,” you whisper and avert your gaze for a second before you meet hers again and offer her a faint assuring smile. “I know what we need to do.”

Your mother draws in a deep breath and holds your gaze with pity for a second before she nods and leans in to press a kiss on your head.

“Get ready for dinner later, okay? I want you to meet the dragon riders and I want to present you as my heir,” she lets you know in which you can’t help but nod in comprehension before you bring up one last thing.

“May I invite Helaena to dinner? I know she’s your prisoner but she's also your sister, and besides my aunt, she is very dear to me, so may I invite her to dinner?” You ask and bat your lashes, causing your mother to sigh even though she wasn’t going to choose anything else but to agree with you.

“Thank you.”

Now with the apologies and the unspoken words that were hidden in the depths of your souls, and shared out loud and over with, you then make your way to Helaena before you can return to your quarters.

“Helaena, sweetling it’s me, may I come in?” You speak against the door, and not so long later a voice echoes.

“Come.”

The guards open the doors for you, letting you be greeted with the sight of not only Helaena but Alicent in golden chains that are clasped around her ankles and wrists.

“Helaena,” you greet her as you rip your eyes from Alicent to look at your aunt with a warm smile whilst she quickly gets up from her cushioned seat in front of some insect cages and meets you halfway to grab your arms.

“I knew you would return,” she whispers, making you grab her elbows.

“It's good to see you again,” you say back before you step back, letting her study your belly.

“Look at you,” she points out and pats your belly. “So big.”

You grin and nod before your face falls as you bring up her situation. “Are you okay? Have they been treating you well?”

Helaena nods before stepping back and then returning to where she was. “Yes. I’m not allowed to see Dreamfyre, but I can roam the Red Keep, and stay in the gardens as much as I like. And Daemon has been kind as well.”

Daemon?

You look at her with confusion before you share your emotions with Alicent with a shared glance, and then address her only because you have to. “Alicent,” you bow your head and then look at the little girl reading by the fire. “Jaehaera.”

Said girl lifts her eyes off her book and flashes you a grin. “Hello! You returned!”

You nod and head over to her. “I have and you have gotten bigger it seems.”

She nods eagerly. “Yes! I grew an inch, mother says!”

You grin. “I see that. I hope Aerion has been well-behaved. You have watched out for him have you?”

“Yes,” she agrees. “I try, but he always wants to be with grandmother. But she does let me help her feed him. The only bad thing is that he always gets messy.” She pouts and stands up to put her little hand on your belly. “I suppose if you have girls they won’t be so messy.”

You giggle. “All babies are messy at one point. You were too.”

“Was I?!” She exclaims giddly. “I do not remember, but then if my cousins are girls will they play dolls with me when they’re older? Grandmother says Aerion will have to train with swords and sailing instead of playing with dolls.”

Considering she'll probably phase out of playing with dolls when the twins are old enough to play with her you don’t think so, but you don’t want to break her little heart so you let her hear what she wants. “If they’re girls I’m sure they will, but I’m sure you and Aerion can bond over dragons when he’s old enough, hm? Or books like me and your uncle Aemond.”

She shakes her head with a disgusted face. “That would be boring.” She retorts, making you snort and get reminded of her father as she makes that facial expression.

“Well, dragons it is then.”

“They’ll be the same age!” She points out and you nod in agreement.

Jaehaera then slides her hand off your belly and falls back in her cushion, letting you make your way back to Helaena, but addressing Alicent. “I hope you are well.”

She looks at her chains and then meets your gaze and mutters. “At least I can be with my family.”

You have so much that comes to the tip of your tongue but you manage to bite your tongue to avoid arguing.

“You and the twins?” Alicent asks.

You caress your belly and nod softly. “We’re fine. Healthy.”

Alicent’s gaze drifts to one of Helaena’s insect cages and hesitantly brings up a question. “And Aemond? If you’re here then that means something is wrong.”

You sigh and hesitate before you give her a curt answer. “He’s not hurt, he just seems to be descending into something that’s gotten out of control.”

Alicent nods stiffly as she blinks repeatedly and doesn’t answer, letting you then give your attention to Helaena. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to come to dinner later. My mother wants to present me as her heir to her court at dinner so if you would like to come you’re more than welcome.”

Helaena drifts her gaze from the insect she’s inspecting and sighs deeply. “Thank you, but no. There will be people I don’t know and who will all look at me. I would not be comfortable, besides, I enjoy dinner with my mother, Jaehaera, and Aerion. You can tell me what happened on the following day,” she doesn’t try to put it nicely, she’s abrupt and unforgiving. Which doesn’t bother you, it’s just the way she is.

“Alright,” you breathe out and take a seat beside her to ask her what she’s collected, but Alicent then sits across from you and reaches over to take your arm.

“Will you not stop him?” She blurts with a widened look spewing fear and concern. “Help him? This descent into madness will only make Daemon or one of the others go after him, and we both know that Vhagar is not invincible. Not when it comes to Daemon.” She throws out desperately as she sinks her nails in your arm.

“He wants Daemon to go after him, don’t you think I have tried to warn him? To try and lead him to a different path?” You counter as you yank her hand off your arm. “I have tried,” you press with annoyance that was quick to form. “But he doesn’t listen. He wants this path because of you. The path Aegon, Daeron, and Aemond are walking down is because of you. Not me, you,” you hiss, making Alicent pull her head back as she seems to get offended and surprised at your blunt accusation.

“If you hadn’t been so hell-bent on undermining my mother my brothers would be alive and your son’s lives would not be put at risk,” you spat with your gaze narrowing as your annoyance turns to frustration that’s been building up. You don’t know why exactly, perhaps it’s just your own gloom, but you have been feeling it forming within you, wanting out but now knowing how.

“But you set them down this path, and now that it’s gotten out of control you fall to your knees and beg for mercy?” You grimace with the corner of your lip curled. “Face the reality, Alicent. Face your mistakes or—”

“So you wish to see Aemond dead?” She cuts you off abruptly and leans toward you. “Do you wish to accept that reality?”

You have given that reality much thought. It consumes you a lot of the time and you know that it’s a possibility. You would be ignorant if you didn’t, but when it comes to accepting it you do act ignorant.

“If your love for him is real, that is.”

“Of course it is!” You snap back with tears in your eyes. “I love him, how dare you throw that at my face? You out of all people?”

Alicent gasps and blinks repeatedly in disbelief as if she had been smacked across the face, ending up speechless, much like you. Albeit you’re not quiet out of shock, your anger makes you quiet and makes you pierce a glare into her before you stand up and turn to Helaena.

“I will come see you tomorrow, Helaena. Maybe we can go for a walk in the gardens, hm?” You ask and she slowly looks at you without meeting your gaze to give you her response with a nod, letting you then turn and storm out of her chambers with a tormenting ache that you thought you got rid of. At least for the rest of today, but no, Alicent helped it come back and this time it hits you with so much more force that if it wasn’t for the dinner you need to attend, it would have knocked you down, but alas even if you waver, you don’t stumble, you don’t fall, and you don’t break.

——

*LATER*

“…I intended to save this gown for after the war. When the Queen won and was crowned before the masses, but alas, you are heir and will be named heir. There’s no other time to wear this gown like now,” Vanessa rambles excitedly as she doesn’t even help you with the gown anymore, she had already helped you put it on, she is currently applying your makeup, but she can't stop talking about the gown. She’s perhaps more excited than you are that you’re wearing it. And you’re trying. You’re trying to be excited and shake off what plagues you, but you’re tormented by your own agony, your grief, your guilt, and your sorrow that you can’t forget.

But the question is why? Why do you have to feel so unhappy now that you have what you wanted? You’re no longer reaching for it, you have it in your grasp, and now that you do, now that you feel its beating heart in your grasp you can’t muster a genuine smile. You can’t feel the warmth of bliss and excitement.

You want to, you try, but no amount of strain can make you recover that initial joy you felt.

“Perfect. Beautiful,” Vanessa praises you and then pinches your cheeks before she steps back to continue admiring her work. “I just need the necklaces. I left them in the other chambers. I will be back!” She throws out and then turns to run off.

Once Vanessa is out of your chambers you slowly turn your seat and face yourself on the vanity mirror to admire the way the golden dragon scales hug your torso and stretch over your belly. You admire the multiple white pearl chains that are hooked around your hips and cascade over the lavish black silk skirt, while also connecting to more chains that strap around your black hanging sleeves that are attached to the back of the gown so it looks like your sleeves are wings when you put your arms out.

You then slowly scale your eyes up to your face and look at the light makeup that decorates your face. You admire Vanessa’s work, causing the corner of your lips to twitch to a smile, however, your eyes then catch the lipstick smudged on your bottom lip just a smidge and you carefully fix it with your fingers.

Albeit when you try to wipe the mistake more lipstick smudges, making you scoff in annoyance before you press the tip of your fingers harder against your skin and wipe harsher.

However, the smudge only worsens and the mistake doesn’t get fixed so you wipe harder and harder, feeling your throat slowly starting to burn and your eyes filling with tears until you can’t take it anymore. You can’t hold back anymore. You can’t stay strong anymore. You fall, you stumble, and you break, dragging your hands off your lips and smacking your face again and again in attempts to wipe the light layer of makeup off your face because it’s all a mistake; you being heir, holding that title after years of yearning is a mistake because there’s no point.

What’s the point? You ask yourself before you scale your hands up and tear the golden pearl circlet off your head and mindlessly smash it against the vanity mirror out of agony, out of grief, and out of guilt, thinking over and over again what is being heir worth?

What is it all worth? What is it all worth?!

What is it all worth without them? Without Jacaerys? Without Luke? What is it all worth with no one to love you? And you don’t mean in the way your family loves you, but in the intimate way that Aemond loves you? And or the way Cregan loves you?

Being heir and then being Queen, is all you wanted. You dreamt of it, wished for it, but now that you have it you can admit that it’s worth nothing. All those years of longing to be acknowledged no longer exist within you because most of you is already dead. All that’s left is what?

You look at the mirror between your fingers after hitting it and breaking it, and after pressing your bleeding hands against your face, and slowly drag your fingers down before you pull your hands off your face and look at yourself. What you see beyond the blood-stained face is someone grief-stricken, someone angry, in agony, and some hollow husk of who you used to be.

That’s who and what you are. That’s all that’s left.

You miss who you used to be, just like you miss your life before the war tore it apart. You miss your brothers and the way Aemond was before his mind spiraled. You miss Cregan, and most of all you miss…being happy. You want life to go back to the way it was.

Alas…you have to move onward…it’s a harsh truth to face but there’s no other alternative you can take.

Thus you reach over to grab a damp towel off the bowl and wipe the blood off your face, realizing that you’re only damaging the towel even more with the bleeding cuts that the shards of glass made on your palms—Damn.

Before you can get something to tend to your wounds, however, Vanessa walks in and when she sees the state of things she comes to a quick stop and looks horrified. You mirror her look out of guilt for ruining her work and speak on it because you need to. “I’m sorry,” you mutter and look at her with a look of hurt. “I’m sorry.”

Vanessa swallows back thickly and then snaps out of her stupor to approach you hastily. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she assures you and cups your hands. “Let’s tend to your hands and do it again. We have time. It’s okay.”

You look at her in disbelief and she notices so she lifts her hand to stroke your cheek, reassuring you that she’s not really upset that you ruined her makeup but just playing it off for your sake. She’s genuine, and she’s more careful compared to before because before her eyes seemed to have been shielded since she failed to see your sadness so clearly clinging onto your face and painting such a vivid picture in your eyes.

“You look beautiful,” she speaks softly this time around once she finishes your makeup for a second time. “Eat okay? Mingle, I have found that Addam Velaryon is quite the charmer. Enjoy yourself. It’s what Jacaerys would’ve wanted.”

Your breath hitches but you don’t break, you simply nod faintly before you linger on your cushioned seat and then get up and leave, attempting as you go to get rid of the hold your sorrow has on your features and replace it with serenity and bliss so you can look grateful because you are, but usually there’s a glint of grace and arrogance in your eyes that you don’t feel ashamed for feeling, or feel ashamed to admit that you carry such feelings.

Alas, when you’re in the throne room, as your name and title are announced to the guests that turned out to be more than you thought, to your family that has turned into a small group, and to the musicians you didn’t think would play tonight, all you can muster is feigned nonchalance backed with a sadness that makes your eyes gleam against all the twinkling firelight that keeps the darkness away from the great hall.

They see you as you make your way to the main table, and you see them not even trying to feign their shock, their utter disapproval of you being able to waltz in without consequence after you sided with Aemond.

They have every right to disapprove of you, but they are not the Queen, they don’t make decisions, and they’re simply inferior. They're plebes compared to you and your family. They can shoot you as many dirty and disapproving looks as they want. They can whisper behind your back, but they have to bite their tongue and watch you sit beside the Queen as if you have been here supporting her the entire time.

“Your Grace,” you greet your mother one more time now that you’re seated. “You look very beautiful tonight.”

Your mother smiles softly and pats your hand. “As do you,” she doesn’t fail to redirect before she moves her hand down to stroke your belly before she reaches for her goblet and gets up, silencing the whispers that had already filtered the hall in such a short time.

“I would like to firstly, thank everyone for joining us tonight, it means a lot to me,” your mother addresses the guests, turning their heads and grabbing their attention. “And now I would like to present my daughter, my firstborn, and your Princess, as my heir,” she announces and looks down at you, catching your glimmering eyes expressing your appreciation and your affection. “There’s no one more graceful, more tactical, more smart, and strong as you. I’m proud of you, my girl. You will be great.”

Your eyes water, a genuine smile appears on your face, and there in your chest, you feel something jolt. “Thank you,” you whisper in such a soft way that only she and your grandfather next to you hear. She then raises her goblet and other people raise their cups, but your attention falls on a plump man overly decorated in shiny gold chains and rings and dressed in over-the-top expensive clothes.

You remember him from Dragonstone, he wanted you thrown in a dungeon. He’s the rider of Silverwing. It’s Ulf wearing all the money he’s received since he became a dragonrider. If only all that money could buy him class, he eats like a commoner.

Nevertheless, he catches your gaze, and when you know he’s looking as if springing back to life you slowly raise your nose in the air and look at him with a piercing glare under your lashes, like a predator looks at their prey before capturing them.

He swallows thickly and as if possessed by your husband's spirit, you shoot him a menacing glare and a wicked smile seconds before Daemon raises his up and grabs your attention.

“To the heir, I look forward to sharing the battlefield with you so I can see for myself what the Blood Dragon is really capable of,” he says with a growing grin, making you glance at your mother before you look back at him and offer him a smile that he mirrors, which is…weird, you’ll admit, but he’s making an attempt to make amends, so you don’t look away or let your disgust make an appearance, you take his smile. Once he’s back in his seat your grandfather doesn’t hesitate to rise from his seat and raise his goblet in the air, catching you by surprise.

“To the heir, and my Siren of Driftmark,” he says to the crowd before his eyes fall on you and a small smile tugs the corner of his lips. “I still tend to make Aerion my ward, but it seems now that he will be your heir, one of your twins will have to be my heir…”

He still plans to keep your children as heirs to Driftmark? But what of Addam and Alyn? Vanessa called Addam a Velaryon, so you were right, he is the bastard son of your grandfather and is now legitimized, so your grandfather could make any of the two the heir. Yet he kept his word, after all this time, after all you’ve done.

Perhaps you were quick to feel betrayed, and quicker to judge.

“To your health, and the health of my great-grandchildren,” your grandfather finishes, making you grin softly, and when he sits back down you pat his arm before you caress it, receiving a small smile from him in return.

This time rather than hearing mocking toasts filled with spite, breaking into a fight just before you can take your first bite of food like the last big dinner you were a part of, the music starts back up again, and the transition from toast to dinner is smooth. You’re thankful for it but also crave some mayhem in between your state of sorrow and the constant torment that you give Ulf every time you glance at him.

There does come a moment where your gaze finds a different pair of eyes that are darker than Ulf’s, kinder too, but you don’t attempt to make him squirm, nor do you threaten him with a piercing look alone. You actually avert your gaze out of shame for being so harsh on a man who was miles away when you spited him for being someone he had no control over. You let Aemond and your own insecurities get to your head. You admit that.

How shameful and stupid.

“You know, my sweet,” your mother interjects as she puts her goblet of wine down and you set your fork down. “I am Queen, which means I hold the power to…” she trails off and swallows back nervously before she continues hesitantly. “Annul your marriage to Aemond.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and look down at your plate of food to manage the shock that hits you as if you heard the most absurd thing in your life.

“We could marry you to someone kinder,” your mother continues to say through your obvious shock as if she wants to move forward with something that’s just meant as a suggestion. Is it not? “Someone worthy of you. Someone like…Lord Cregan Stark.”

You blink and look at her with your eyebrows softly pinched together, noticing a small playful smirk tugging on the corner of her lips as if this is some joke. And you understand where her joy comes from after all, you basically confessed your love for Cregan that time she snuck into King’s Landing, but doesn’t she know how hard it really is loving two people?

Does she know how hard it is to even fathom the thought of letting go of one to go to the other?

You’re torn between your love for Aemond and Cregan, doesn’t she know that? Doesn’t she know your conflict?

“Or she could marry a Martell prince,” Daemon suggests as he leans forward to be a part of the conversation. “They’d be idiots to turn down the proposal of an heir. And a marriage to Dorne would at last unite the kingdom, and give us all our strength for,” he pauses and passes you and your mother a glance. “…the future.”

You drop your gaze to your food and grab your fork with a tight grip. You don’t pick up any food, you just scrape it along the plate with your jaw clenched and your gaze pierced because even if they’re suggestions, it’s still your own life that they are so easily talking about. No matter how smart it would be to at last unite Dorne to the kingdoms, and or how much you once wanted to marry Cregan, is leaving Aemond really worth it?

You think of him, picture his face in your mind as clear as day and all you can imagine is how betrayed he’d be. You’d break his heart and him, is it really worth all of that? There’s still a fighting chance…minuscule maybe, but you have to believe there is no matter what the future has in store for you.

It’s a hopeless desire, but you are hopelessly in love with Aemond no matter what.

“I…” you interject with the attempt to reject your mother or just answer with something that would get her to abandon the conversation, but when she looks at you she does see your struggle and interrupts you.

“Think about it. I just wanted you to know that you’re not stuck, you have options, okay?”

You drift your gaze and let your jaw unclench and your eyes soften. “Okay.”

She offers you a reassuring look before she goes back to talking to Daemon, letting you stare back at your food and remind yourself to take deep breaths.

Being surrounded by so many people and such lively music is perhaps overwhelming after being cornered in Harrenhal for four months. Seeing your brother's seats be occupied by two men from the pits of the city is also perhaps too much for your mind to grasp. You look up from your plate on occasion and catch yourself expecting to see Lucerys and Jacaerys both laughing and talking with each other, or their respected partner, so when you see strangers on their seats it’s like…getting your breath ripped from your chest over and over again.

Perhaps this is why it was easier to stay with Aemond as long as you did, you remembered that they were gone when you were away from home but now that you’re home their ghosts haunt you at every corner.

But oh, you try to look content. You mingle with whoever wants to talk to you, your mother introduces you to Ser Hugh and officially introduces you to Ser Ulf, and you do note that Ser Hugh is much more etiquette than Ser Ulf, but they are both still low-born, they are not to be trusted. You can’t get yourself to trust them. As to Addam? Well, it’s complicated, but should you really trust him completely?

You can’t be sure yet.

“Is this not all you wanted?” Daemon startles you as he joins you in some lonely side of the hall.

“Once,” you sigh. “Once upon a time I wanted to be Queen, I wanted to be my mother's heir. Once upon a time, when life was…much more simple,” you find yourself sharing with him without straining or trying to find a way out.

“Good,” he surprises you by saying. “Not wanting to be a ruler doesn’t guarantee you will be good at it, but the crown is a heavy burden and when you don’t want it it’s easier to treat it that way.”

You scoff and the corner of your lips twitch to a teasing smile that he catches.

“What?”

You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mutter and look away to hide your smile.

Daemon huffs before he steps forward to stand in front of you now rather than at your side where you can’t meet eye to eye. “Your mother says we have a friend in common at Harrenhal.”

You flash him a smile but don’t respond with what he seeks. “Helaena mentioned…in a way that you talk. Why?”

A faint smirk twitches on the corner of his lips before he responds bluntly. “Much like our friend, she can see glimpses of the future. She appeared to me in a vision once, and now we're both here. I would be foolish to take her gift for granted.”

You nod softly and without a shift on your face you lean forward and at this particular moment disregard any attempt at reconciliation. “If I hear that you have hurt her in any way you will see for yourself why it is that they call me what they call me.”

Daemon doesn’t falter, nor does he get upset, he looks at you with a smirk that now spreads wider on his lips. “Noted.”

You huff and move away to stand beside him instead.

“Did she show you the future on that Weirwood tree?” Daemon asks, not letting you go just yet. “The witch?”

“Alys,” you clarify and turn to face the crowd. Daemon turns with you and you both catch your mother glancing over here and smiling when she sees you both interacting without looking upset—“yes. If only the glimpses of the future were clear.”

He hums in agreement as you both watch your mother from where you stand. “What did you see?” He probes.

“Myself, fighting for my mother. A son…born to me sometime in the future…he talked to me,” you muse with a growing smile of admiration. “Just like I'm talking to you now. I don’t know why…maybe he’s a dreamer or something else. Alys wouldn’t tell me, she said knowing too much is dangerous so that's what I am left with. That, along with the Prince that was Promised, and the dead that come with a long winter.”

“I saw her too,” Daemon interjects, making you shift your eyes to him. “She survived fire like you, but she didn’t look like you. Maybe—”

“No,” you cut him off. “It’s not me. What I have is unknown, Alys doesn’t even know. Blood magic perhaps, I don’t know.”

“But it’s something that will pass through our line,” Darmon says and meets your gaze with a serious gaze. “If you are not who was promised then it comes from our line. Yours, mine. We don’t know.”

You shake your head in agreement and then draw out a deep breath as you look ahead again. “We don’t know but we know she’s coming. My son said I would be the spark that would light a greater fire. Alys said it too, but…how can I? I’m with child and I can barely muster the energy to climb out of bed now that I’m here.”

Daemon stays quiet for a moment and in his silence you think perhaps you overshared. You didn’t mean to in the first place, but now that you know what you said perhaps you did and he doesn’t care.

“You’re already there,” he then fills the silence, stopping the worry of pouring your heart out on someone who couldn’t care, and stopping you before you can find an excuse to leave. “You just need to keep burning brighter, and the only way you can do that is thinking of who you’re fighting for.”

You look for them again. Jacaerys and Lucerys. You look at your mother, Baela, Rhaena, and your grandfather. You think of Aerion, your unborn children, Joffrey, and Aegon. And even Cregan comes to mind as you think about who it is you fight for.

“They will keep that fire alive. You must fight for their future. That’s why you need to keep getting out of bed. You can worry about the rest after we win,” he finishes, bringing tears to the corner of your eyes.

You don’t follow up with anything, but he knows you understand. He sees the tears crawling down your cheeks and he knows.

“You must know,” he speaks softly. “I am grateful that you saved Aegon and you tried to look for Viserys.”

More tears keep coming out as you hear what he mentions.

“You tried. You fought, and they sing about you like a great legendary dragon warrior…your father would be proud…just like I know your mother is.”

You inhale sharply and keep quiet, but he knows his words worked the way he wanted them to. He can walk away content after that even if he leaves you weeping.

Thus you walk away before someone can see you and think the wrong thing or worse, come and pester you with unnecessary questions.

When you find yourself outside of the hall you stand in front of the tall windows and try to calm yourself down before you return inside.

You can’t let yourself think of much or you’ll go down a spiral so you try and keep your mind off anything that will upset you at the moment, and hope not to take too long, but alas moments later someone carefully joins you in front of the window. At first, you think it’s your mother, but when you peek at your side you’re surprised to see Addam.

“Are you alright, your Grace, I saw you crying,” he says and proves you were not quick enough when you walked out.

“Uh, yes.” You nod and drop your hands from your face. “Yes I am Addam, thank you.”

Addam’s gaze lingers on you, you can feel it burning on your side before he slowly looks ahead, letting you steal a glance, and sigh out of guilt. “So…you are my grandfather's son?” You ask to get the rumors confirmed.

“Well,” he pauses and debates answering. “Yes. Bastard son.”

You shake your head and correct him. “You’re a Velaryon. You’re no longer a bastard under the law.”

“Perhaps,” he answers right away. “But I am. No law or name will change it.”

You hum and clasp your hands together, debating whether to apologize for a behavior he probably didn’t even notice, or leaving it be.

You feel like apologizing. He was so sweet the first time you met.

“I didn’t mean to steal your father's dragon,” he blurts and turns your gaze to him. “He came to me. I don’t want you to think that I did it on purpose.”

There it is again, that jolt in your chest.

“Addam,” you whisper. “My father is dead. My father died before you bonded with Seasmoke, he wouldn’t have bonded with you otherwise, so Seasmoke belonged to no one. We can’t own a dragon, we form a connection and they are loyal to us, we are one until either of us dies, but they’re not cattle or pets. He wasn’t ours to claim, so don’t apologize or even feel guilty. Feel special, he went out of his way to find you, I never heard of a dragon doing that.”

Addam scoffs as he drops his head, and a smile sneaks on his features.

“You should forgive me,” you chose to say. “I was upset at you and Alyn because I thought you would replace my son's inheritance. I was jealous and I spited you because of it.”

Addam’s gaze finds you and you find his. After a few seconds, he breaks out into a chuckle. “I didn’t even know,“ he admits. “So I suppose there’s nothing to forgive, besides you’re a princess you have every right to be—”

“No,” you cut him off before he can finish that statement. “Untrue. Being a princess doesn't mean that I’m above criticism. I mean sometimes I do feel entitled and have every right to be, but not when it comes to being cruel…to you. Good people.”

“You don’t know me,” he quickly rebuttals. “I could be cruel. The cruelest of cruel.”

You snort and chuckle. For the first time in so long you laugh from the depths of your stomach.

“I don’t believe that,” you say between laughs.

“How come?” He questions, making you take a deep breath to calm down and then answer genuinely.

“It’s in your eyes.”

As you say that his eyes soften and that grin falls to an awe-struck smile.

“And eyes never lie if you know how to read them,” you add. “I know. I see you now and through them, I see your good heart,” you say and gently tap his chest with your fist. “You’re good.”

“Thank you,” he whispers timidly.

You offer him a kind-hearted smile and then pull your hand away to drop your arm back at your side. When you’re both looking out the window and see how the night covers every aspect of the outside world, you stand in a…comfortable silence. It didn't last but no matter how short it was you still felt at ease.

“Can I ask why you left?” Addam asks. “Your mother was Queen, you had every chance to return to her side.”

You draw out a deep breath and mutter. “I was being selfish,” you avoid the truth to avoid problems. “I got upset at my mother and I was a selfish and bratty daughter, that's why I left…I'm a bad person.”

“If that made a person bad then the world would be full of bad people,” he gives his opinion as he doesn’t fear looking at you as he speaks up. “Regardless of the situation, it’s normal to get upset at parents. You’re young, and they make mistakes. Being upset doesn’t make you bad. Besides, you made up now right?”

You nod.

“See? That’s what matters.”

Your breath shutters but you don’t cry this time, you keep looking out at the window with a sense of bliss. Yes, that’s what it is, bliss.

“Can I ask you something now,” you don’t shy away from bringing up, maybe you should, but it feels right because he reminds you of your beloved brothers. “Why are you not dancing? There’s many fair ladies there. And there’s also beautiful Lady Rhaena. We won’t get many moments like these so it’s best to take advantage of them. Who knows maybe you’ll end up being wed by the time the week ends.”

He scoffs and then laughs before he tilts his head towards you. “Well, I don’t know how. I didn’t take dancing lessons like you.”

You scoff. “Okay, yes I took dancing lessons. I had to, and I liked them,” you share with a smile. “My uncle Aegon would annoy me, but luckily…my Aemond would always save me and always be my dance partner. So I can tell you that the most important thing is to not step on your dance partner.”

“That would be terrible,” he says and you hum before you skip over to stand before him and offer him your hand because you have that need to…enjoy yourself like you used to because of him. Because he’s such a sweet reminder of everything nice. “I’ll show you. Just follow my lead.”

Addam hesitates but he doesn’t overthink your offer, he places his hand over yours, letting you secure your warm hold over his before pulling yourself closer to him to firstly, grab his other hand and place it on your waist and then place your other hand on his shoulder.

“Now there’s many other dances, but this is the most common and basic one. This one will work fine for now,” you say before you step toward him first, noticing how he keeps his eyes focused on your feet.

“Alright,” he whispers under his breath.

“The second most important thing is to follow the beat of the music,” you follow by saying and listen to what’s playing in the hall, hearing a song with a fast beat so you grow mischievous and can’t help yourself. You move quickly to follow the rhythm and surprisingly enough Addam is quick to catch up and not stumble or step on you.

“Great!” You praise him.

“You tried to mess me up,” he points out with a half grin.

You shake your head and deny such claims. “No, I’m merely following the beat of the music.”

He hums as he nods before a teasing smirk tugs on his own lips and he doesn’t fail to match your enthusiasm by spinning you around, making you laugh. When you face each other as you only grab onto one hand now, it’s like you speechlessly come to an agreement before you dance wildly as if in tune with each other's dancing hearts. And since the corridor is alone you make the corridor your dance floor and dance up and down it.

You let yourself get carried away. You smile and laugh without guilt, without sorrow, and without agony clinging onto you. You let go for the night because of Addam.

——

*A COUPLE WEEKS LATER*

There’s…no sight of Astraea resting near the castle—she must be hunting.

Aemond descends from his dragon in some isolated space where his dragon can fit and strides toward the castle without worry at first. Yet as he gets closer and closer and doesn’t hear commotion echoing from within the walls he picks up his pace, finding his heart skipping a beat before that too picks up its pace.

But why should he worry? You’ll be here, he just didn’t leave enough men for the commotion to travel out, and Astraea is hunting…

With that repeating in his mind to reassure the growing pit in his stomach, he takes a deep breath and keeps his quickened pace. When he makes it within the castle walls he only has one objective in mind, seeing you, so he doesn’t go out of his way to search for any guards, he doesn’t check for the witch or Ser Jason, he makes a beeline where you’re supposed to be and already imagines how you would react when you see him.

You won't be happy, after all, he left you locked in your quarters. He did one of the worst things possible but all he needs is just to see you. He’s been on his own for far too long, all he needs is to look you in your captivating eyes, he just needs to feel your warmth, and hear your breath so he knows you’re alive. That’s all he wants, you don’t have to talk to him, he just needs to see you. That’s all his heart has ever yearned for.

Yet when he turns the corner to reach your quarters, he comes to an immediate halt when he sees the decaying bodies of your guards. The blood seems to be a stain on the ground now so the men weren’t just killed…they’re old…

He calls out your name and waits for a response. When he doesn’t hear your voice call out to him he races to the room and throws the doors open, finding two more bodies inside. One seems to have been wounded on his neck and the other was impaled. Was it you?

No, no, no…

He wants it to be you who killed these strange men that are not a part of the guards that he left behind, but his fears take control and his mind begins to make him think that someone else hurt you, so he quickly spins around on his heels and runs out. He calls out your name at every turn hoping you’ll be in another room, that someone else will hear and come out, but deafening silence is all that responds to his desperate calls and his thumping heart is all that fills his ears. It almost plays tricks on him. He swears he hears your voice travel through the corridors, but when he follows what he believes is your voice he finds nothing.

There’s no one. Nothing, but emptiness and a reminder of what was of this castle. That is until he runs into the Godswood and finds what he was looking for in the burnt bodies discarded on the ground, and the swinging bodies hanging from the white branches.

He doesn’t want to believe you left this lovely mess. He hopes something else did it so he can save you and find you, but what else could leave bodies black and nothing but bones? Who else would hang burnt bodies on the Weirwood tree, but you?

You followed the ways of the Old Gods after your stay in the North. You pray to the weeping tree and enjoy basking in your peace in the Godswood, so no one else would leave these bodies hanging from the tree but you.

You killed those strangers in your chambers, you had Astraea burn these bodies in the Godswood, you fought the trouble he meant to protect you from, and you lived.

There’s no other way around it. His mind places some doubt, but he knows you’re capable so he believes wholeheartedly that you lived through the ordeal. However, a part of him wishes you would have been in trouble so he could have came and saved you because at least if he came and saved you, that would guarantee you staying by his side. It would mean that you didn’t leave, but you did…you left.

YOU LEFT!

He tears his sword out of his sheath and swings at the weeping face again and again with more anger backing each swing every time, and with tears slowly clouding his eyes every time his blade would hit the Weirwood tree.

Once he’s panting and his tears stream down his face he lets his sword fall to the ground and he stands there mindlessly looking at the wounded tree with tears in his eyes and his eyebrows knitted together in anger whilst heavy pants leave past his lips.

A part of him expected you to find a way to leave. You’re restless, you don’t belong locked away in some tower, but he just wanted to protect you. He saw you die every night in his dreams while he was here, and he hurt you when he was lost in some trance, so all he wanted was to guarantee your safety. He didn’t want you to leave and leave him alone in this world. He…just wanted what was best. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he didn’t intend for you to leave him alone like his mother, his sister, and his brothers have.

“Damn it,” he hisses and falls to his knees in front of the Weirwood tree, feeling abandoned and betrayed, but still feeling a longing to see you. Even if you left him he still aches to feel your arms embracing him against you, he wants to hear your whispers against his ear and desires most of all to see you so you can meet his gaze as if nothing else existed in the world but him and you.

He searches for the memory of your enticing gaze in the Heart Tree, unbeknownst to the fact that you are looking at the Weirwood tree in the Red Keep’s Godswood, and also yearning to see him. You also search for the memory of his gaze in the Heart tree, as if the weeping face held the memory of each other's gaze.

“Exhausted from terrorizing my homelands already, Prince?” A voice breaks the silence, ripping him away from his thoughts and making him stand up rapidly and turn swiftly to find none other than the witch Alys.

“You!” He bellows and stomps over to her to grab her by the neck in order to be threatening, but she doesn’t flinch. She meets his gaze and snickers before she answers a question he doesn’t have time to ask.

“She left home. She’s where she belongs.”

Aemond swallows back thickly and looks at her with slight disbelief before he reaffirms his grip around her throat and sneers. “Bring her back. Tell her to come back.”

Alys wraps her hand around his wrist and yanks his hand off her throat before she deadpans. “No.”

Aemond scoffs but she interjects before he can snap back.

“She will be back. You will see her again.”

The corner of Aemond’s lips twitch to a smirk but she smirks back and that makes his fall as he grows uncomfortable.

“You will both return to this very place soon. She has to so she can continue down her destined path.”

Aemond is curious to ask more and ask what she truly means because she wouldn’t look so taunting if there wasn’t some deeper meaning, but alas he doesn’t ask because he doesn’t like her or trust her like you do.

“Girls,” Alys blurts and makes him blink out of shock. “You will have twin girls. I thought you should know.”

His lips part as a soft gasp escapes past his lips.

Does this revelation mean that Helaena was wrong? Will he live after all?

A/N- When you so badly want your sister to be wrong you become delusional 🤩

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber

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llovely-12 · 2 months ago

Text

Let Down

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Park Jihyo x female reader

Warnings: Angst, jihyo cheats (heartbreaking), relationship struggles, mentions of... a man

Story: Jihyo is behaving weird. She is growing distant, and you get a hint why.

Authors note: I'm obsessed with this song. I thought the mood would fit for this idea. Enjoy the read♥︎

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Usually, October, was your favourite month. You loved the fresh autumn air and the way the leaves changed their colours, only to fall from the branches and wrinkle until nothing but dust was left of them.

The cicle of the different seasons is always fascinating. You love going outside and experiencing this in real life. Touching the said leaves that had fallen to the ground. Laying in the grass on a warm spring day and watching the birds return after the cold. See the beauty of nature in the summer and, finally, the cold and icy days of the winter.

Winter always made you a bit sad or depressed. You never knew why, though. It is as if all of the happiness, collected by the other seasons, is just pulled out of your head and replaced with some lingering thoughts.

In all these dark and icy months, you had Jihyo. She was the only person bringing you joy when there really was nothing to be happy about. She cared for you in ways you have never experienced. You are so thankful for the relationship that has been growing between you two.

You were introduced through chaeyoung. You are friends with chaeyoung. Both of you met at an art museum. She stumbled onto you while taking pictures of the paintings. After that, your friendship blossomed, and she introduced you to Twice.

Jihyo and you understood each other immediately, though it all needed some time. You were honestly too shy to ask her out. She never really thought you were into her.

The ice was broken after the other members set you up for a date. After that, you both hit it off very well. Even though you needed to be secret about this, due to her idol status and the strict dating rules. It wasn't easy in the beginning, but you passed over every obstacle, as long as you were with her.

◇

You try to warm your feet under a thick blanket. The TV is playing in the background. One of Jihyos' favourite K-dramas is running. She told you early into the relationship about her love for K-dramas and the need for them to always be playing when she was home. You quickly took over her habit, and now, every time you're at home, some korean drama is running in the background.

You watch the episode attentively while waiting for Jihyo to come home. Twice is busy, especially during the colder seasons. New comebacks are waiting to be released, and another world tour is being planned.

You want to give Jihyo all the space and time that she needs. She could be very hectic and frustrated during those times, so she really needed the time and space at given moments. Arguments often bubbled up, and Jihyo really hated them. They always resulted in tears and slamming doors.

It's almost midnight, and she still hasn't come home yet. Late nights were occasional at the company, but you always knew when Jihyo took more time to prepare stuff for the comebacks. She would call you or message you about stuff like this.

It has happened before that she did not reply to your messages or just forgot to send a text about her being late, but in the last few days, these occurrences started piling up. She always found an excuse, and you were forgiving.

◇

Jihyo comes home, and the lights are still on. The TV is playing, and you are on the couch, fast asleep. She has seen thus sight many times before. As much as it hurt her for the relationship to be like this, she couldn't do much about it. The company needed her more than anything right now, hoping on her ideas or her presence for the comeback.

She walks over to your body and smiles softly. The sight never got old. She leaned down to give you a small kiss on the cheek, her lips leaving a small kiss mark.

Jihyo turns off the TV as well as the lights. Her arms wrap around you and carry you over to the bed. The bed is comfy and carries both of your scents within its sheets.

After getting ready for bed, Jihyo settles down next to you. Her muscles are sore from the practice. The smooth and soft feeling of the mattress eases the tension in Jihyos' body and helps her relax.

She falls asleep a few moments later.

◇

Twice did not know about someone collaborating with them. It was a last-minute decision, chosen by one of the managers. The artist is quite known in the west. The goal is to bring Twice's fame more to the Western people. More collaborations with Western artists would guarantee more fans.

The members were always a bit shy when it came to meeting new artists. Their career mostly resulted in the groups comebacks. Only a few months ago, they started with inviting over other artists and creating new songs.

Jihyo and the other members were excited for the guest. They were waiting in some room within the company. There were some formalities to go over before shaking hands and making music.

The atmosphere was slightly tense, but the women did everything in their mind to keep the tone nice and friendly. The managers were preparing everything for the meeting. Soft laughters filled the room as the Twice members joked around about the situation or past moments.

The attention is quickly fixed to the door as a relatively tall, tanned man walks in. His clothing style is simple. The smile on his face seems genuine. The Twice members quickly get up to greet the Western artist. Jihyo, as the leader, went up to him first. She bows down a bit and greets the man with a gentle smile.

"Hi, I'm Jihyo, and this is Twice."

She points to the other eight women. The man introduces himself and greets the other women, too, though his gaze stays on Jihyo. The leader of Twice does not notice this, though, being too caught up watching after her members.

The language barrier is a bit awkward but is quickly fixed with a translator. The meeting goes smoothly, and everyone is happy with the results. The connection between Jihyo and the other artist is friendly, though the man can't seem to keep his eyes off of Jihyo.

◇

The cold weather outside of the bookstore carried many people through the doors. Books were getting more popular nowadays so your job as a cashier was more active and fun. It's almost like the sells for books rise with the colder months. The aesthetic of walking into a bookstore after a fresh walk must be a nice feeling for the people in town.

You were focused on getting the newly ordered books into their shelves. The organising and refilling of books took up most of the time. You never understood customers who just left books on completely different shelves.

The ladder you were on was shaking a bit, and you had to hold onto one of the shelves. You have been working for almost seven hours now, and your shift will be over soon. You can't wait to get home and cook a nice meal for Jihyo and yourself. It has been a while since the two of you found the time and energy to have a proper meal together.

Ever since you moved to Korea, you made sure to learn Korean cuisine and master their way of cooking. This came in handy after you met Jihyo. She loves food and was surprised by your cooking skills. It was nice and loving to cook for her, and watch her eat the food with a happy frown.

You quickly make your way back home after your shift. Jihyo is already home and greets you with a loving embrace as well as a long kiss. The kissing wouldn't stop, as both of you missed each other dearly, never really getting the chance to spend a lot of time together. The food could wait, as your feet take wobbly but sure steps towards the bedroom. Jihyos arms quickly picking you up and carrying you over to the bed.

◇

His voice intrigued Jihyo. Not many artist stayed around this much during comebacks, most of them just travelling around Seoul to experience the culture and take pictures. He, on the other hand, stayed around the group, made sure to get to know everyone, and strike up small but meaningful conversations.

Was it obvious that he was mostly talking to Jihyo? Yes. Did anyone suspect or notice anything? No.

Jihyo is a charming woman nonetheless. Her aura is alluring, and she does the best at feeling new people welcome. Adding the leader card and her natural care for the other person's well-being can make quite a few people dizzy with love. She always got complimented and showered with love. The hybe around this woman was nothing new. Yet she always made sure to stay loyal.

You were a big secret in Jihyos' life. Of course, the members and her family knew, but the bigger image was always closed off with a curtain, preventing the attention on Jihyos and your relationship. She made sure that you were safe from the fans and the paparazzi. She would not forgive herself if the sharp tongues ever cut at your flesh.

And even though you're her everything, the person that supports her the most during times where she felt the worst, she can't keep her eyes off him. What makes this man so special? Is it his American accent? The way he listens attentively to everything she says? The attention she gets from him?

Jihyo's mind can not fathom any reason why she would be this interested in another person if she got the perfect one sitting at home, waiting for her. Maybe this was not romance. Jihyo was sure that she was just fascinated by the man's persona. That must be it.

Nothing could come between you and Jihyo, right?

◇

His name has left her mouth about seven times this evening. You notice the way her eyes light up while talking about him. It made you wonder. When was the last time Jihyo talked about you like this? Her members would often take chances and share whatever Jihyo was saying with you. Whether it was your appearance that day, that made her heart swell or the way you said goodbye before work. But now that you think of it. Jihyo hasn't been this affectionate in a while.

Sure, her career was demanding, and you were never that kind of girlfriend. You could never put yourself between Jihyo and her job as an idol. She worked so hard for this. Never in a million years would you ever make her change something about her job. You even admired her patience for pursuing an artist life. It was hard and often made Jihyo crumble under the stress. There were times when you cursed out her choice of work, but after all, it was something that she chose.

And now you're here. Listening to her gushing about this male artist. Suddenly, the food tastes bland, and your appetite leaves along the mood for a romantic night. The warm lights of the restaurant feel too dark, like they're purposefully pushing you into the dark. Everything seems to pull you down, and that's just by hearing his name.

You sigh and push away your plate. Jihyo stops talking and focuses on your behaviour. She frowns and puts a hand on yours, her thumb idly brushing over your knuckles.

"Is something wrong, babe?

The concern in her voice is evident. She always cared for you. Jihyo would move mountains if it meant for you to be happy. She would do everything she could to ensure your comfort.

"I'm fine, it's just, you've been talking about this one artist the whole evening. It's like I'm not even here with you."

Your answer takes Jihyo aback. She hadn't noticed the way she was constantly bringing up his name. Sometimes, Jihyo just drifts off while talking. It's natural for her not to notice the line.

"God, I'm so sorry, honey. I never meant to ruin our date night. Just interrupt me when I drift off again, okay?"

You nod. Jihyo seals the promise with a kiss on the back of your hand. After that, she goes back to talking. Yet, you don't have the heart to inform her that she is infact drifting off again. Her conversation slid over to a certain male artist.

◇

A week has passed by. You haven't seen Jihyo for three days. She hasn't entered the apartment, claiming that the company needs her. Nights are spent without her, and to your dismay, the bedsheets start to lose their smell.

Jihyo is slowly but surely drifting off. At first, it started with the conversations. She would rarely talk about common things or you anymore. All she ever talked about now was that stupid guy. You couldn't take it anymore. Then she started missing out dates. She always excused herself, but the apologies became sloppy and unreliable. At last, she forgot your anniversary. That night ended in a heated argument. She claimed that there was nothing going on while you were throwing the accusations at her like there's no tomorrow.

She left after that night, staying at the company or at one of the member's apartments. You can't remember her getting like this. This sassy and unbuttered behaviour. In the past, she would come back to you, apologise, and make up for her mistakes. Now she ignores you.

The job has been your only release. Sorting and selling books made you forget about the drama, which is displayed at home. Some of the members reached out to you. Nayeon came over and talked with you about Jihyo's behaviour. She suspicioned something, but her hints didn't get to you.

You trust Jihyo with all your heart. She would never betray you. Even if Nayeon made some convincing discoveries. Your mind couldn't handle the thought of Jihyo ever doing something like that.

You were supposed to move into a bigger apartment. Late night talks resulted in marriage plans. It had been about four years since you two got together. Why would she throw all of that away now? It all didn't make sense to you.

◇

Jihyo couldn't believe it, but the hickeys on her neck showed a fact. What had she done?

The last night had passed in a hace. Drinks were gulped down as if they're nothing. Shot after shot brought Jihyo to her limit. Her alcohol endurance is high, so it took a lot of alcohol to break that.

Back to whatever happened last night. Jihyo went out with him. At first, the plan was to just let loose and forget about the stress of being an artist, and then something changed. Jihyo can't remember when she decided to kiss him. It was a moment of weakness, nothing more. She would never do this again.

Her hands reach for some make-up to cover up the dark red bruises across her neck. She would never tell you what happened. This would be a secret, a secret that Jihyo would take to her grave.

◇

You knew. Right when she laid down beside you, you knew. The way her arms wrapped around your body differently. You just knew it.

Her hands were sweaty and warm, and her breath was slightly uneven. After being with someone for such a long time, you remember antics that even the person themselves would never notice. Her withdrawal after the male artist was introduced, the way her tone and eyes changed when she talked about him, and lastly, her not coming home after the comeback was celebrated.

The Twice members had reached out to you. Nayeon was so worried about your well-being. Everything fit together like a big puzzle. Would you ever be the same? Would she ever admit to what she has done?

You can't get the answers, and you probably never will. Instead, all you do is curl into her body, breathe in her scent, and kiss the spot on her neck, which holds the hickeys that he made.

The cold wind blows through the partly opened window, and suddenly, autumn isn't your favourite season anymore. The wind is too cold and too harsh on your skin. The leaves that fall from the branches only make a mess on your balcony. You felt like one of the leaves, falling from the tree. First, you change your colour, then you fall from the only support that you've had for the longest time of your life, and then you start to wrinkle, and everything turns into dust. A faint memory of what once was, and what will never be.

◇

#Spotify #twice #twice imagines #twice x y/n #twice x you #jihyo x reader #twice jihyo #nayeon #angst #twice angst #female reader #park jihyo x reader #park jihyo

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freyito · 3 months ago

Text

ʜᴀɴᴋᴇʀɪɴ' ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ

✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader

✩ in which: boothill's been quiet since he came back from penacony. way too quiet.

✧ a/n: little by little im chipping away at my depressive episode and building my motivation again

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, 2.6 spoilers, mention of torture, hurt/comfort, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.4k

Ever since his most recent trip to Penacony, Boothill had been spacing out more when he got home. He insisted, very firmly, that you stay at home this time, leaving no room for any discussion. You were to stay home no matter what, and if he found you had tried to sneak out, even to the town, there would be words to be had. He was never this demanding, and he never barred you from going out. Yet when he told you, there was a certain look in his eyes. Fear. Something so rare within him that it made you obey without a word of protest. Now that he is back, he hasn’t been as energetic as you’re used to. In fact, he had practically stayed glued to the couch.

You could poke and prod at him and he wouldn’t so much as smirk, and you hadn’t even gotten so much of a squeak out of him aside from why he had left in the first place. Despite his victory, he was just… quiet. You wake up to him staring at the ceiling, chewing on his lip. Even though he doesn’t necessarily need sleep, he’s always cuddling up to you when you go to sleep. So when you wake up next to him (quite a rare sight), it’s odd.

Not just that, but you notice he spends an oddly long time gazing out over the plains that surround your house, nearly unphased when you poke and squeeze at his cheeks. It’s not that he is entirely silent the whole time, but his words are few and far between. You can’t remember the last time he’d been so lost in thought.

After the third day, you’ve decided you’ve had enough. It was fine if he didn’t want to talk about it (though you are certain it would help), but you were starting to miss Boothill’s voice, or the silly things he would do. So, you catch him on the couch while he’s charging, deciding to lay on top of him. Cheek to cheek, you press into him with a smile.

“Hi,” You say simply. Boothill doesn’t react much, looking up at you with his eye and a small grin.

“Hey, darlin’,” He responds, his voice quiet.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Mh, nothin’,” Boothill sighs, shifting awkwardly just a little beneath you. You raise your eyebrow, and he sighs, admitting defeat so easily. “Okay. Thinkin’ about a lot.”

“Care to share?”

“I dunno sugar, it’s kinda heavy,”

“Heavy is the cost.”

A silence stretches between the two of you, as Boothill ruminates over whether or not to share what’s on his mind. You lean further into him, draping yourself over him like a blanket, even though he wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable person to lay on. You weren’t going to say it out loud, and you have spent hours on him before, so it wasn’t necessarily a problem. There were days where his body was the most wonderful thing to lay on, when he had been lounging in the sun and you had been unbearably cold for Aeons knows what reason. In moments like those, he was like your own space heater.

“Well, I mean, there was a lot goin’ on in Penacony, and all these mind games, and…” Boothill sighs, his body relaxing slightly as he pulls an arm out from under you and slings it over your waist. “Got to rememberin’ a lot of things. Stuff I ain’t exactly keen on thinkin’ about. Now I can’t stop.”

“Do you think telling me about it would help?” You purse your lips, blinking at him inquisitively.

“Haven’t I yapped enough? I swear you ask me about all o’ this at least once a week,” He pokes at your side, causing you to squirm and yelp, before he takes hold of your waist and readjusts both of you, so he’s sitting up and cradling you in his lap. “Gonna make me talk til my jaw falls off, you know that?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, darlin’,” Boothill smiles, something gentle despite his normally cocky grin. “I know you mean well. You’re the only one I like talkin’ to about this stuff, anyways.”

You tilt your head, silently asking him to continue. For a moment he doesn’t get the hint, raising his brow and chewing on his lip. He’s always been avoidant of such topics like the past, not that you could squeeze much out of him regardless. The most he let you know was of his family, specifically why he held a grudge against the IPC, and who he held a grudge against. Not to mention, he doesn’t enjoy talking things out much. He enjoys venting whatever’s gnawing at him in other ways, such as shooting. Still, he always seems to relent when you ask…

“Ah! Uhm, well…” He wraps both his arms around you, finally sitting up. He readjusts, making sure you’re seated comfortably in his lap. “They got me thinkin’ about when I was a kid… Well, more than that, really. Hard to explain.”

“I can listen all day. I like your voice.” You reply smugly.

“I– That’s not what I meant…” He chuckles sheepishly, shaking his head. “It was like a… hm. Felt like the kind of stuff the IPC had done to me when they caught me.”

Suddenly, you don’t know how to react. Your flirty demeanor drops, and so does your smile. Part of you didn’t think it’d be this kind of conversation. While he said it was heavy, you really didn’t think it’d be on the same level. Boothill sighs, patting your back lightly at your reaction.

“It ain’t that bad. I’m back home now, right? All in one piece.” He consoles, his voice just a tinge softer than before.

“Yeah, but–”

“It didn’t do much to me, really. Just got me thinkin’,” He shrugs so nonchalantly, like torture is something he’s used to. “You asked, right? Lemme continue.”

With a huff, you concede. He strokes through your hair leisurely at your complacence, taking another moment to enjoy the quiet moment. As if what he was about to explain wasn’t something as terrifying as torture.

“It was somethin’ goin’ on with Dr. Primitive. Or at least, someone who aspired to be like him. Really odd thing, actually. With these monkeys and bananas, people wanted to become one. People were becoming one. Freaky, really. I mean, the things were cute n’ all… Not the point.” He takes a deep breath, “Some sort of induction… they… I don’t know how they did it, but they were able to bring back some sort of past version of me…? Took almost everything from me, voice, hearing, colors, sight, anger… they took it all. And suddenly, I felt like I was a kid again.”

The silence continues, while you ponder if anything you’ll say will be right, or okay. There’s not much you can think of to say, without sounding out of place. Dr. Primitive was one thing, and something horrifying at that, but the monkeys threw you off. Furthermore, what Boothill had described made your body feel… cold. It felt like it was one step away from wiping his memory completely.

“What’s with that look?” He chuckles, shaking off the heavy air so easily. “You asked me to tell you, right?”

“Yeah…” You sigh. It’s still quite hard to wrap your mind around such things, but you do your best to ignore it.

“Now you sound all sad. C’mon, I’m alive, ain’t I? Plus, I think I do feel a little better now that I think about it…”

His voice tapers off at the end, before pursing his lips as if he was thinking. Again. Before you can ask him what else he’s got on his mind, his eyes light up. Without so much as a grunt, he picks you up and sets you down on the floor.

“Here, actually, I think I’ve figured out somethin’,” He says, placing a hand on the small of your back as he leads you to the front door. He makes no further effort to explain what he meant, simply choosing to lead you off with a smile.

As he opens the door, light spills into the cabin. The land looks practically golden, you’ve forgotten just how beautiful the plains are at sunset. When you two step out on the porch, a light breeze greets you, wading through the grass. Boothill lets out another chuckle, before stepping off the porch. He stands still for a moment, appreciating the art of the world, the way the wind whispered across the grass, the birds in the distance and their song, and finally, he lets out a content sigh.

“Can’t say it’s as beautiful as Aeragan-Epharshel, but…” He begins, looking back at you for a moment, waving you closer. “It’s close enough…”

“What do you mean?” You finally take a step down off the porch. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer with an even bigger smile.

“All that work they did, well it gave me a hankerin’ for the past,” He takes a deep breath, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “Don’t like thinkin’ about it too much cause then I miss it even more.”

He cocks his head down at you, before his hand slides from your waist to your own, interlocking fingers. They’re not cold, for once, about body temperature. Perhaps that’s what you get for laying on top of him. He starts to lead you through the grass, his other hand gliding over the soft blades, sometimes grabbing at one just for the fun of it. However, there’s a certain sadness pulling at his face, his stride, even. He’s quiet for another minute, before he stops.

“It’s odd only feelin’ the wind in my hair.” He states, allowing nature to fill the silence once more.

“Boothill…” You mutter, reluctantly wiggling your hand out of his, reaching up to cup his cheek instead.

“It’s okay, sugar, I don’t need any pity,” Despite his words, he leans into your touch so easily, eyes fluttering closed. “Just… expressin’ myself.” After a beat, he opens his eyes and looks back out on the landscape, sighing softly. “I miss all the mischief I’d get into. After I’d finished my work on the ranch, I’d… run off somewhere, mostly off to the town. I’d get into all sorts of trouble just to keep myself from gettin’ bored. So I could get a chance to run through the fields again.”

He turns to you with a somber look in his eyes, as if he’d tear up. Not that he could, he’d lost that function long ago. His hands fall to your waist, gripping gently at the fabric of your shirt.

“There’s nothin’ quite like that feelin’. Runnin’ through the fields, the wind in your hair, stingin’ your cheeks and fingers, heart beatin’ fast as you find somewhere to hide…” He continues. Again, his voice wavers, and he swallows. He does his best to hold off on his own sadness, something he hadn’t allowed himself to properly feel for Aeons knows how long. “I guess I sorta get it still… bein’ wanted ‘n’ all… but it ain’t the same. It ain’t never been the same since…”

He ducks his head, the wind causing his hair to obscure his face. His hat dips, and you raise your hand to catch it. You don’t know what else to do. You haven’t seen Boothill this sad, ever. He’s always so rowdy and practically radiant, and yet now he’s dour, forcing himself to get his words through. He sniffles, then lets out a choked sound that goes straight to your heart. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him in close and squishing your face against his chest. The minute your arms meet his body, he mirrors the gesture. He practically crumbles in your arms, knees buckling as if he were flesh and bone, sliding down in your arms until his knees are planted firmly in the ground beneath you. In turn he presses his ear to your chest, listening to the gentle sound of your beating heart. At this, he grasps your shirt so tightly, pulling you impossibly closer, letting out another whine.

You pet through his hair, doing your best to still your own thoughts. Not only have you never seen Boothill sad before, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so… weak. Especially on the topic of his past. He could always speak of Clementine, of Nick and Gray, even of his hatred for the IPC with such confidence. Never once did his voice break, did his scowl turn into a frown. His body is wracked with shudders, biting his lip to quiet his sobs.

You two stay like that for a couple of more minutes, Boothill clinging onto you for dear life while you did your best to comfort him, scratching at his scalp and shushing him gently, whispering all sorts of cliche things to calm him down. Eventually, he finally lets up, with a soft breath. His grip weakens on your clothes, and he stands up. When he does, you card your fingers through his hair, moving his bangs from his face. He can’t help but let out a weak chuckle, allowing you to enjoy the feeling.

“M’sorry honey,” He mutters, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Didn’t mean to get all gloomy like that.”

“It’s fine, really,” You smile, your fingers lingering in his hair, before pulling away. “I think you needed it.”

“I… probably,” He sighs, “Just got too caught up in… all of this.”

Still, he nudges you, hand finding yours once more. He squeezes it, before leading you back to the cabin. The wind started to bite, the sun just peaking over the horizon as the sky went from orange and pink, to pink and purple. The clouds waned, the stars just barely visible as you two walked back. The silence is comfortable now, a small smile tugging at Boothill’s lips. He opens the door for you, taking one last look at the plains, before stepping in and closing the door.

“I’ll make dinner, then,” He says triumphantly, clearly feeling lighter than before. “As an apology. For makin’ you see me like that.”

“You don’t have t–”

“I want to, sugar. Let me? Please?” He cocks his head to the side, his smile turning gentler.

You wouldn’t fight it, either way. Despite how much he’s enjoyed literal bullets and oil, you wouldn’t dare stop him from cooking. He was like an angel, really, almost terrifyingly good in the kitchen. While you wanted to say that he didn’t have to apologize, if his cooking was on the line, you’ve found no choice but to concede.

#⁺◟freyito #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill x reader #boothill hsr x reader #boothill x you #boothill hsr x you #hsr x you

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 10 months ago

Note

Emily x Reader after Reader has a sh relapse, Emily patches and her up and assures her she's still beautiful by slow, gentle, loving sex and lots of cuddling please?

You got it, anon! Thanks for the request! :) Hope you like it!

Burning

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, NSFW, self-harm, depression, mental illness, sex, fingering, etc., injuries due to self-harm, brief mentions of an eating disorder, some explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: With Emily away on a case and a depressive episode hitting you hard, you fall back into a pattern you thought you'd kicked a long time ago. When she comes home and discovers what you've done, you're afraid it'll be too much for her. Emily does her best to show you that it's not.

You’d been standing in front of the bathroom mirror for what felt like hours, but was probably mere minutes. Time warped itself when the urges took hold, every second a lifetime of effort, until it became all the potential lives you might live stacked one on top of the other, and they were too heavy for you to carry.

The hand that held the unlit match was shaking, and you seesawed between the unbearable desire to scratch a painful itch and the knowledge that self-hatred that would flood you afterward. But at least the self-hatred and the pain would be something to feel, other than the abject hopelessness that had seemed to swallow you up over the last week.

You’d known a depressive episode was coming before Emily left. You could always feel them coming. But what were you supposed to say? Don’t go save people from a terrorist cell? Stay here with me because I’m scared I’m getting depressed and I need you? It’d be pathetic. You were pathetic. And it wasn’t Emily’s job to keep your mental illness at bay.

But she’d been gone longer than you expected–over a week now. And your depressive episode had hit you harder than you thought it would. You’d called out of work, you’d binged on food delivery, then hated yourself afterward, staring into the mirror feeling lower and lower and lower. Until the only way you could think to stop sinking was to shock yourself out of it.

You knew it wasn’t wise or healthy. You knew you’d feel even worse once the pain subsided. You knew that a relapse would make it that much harder to stop next time. You knew that if Emily was here, she would stop you, she would hide the matches and the lighters, she would be so, so sad that you’d even thought about hurting yourself.

But despite knowing all these things, the hunger for fire, for pain, was too much to resist. You scratched the head of the match against the matchbox and the flame leapt into existence. Your go-to spot in young adulthood had been your arms, but the burns wouldn't fade before Emily got back, and she’d notice them on your arms. This time, you held the match to the upper side of your abdomen, where your arms would hopefully hide the marks.

You scrunched your eyebrows and winced as the flame licked at your skin, the pain white and bright and hot. You wished you could explain to people that odd, addictive mixture of self-loathing and dopamine that hit you and made you feel simultaneously worse and better. You wished people understood the desire for it, that sometimes you wanted to feel worse because feeling worse made you feel better. But it was hard to explain. Even harder to understand. So you didn’t bother most of the time. You lit match after match until the box was empty, until your side was scattered with raised, red-white blotches, like a constellation of all the shitty things you’d ever been through or felt.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and hated what you saw. And it felt good to hate yourself, like a guilty pleasure.

You jumped at the sound of the apartment door opening and closing, and cold panic flooded your system.

“Hey, baby, I’m home!” Emily called from the entryway.

You quickly pulled a loose t-shirt over your head, wincing as the fabric brushed over the burns. She wasn’t supposed to be home yet. She hadn’t texted or called. She’ll hate me, you thought. She’ll hate me if she finds out.

Of course, Emily knew you struggled with self-harm. But you’d been in a really good spot when you’d started dating and had, for the most part, stayed in that really good spot for your entire relationship. You were in therapy. You had healthy coping mechanisms. You hadn’t relapsed in years. You didn’t know what had made today different from every other bad day in the last few years, but you knew you didn’t want Emily to know.

You silently cursed yourself for using all the matches; there were none left to light a candle in the bathroom to mask the scent of burning. You ran to meet her in the living room, hoping that by heading her off, the smell would have time to dissipate.

“Hi, honey,” you greeted her, forcing a smile. You took both her hands in yours to try and prevent her touching your side, which still felt as if it was on fire. You stood on tiptoes to kiss her, and she smiled, leaning in.

“I missed you,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around you. You flinched and inhaled sharply as her fingers grazed the burns.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, avoiding her eyes. “I just, um… fell earlier.”

Her hands fluttered over you, a worried expression on her face. “You fell!? Where!? Like, how hard?”

“Not that hard,” you said, trying to squirm away. “It doesn’t hurt too bad. Ow!” Emily had placed a gentle hand at your side and you couldn’t help your outburst.

“Well, honey, if it hurts that bad, you need to let me see it. We might need to go to the ER or something.”

You knew you were done for when she grabbed your wrist, hard. Emily was much stronger than you, so instead of fighting, you went numb.

You felt your whole world stop as she lifted up your shirt to see the scattered burns. You felt tears prick at your eyes. There were too many marks, and they were too symmetrical to have been an accident. You knew it, and Emily knew it, too.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, but if you did, you would have seen that her eyes were wet with tears she wasn’t going to let herself cry because you needed someone strong right now. If you’d looked at her, you would have seen a mixture of sadness and pity and heartbreak and undying love. You’d have seen the face of someone who wanted nothing more than for you to be okay.

“Y/N,” Emily managed after a moment. “Did you do this to yourself?”

You nodded, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“Today?”

You nodded again.

“How long ago?”

You looked at the ceiling, willing yourself not to cry. “Right before you walked in.”

You hated yourself. You hated yourself even more because you knew that Emily would feel awful. She’d think that if she’d just been a few minutes earlier, she could have prevented this. And you never wanted Emily to feel like your mental illness was her fault or her responsibility.

“Come here,” she said, gently taking your hand and guiding you to the bathroom. She turned on the shower, making sure the water was cool but not cold, then slowly pulled your clothes off. She nodded toward the shower and you got in, shivering under the chilly stream.

Emily sighed and sat down on the toilet lid, watching you. She looked tired, so tired. You hated to be another thing that exhausted her, another thing she had to take care of and fix.

“You should sit down,” she added quietly. “You’re gonna have to be in there for a while. Until they stop burning.”

You sat on the tiled floor, the water leaching the pain away from the burn marks, leaving only disgust and self-loathing in their place. You pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face, trying and failing not to cry.

Your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs. You heard Emily stand and were sure she was going to leave. Why wouldn’t she? She deserved to. She deserved not to have to deal with you.

You jumped a little as Emily lowered herself into the shower next to you, clothes abandoned on the bathroom floor, and wrapped her arm around your shoulder. She pressed her face into yours as the shower drenched you both.

“Shh,” she soothed, careful to avoid your burns. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, Em,” you wept, rocking. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “You don’t need to be sorry. I love you. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I hate myself,” you whispered.

Emily gently grabbed your face and tilted it toward her. There were tears in her eyes, too. “Baby, please don’t say that.”

“I can’t help it.” Your voice was so quiet, so small, the sound of the shower almost drowned it out.

“That’s okay,” Emily said, brushing strands of wet hair out of your face. “We’re gonna get you some help, okay?”

You looked in her eyes then for the first time since she’d discovered the burn marks. You didn’t know what you’d expected to see: annoyance, disgust, hatred, or worst of all, ambivalence. But there was none of that in Emily’s eyes. Only love and concern.

Even so, you were scared to ask what you needed to ask. “Do you still love me?”

“Oh, honey, of course I do. I could never stop loving you.”

And then you kissed her. You kissed her with the cool water pouring down around your bodies. With your skin hot from the burns and from your aching love for Emily. You kissed her desperately, hungrily, like someone clinging to a lifeboat, and Emily was. She was your lifeboat. And for Emily’s part, she was gentle, almost too gentle, as if you might break at any moment.

You wrapped your legs and arms around her and she held you so carefully, so mindful of your burns. You shuddered in the cool water as your hips pushed against her.

Emily moaned into your mouth, her hands faltering for a moment.

“Y/N,” she said breathlessly, pulling away to hold your face in her hands. “We don’t have to do this." She looked at you a moment longer, then added, "I love you.”

You kissed her again. Her mouth. Her forehead. Her collarbone. Emily’s chest heaved into you and your heart beat rapidly.

“Please,” you begged. “Show me.”

Emily pulled you into her, letting her tongue and her lips roam over your neck, letting her hips meet yours as the water surrounded you, soothing your burns the way Emily soothed the roiling, burning despair inside of you.

“I love you,” she whispered as she kissed your eyelids. “I love you,” she whispered as she pressed her hands into the soft flesh of your ass. “I love you,” she whispered as she slipped her fingers inside of you. You bit back a moan and trembled against her, your body pulsing around her.

She fucked you slowly, tenderly, as if it was both your first time and your last, though this was neither. And she kept saying it–“I love you”–again and again, never stopping, so that all the darkness in your mind, all the self-doubt, didn’t have any room to make itself heard.

You let out a strangled groan as your body tensed around her, and when your pleasure flooded you, it was like you were on fire. And this fire was so much better, louder, brighter, than any flame you’d ever held to your body. It was a burning that consumed you, one that would leave you new and glistening afterward instead of scarred and in ashes.

You fell limp against her as she removed her fingers, kissing your forehead, your collarbone, your mouth, swirling her tongue with yours until you felt drunk on her. “I love you,” she said, and you didn’t think you’d ever get tired of hearing it. “I love you.”

You were quiet as she turned off the shower head. Quiet as you both dried off, as Emily gently pressed a towel to your side, making sure your burns were clean and dry. She sat you on the toilet lid as she pulled gauze squares and antibacterial ointment out of the bathroom cabinet, spreading the ointment on the gauze, then pressing it gently to your skin.

“Lift your arms up,” she said quietly, as she circled your body with bandages, wrapping it just tight enough that it wouldn’t shift in the night.

She knelt down in front of you and caressed your face. “Bed?” she asked. You nodded.

“You go ahead,” she said, patting your leg. “I’ll be right there.”

You felt self-doubt start creeping back in as you laid in bed on top of the covers, your burns still too hot to sleep underneath. When Emily came into the room, she carried a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

“Take these,” she told you, handing you a few. You drank and swallowed obediently.

She lay down in the bed and motioned you over. “Come here and let me hold you.”

You rested your face in the crook of her neck, and she played with your hair, careful to avoid your burns.

“I love you,” she whispered after a few minutes, kissing the top of your head.

“You said.” You meant it to be funny, but your heart wasn’t in it. Not yet.

“And I’ll keep saying it until you believe it.”

You were quiet for a minute, then spoke. “I love you, too, Em.” You nuzzled your way closer to her, hoping against hope that her arms around you were enough to keep the darkness and the numbness away for the night.,

And as you drifted off, she kept saying it–“I love you.” And then a kiss on your head.

As your eyelids fluttered closed–“I love you.” And she pressed her face to your forehead.

As your breath slowed and evened, and your body went limp–“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss drabble #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hurt/comfort #self h@rm

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trickphotography2 · 4 months ago

Text

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 20

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 6.6k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 19 | Series Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 20

After the excitement of seeing Jake, the holidays could never stack up.

It took a little while to get back onto the time zone, and you dragged yourself through work. The post-babymoon blues hit hard, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed, wearing Jake’s sweatshirt that you’d stolen and stretched too much to give back and wallow for the last few months of the deployment. But being alone at home gave you too much time to think. It was easier to try and focus on wrapping things up for the year instead of staring at your phone and wishing it would chime.

The war games had officially started, and Jake was on telecom blackout for three weeks.

Office holiday parties and the Daggers dropping by weren’t enough to keep your mind off what was happening in the Pacific. The adage of no news is good news kept being tossed around, but that didn’t stop you from dreaming about finding out that your husband died through an email about the Vigilantes requiring a new F-18 after theirs crashed into the ocean. Your recurring nightmare of Javy showing up with the Chaplin decided to play on repeat whenever you tried to sleep.

Irrationally, you started to hate it when your computer chimed to notify you of a new email.

At your first appointment with Dr. Shearer after Japan, you cried when she asked how the trip was. Guilt ate at you, knowing that your breakdown was making the appointment run long and putting her off schedule, but she didn’t seem to care as she hugged you and held your hand. Under her gentle questioning, you told her about the nightmares and pacing the house at night. About turning down offers to go out with friends and the baby shower your coworkers offered to throw you. How your parents were checking in on you more. And how you were so afraid that your husband would die before he got a chance to meet your daughter. When she asked you how long it had been going on, you just shrugged and said for a few months.

“Oh, honey,” Dr. Shearer sighed. “I know we discussed this before your trip - that doesn’t sound like baby blues. You’ve got a lot going on, and I think it’s time we discussed how you’re doing with all of it. Especially with your history of depression.”

“I thought it’d get better after I saw Jake,” you said softly.

By the time you left her office, you had a new prescription for an anti-depressant and a list of therapists who specialized in prenatal depression. When you tried to decline the medication, not wanting it to impact Sloane, Dr. Shearer assured you that they would have minimal impact on her, if any. “Sometimes you need to put your oxygen mask on before helping others, Mama. You’re just as important as your little girl, okay? And I’m sure your husband would tell you the same thing.”

That didn’t stop you from crying in your car before calling out of work for the rest of the day. After stopping at the pharmacy, you went home and put on Jake’s sweatshirt before spritzing his cologne on your pregnancy pillow and crawling into bed. A headache throbbed dully as you closed your eyes, dreading talking to your husband for the first time and telling him that you couldn’t even get through your first major deployment together without slipping into a depressive episode.

Jake had been upfront about his intention to stay in the Navy for as long as possible since you started dating. Which meant that you had many, many deployments ahead of you. Months at a time of being separated. And, irrational as it was, you worried what he would think of you stumbling like this on the first one. You never wanted to be a reason for Jake to worry. His job was too dangerous for his attention to be split, so you’d striven to keep how much of a toll his being gone was taking on you quiet. Put on a brave face in front of your friends, knowing they would report their concerns to him. They might have commented on you looking tired, but you didn’t tell them about your nightmares. And it was a convenient excuse for getting out of plans.

He’d put up with a lot with his ex, between her infidelity and worrying about seizures, and you didn’t want to force him back into that mindset. You’d reassured him time and time again that you were okay and that growing up with your dad on temporary duty for a year had prepared you for this. But being a kid, missing your parent, and being a wife missing her husband was different.

Things would be so much more complicated in the future when you had to take care of not only yourself but also Sloane, you thought as your daughter moved. Mom had made it look easy, juggling her job and raising you. But the last seven months had made you worry about what it would be like trying to do the same. A tear pooled in the corner of your eye and slipped over the bridge of your nose when you imagined going through labor without Jake there. You’d been purposely not thinking about it, hoping that some miracle would happen and he would come home in time. But the only reason you could think of him being sent home early involved him getting hurt, and you couldn’t selfishly wish for that.

A sob burst from your lips, and you buried your face into your pillow, hating the thought of letting down your husband and daughter.

The weekend before Christmas, your parents flew in. Their visit had always been the plan, but you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief when you spotted them at the airport arrivals as you pulled into a vacant spot. After popping the trunk, you were out of the car and in Mom’s as Dad loaded the suitcases before taking his turn hugging you. Tears pricked your eyes, and for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like you were forcing a smile.

That lasted until you got home, and your parents realized you hadn’t done anything to decorate for Christmas. “I just haven’t had the energy,” you shrugged. Their exchanged look told you they knew it wasn’t just that, and their silent conversation made you miss Jake - knowing what your husband was thinking with just a glance.

It wasn’t surprising when Mom encouraged you to stop by the home decor store after going out for lunch. Neither you nor Jake had a tree - he’d bought a small real one for their visit the previous year, decorated with cheap plastic ornaments shoved in the attic somewhere, while you’d gotten rid of yours before the move. Mom was a Christmas fan and quickly took charge, leading you up and down the rows of trees until you picked out a pre-lit seven-and-a-half-foot tall one with artificial snow and pinecones. Dad loaded it into the cart while Mom led you to the ornaments, where you spotted a jet ornament and quickly grabbed it.

“Looks like an F-16,” Dad said, holding it up to examine it closely. A sly smile crossed his lips as he slipped it into his palm. “An Air Force jet - I approve.” That made you laugh, and you made a mental note to dig out the Air Force shirt your dad had gifted Jake last Christmas from the depths of his drawer - contrary to what he’d threatened, it hadn’t ended up as a tire rag.

They wasted no time getting the tree set up, and Dad went into the attic to get the decorations you’d purchased last year. And you managed to hold the tears in until you were hanging up the stockings, and Mom disappeared into the guest bedroom for a minute, only to return with one she’d made for Sloane. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to make you and Jake ones that say ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad,’” she smiled, “but let me know, and I can make new ones for you next year.”

Mom took a picture of you holding the stocking next to your bump before putting it next to the other ones hung on the wall. You snapped a photo of them all in a row and texted both to Jake. It went unread like the other messages and pictures you’d sent to his phone and email.

Javy came over for dinner the night before he flew to Louisiana to spend the holiday with his family. Without saying a word, you could tell he was relieved by the sight of the tree and decorations - he’d offered to get you a tree and put up lights, but you’d turned him down every time. You knew he felt guilty about spending Christmas with his parents and had pushed back his leave until your family arrived, which made you feel guilty. So you put on a happy smile and teased him all evening, especially when he opened the gift you’d labeled as from Sloane. Cackling, he held up the Funko Pop of The Godfather. Since your husband had officially asked his best friend to be Sloane’s godfather, he’d been quoting the movie nonstop. When you slipped and told him you’d never seen it, he forced a Dagger movie night.

No one had paid too much attention to the movie, more interested in swapping holiday plans and eating the snacks Javy had set out. Bob and Nat were traveling to see their families, and Ruben was going to spend it with his girlfriend’s family. When he found out that your parents were coming, he promised to swing by and say hello. Everyone planned to be back for New Year, and Bob offered to host everyone at his place. No one faulted you when you dozed off during the film, comforted by your friends' voices.

You had to double-check the next morning that you hadn’t dreamed of Bob saying he was happy to do so, especially since he’d gotten orders back to North Island with a report date in June.

So it was going to be a quiet Christmas with your parents. The only downside of their presence was that you felt trapped in your room when insomnia hit. On the first night they were there, you’d tried to sneak into the nursery only to have your dad come in and check on you. While you sat in the rocker, he lay on the ground and talked to you, catching you up on the mundane things in his life. Your eyes slowly closed as he spoke about advising the young airmen about their relationships but jerked awake when he snored. Chuckling to yourself, you shook him awake and sent him to bed before retreating to your room and dozed off.

Shit shit shit

Jake pulled up on his stick, climbing to evade the Korean pilot attempting to get tone on him. His jet felt sluggish, loaded to the max capability to safely land back on the carrier, allowing the pursuing jet a slight tactical advantage. He was nearing the decommissioned ship that they were attempting to sink with a prototype bomb, with the other countries playing defense to test their dog-fighting skills against the American pilots.

The first two weeks of the exercise focused on naval defense and surveillance, with the fleet practicing their maneuvers against allies. The pilots had been tightening their game plan for the mock attack and providing aerial coverage. The helo pilots had taken off with rescue swimmers to practice retrieving downed pilots.

As much as he would have enjoyed a dip in the Pacific, Jake didn’t volunteer for those roles. Even with the shark boats providing additional support, he didn’t want to do anything that would stress you out more.

The first few days of the fixed-wing planes being in the air focused on targeting and shooting down dud missiles and drones. It had been fun target practice, but Jake couldn’t help but note the younger pilots who needed more time in the simulators and didn’t hesitate to include them in his debrief with Mav at the end of the day. While the exercise served as practice for actual warfare, many young pilots hadn’t served in an active warzone before - they didn’t know what it was like to take fire or watch your wingman take a hit.

There weren’t many times that Jake felt his age in the cockpit, but at 36, he had over a decade on the new kids. He had two campaign medals and another for the Global War on Terrorism. He had two air-to-air kills. And he paid attention.

Word had come down that the Eisenhower had been extended for a second time due to conflict in the Middle East. If tensions continued, it wouldn’t be long until more carriers were sent to the region.

For the first time, Jake questioned how much longer he could do this. As much as he loved being an aviator, he loved being your husband more. Missing everything about your pregnancy was killing him. The exercise had distracted him over the last two weeks, but not being able to turn on his phone and text or call you was killing him.

To put it simply - Jake was homesick.

With Sloane on the way, he could only see his job getting further in the way of how he wanted to be as a husband and a father. He remembered being a kid before he knew what an asshole his father was and hated going to the dock to say goodbye. Walking away from you on the tarmac and getting in that taxi in Yokosuka had been torture - Jake couldn’t imagine having to do the same with his little girl.

“Nearing the target.” Rooster’s voice came over the comms, and Jake glanced down to see his wingman closing in on the abandoned ship towed to the middle of the ocean. Word trickled through the pilots, and the defense planes backed off, returning to their ships. While the exercise was meant to test the military capabilities, there was no way the government would have anything interfere with the testing of an advanced weapon. A helo hovered with a camera pointed at the ship, and a third jet with a WSO flew nearby to follow them as they dropped the bombs to get a closer look.

Jake quickly maneuvered into position. Rooster would make the first pass and strike to the ship's bow, with him hitting the stern seconds later. Mav was ready to launch in case they needed a third strike. After confirming he was ready and getting clearance from the boat that they were clear to proceed, Rooster called, “Sights on target. Locked…”

“Locked,” Jake echoed, the laser to paint the stern.

“Bombs away.”

“Bombs away.” Hitting the release, Jake forced the jet to scream past the ship, wanting to make sure he was out of the way in case of a malfunction. Gaining altitude, he followed Rooster as the other pilot circled back to the carrier, tipping his wing to watch the chain explosions on the ship. Fire shot from the sides before bursting onto the deck.

Grinning behind his mask, Jake radioed the tower and said he was ready to land.

They were one step closer to heading home, finally finishing the exercise.

“Ughhhh!” you huffed, throwing your tablet aside and running a hand down your face. It was almost 2:00AM on Christmas Eve, and your book annoyed you. For some reason, you’d decided to try out a holiday military romance. It wasn’t the best choice, considering the plot centered around a couple facing a deployment over Christmas, but the ending had you simultaneously jealous and frustrated.

The idea of the husband showing up on Christmas morning to surprise his family? Not likely. A deployment wouldn’t be wrapped up early just to get a servicemember home for the holidays. And if Jake ever lied about how long a deployment would be to surprise you… well, let’s just say that the guest bedroom would be his home for the time that he was supposed to be gone. Maybe other spouses enjoyed it, but you didn’t like the thought of being lied to and mentally preparing for a longer separation just for a surprise at the end.

After shifting the pregnancy pillow, you leaned against the headboard. There were few times you regretted not having a TV in the bedroom - when you’d moved in, Jake had put it in the guest bedroom at your request - but this was one of them. Sighing, you lifted your shirt and cradled your stomach, tracing the stretchmarks marring your skin. “It’s almost Christmas, baby girl,” you sighed. “And even though you can’t open your presents, you’re already spoiled. Grammy and Grandpa sent me to bed early to wrap presents. Even your daddy’s family sent you gifts.” You felt - and watched - your stomach twitch as Sloane moved. No matter how many times you saw it happen, the sight still shocked you. Her movements had been yours alone to experience for so long; now, others could easily see them, too.

“I know; I was surprised, too,” you sighed. The box was delivered to your doorstep late last night and addressed to Jake and Sloane. That had stung, especially seeing that it was from your sister-in-law, but you knew your husband would tell you that the estrangement with his family wasn’t your fault. “Your Aunt Lina sent you some stuff, and so did your Grammy and Grandpa Seresin.”

Seeing the wrapped presents from Jake’s parents had frozen you. While you tried not to think about the day that your father-in-law threatened you, it was hard to see reminders of it. You had kept what happened secret from your parents, not wanting to cause any stress, and had listened to your mom say how nice it was that the Seresins had sent presents while putting them under the tree.

Sloane rolled under your palm, and you sighed. That turned into a choked gasp when you felt your calf tightening into a painful knot. Grimacing, you pulled your leg up and tried to knead the muscle, but it didn’t improve. The tightening verged on the edge of painful, and you rolled onto your side, muffling your groan in the bedding.

A chime sounded, and you blindly groped for your phone. Another chime. And then a third.

Opening one eye, you stopped breathing when you saw that Jake was replying to the texts you’d sent during the exercise.

I’m okay with you painting the nursery as long as you’re not the one doing it. Ask one of the guys to do it after the holidays.

The truck isn’t that lifted. You’re just short. Can’t wait to drive my girls around in it again.

Mrs. Seresin, teasing me with a picture from our second date spot? Playing dirty, darling. I’ll get a list of things together for the box, but I’m almost out of aftershave and keep losing socks in the laundry here. Would you mind hitting the uniform store for me? My ribbon bar got bent, and I need a new one.

Glad the doc said Sloane’s doing great. What about you? How are you???

Damn, that’s a big tree. Making the house look like a home, darling. Wish I was there with you.

I love the stocking. Your mom did a great job.

Opening up your texts, you started to type and immediately saw a new message.

Are you awake? Why are you awake?

Couldn’t sleep, you replied. Clutching the phone tightly, you bit your lip and tapped your fist against the muscle cramp.

You should try

Tapping the voice note, you held the phone up to your mouth. “I’m dealing with a bitch of a Charlie horse right now.” Rolling off the bed, you gingerly put weight on your leg and moaned. “Fucking Jesus Christ, this hurts.” Tapping send, you waited a moment before hearing your phone chime.

Jake had sent you a voice note back. Tears welled in your eyes when you hit play and heard your husband’s voice for the first time in weeks. “Wanna call you so bad right now, but they’re making us all sign up for times to not overload the system. I’m gonna video call you tomorrow at eight in the morning your time. Wish I was there to help you with the cramp, darlin.”

A second voice note showed up as soon as you finished the first. “If we have bananas, go get one. And then I want you to get a heating pad or your ice pack and put it wherever you’ve got the Charlie horse, alright? Are you drinking enough water?”

A third. “Wait, can you get your parents to get you the stuff? I don’t want you movin’ around and fallin’. Shit, darlin’, I’m sorry I’m not there.”

After quickly saving the messages before they disappeared, you held up the phone and recorded your message. “It’s good to hear your voice, Tex. I miss you so damn much. I’m not gonna wake my parents up in the middle of the night to get me something from the kitchen when I can hobble over to get it. I think we do have bananas. But are you done with the exercise?”

“I’m sure your parents wouldn’t mind,” Jake sent back. “Just wish I was there to get it for you. And yeah, the exercise is done. We’re getting today off, and then we’ll debrief before starting the trip home.”

Carefully, you limped out of the bedroom, holding onto the walls and furniture as you moved and cursing under your breath. Gripping the couch arm, you debated lying down and waiting for the pain to pass, but the phone lit up with another message. As tempted as you were to play it, you promised yourself that you could only listen to it back in bed. Your parents were such light sleepers that they would probably overhear the message, and as much as they loved Jake, you selfishly wanted to have some time alone with him.

Slipping the phone into your sweatpants pocket, you refilled your water glass and snagged a banana off the counter before retrieving an icepack from the freezer. The trip back to the room was even slower, the light from your phone wavering slightly. After depositing the items on the nightstand, you collapsed back into the bed and gripped your calf, whimpering as you dug your fingers into the knot and tried to massage it away. When the phone continued to vibrate with incoming messages, you flipped it over and saw that Jake had sent you five texts and voice notes.

“Are you getting the stuff, honey? Tell me you’re being careful. The last thing we need is for you to end up in the hospital because you tripped over something.” The humor was evident in his voice, but then he cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t joke about that. Just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Then there were back-to-back texts asking if you were alright and another if you’d fallen asleep.

“Alright, now I’m worried, which is stupid because you’re probably fine. It’s, what, after two there? Hopefully, you just fell asleep and will make fun of me for this in the morning. Love you, darlin’.”

The next was a picture of him scowling at his phone as he lay in his bunk with headphones in, one hand behind his head. You felt your stomach swoop at seeing him, his face slightly darker with a tan and his hair falling across his forehead. His arm seemed bigger, and you wished that it was wrapped around you. The accompanying message read Frustrated that I’m not there to take care of you right now. Could use my magic hands on you to get rid of that Charlie horse.

That made you snort, and you sent your message, unable to keep the whine from your voice, “I’d kill for your magic hands right now. Didn’t mean to worry you, but I didn’t want to wake my parents up. Feel like I’m a kid again, sneaking around the house.”

Good, I’m glad you’re ok. And you love my magic hands. They’re really good at making you feel good in so many ways.

Still chuckling, you sent, “Yes, I do miss your hands. And your arms. And your lips and dick and legs and laugh and smile and all of you.”

You’re making me blush, darling. Good thing I’ve got my headphones in so Rooster and Fritz can’t hear you.

A voice message came in before you could respond. “Just realized I haven’t said Happy Christmas Eve to my girls. I’m heading to the mess for dinner in a minute, so I’ll sign off for now. I’ll keep checking my phone now that we’re not on blackout. I hope your Charlie horse is gone, and promise me you’re taking care of yourself. I love you and Sloane so much, darlin’. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Love you.”

After making sure to save the message, you sent him one back. “I love you, Jake. Can’t wait to see you, too. Merry Christmas, babe.”

It took a long time to fall asleep once the muscle spasm ended. True to your word, you ate the banana and sipped your water while listening to Jake’s messages again, eventually falling asleep to him saying he loved you.

Christmas Eve was spent preparing dinner the following night, and Mom borrowed the car for some last-minute shopping. When she got back and asked for you to distract Dad, you decided to go to the hardware store and pick out paint swatches.

The store was a madhouse, but even that couldn’t take the smile off your face as Jake sent you texts throughout the day. For him, it was already Christmas, and he had the day off. Sprinkled through the messages about how much he missed you were snippets of what the crew was doing to celebrate the holiday, including pictures of trees in the mess and hangers. The highlight, however, was a video of Santa launching a jet that Mav piloted, wearing his own Santa hat stretched over his helmet. You showed your dad that one, and he begrudgingly agreed it was a cool tradition.

You saved a picture of Jake wearing a headband with elf ears, a broad grin on his mouth, as your new lock screen.

You felt like a kid that night, dozing off as your parents watched It’s A Wonderful Life and A Christmas Story, a bowl of homemade popcorn on your lap. Eventually, you were sent to bed, where it was hard to fall asleep with the anticipation of speaking to your husband the following morning. It didn’t help that, to center yourself, you played Jake’s voice notes with the phone resting on your stomach. Hearing her father’s voice, Sloane became more active and calmed down when you moved the phone to your pillow. You slept fitfully, waking with a jolt from dreams of missing the call.

The anticipation reached a height on Christmas morning. Your eyes strayed to the phone every few seconds, even though you knew there were hours before Jake would call. You kept glancing at the time while eating breakfast and drinking your only cup of coffee for the day. Knowing you were distracted, your parents didn’t push opening stockings or presents.

So, as the clock ticked closer to eight, your parents encouraged you to find a private place to talk with your husband first. Retreating to the bedroom, you settled against the headboard, squirming to get comfortable. Setting the laptop on your legs, you lifted your stretched-out sweatshirt and lightly stroked your belly, feeling Sloane’s head pressed against your side. “Daddy’s gonna call us soon, baby girl,” you said softly. “Are you gonna wake up so he can see you?”

Your alarm went off at 7:59AM, and you quickly silenced it before tapping the laptop to wake it. And, at precisely 8:00, it started to ring.

Jake’s broad grin filled the screen when you answered the call. Unlike the previous times he’d called you, you could see that he was in a room with other people, each with headphones on. He looked so happy, and, mortifyingly, you burst into tears at the sight of him. “Merry Christ… hey, darlin’ - what’re those tears for?”

“Sorry,” you gasped, wiping at your face. “Sorry, I just - ”

“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly. Through bleary eyes, you saw his brow furrowed. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. Tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just miss you so much. How was the exercise?”

“Great, it’s done,” Jake smirked. “Now tell me what’s making you cry on Christmas.”

“Jake.” He huffed your name, and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I want this to be a good call, and we can discuss it later.”

“So there is something to discuss.” Your lower lip wobbled, and you pressed them into a thin line.

“Please?” you said softly. Jake’s playful expression disappeared.

“Darlin’, talk to me.” Though you’d promised yourself that this call would only be about Christmas, you told him everything. How Dr. Shearer had put you back onto an anti-depressant, and you had an appointment to start therapy in January. The nightmares you’d had about him dying before getting to meet Sloane. You felt like you were letting everyone down by struggling to get through the deployment, and you worried it would be more complicated once your daughter arrived.

“A-and I n-never want you to f-feel like you have to choose b-between us and your car-career,” you hiccupped.

“It’s never a choice, darlin’,” Jake sighed, fists clenching in his sweatpants. He wanted so badly to be home right then. “You and Sloane are my priority.”

“Nooo,” you groaned, pressing the sleeves of your shirt to your eyes. “T-that’s not the p-point. You shouldn’t have to c-choose just ‘c-cause I can’t handle my s-shit.”

Jake sighed your name, then repeated it in a firmer tone when you didn’t look at him. Lowering one hand, you peeked at him through your fingers. “Better, but lemme see your pretty face, honey,” he said. Groaning, you dropped your hands. “There’s my girl. I need you to listen when I say this again - you and Sloane are my priority. You two are always gonna be my top priority. So if you need to be on medication right now, and it's safe for both of you, that’s what we’re gonna do.”

“Jake - ” you sniffled, and he shook his head, cutting you off.

“You’re being fuckin’ hard on yourself right now, and you need to give yourself a break, darlin’. This isn’t a normal deployment, honey. You’re not gonna be pregnant every time we do this.”

“I-I think…” Hiccupping, you shook your head. “I…” You clapped a hand to your mouth to keep the words going through your head for the last few weeks from slipping out.

“Talk to me,” Jake pleaded. You felt so guilty, seeing his heartbroken expression as you cried over what was supposed to be a fun call.

“I don’t wanna ruin your Christmas.” Groaning, he glanced at his watch and shook his head.

“Christmas is officially over for me. Tell me what’s bothering you, sweetheart.”

“I think it’s finally hitting that I’m gonna have to do this alone.” Even as you watched Jake’s face fall, you couldn’t stop. “I’m so happy I came out to see you, but it felt like such a tease, and it was easier to get through this before I got to kiss you and have you be a part of the pregnancy.”

“Darlin’…” he sighed. You could see the hurt on his face, and it broke your heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, babe - I’m not… I’m not saying it right.” At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in your husband’s neck and hide, to feel his strong arms around you. “I-I…it’s been a fucking rollercoaster,” you choked out. “I’m so, so happy I came out there - please don’t think I’m not,” you pleaded, resting a hand on your belly where Sloane was still. “B-but seeing you and then not being able to t-talk to you was really, really hard.”

“I know, darlin’. It’s been hard for me, too, so I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for you.” And your husband, who always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you feel better, was at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he repeated.

“At least it’s only for another month and a half, right?” you said, pasting on that fake smile he hadn’t seen in so long. Seeing what you were doing - trying to put him at ease - Jake only shook his head.

“At least there’s that.”

“Did you have a good Christmas?” His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath, his green eyes piercing you through the screen.

“Darlin’, I’ll drop it for now, but we’re gonna have a serious conversation about this later, alright?”

“D-do we have to?” you asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes. Absolutely.” His firm tone disappeared at the sight of you wiping your face, lip wobbling again. “I love you, darlin’. I had a good Christmas. What about you? Have you opened presents yet?”

“Not yet.” Grasping the out like a lifeline, you forced your voice to be bright. “Wanted to talk to you first. But Mom and Dad went overboard, and there’s a ton of presents under the tree for Sloane. Wanna see?”

For the next twenty minutes, you spoke with Jake and took the laptop to the living room. You knew your parents clocked your reddened eyes but didn’t say anything as they caught up with their son-in-law. Jake watched you open a few presents for your daughter - mostly clothes - before saying his time was almost up and that he was heading to bed. Your parents had you sit on the couch and open one of the presents to both of you - a glass ornament that read ‘Our First Christmas’ and your wedding date on it. You put it front and center on the tree.

You stepped into the bedroom to say goodbye and tried to reassure him that you were okay. “I love you,” you sighed.

“I love you too, darlin’. So damn much.”

“I’m sorry if I upset you - ”

“I’m not upset. Not with you,” he cut you off. “We’re gonna talk about it later, but for now, I want you to enjoy your Christmas and send me pictures, alright?”

“Alright.” Your response was quiet, and he sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“I just need you to be honest when something bothers you. I can’t fix it if I don’t know about it.”

“You can’t fix this, babe. You can’t come home early, and I can’t be there with you.”

“I know that,” he huffed before shaking his head again. “Later. I want you to enjoy today with your parents.”

“Okay. Merry Christmas, Jake. Sweet dreams.”

“Merry Christmas, darlin’. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” The smile he gave you was strained as he lifted his hand, and then the call disconnected.

Tears gathered in your eyes again, but you took a deep breath and forced them away. You’d already ruined Jake’s Christmas call, and the last thing you wanted to do was make it awkward for your parents. So, pasting on that fake smile again, you tucked the laptop under your arm and went back to the living room.

Javy lifted a hand and flagged you down at the arrivals. You’d offered to pick him up, as his flight landed shortly after your parents left to head back to Florida.

After tossing his bag into the trunk, he climbed into the car and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I hate traveling during the holidays,” he grumbled as you twisted to look over your shoulder to see if you could merge.

“It’s pretty horrible,” you agreed, easing into the flow of traffic. Once you were on the road, he filled you in on his trip, chuckling over stories about his nieces and nephews.

“Oh,” he said, voice suddenly serious. “You and I gotta have a conversation, too.”

“About what?” you asked, eyes flitting over to him. Did Jake say something to him about your meltdown? After getting a flower delivery the day after Christmas, a beautiful bouquet of white and lavender flowers, you’d had a heart-to-heart with your husband about how anxious you were about going into the final few weeks of your pregnancy.

You’d officially hit 33 weeks pregnant. And, while you were happy that Sloane had officially shifted into the head-down position, her frequent kicks to your rib weren’t welcomed - especially when you were dealing with shortness of breath. Not to mention that sticky notes ran your life because you’d started forgetting things. Dr. Shearer had promised you that pregnancy brain was common and talked you through tips for dealing with it, but as someone who prided themselves on attention to detail, it was a tough pill to swallow.

It didn’t help that the website you read for advice suggested leaning on your partner to help manage the mental load.

The only benefit of the visit had been listening to Sloane’s heartbeat, which you had recorded and sent to Jake. He’d been doing his best to check in more often, texting and calling whenever possible. And the idea of him looping Javy into that was mortifying.

“You and I gotta make a plan for what happens when this one comes,” he said, motioning to your stomach.

“What?”

“Yeah. I told Mama that I was gonna be a godfather, and she knows Hangman’s deployed. So she was asking me who was gonna get you to the hospital. I told her it’d probably be me,” he shrugged, a self-conscious expression on his face, “and she and my sisters got on me about making sure I knew the fastest route and timing contractions. So yeah, we gotta make a plan so I can get them off my back.”

“Oh,” you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat. You hadn’t thought too much about your plan to get to the hospital. Your parents had assured you that they would be on the first plane out as soon as you said you were in labor. “I…w-we can do that. My doctor suggested some classes to get ready for the birth, so I figured I would just go to those.”

“Great. Lemme know when they are, and I’ll see if I can get the time off.” Thankfully, you were at a red light and didn’t slam on the breaks.

“What?”

“You want to go to birthing classes?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, an awkward smile crossing his mouth. “I figured I’d stay with you until your parents got there. Unless you want someone else. Maybe Phoenix?”

“Javy,” you croaked, tears gathering in your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Don’t worry about it - it was a stupid thought. I’ll get you to the hospital and sit in the waiting room. You can just text if you - ”

“Send me a text, and I’ll send you the class schedule. I’ll forget otherwise.” A second later, your phone chimed with an alert, and you saw that he’d sent you the reminder. “You and Jake are gonna have to compare notes. He’s taking a first-time fatherhood class online.”

“Good. Now that the exercise is done, he’ll have more free time and can do that instead of harassing the other pilots about their shitty flying during the sorties.”

“That sounds like my husband,” you sighed.

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

Author's Note: Apologies for the delay in getting this out - writer's block hit hard. This wasn't originally supposed to be so angsty, but Darlin's been holding back a lot to make sure that Jake can focus on work, and it kind of spilled out. But how freaking awesome is Godfather Coyote? Oh, and I based the exercise off this one.

Thank you to @dizzybee03 for the nudge I needed to finish this chapter today!

(If you missed it, I also posted a slightly spoiler-y blurb about D-Day earlier today. All head canons/blurbs are posted on the Masterlist.)

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please fill out my tag form here.

Read Chapter 21

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#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman smut #hangman fic #D-Day fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman imagine

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eimids · 1 year ago

Text

Your worst enemy

Arsenal x reader

Reder is suffering with depression and doesn’t want her teammates to know.

Warnings: depression, mention of suicide (nothing happens tho), HEAVY on the angst, hurt/comfort?

words: around 3k

Your thoughts had been spiraling for a while, first you didn’t even realize it. Starting with only tiredness and some not so good days. You just brushed then off.

Your depression wasn’t back, it couldn’t be it.

Last time it got so bad that you were almost hospitalized. So this time it couldn’t get to that point. You changed your whole life after your last depressive episode. You changed from Manchester United to Arsenal. You cut contact with toxic people in your life, especially your ex.

But without you even realizing, it became more severe. Not having any energy, going to sleep at 9pm and sleeping for almost 12 hours every day. You were also getting irritated really easily. If something didn’t go your way, you were ready to fight (and cry). Practice was the only moment you had to be energetic. You couldn’t let things affect football. You didn’t want to be with your teammates, the bonding nights only seemed like a lot of work to keep a happy surface.

During best days, everything felt almost normal. But just almost. Something felt always off. Sounds were too loud, lights were too brightbut you were happy. You were supposed to be happy. Why couldn’t you just be happy. Everything was good, what did you have in your life for you to be depressed? Absolutely nothing.

You tried your best to not let anyone notice but you failed miserably. Alessia was the first one to notice and tried subtly to talk to you about it. You were closest to her at Arsenal. You transferred with her from Manu so you knew each other from there. Although you were only 19 you and Less where getting along really well. After practice she offered to grab coffee with you, then have a nice girlsnight with her.

“Oh it’ll be fun. We can just go to my apartment to watch some movies and order your favorite food” The older woman tried to convince you.

You were hesitant at her suggestion. After the long day you were already overwhelmed and tired. You just wanted to sleep away the never ending tiredness. You hadn’t had even that long day. Only practice and recovery. Then some quick media stuff. But even that made you exhausted. Wanting to just rot away in your bed you made some excuse for Less.

“I’m sorry i’m just really tired today and I’m gonna have to call to my parents about them coming to visit” You said as casually as you could.

Lessi almost believed it, but she knew something deeper was going on. She’d seen you get more and more tired during the last months and she didn’t really know what to do about it.

“You know you can always talk to me if you have something on your mind?” Less blurted out.

You were pondering your options. You could say that things were ok and not to worry about you. But you could also confess the hard truth. Your depression was back. But Less would have to tell that to Leah and Kim, who were obligated to tell Jonas and the team management.

“I know Less, but I’m doing okay” You said and smiled. Then you just grabbed your kitbag and left the training grounds.

It was already 8pm and it was getting dark. You still didn’t have your drivers license so you couldn’t drive by yourself. You could ask a lift from one of your teammates but most of them had left or were still doing media. Uber felt useless waste of money so you decided to walk home. It was only four kilometers so it wasn’t anything too bad. You started your walk on the quiet roads of England. There was some pubs and bars you walked past to. Hearing the usual catcalls from some gross old men. You tried to ignore them you put your music louder in your headphones and continued walking.

Your phone was on ‘do not disturb’ mode as you continued your walk. You didn’t really notice anything around you. Not even truly caring about anything. You just wanted the numbness and tiredness to go away. Somehow you managed to get to your apartment. You took your shoes off and walked straight to your bed. Not caring that you were still wearing your day clothes. Your apartment was a mess so you didn’t even bother to look for any other clothes.

The next day you woke up and it was already 10am. Another 12 hours had passed with your sleeping. You knew you were going to be late but still didn’t bother to get up. You decided to check your phone only to find 3 missed calls from Less and texts.

Lessi🤍

8.47pm

Viv said you didn’t ride with her back home? Don’t say you walked! I could’ve driven you home..

9.12pm

Please answer to me that you are okay y/n. I just want to know you got home safely.

10.39pm

I really hope you are already asleep at your house. I’m worried please call me when you can.

You were alarmed when you heard something from your kitchen. You quickly got up and went to look for the sound. Your kitchen was cleaned, the living room was cleaned, what was happened.

Alessia. She stood there in your kitchen making you breakfast. You were confused about everything even though you had given Less your spare keys.

“Morning y/n, we need to have a talk” Less just said. Clearly not happy.

“Well yeah, you can’t just show up to my apartment” You answered.

“Yea I can when I’m worried sick about you. I asked almost everyone on the team if they had taken you home but no. Did you walk home? You can’t be that reckless, something could’ve happened. So when you didn’t answer I decided to come over to see what’s going on. I’m glad I found you safely home, sleeping” Less started her lecture.

“I didn’t walk” You lied. “I ordered an uber and got home safely” You continued with the lies. You could see the anger and worry on Alessia’s face turn to guilt. “I was tired and didn’t want to bother anyone so I just ordered the uber. You don’t have to worry about me Less, I’m okay” You said with a smile. You were trying to be convincing although all that came from your mouth was lies.

“Oh i’m so sorry y/n. I don’t know what got to me but you’ve been acting weird lately and I just got so worried when you didn’t answer. Maybe I should get going, I’m sorry again” Alessia said and started to grab her things.

You stopped her by hugging her. You weren’t mad at her, although you didn’t want her to be worried about you, I felt nice to know that she cared about you. “You can stay Less, have breakfast with me” You said to her softly.

So she did. You ate your breakfast in a comfortable silence and then talked about your next match that you were going to have in couple days. You were supposed to leave to Manchester later that day. After you ate, Less grabbed her stuff again and left. You were happy with yourself that you convinced her that everything was okay.

You and Alessia both missed the team meeting of that morning but were on time to get to your bus to leave to Manchester. You got a little lecture from Jonas but didn’t really care. Wasn’t the first time.

On the bus most of your teammates were on the back of the bus listening to music and chatting. You however were sitting in the front. Headphones in listening to Taylor Swift and trying to sleep. It wasn’t hard with how exhausted you were. Sleep came nowadays always easily.

At some point you were woken by Kim sitting next to you. You tried to just act like you were sleeping but the skipper knew better.

“I know you’re awake y/n. Why don’t you come to the back of the bus with the others and have some fun, you have missed a lot of team bonding nights lately and the girls miss your company” Kim stated to you. You could hear Katie singing in the back of the bus and laughed a little.

“Okay I can come for a while. But I really need my beauty sleep” You tried to joke. Kim laughed a little before walking back to her seat. You followed her and were welcomed with teasing from your teammates.

“Well good to see you y/l/n, feels like I haven’t seen you in ages” Katie teased as she saw you walking to the back of the bus. “Come sit next to me” She continued.

You really didn’t want to hear the teasing from Katie but decided to still take the seat next to her. In front of you were Beth and Viv. In the next booth of four were Less, Leah and Kyra. Music was blasting and you saw as Katie was filming a tiktok about the her day. She filmed you in it with the something along ‘She’s alive’. You smiled for the camera but actually you wanted to cry. You were tired af the teasing. You were tired of everyone fussing about you. Why couldn’t you just enjoy some peace and quiet.

You zoned out for a while and next thing you realize was that Leah was gently waking you up.

“Wake up sleepy” Leah said quietly and smiled to you.

“Oh sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep” You said while looking around. Everyone else had left the bus, you were at your hotel.

Leah just hummed and helped you get your stuff and then walked with you to the entrance. Your teammates were sorting out rooms. You were hoping to get a room for yourself all alone. When you’re name was called at last you found out that you were paring with Leah. Kim and Leah changed looks that you didn’t notice.

Some of your teammates, mainly Viv, Beth and Less had went and talked to your skippers about your weird behavior. They had all noticed the signs of depression. Especially Less who had known you when you had your latest episode. They had made a small plan to get you to talk. Leah would be rooming with you, Kim would encourage you to be more with the other girls. Viv and Beth where just like parents who took notice about your behavior and made sure that you took care of yourself. They didn’t want to talk to you yet about it. They want you to come talk to them, or to anyone at that matter.

The rest of the day was a blur. You had a practice on the pitch, some recovery in cold pool, dinner. At practice you were almost benched because you were playing recklessly. Taking stupid risks and tackling people. A lot of your tackles were not even towards others, more so you could get yourself hurt. They were stupid and you knew it but just didn’t care.

After dinner your head was a mess. You felt overwhelmed and you couldn’t really take a notice of your surroundings. Kyra was walking next to you to the elevator. For the next couple of hours you were supposed to spend time with your teammates. You knew you had to show your face there for people not to get suspicious but you were in a bad mental state and just wanted to be alone. You walked hand in hand to the meeting room where pretty much everyone was in already. You smiled and talked for a while before trying to make an excuse to leave.

“Don’t leave yet, you just came here” Viv said to you. Trying to find someone else in the room who was in on the plan. She saw Leah and waved her over.

“I’m just not really in a mood to be here, I was thinking about having a shower and just going to sleep” You answered. Not having the energy to make up excuses.

“Y/n it’s not even 6pm, can’t you just stay here with us for a little while longer?” Leah asked hopefully.

Everything was just too much for you. The music in the background, Leah and Viv asking too many questions. Your breathing started to pick up pace. You knew that if you didn’t get away now, you would most likely end up having a panic attack. So you left. Without a word to Leah or Viv. You just turned around and walked away. You ran to your room and quickly closed the door. You fell to the ground and couldn’t help the tears in you eyes starting to spill.

You hated it, hated it all. You hated your mind for not being normal. You hated yourself for not accepting help from the other who clearly were just worried about you. You hated your teammates for trying to help. You hated the feeling in your head that just didn’t go away. You just hated it all.

Leah and your other teammates decided to give you some time for a while. Letting you calm down. But they all knew that they needed to do something. Leah and Kim decided to talk to the team management the first thing the following day. They knew you needed help and couldn’t watch on the side as you were slowly ruining yourself. After sometime Leah decided to come back to your shared room. She expected to find you sleeping but was concerned when you weren’t in the room. She checked the bathroom but no. You weren’t there. She got worried quickly. Her mind went first to the worst scenarios. Did something happen to you, did yo do something to yourself, was it too late for her to come look for you, she was blaming herself instantly.

“She isn’t hear” Leah said in a panicked voice as soon as Kim answered her call.

“What do you mean Leah?” Kim asked worriedly.

“She isn’t in our room, what if something has happened” Leah worried.

“Okay let’s not panic yet. Come back to the team room and we’ll make a plan” Kim said to Leah. Being the captain she knew she had to stay calm. They talked as Leah walked back to the team room. Kim had asked most of the girls to go back to their rooms and have a chill night. Not wanting to consern them.

Viv, Beth, Katie, Alessia, Leah and Kim were the ones to stay. They knew you the best and right now all they wanted was to find you.

“Has anyone called her?” Beth asked.

“Well yeah but she didn’t answer, it went straight to voicemail” Leah answered.

“She’s an adult and can leave if she wants, right now there isn’t much we can do unfortunately. Leah I suggest you go back to your room and see if y/n comes back. Inform us immediately if she comes, Viv and Beth can you go to the restaurant and bar to check if y/n’s there?” Kim started to make a plan.

Kim, Less and Katie stayed in the teamroom. Alessia was crying. She knew how bad it could get for you. Last time, about two years ago, she and Ella Toone had found you on the roof of the hotel, ready to jump. After that you started to get better. You were put on antidepressants and went to therapy for a year. She was happy that you were getting better. She didn’t want to believe the signs of depression when she first noticed them again. She didn’t want you to go through that again.

The team didn’t have to look for a long time before you showed up back in your room where Leah was pacing around. She stopped immediately when she heard the door open. Next she saw you with tears in your eyes standing there. Looking so fragile.

“I think I need help Leah, please help me” You said with the tiniest voice, lips quivering but Leah heard you. She came running to you before you collapsed on her embrace. You cried as she carried you to the bed and then continued to let you cry against her.

She quickly found her phone in her pocket and sent a quick text to Kim that you were back. Then she ignored the respond she got and just continued to hug you.

“I’m here for you and I’m going to get you the help you need” Leah whispered in your ear.

—

This was supposed to be longer but I don’t really know how to continue this so I might do a part 2 where reader sorts with the aftermath about everything. Would you be interested in part 2?

#angst #leah williamson #woso x reader #x reader #alessia russo #katie mccabe #kim little #beth mead #vivianne miedema #arsenal wfc

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winstonsns · 8 months ago

Note

may i request the gang w a reader who has bpd? like, frequent mood swings, etc etc? tysm 💕

the gang with bpd!reader (request)

authors note: bpd stands for borderline personality disorder, in which the person has long patterns of unstable emotions. could last for weeks or even months, basically episodes. i’m not that educated on this subject, so sorry if this is offensive. enjoy 💗

includes ponyboy, johnny, soda, darry, dally, two-bit and steve

word count: 2.1k

warnings: depression, fights, slightly suggestive

PONYBOY CURTIS

you haven’t been in the right headspace for the past few weeks, so your grades started to slip

ponyboy would try and help you do your homework, even doing your homework for you but you wouldn’t have the energy to even try

but then, you had a test and you tried real hard to get a good grade, studying and stressing all over it for days

after you took the test and got your grade back, seeing it was an A, you suddenly felt better

at the end of the day, you and pony decided to go back to your house to study

he noticed you were talking more and laughing, so he asked you what happened

you smiled and told him you got a good grade on your test, for the first time in a while

you switched the topic and continued smiling, and pony looked at you with love

he was glad that you were feeling better, and he suspected you’d stay happy for weeks

he sometimes gets confused when you randomly switch but doesn’t say much about it

he’ll ask you about it later but not in the moment, especially if other people are there too

he knows you like it when he reads to you, so when you’re feeling upset, he’ll read to you so maybe you’ll feel better

he doesn’t want you to get frustrated if you’re not included in things, so he’ll always invite you to his track meets and will tell you about all the drama that happens if you don’t know about it

when you’re in a depressive state, he’ll help you plan things and start a routine

he just wants you to feel in control so you know what to do and have a sense of purpose

he also asks soda and darry for advice since they know you’re going through stuff, so occasionally they’ll help you out too

JOHNNY CADE

his parents were yelling at him so he went to your house, he knew his parents wouldn’t care

the only thing he was worried about was the fact that you were still in a depressive state, and he didn’t want you to feel more sad because of what he was going through

so when he knocked on your door and you answered, your eyes lit up and you smiled widely

he was shocked and didn’t know why you were so happy, but smiled back at you

you told him you were happy to see him unannounced, but asked why he came by

he told about what happened, so you invited him in and made cupcakes together

he knows what it’s like to be in a depressive state, so he’ll always try and help you feel in touch with the world

he tried to help you focus on things more and really take in information while paying attention

like focusing on how things move or sound, how strong smells are and how loud things are, how specific tastes are sweet, salty, hot, etc

when you’re happy, he tries to keep you like that by randomly checking up on you to see how you’re doing

he’ll also offer to do things for you like carrying or cleaning things for you

he just wants to make things easier for you, but of course that doesn’t always works

johnny loves you and makes sure you know it, always telling you you’re amazing and beautiful, that he appreciates everything you do, etc

SODAPOP CURTIS

you were at soda’s house, waiting for him to come back from work

you weren’t feeling that great but were trying your best to make him think you were at least feeling ok

when you hear the door opening and a creak, you look over to see soda with a dairy queen bag and two drinks

seeing his smile and the fact that he thought about you enough to bring you food made you switch

you got up from the chair and walked over to him, he put down the food

you put your hands and cradled his face while giving him a long kiss, then tracing your hand down his chest

after the two of you pulled away from the kiss, he looked down at you with a smile and said “glad you’re feeling better, sweetheart”

he’s naturally a very bubbly person and is a romantic at heart, you cannot change my mind

he literally worships the ground you walk on and will do that no matter how you’re feeling

if you’re feeling extra bad and hardly have the energy to get out of bed, he’ll take some days off work to spend more time with you

he just wants you to feel good but doesn’t always know how to handle it

he knows what it’s like to feel unheard, so he checks up on you a lot no matter how you’re feeling

when you’re happy, the two of you will go on cute little dates together

he’ll buy you a pretty necklace for your date and it’s an S for his name

when you’re angry, he’ll always try and calm you down without yelling

you try your best to not yell either since both of you know it doesn’t get you anywhere

DARRY CURTIS

you weren’t feeling that good for the past couple weeks ever since pony and johnny ran away

you stayed at darry’s house for a while, he was worried sick about the two boys

then you heard the phone ring, so you looked at darry, and he motioned you to go answer it

you got up off the counter and into the living room, where the phone was ringing loudly

picking up the phone, you said, “y/n l/n, what do you need?”

the person on the other end asked, “is darry curtis there? his brother and friend are in the hospital.”

your eyes went wide and you felt happy that the boys were back, but scared as to why they were in the hospital

you put the phone down without answering back, and ran to darry to tell him what had happened

he yelled for soda to come down since they had to go see pony and johnny in the hospital

he immediately went out the door and drove you two to the hospital, and you went to the floor where pony and johnny were

when you saw pony sitting on the chair, you smiled widely

darry was happy to see you feeling good again, but was still worried about why pony and johnny where there

he can get really impatient and frustrated with you at times but tries to stay calm because you can’t control how you act sometimes

most of the time, he knows when you’re struggling and tries to help you

so sometimes he’ll schedule an emergency therapy if you’re in a really bad mental state for whatever reason

he really cares about you but doesn’t always have the time or patience to try and reason with you

when you’re happy and feeling good, he’ll take you out to different places

sometimes it’s a restaurant and sometimes it’s just a little activity for you two to do together

he really likes cooking, so he’ll make food for you and will try new recipes

he’ll ask you to help him out with cooking since he knows you like to be a part of things

when you’re feeling sad, he tries to get you out of that mindset as soon as possible

he’ll still include you in hangouts in hope that you’ll feel better

DALLAS WINSTON

you were in one of your episodes, specifically one where you were mad all the time, which lasted for a few weeks

you knew you couldn’t do much about it, but dally would always try to get you out of the pissed off mindset

he always tried to make you feel better, even though most of the time, it wouldn’t do anything

he still wanted you to know he loves you, even if you wouldn’t appreciate it in the moment, you would appreciate it later when you were feeling better

today was your birthday, however, so dally took you out for dinner and actually paid

that got you out of your mad mindset, and he saw the moment you switched over to being happy

seeing that might’ve made him the happiest he’s ever been, knowing that he was the one to get you to switch over

you smiled and apologized for how you acted a few days ago, the two of you got into an argument

he brushed it off and said it was okay, and the two of you continued your dinner

when you were in your depressive episodes, he would help you shower, eat and go on walks since you hardly had the energy to get up

he would bathe you and buy you meals so you could eat

making you go outside at least every few days, the two of you would go on walks since he wanted you to get fresh air

when you were feeling mad, and you would feel that way for weeks, he would mostly stay away even though it was difficult for him

you were feeling happy and told him that if you were being all pissy at him, he should just not talk to you

you didn’t want to ruin your relationship or say something you didn’t mean, so you don’t him not to interact with you at those times

he still would, though, he would do little check ups on you to see if you were feeling okay, or if you wanted anything

if you were happy, he tried to keep you in that state for as long as he could

he thought you would stay happier if he gave you things, a lot of attention, and was overall with you more

it did work for a bit, until you randomly switched over, but he didn’t understand why

he would get impatient and frustrated with you at some points, but always managed to push through since he cared about you so much

TWO-BIT MATTHEWS

feeling bad the past couple weeks, two-bit decided to invite you to hang out with the gang

he just wants you to get some fresh air and to socialize with others, since you hadn’t in a few weeks

all of you were getting milkshakes at a diner and were talking

you drank a bit of your milkshake when two-bit started talking

then he made a joke about someone at another table, and of course everyone laughed, including you

he looked to you and smiled, weirdly proud of himself for getting you to feel better

he’d always try to make jokes even if you weren’t feeling the best

when you aren’t feeling that well, he’ll bring you to the drive-in so you can spend time together and just to try to help you feel better

STEVE RANDLE

the two of you were randomly talking while he was on his break at work, you decided to visit him at the DX

both of you were sitting down in the back, eating burgers and drinking soda

he asked you how school was going for you, and your eyes lit up

you started moving your hands around a lot and kicking your feet, talking about a fun project you were working on with your friends

he listened and continued asking questions in order to lengthen the conversation since you seemed excited

you didn’t think much about how you were down and now you were happy, so you started talking about some drama between a boy and girl in your class

he was normally the one to talk, but enjoyed hearing you talk more than you normally did

when you’re not feeling the best, he’ll bring you into the DX so you can help him fix up cars

it’s just a new thing for you to learn and to hang out with each other

he’s weirdly smart in some ways, so he’ll occasionally help you with history, since he was always into that

when you were feeling really happy, he’d invite you to hang out with the gang

he knew you appreciated it and would invite you whenever he could

(if you can’t tell, i never have ideas for steve so sorry)

authors note: sorry i’m posting this late! i hope you guys enjoyed reading, sorry if this was offensive or really unrealistic. i’m making a chocolate cake so maybe ill show you guys when im done :3💗

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sweatervest-obsessed · 4 months ago

Text

Last, Last Time (alternate ending)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: ~8.2k

TW: Angst, guns, violence, mentions of domestic violence, blood, swearing, depression, kidnapping, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, heartbreak, arguing, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, being under pressure, and anything else that comes with a criminal minds episode.

a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupiter.

hey guys! some people had asked me about a happy ending version of this, and I've never really written an alternate ending before, I was struggling with whether I wanted this to be good angst or not, so having been swayed....here is the alternate ending!

Original Spencer Masterlist

“Spencer I won’t—I can’t keep doing this. I’m sick of arguing in circles.”

“Y/n…”

The look in his eyes almost took you out but your heart had already been broken long, long before this argument. If anything, you were starting to feel this sense of freedom as you broke his heart.

“Please. Y/n. Just–I don’t—Just give me a few days to convince Hotch to let me have some time off and we can work on this please.”

“Wait for the potential of us?”

“God Spencer this can’t be fucking news to you. We’ve been drifting apart for months now.”

“I know, I know. You have been so patient with me and I’ve just been….there was that whole thing with Cat and then….I-I was trying so hard y/n…”

“No, first there was that whole thing with Maeve.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Oh that’s not fair? Really? You’re going to tell me the entire Maeve thing isn’t fair to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer’s hand came up to his face and it dragged down, aging him significantly with the fatigue written all over his face.

“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home and no note…”

“I-I don’t know Spencer. I just don’t…”

The tears were starting to creep in, and you had to place the box down before you lost it.

“This isn’t easy for me either…” Your chest heaved.

“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.”

Your eyes met his. You felt Spencer’s arms around you before you could even feel the tears hit your cheeks. Your arms immediately went to his neck, so familiar. No longer home.

Spencer’s voice muttered into your ear. “Don’t cry Jolie. It’ll be okay..”

About three years ago, Spencer had decided that he didn’t like that you had nicknames for him, and he had none for you. He spent weeks workshopping different ones : Sugar, Honey, Pumpkin, Sweetheart, Darlin, Pookie, Lover, Sunny (like sunshine), Sunshine—it was a wild week trying to figure out who he was talking to. Then one day, offhandedly, he was trying to tell you about this french film he had been watching, and trying to get Emily to watch with him.

He called you ‘tres jolie’, and blushing you had asked him what it meant. He told you it meant pretty.

And it stuck.

Now? It stung.

All you could do was squeeze tightly onto him, not ready to let go.

“You’re so pretty when you’re lying through your teeth.” You whispered after a few moments, pulling away out of his arms.

“I.” You swallow and step back, out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll.”

Spencer just looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears that were streaming down his face.

You grabbed the last box on the counter and your keys, and walked out, for the last time.

You awoke in your bed, eyes adjusting to the complete darkness the blackout curtains provided you.

Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and trying to decided whether your life had gotten better because of it.

You still weren’t sure.

Moving to get up from the bed, you decided to leave the curtains closed for now, feeling as if you could melt from the sun touching you.

You turned on the bathroom light and started your morning routine. Wash face. Take meds. Brush teeth. Fix hair—

Somewhere in that process, you got lost, and just stared at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t sure for how long. All you could do was replay the last four years.

Did you make the right choice?

Something was missing. It was missing from the spot on the couch. It was missing in the mug cabinet. It was missing in the kitchen while you played music and moved around by yourself.

But you were happy. You have been able to throw yourself into your job, and open your own firm. You had your dream career, with some of the most amazing friends you could have asked for.

None of which you would have met if you stayed with him.

Maybe it was true what they say, you can only have a career or love, but not both.

The only thing taking you out of this spiral was the ringer on your phone going off.

You peaked out of the bathroom and saw the name light up on your phone.

Emily Prentiss

__________________________________________________________________________

The door to the round room opened up and in walked Spencer Reid. “Catch me up.”

The second woman was tied up, mouth slightly open, and eyes filled with tears, while a man on the other side just had his eyes closed, tired. .

Spencer just stared at the photo.

Rossi nodded at the picture. “She's not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”

He never pulled focus away from the screen, mouth dry at the thought of what today was about to be.“Any ideas on the unsub?”

______________________________________________________________________________

Receiving a call from the FBI was not entirely new to you, since you had been engaged to one of their agents, but receiving one now? Something was deeply wrong from them to have to send you a call.

You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“

“I know who you are, Emily. It’s been a couple years, not millions.”

Emily hummed a brief laughter, and you could hear other voices behind her, unable to make out anything.

“I know this is hard to ask of you, but would you stay on the phone with me and come in?”

“What?”

“I need you to stay very calm Y/n, but I need you to stay on the line with me, leave your apartment as soon as you can, and drive to the BAU.”

“Uh, yeah Em. I’m so sorry, I, uh, I completely forgot about our plans today. Let me get ready, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are we still meeting at your place or did you have a different location in the city?”

“We’ll be at Quantico.”

Quickly you pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and grabbed your keys off of the counter.

Today was already stressful enough, what was the point of adding a bra.

It was a very tense hour of driving, that was only about forty since you knew how to drive above the speed limit.

Both of them have such grim looks on their faces, but at least they were trying to pretend like the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared.

Emily engulfed you in a hug. “Missed you Y/n. It’s been too long.”

“Well Em, next time I break up with someone I’ll consider your feelings first.” You squeezed her back, dryly laughing at your own joke. At least it caused Emily to snort.

“Y/n this is SSA Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He gave a small smile and nodded at you.

“I wish it were under different circumstances.” You looked over at Emily.

“Let’s head inside?”

You nodded and the three of you moved inside.

Sure, you hadn’t been here in a while, but you knew your way to the BAU Bullpen if your life depended on it, which was ironic since that was what this kinda felt like.

As soon as you were safely in their round table room, Luke shut the door, and stood by it, Emily coming and sitting down next to you.

“What do you know about Cat Adams?”

That bitch.

______________________________________________________________________________

“I would like to go on a date. With you.”

Spencer stared at her, face stoic as ever. “A date?”

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun.” She looked him up and down. “And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”

Spencer sat down across from her. “Come here. Closer.”

Cat leaned in, a small smile on her face, absolutely intoxicated by being so close to him.

“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

Cat scoffed. “You're just going to let her father and sister die? I don't think so.”

“I never said it was a father and daughter. You're already slipping.” He stood up from the table. “We'll find them. We always do.”

Cat leaned back and crossed her arms. “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”

His resolution had yet to change, “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.”

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

______________________________________________________________________________

Both the profilers watched a series of emotions run rampant across your face, before you settled on a somewhat displeased smile. “A lot.”

They exchanged a look, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend like you didn’t know what it was.

“Don’t start with me today Emily. I know what you’re doing. Ask me the questions you want to ask. Don’t try to trick me into giving the answers you want. Don’t profile me.”

Part of being engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their own quirks. Which meant you saw Alvez bite his tongue and try to hide his smile. And you noticed that Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better but it was still there.

She nodded and pulled a file from across the table. “I’m assuming you know the basics since she, uh, is obsessed with Spencer.”

“Glad to see he still has that going for him.” You muttered and looked into the file.

Emily shot Luke a look when he let out a huff or air, trying his damndest not to laugh.

“What is the last thing you know about her?”

You recounted the days leading up to the restaurant, and then the few days after, decidedly stopping short of the engagement breaking off a week later.

They shared another look, and you didn’t enjoy whatever it was that had moved across their faces.

“What happened?”

“Y/n..”

“No Emily, I drove all the way from DC to Quantico on the phone, I deserve to know what happened.”

“Spencer went to prison and none of you thought to call me….”

“We didn’t think you’d–”

Both of them went silent.

“So is he out?”

They nodded slowly, silently.

“How long was he in there?”

Nothing.

“I asked. How. Long.”

Luke spoke up. “Three months.”

“Jesus christ.” You stood up and started to pace around the room, taking the time you needed to calm down.

Why didn’t Spencer call you?

Well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you.

“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here—He didn’t start….did he?”

Emily shook her head. “He’s actually been really good about it.” She said softly, trying to calm you down.

You started fidgeting with your rign finger; a habit you have picked up many years ago, and have yet to lose, even if the ring wasn’t there anymore.

“Cat’s execution is coming up.” Emily started, trying to get you back on track. “And we….we found out that she’s convinced one of her former cellmates to kidnap...people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.”

“She already ruined that relationship years ago, she won that one. Why would she bring me back into it?” You sat down and looked down at the file on the table. You had never really seen a photo of her before, doing your best to avoid all of the media surrounding her arrest.

She was very pretty, that much was certain.

Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her.

They entered and JJ gave you a small, yet genuine smile.

You returned it, but quickly shifted your gaze onto the woman behind.

Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily very casually put a hand on your knee under the table.

“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?”

Your head turned as you looked over to Emilt, bewildered by this woman and her, well, bewilderment.

JJ walked over and sat down on the other side of you. “Uh, Max, this is Unit Cheif Emily Prentiss and SSA Luke Alvez.” She pursed her lips before looking over at you. “And this is another one of the victims affected by Cat Adams, Y/n Y/l/n.”

Max had crossed her arms and nodded. “Victims?”

You quickly onced her over, a slightly unimpressed look crossing your features. “People close to Spencer get fucked over a lot.” This came out with a sigh attached to it.

Max almost scoffed, but you watched as she nodded. “And how do you know Spencer?”

Your eyes met with Emily’s really quickly.

Emily looked over at Max. “She’s…”

“I’m Spencer’s ex-fiancé.”

It felt better to let this poor girl know, but somehow saying the words out loud left the most rotten taste in your mouth.

Watching Max’s defenses go up in real time was a little sobering.

At least Spencer’s taste in partners with attitude hadn’t changed.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Victimology is off.”

“How so?” Prentiss looked up at him as he walked into the room.

“Father and daughter. She’s never done that before.”

Lewis spoke up. “She usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children–even adult children, are off limits. Do we have an ID yet.”

Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, and JJ all looked over at Reid, and he just pulled a hand down his face. “It’s…It’s Issac and Noelle Y/l/n.”

“Y/l/n…as is Y/n Y/l/n.” Tara looked up surprised at Spencer.

Reid nodded slowly, just staring at the picture on the projector.

While Luke spoke up. “Who is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“An old friend.” Rossi quickly interjected, before any more explanation had to be said. It was clear both Alvez and Simmons, that whoever this was, was an extremely touchy subject for Reid.

Tara, who had only known you for a little while, looked back at the picture.

Rossie spoke up. “What do we know about the partner who’s helping her?”

“It’s got to be someone from her prison.” Simmons spoke up. “She hasn’t had contact with anyone else?”

______________________________________________________________________________

After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you swore you left for the last time. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved out, but there was less of it.

Almost as if he was having trouble covering places where things used to be.

There were almost no photos on the walls, since you were half of them, and had taken the rest.

Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong.

Max was just sitting on the couch in your spot. She was looking around as you and Rossi stood by the kitchen counter.

She had, understandably, decided she was not your biggest fan.

“Cat had a cellmate named Juliette Weaver. We believe the two were working together, as a way for Cat to get something against Spencer, and as payment, Cat would hurt Juliette’s ex.”

You nodded. “How does this affect me?”

“She took your father and sister.”

Your back straightened and immediately brought out your phone, to call your sister, but Rossi just placed a hand on your phone and shook his head. “If she finds out you know, then it’s all over. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows about you and Reid, but she knows that dragging you into all of this will hurt him more than anything else.”

His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear. JJ, who was on the couch, talking to Max, looked like she was trying to block out whatever conversation was happening in the kitchen.

“So why is she here?” You whispered back.

“Because we don’t want anyone in danger, and it’s better for us if we have eyes on both of you”

You closed your eyes and nodded. “I need a cup of tea.”

Rossi nodded, and placed your phone on the counter, and you walked into the kitchen,eyes closed from the stress of the situation.

The apartment went silent, watching as you grabbed a kettle, and started to make tea. It was like second nature to you as you turned the stovetop on, grabbed a mug from the cabinet (careful to not grab one of his favorites), and grabbed some tea from the cabinet.

It didn’t dawn on you that you were drinking your favorite type of tea until the second sip, while the entire apartment was still silent.

The pity from JJ and Rossi was palpable.

The disbelief from Max was a boulder on you back, like Atlas transferring the world to your shoulders.

“Don’t even start.” You muttered, moving to sit down back next to Rossi on the kitchen stools.

He shrugged and stayed silent.

That is, until JJ’s walkie went off and she looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.”

Rossi looked over at you and gave you a quick hug, squeezing you tightly. “You’ve got this kid. Remember everything we talked about.”

You nodded and gave both agents a strained smile as they left the apartment, taking Max with them, leaving you all alone in this place you once called home.

Well first you sat in Spencer’s seat but it felt too weird, so you shifted back into your spot on the couch.

______________________________________________________________________________

Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. Plus, Y/n is not that hard to find—she’s a prominent public attorney in DC. That means Juliette must’ve had access to all of her publicly available information. “

“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.”

“No. We found Cat’s hidden agenda. Juliette doesn’t care about Reid. There’s something we’re missing here. Do a deep dive with Garcia.”

Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.”

“I’ll go to Reid's apartment and monitor onsite. Is there a trap and trace on his landline?”

“Garcia’s almost set up.” Simmons walked away from Prentiss, and down towards Penelope’s office.

“Well this went from bad to worse.” Tara walked up to Emily.

Emily sighed in agreement.

Lewis spoke up. “Female narcissists destroy their competition. Y/n really shouldn’t be in there.”

Emily just nodded and the two of them headed out of the bullpen. “Walk with me.”

Tara kept stride with her as they pushed through the doors. Rossi was just getting off the phone with someone and turned to look at the two women approaching him and JJ.

JJ spoke up when Rossi was finished. “So, the hospital just released the dad– Issac Y/l/n. He's on his way here now.

Rossi scoffed. “Question is, why let him go at all?”

“Matt's on that.” Emily gestures in the direction of Garcia’s office. “Juliette Weaver's real agenda should tell us where she's taking Y/n’s younger sister.”

Lewis spoke next. “I still think the play here is to get Cat and Juliette to contact each other, but I have no idea how.”

Prentiss crossed her arms. “I have a plan, but first we have to talk about Y/n.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Just then, you heard the click of the door, and stood up, watching as the door swung open.

And there he was.

This was the first time you had seen Spencer in four years.

And there he was, kissing Catherine Adams.

The woman you could give partial credit to for ending your relationship.

After a moment Spencer looked up, and took several steps away from Cat. His eyes were wide and locked on yours.

It took a lot of self-restraint to not punch the lights out of Cat, and to stand still arms crossed.

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke a little bit.

You never would say that Spencer was unattractive. In fact, it would be a lie if you ever even thought about it. But something about the past four years aged him like a fine wine.

His hair was a bit longer, he had some scruff—his baby face had melted away and standing in front of you was a man who you thought you knew everything about, but was now a stranger.

You didn’t answer him, watching as he took you in, standing in his apartment, for the first time since…

“What are you doing here?” Spencer’s voice cracked.

You looked over at Cat, who had the most devious smirk on her face.

Remember what Prentiss had said to you.

“You know why I’m here.”

Cat nodded and the two of them moved into the apartment, the door closing behind them.

Spencer just stood ten feet away from you, eyes never leaving you, and you watched him right back.

She spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your Fiancé?”

You shook your head. “No.”

Your focus had fully turned to Cat, but you swore you swore you could hear Spencer take a sharp inhale as you spoke your next words.

“Well, he's not my fiancé and I kind of have some other things on my mind.”

Cat didn’t scare you, but there was just something so off-putting about her. “Like what?”

“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”

Cat shrugged. “Not if I don't have to, no. Honestly, if she follows instructions, she might even learn from this whole experience.”

You scoffed. “What does that mean?”

Cat just started fiddling with the chess set on the dresser.

“Spencer, what does she mean?” You turned to look back at him, his name feeling so good on your tongue.

Spencer, who really hadn’t stopped looking at you and sighed. “She means that Noelle isn’t learning from her, but from Juliette.”

You sat down in your spot on the couch, eyes closed, trying not to let Cat (or Spencer) see how truly upset you were starting to feel.

Spencer noticed where you sat and had to look down to conceal any notions of a smile on his face.

Cat watched him before turning and looking at you, more disdain on her face than before.

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight, I've brought you all here to make a point. You are doing so much better.”

Spencer spoke up. “With you?”

“Without you.” Cat snapped at him. “Besides, I’m not talking to you Spencie, I'm talking to her.”

She turned to face you. “Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.”

“He's not my finacé.” You were unsure about how many more times you could say that outloud.

“No kidding. When’s the last time you spoke? Right…” Cat walked over to the center of the room, right in front of the couch. “Here?”

Your head whipped around to Spencer. “You told her about that?”

Spencer was pleading with his eyes. “I had to say a lot of things tonight.”

You tried not to wince at the mention of that girl Maxine out in one of the trucks.

Spencer sat down next to you. “Everything I said—I was lying to save your family.”

Cat scoffed. “Did our kiss look like a lie?”

“No.” You locked eyes with Cat, almost challenging her.

She seemed to enjoy it.

“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?”

“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls. And hisses that he's going to kill them.”

Spencer stood up, squaring off against her. “That was a very different situation.”

“No, it wasn't.” Cat was holding the smirk back this time, making your gut wretch.

“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to Spencer, poor Spencer who has spent the entire day entertaining her.

“You tell her. She's not gonna believe it coming from me.” She huffed.

“Cat..”

“Do it.” She hissed, eyeswide with hints of threate.

Reid turned and looked at you, his mouth dry and body stiff. “Two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…”

Your chest hurt. “And you threw her against a wall?”

Cat’s smirk was breaking through whatever resolve she had. “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. She deserves to know everything.”

Every single time she said Spencie you swore it was harder to not deck her in the face.

Spencer looked down at his hands, and then over at you. His voice had gotten quieter. “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.”

“And?” She stood there expectantly, waiting for Spencer to finish. When he didn’t, her face suddenly became solemn. “The next day... I miscarried. The end.”

Spencer looked at her. “That's not true.”

Youre eyes went wide. “What?”

They just continued to argue over you.

“It is most certainly true. Check my medical records.”

“That doesn't mean I-I would…”

Cat held up her hand to him. “Stop. Look.”

Spencer looked over at you, just sitting on the couch, trying to process everything that was going through your head.

After thinking about everything you had gone through, especially with Spencer. “I thought you were better than that Spence.”

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.”

You clenched your hands. “He’s not mine…”

Spencer just looked over at you.

Cat nodded. “That's good. Because men are all the same. Aren't they, Jolie?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up with an emotion you rarely saw from him when you were together. “Don't call her that.”

And you couldn’t blame him. The word ran you through like a spear and you were sure if you looked behind you, the blade would be through the couch. You tried so hard to not let either of the two people near you see how much it messed with you. You couldn’t believe Spencer had told her that. Luckily for you, Cat was too busy pushing Spencer’s buttons to see the way her words won against you.

Cat hissed at him. “What, are you gonna throw me against a wall and choke me, or do you only do that to pregnant women?”

You finally spoke up. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to see it.” She gestured to Spencer. “I want you to see that he is...no better than he was before, or any man after. They’re all the same.”

“Stop.”

Cat squatted down in front of you. “I can see it on your face. What's his name?”

You stared back at her. “It's none of your business.”

That damned smirk of hers returned. “It is exactly my business. In fact, it's my specialty. I mean, I could have Juliette and baby sister go over there if you want. They could take care of him.”

Reid looked over at you. “Say yes. Give her what she wants.”

You jumped up and started pacing, a spitting image of four years ago, unable to look at Spencer. “What is wrong with the two of you? What is this sick, twisted thing that you have? Listen, I just want to save my sister. Will you please just tell me what I have to do to do that?”

“Tell me his name. Tell me the story. That's it. And then if they can let Juliette exit stage right, then I promise you I will let her go.”

She just watched you. “You'd be surprised.”

“I don't even need a call. Just... just a photo.” You held the phone out to her. “Something to prove to me that she's still alive. Please”.

Cat just looked up at your face. “Story first.”

“Y/n. Please.” Spencer turned to you, hoping you’d look back at him. “I have been here with her before. She called the number and told the partner to kill my mom.”

“It is so tricky, isn't it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath... Or me?”

You looked down at the ground, refusing to look over at Spencer. “His…His name was Mike Davis. We dated for about two years. I met him a month after we…we split.”

Cat’s attention on you felt as if there were a million bees stinging your body all at different intervals, pain coursing through your body. “Good. When did it end?”

“Last year.”

“Was he good in bed?”

Spencer stood up. “Shut up.”

Cat was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching you make Spencer uncomfortable. She was enjoying hurting him in every masochistic way she could. “What? You have to know where you stand.”

“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response was "I'm sorry, Mike." A fucking defense attorney apologizing to someone when they got hit. That's when he knew he had me.”

There was a glint in Spencer’s eyes, and you could swear they were tears, but you couldn’t tell from rage or sorrow.

Cat continued to probe. “How many hospital visits were there?”

You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess. I never missed a day of work.”

“But you found the strength to leave. What did you do?”

“ I…”

“Tell me.”

“I planned. I planned and then I waited.”

Cat’s eyes lit up. “Waited for what? “

“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “But I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear, but because I-I know some people…it was sooner.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Y/n, stop talking. Stop talking right now.”

Cat shushed him. “No, don't stop. Here. Give me the phone. Look, I'm gonna enter the text. Stick the landing and I'll hit send."

You handed her the phone and she quickly typed out a message, her thumb hovering over send.

Spencer tried to interject. “It was self-defense. He was attacking you—”

Cat was glowing, spinning around to face Spencer. “Wow, you really have a type, don't you? Quite a dilemma, too. She just admitted to murder.”

Spencer was in disbelief. “She'll beat it.” .

“Probably. But whatever feelings she might have still had for you, and whatever Maxine might have seen in you—-it’s all gone.”

The phone in your hand buzzed.

“Oh, wow. Look at that. Your sister. Alive and well. You're welcome.”

Your face hardened up, and you stood up straighter. Walking away from the two of them, you opened the door. “I got it.”

Emily took the phone from your hand and you turned back to the two of them. There was no emotion behind your eyes as you looked back at Spencer.

Cat smirked and looked up at Spencer. “I win.”

______________________________________________________________________________

The prison transport was quiet, with the two guards sitting across from Spencer and Cat. It had been silent for about twenty minutes, but then, Cat spoke up.

“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?”

Spencer looked down at his hands. “You wanted to prove I'm a monster just like you.”

Spencer stiffened as she placed her head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to terrorize innocent people. You could've just written a letter.”

“Would you have written me back?”

When Spencer didn’t respond, Cat knew her answer.

“Bye, Spencie. I really enjoyed our date.” She smiled at him desperately, getting dragged out of the vehicle by the guards to the prison.

______________________________________________________________________________

The elevator door opened and Spencer walked out of it, his whole body reeked of defeat, and he barely looked at Emily as she spoke. “We need to debrief.”

“I need some time Emily.” He muttered, walking right past her and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in.

“Spencer, are you okay?”

Her voice caught your ear, and immediately you looked up to see her walk over and embrace him in a hug.

He stiffly smiled at her, and returned the hug before muttering that he would be back in a moment.

Watching Spencer hug her and whisper something in her ear, make your stomach lurch, and you had to turn away.

Spencer walked over to you, and you stood up as he approached.

“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”

She nodded at him and walked away.

Both of you went to speak, trying to say something to the other.

“I should explain all of this.”

Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to explain any of that Y/n—it doesn’t.”

You cut him off. “Spencer, please.”

The two of you moved out and voer into the kitchen, providing a bit more privacy than before. “It was fake—most of it was fake. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.”

He just nodded, staring at you, eyes cloudier than a storm crossing an ocean.

You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, but your hand stayed where it was.

“Mike Davis is alive, and I don’t really know about well. But he…we dated for about two years and he did…he raised a fist one time but never actually…he never hit me. I threw him out that night. I’m okay.”

Spencer lets out a breath slowly, just trying to take in everything you were saying.

Spencer watched as what little resolve you had left crumbled under his gaze, and you looked up, trying to keep the tears at bay.

He gently wrapped his arms around you, and helf you tightly, like all those years ago. “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.” His words melted into your skin as you wrapped your arms around him.

After a minute of standing like this, the two of you broke apart, and one of his hands came up to your cheek, wiping away a single tear that was left.

You took a step back, the irony of this mirror image not lost on you, and you guestered back into the bullpen. “You have…You have to talk to Max.”

Spencer’s face dropped a little at the mention of her name and he shook his head. “I’ll…I’ll deal with her in a second. She wasn’t the one who had to face a woman who completely….”

“Changed and fucked up what I thought my life would be. Yeah, I know. But she also cares about you.” You laughed a bit, putting back together a resolve that was nonexistent.

“Spence, They filled me in on everything that happened between both of you in the past couple years, and they asked me if I would be willing to…help them beat her.”

He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger. You could read him like you read one of your favorite books, knowing which emotion was coming up next.

“They gave me an ear piece and everything.” You gave him a small smile, trying to make light of something.

Spencer shook his head. “You’re not trained—that’s extremely dangerous of you.”

You sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately Spencer, this is…this was the life I was used to when we were together. I knew the stakes. I mean the briefings I had with Hotch after you relapsed…”

Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I didn’t know that..”

“It was like that on purpose. I didn’t want you to think that you were a burden or too much or—I was doing it for the potential of us…” You cut yourself of, flinching at the parallels between this and your previous final conversation.

Garcia walked over and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to interrupt darlings, but I just need you both to know, Cat Adams had a miscarriage, but it was months after whatever encounter you had. It’s not your fault. We looked at her records.” She was speaking low for you both, yet both of you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

You looked over at Garcia. “Thank you Pen.”

Taking another small step back from Spencer, even though every single neuron in your brain was firing off, telling you what you were doing was wrong. “I should, I should grab my stuff, and go back. Penelope?”

She had a rueful look on her face, but she nodded and took your arm, walking you back over to the desk where your stuff was.

Spencer flexed his hand, almost as if he wanted to grab yours and never let go, but he just walked over to Max.

You started to collect your things, but got sidetracked by a conversation with Rossi.

You missed the small conversation that Spencer had with Max. You missed the way they hugged, and the way that the two of them walked out of the bullpen and to the elevator. You missed as they disappeared for a few minutes.

“Rossi, I promise to do better about keeping in touch. I swear.”

“I don’t just invite anyone over for dinner, you know. It’s an exclusive invitation.”

You smiled, almost all real. “Trust me. I know. Besides… the phone is a two way device, so you have to text me first sometimes too.”

You looked over for Spencer, the smile on your face shifting ever so slightly into one of sadness when he wasn’t around. And no one would have noticed, if not for the fact that you were in a room full of profilers.

“Well everyone, I…this was lovely. We’ll have to do this whole ‘getting my family kidnapped’ again some time.”

This remark caused a few laughs and some smiles, as you said your goodbyes, and Emily walked over to the elevator.

She was about to say something, but the doors opened and revealed Spencer. He seemed like a weight had been taken off his shoulders and you smiled at him.

Emily excused herself, giving your shoulder a squeeze, and leaving the two of you alone.

“Let me walk you out.”

You nodded, and entered the elevator.

The two of you stood in silence until you reached the parking lot.

You both stepped out, and looked over at your car, before looking back at one another.

It was Spencer who spoke first.

“I’m so so sorry Y/n.” He whispered. “I never meant any of this to happen to you, and for you to get dragged back here and—”

As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you. You just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours.

Part of being a lawyer meant that acting and diffusing situations was part of your life, but sometimes, it was just a defense mechanism. It was exhausting.

“Are you okay?”

Spencer looked at your face, pulling away slightly. You were worried about him.

He went to nod, but decided to shake his head no. “Today was…I’m so sorry she…”

“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately she just…” You whispered. You tried so hard to find the right words.

After another moment in his arms, you took a step back and shook your head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/n…”

“Spence you have a girlfriend.”

“Y/n.”

“And I…I don’t know if I could put myself back to where I was four years ago.”

“Jolie.”

“We won’t.”

“You can’t promise something like that.”

“I can. I will.”

You shook your head. “Max…”

“We broke up.”

Spencer gently grabbed your face, giving you enough time to back out.

You didn’t.

His lips locked with yours, his thumb rubbing against your cheek as the two of you shared one more moment, just for the two of you.

Catharsis didn’t even begin to describe the feeling of the ache in your bones subsiding. Every single moment of stress, of doubt, just melted away and left you grabbing a hold of Spencer’s shirt and pulling him impossibly closer.

It was going to be different. Everything was not the same. You both had grown, you had changed, and for the better. But eventually, you were always supposed to find your way back to this moment, with yourself in Spencer’s arms and your lips on his lips.

It was solidified when a few months later, Spencer left the BAU to become a full time professor in DC, and moved into your apartment, abandoning the one where Cat had ruined your life not once, but twice.

It solidified as the two of you made time for one another, constantly finding new cities around the world to explore.

It solidified forever when he placed a ring on your finger and whispered I do in front of your friends and family.

It was always meant to be, and sometimes, the path to forever, is everchanging.

But at least you were able to do it with Spencer Reid by your side.

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