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pathologicalreid · 7 months ago

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for the fear of falling apart | part three

when it seems like a return to normalcy is impossible, you decide that something has to give, but will it bend or will it break?

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who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: fear of drowning, therapy, mommy and daddy issues, sigmund freud, nightmares and ptsd, sleep deprivation, takes place during 15x4 "saturday" (max does not exist in this au), stalkers, yelling, police, domestic disturbance, broken dishes, severe self image issues, crying, implies that jj is sometimes not the greatest friend, marriage and marriage counseling, mentions the death of grace lynch, the chameleon arc, reader and spencer are both broken people sry. things get resolved (or do they?) word count: 5.13k a/n: i'm trying to come to terms with the fact that people will not like how this part goes, but i do think it's important to remember that this is not where it ends. it's probably easy to guess what episode I'm rewriting next. lol. let me know your thoughts and feelings because i am dying to know.

“Are you glad to be back at work?” Your therapist asked you, writing down your personal information on the form on her clipboard before she met your stare.

Chewing impatiently on the inside of your lip, you glanced over to the clock that was hung above the door, dooming you to another forty-five minutes with Dr. Harmon. “Yes, I love desk duty,” you told her, flashing a fake smile in her direction.

The older woman looked at you doubtfully, and you silently begged for her to sign your return to duty forms. “I thought we spoke about using sarcasm as a coping mechanism,” she responded in a way that made you feel chastised.

You raised your eyebrows at her, gray hair neatly combed into a tight bun, you had spent more time with your therapist for the past two months than you had any of your family – the rest of your time was spent retraining your body, usually within the limitations of your doctor’s orders. “And I thought we talked about there being worse coping mechanisms that I could be using,” you countered, leaning back in her chair.

She shrugged helplessly, “Well, I’m not sure about signing your release forms. You could be a liability in the field.”

Eyes widening, you tilted your head to the side, “No, no, no, I’ve grown a new appreciation for the desk workers in the BAU. I even stopped laughing when people refer to Agent Anderson as Grunt Anderson,” you informed her, nodding as if that would help convince her of your honesty.

Checking off a box on your form, she set the clipboard on her side table, just out of your view. Taking a deep breath, Dr. Harmon leaned forward and folded her hands over her knee, “Have you spoken to your sister since the last time I saw you?”

You leaned your head back, staring at the tiles of the ceiling as any hope of returning to the field left your body.

One of your very first dates with Spencer had been at the Academy’s shooting range, you had a lucky spot there, it was where you had aced your qualification as a cadet, and it was pure luck that it had been available when you arrived.

As your paper target was brought forward, you slipped off your headphones and set your weapon down, studying the results as you chewed on your bottom lip nervously.

“Hey,” Spencer said from behind you, casually leaning against the wall behind you.

You jumped slightly as the sound of his voice took you away from your anxiety, “Hey,” you echoed, holstering your weapon as you sent your target back for someone to change it out.

“I thought you were going to come to the BAU after therapy,” he explained, arms crossed in front of his chest in his charcoal suit, camouflaging himself with the steely gray of the shooting range.

Pursing your lips, you made sure you had your phone in your pocket before grabbing your bag, “I wanted to get some practice in before my requalification test.”

He looked surprised for a moment, “Did your therapist sign your return to duty?”

“No,” you muttered, knowing that you wouldn’t be eligible to take your firearms requalification until after you had been cleared by a psychiatrist.

Any surprise quickly left his face, “What did she say, then?”

You rolled your eyes, “She told me that it’s possible that my strained relationship with my parents is negatively affecting my performance in my sessions. Then she threw a Freud biography at my head.”

“Did you talk to her about the nightmares?” He asked, following you as you checked out of the shooting range, waving to a gaggle of cadets as they noticed the BAU agents in their general vicinity.

Faltering as you opened the door, you flung the glass door open and trudged out of it, “I have it under control,” you lied through your teeth, continuing your way to the elevator.

The tapping of Spencer’s shoes signified that he was following you, holding his hand over the sensor while you stepped in and using his knuckle to press the parking garage button, “You were up all night last night,” he retorted, “She could help you develop a coping mechanism that works for you so that you can get some rest, angel.”

You were getting tired of those words, “Well, maybe we’ll reach a breakthrough next week. You never know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being so unamenable,” he accused.

Shaking your head as you stepped out of the elevator, you hoisted your bag back over your shoulder, “Is unamenable genius-speak for pain in the ass?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is,” he retorted, swiping the keys out of your hands before unlocking the car and getting in the driver’s seat. You had been cleared to drive weeks ago, but Spencer still insisted on driving you.

You groaned, “My recent brush with death has made it difficult for me to let bygones be bygones.”

Pulling out of the parking spot, he carefully placed both of his hands on the steering wheel, “And here I thought we were actually going to move on with our lives.”

“No one holds a grudge like a youngest child,” you informed him, leaning your head against the window and wishing you had driven separately.

Being at home wasn’t much better than being at Quantico. You quickly changed and settled yourself on the couch while Spencer sat across from you, legs crossed in the wingback chair as he finished filling in a crossword book that you had started that morning.

You watched the clock tick, the diffused orange light of the sunset beamed through the curtains, and you felt yourself settle. Stiff joints and aching muscles unwound on the supple leather of the couch, and as you let your eyes fall shut, you felt the breeze of someone walking by before Spencer stopped in front of you.

Gently, he draped a knit blanket over you, tucking you in before crouching and dropping a gentle kiss to your temple.

Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now.

I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.

It’s okay. I’ve got you.

“Honey, wake up.”

You startled awake on the couch, wadding up the blanket in your fists as your eyes adjusted to the dim environment of the apartment. The sun had set, dipping below the skyline as you stared ahead.

Concerned brown eyes bore into you as you caught your breath, Spencer reached over and flicked on the table lamp next to you, “You’re alright,” he cooed, gently enough to make you want to cry. “It was just a bad dream,” he told you, cupping your cheek and studying your expression.

Nodding absently, you pulled yourself into a sitting position, the familiar knit blanket falling in a puddle around your waist. “I was in the parking garage again,” you preemptively answered his next question. You were usually in the parking garage, sometimes you were on the beach, and once you had been fully underwater.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

You shook your head and ignored the defeated look on Spencer’s face, instead burying your face in your hands and taking a few deep breaths.

He waited for a moment before speaking again, reaching out and adjusting the bunched-up fabric of your t-shirt, “Are you hungry? I made soup.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, crossing your arms in front of your stomach, afraid it would start growling at the mention of food.

As you watched Spencer get up and walk over to the kitchen, you let yourself feel like everything was alright for the slightest moment. You wanted your apartment to be your safe space where there were no serial killers or sisters or hospitals, but there was a classified file on the kitchen table, photos of you and your sister littered the walls, and there was an entire drawer in the home office dedicated to your hospital stay.

Melding into the couch cushions, you ignored the stiffness in your side, the scars that marred your skin were healed over, but the memory would stick with you for a lifetime. It felt like a phantom pain, irritating your skin whenever you thought too much about it, or whenever your therapist asked you about Grace Lynch.

It didn’t bring you a lot of comfort to know that she was dead, murdered by her own father after conning her ex-girlfriend into giving her money. Everett Lynch was the threat now, and you were stuck on the bench.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you rested your cheek on your knee as Spencer ladled soup into a bowl and presented it to you, complete with a few ice cubes to cool it down. He waltzed back into the kitchen to clean up when his phone rang.

You ignored his conversation while you stirred the ice cubes around in your bowl, the soft clinking of them mesmerizing your tired brain. You ate while he spoke on the phone, mentioning something about a case. Pushing any thoughts of serial killers away, you just ate your soup.

Sipping at the broth, you grew curious about what was going on over the phone, but you tried to mind your business, scooping at the last noodles in the bowl before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Who was that?” You asked, eyes following Spencer as he walked back over to the living room, slipping his phone in his pocket as he sat next to you on the couch.

He paused for a moment, and you immediately regretted asking, “Uh, it was JJ.”

You supposed it had to mean something that he elected to tell you the truth instead of lying to you, but you were no longer feeling optimistic, “Ah.”

“Don’t start,” he said immediately.

You turned to him, raising your eyebrows curiously and pushing yourself into the corner of the couch – away from him, “Start what, Spencer?”

Spencer put his hands up, “Picking a fight with me over JJ’s feelings. JJ, Tara, Luke, and Penelope are working on a stalker case, it’s nothing that we need to worry about.”

“I’m not going to pick a fight with you, I already told you that I forgive you,” you told him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He groaned in frustration, “You can say it all you want, but you haven’t. You haven’t forgiven me.”

As he usually was, Spencer was right, you hadn’t forgiven him for lying to you about what had happened between him and JJ. You wanted to. You wanted to find it in yourself to be the bigger person and just tell him it was fine. All you wanted was to move on, but you were crashing into roadblock after roadblock. “Are you going to work that case?”

“No, it’s a classic stalking case, they’ll make it without me,” he said, turning on the couch to face you.

You swallowed thickly, “You can go if you’d rather be there,” you reassured him, wondering if he’d be happier at work than at home with you. Someone needed to make a decision, someone needed to decide whether or not the two of you were going to keep going or if you were going to call it off. You didn’t want it to be you, you were afraid of which option you might choose.

Spencer frowned, “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not,” you answered.

“Yes, yes you are,” he challenged, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

Shaking your head, you threw your hands up in surrender, “You don’t have to go. You can stay here. You live here. Who the fuck am I to tell you to leave?”

“And now you’re escalating the situation,” he observed, straightening up and watching you carefully.

You didn’t consider yourself an angry person. The two of you didn’t fight often, but as you considered your options, you wondered if it could help. Maybe you could replicate the feeling of a good cry. Maybe all you need is a good fight. Just talk it out – loudly. “I’m not escalating anything. I’m not starting anything. In case you haven’t noticed, this has been going on for months.”

He had noticed, he could probably give you an exact date and time to point out when everything fell apart. Was it inside the pawn shop? Was it in the courtyard outside of Rossi’s wedding? “I thought we had made some real progress at the hospital,” he challenged.

Getting up from the couch, you took a deep breath and tossed the blanket over the back, “You cannot seriously think that. You’re too smart to believe that, Spencer. The idea that we fixed everything while I was hopped up on Xanax and painkillers. It’s… it’s…” you stumbled over your words for a moment. It’s crazy. You wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t do that to him. Spencer had spent his whole life having that word thrown at his mother, and he spent adulthood fearing he’d have a schizophrenic break. “It’s outlandish,” you finally finished.

Spencer looked up at you from the couch, “Is it outlandish to think that the history we have together would help mend our relationship?”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know, Spencer, let’s take a look at your history with my sister,” you snapped.

“Oh, come on,” he protested.

“No,” you commanded, “Sit down and shut up. I’ve spent months waiting for you to get it, but apparently, I need to spell it out for you.”

To your surprise, he listened, watching you in silence as you took a deep breath, picked up your soup bowl, and brought it into the kitchen. Your heartbeat pounded like thunder in your ears.

Standing in front of him, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I want you to empathize with me.” You calculated every word you said, “We’ve known each other for nine years. We’ve been together for seven, and I- I had the rug pulled out from under me. God, you went on a date with my sister. You took her to a football game as a hater of organized sports. My beautiful, prom queen, soccer star, gem of the family older sister.”

“It wasn’t a date, Penelope went with us,” Spencer added patiently.

You peered down at him, “When you asked her to go with you, did you do it with the intention that you would be taking her on a date?”

His shoulders slackened, “Yeah,” he answered softly.

“And you know that she loves you. If you went to her right now and told her you wanted to be with her, that there’s a chance she’d consider it. She’d at least have to think about it,” you told him, confidence dissipating as your hands started to tremble and you silently begged yourself not to cry.

Spencer watched you suspiciously, “What gave you the impression that I want to be with her instead of you?”

You faltered, just for a moment, “Why wouldn’t you want to be with her?” You asked exasperatedly, letting your arms fall limply at your sides.

Pinching his eyebrows together, your boyfriend looked at you like you had grown a third eye, “She’s married? Her kids are my godchildren?”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you cursed yourself as tears stung your eyes, “Are those seriously the only reasons you can think of?” With all the brain power you knew he had, you couldn’t help but be disappointed.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, “Putting aside the fact that I’d be destroying a marriage, not because it doesn’t matter, but because being with your sister isn’t even something I’d consider. This might not have occurred to you, but I have absolutely no interest in being with someone other than you!”

You huffed, “Please, she’s beautiful and athletic and older and you’ve known her for fifteen years!” You shouted over your shoulder, making your way back to the kitchen. There wasn’t anything you needed from in there, you just needed to keep moving.

“But she’s not you!” He yelled from the couch, finally getting up and following you to the kitchen.

Spinning around on your heel, you threw your arms in the air, “God, I know!” You swung your arms down, accidentally sending the bowl you had set on the counter down to the floor, breaking on impact. “Shit,” you muttered, immediately dropping to a crouch and starting to pick up the ceramic shards.

“Hey, wait, let me get it,” Spencer insisted, grabbing a kitchen towel from the drawer before laying it on the floor. He carefully picked up the larger shards, waving your hands away.

You clenched your hands and glared at him with bleary eyes, “Why? Why am I not allowed to clean up the mess that I made?”

Spencer sighed, “You’re crying. I don’t want you to get hurt because you can’t see well,” he told you, prompting you to sit back on the tile and watch him continue to pick up.

You crisscrossed your legs and watched him, “I’m sorry for yelling,” you whispered, so quietly that you weren’t even sure he had heard you.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Spencer gathered up the kitchen towel and set it on the counter, setting his hands on the counter and taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry for raising my voice,” he echoed your sentiments. He moved to the hall closet to get out the broom, interrupted by a knock on the door.

Confused, you poked your head over the counter and watched as Spencer opened the front door.

“Good evening, officer,” he greeted, casting a sidelong glance over at you.

Fuck.

You scrambled to your feet, careful not to step on any pieces of the bowl that remained on the floor and wiping beneath your eyes as you made your way to the door, peeking around the corner to find two DC Metro officers. “Agent Jareau?” One of the officers said curiously.

“Hi,” you waved timidly, looking between the two of them with your tail between your legs.

He looked surprised at the revelation of who lived here, recognizing you from a case you had consulted on months ago. “We were called here on a report of a domestic disturbance, your neighbor in said she heard ‘a lot of yelling before there was a crash and then everything went quiet’.”

The summation of events did nothing to slow your racing heart, “We had uh… we were having a disagreement, and I knocked over a bowl. It was an accident,” you reassured the officer, reaching out and taking Spencer’s hand as a sign of good faith.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You nodded in confirmation, “I’m really sorry about any inconvenience, but I promise there’s nothing to worry about.”

The DC Metro officers studied Spencer suspiciously, and you protectively moved in front of him. They were trained to see the worst-case scenario, but there was nothing happening here, “Well then, just uh… try to keep it down, I suppose.”

The two of you waved as they walked away, once the door was closed, you turned to face Spencer, “Are you alright?”

He looked a little pale, “I’m alright,” he nodded, gathering himself before going back to the hall closet. “That was weird,” he added.

Spencer’s interaction with police officers was limited to work with the bureau and his time in prison. He never had to explain an underage drunk person in the car or run when a party got too rowdy, but he wasn’t concerned with the confrontation, he was concerned that, for a moment, before you got there, those officers saw Spencer as a violent person. You stayed put, watching him sweep up the last of the bowl and take care of the sharp pieces with a keen eye.

“I’d never hurt you,” Spencer said softly, unnecessarily explaining to you.

You nodded, “I know. You’re not like that, baby. You’re not a violent person.” In fact, you had only seen Spencer aggressively violent one time in your life, and that was when his mother’s life was on the line. Stepping over to him, you lifted yourself so that you were sitting on the kitchen counter, meeting his eyes.

“She is not you,” he murmured, reaching out and taking both of your hands in his.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, your shoulders slumped ever so slightly, “I am well aware,” you offered.

He took a deep breath, “JJ would never ask me to recite Henry James to her or offer to go to the planetarium with me even after we spent all day on a case or sit through one of my lectures just to hear me talk about something I’m passionate about,” he began. "I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation about something I’m passionate about with your sister. Not one where she didn’t interrupt me or pawn me off on somebody else,” he told you, disconnecting one of your hands to wipe new tears from your cheeks.

“I- I’m not…” you breathed, overwhelmed as he sang your praises.

“I know you compare yourself to her,” he cut you off, “it’s normal for you to compare yourself to your older sister. I just didn’t know how lowly you thought of yourself until all of this was dug up.”

Frowning, you cocked your head to the side, “I do not compare myself to her,” you remarked.

He hummed in response, “It wasn’t up for debate. I’m not interested in your sister. I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone except for you. I am sorry that I never told you about the football game, but by the time you joined the team, six years had passed, and I didn’t think it was pertinent to tell you that your sister had rejected me. That is entirely on me, and I can’t change it. I can, however, spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

Your breathing hitched, and the ghost of a potential proposal once again floated through the air, it made your heart ache. “One of these days you’re going to have to actually ask me to marry you,” you whispered, not sure how much longer you’d be able to sit and wait while he neglected to act upon his words.

“What do you want right now?” Spencer asked, studying your facial expression.

You have spent three months being mad at him, and you had to believe it all came down to tonight. Neither of you could keep going with things the way they were. “I’m not sure,” you answered.

Patiently, Spencer inquired, “Do you want to break up?”

If you told him you hadn’t thought about it, you’d be lying. It broke your heart to think about ending things with him, to think that six years together didn’t mean something to the both of you. Spencer had never given any inclination that he was interested in anyone else, so maybe he should’ve told you about the football game, but you shouldn't have let your insecurities block any attempt at reconciliation. “No,” you responded truthfully.

He had tried, too. The one-sided conversations he had with floral bouquets, taking time off of work to help you while you recovered, and he had even limited his contact with your sister. “Do you want to go to couple’s therapy?”

You had heard through the grapevine that your sister was trying marriage counseling with Will, something about working on their communication skills. With that in mind, you nodded, “We can try it out.”

“Do you know what you want?” He asked, settling a hand on your thigh.

Through the sheer curtains, you looked outside, “I want to go,” you informed him, hopping off of the kitchen counter and to your shared bedroom, pulling on a pair of socks.

Confused, Spencer followed you around the apartment, “Wait. Where are we going?”

“I’m going,” you said simply.

He looked surprised at this, “It’s the middle of the night in the twenty-second largest city in the country, you’re not going out alone.”

You paused for a moment at his concern, watching the defeated look on his face morph into one of relief when you responded, “Then put your shoes on,” you encouraged.

As you waited by the door, mindful to not walk through the apartment with your shoes on, he stopped in your bedroom for a moment before coming back out and slipping his sneakers on. “Where are we going?”

Grabbing your keys off of the hook, you opened the door and held it for Spencer as he followed your lead. “You know at the start of Moby Dick when Ishmael says when he finds himself growing grim about the mouth and wanting to knock people’s hats off, he takes to the sea?”

He nods, taking the keys from your hand and locking the door behind him, glancing briefly at your neighbor’s door before handing your keys back to you, “I’m familiar,” he confirmed.

“Well, I’m feeling rather grim about the mouth,” you told him assuredly, slipping your keys into your pockets and slowly making your way down the hold staircase of your apartment building, listening for Spencer’s footsteps right behind you.

Even with your back turned, you knew his expression would be one of confusion, “So, you want to take to the sea?”

You quickly shook your head, the very last place you wanted to be was near a body of water in the middle of the night, “Not particularly, but maybe the park and some fresh air would do me some good.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he confirmed, stepping around you to hold the front door open so that you could walk outside, the cool night air stinging your face as you did.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at the night sky, the stars hidden through the city’s light pollution.

Upon reaching the park, which was just a small green space down the street from your apartment, Spencer led you to a cement bench, the two of you sitting down and sitting in silence. You welcomed the cold air filling your lungs, watching the fountain from a distance and admiring the way the headlights of a few passing cars reflected off of the water.

He kept a hand on your back, gently moving his hand up and down your spine as the two of you reveled in the startling nighttime peace. “I haven’t been fair to you,” you murmured nervously, looking over at him.

“None of this has been fair to anyone,” he reminded you.

You sighed, “JJ confessed her feelings, not the other way around, and I- I shouldn’t have held that against you for so long.” The admission came to you easily, holding your breath as you waited for him to agree.

Spencer’s silence worried you, but then he finally responded, “I probably would have done the same thing, but I don’t think it’s right for me to speculate how I would or wouldn’t have acted in your shoes.”

“I just… she’s always been perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect wife, the perfect agent, and I’m… I’m just me,” you said helplessly, staring ahead at the fountain.

He took a deep breath, “You’re perfect to me.”

“Stop,” you chastised halfheartedly.

Chuckling, he placed his hand over yours, “I mean it. Sometimes perfection is about the final concoction and not about getting all of the steps right. You don’t need the perfect journey, and, to me, nothing proves that more than you.”

You hummed, “You’re sweet.”

“For what it’s worth, I think, given the opportunity, you could be a perfect wife,” he said, nudging your leg with his knee, getting your head to snap to the side.

Jumping up from the bench, you smacked your hand over your mouth at the small black box that he had set on the stone surface. “What are you… what?” You asked breathlessly, looking behind you in the way people usually did when they were surprised, waiting to see if you were being pranked.

“It doesn’t have to be an engagement ring,” he reached down and snapped the box open, showing you the glimmering ring inside. “It can just be a promise because I am promising you right now, this is it for me. You are the only person I can see myself with, and I’m ready to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Gaping at him, you looked between him and the ring before closing your mouth, “That sounds an awful lot like an engagement ring,” you told him, out of breath.

He nodded, “That’s because I want it to be.”

“Okay,” you answered.

“What?”

You giggled, he evidently hadn’t expected that answer, “Yes, Spencer.”

He stood up, tackling you in an embrace, “Thank goodness.” He said, relaxing into you as you returned his hug.

Over the past few months, you had been almost afraid of him asking you, worried that it would feel like an excuse. A band-aid over a bullet hole. But as you held each other tightly, all you felt was an overwhelming sense of right. This was where you were always meant to be. “Will you put it on me?”

He nodded slowly, sniffling as he pulled away from you, the warmth of his body leaving you as he nimbly took your left hand, slipping the ring on your fourth finger. The metal felt foreign on your skin, but you welcomed it nonetheless. “That has been sitting in my sock drawer for a year,” he admitted, placing both of his hands on your waist and meeting your eyes.

You beamed up at him, at both the revelation that he bought you a ring well before any of the trials and tribulations of the last few months and that he hid the ring in the one place you never touched – the seemingly bottomless abyss of unmated socks that Spencer called his sock drawer. “Thank you,” you breathed.

Spencer leaned his head down, hovering his lips just above your own, “For what, love?”

Blinking small tears out of your eyes, you answered, “For not giving up on us.”

He smiled, “Never,” he whispered before dropping his lips to yours, the intimacy of something as small as a kiss enough to bring butterflies to your stomach. “Do you want to go home? Or are you still feeling grim about the mouth?”

“Let’s go home, Spence,” you told him, pressing one last kiss to his lips before the two of you began the trek home, hand in hand.

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gyaruhana · 29 days ago

Note

can you write about like how thanos would react if the reader died

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong - Reader dies headcannons

Synopsis: Thanos's reaction to your death

A/N: short bc school started and ive been SO. BUSY.

Warnings: angst..

➠ Thanos doesn't really believe you died at first

➠ He's in total disbelief and will stare at your body for a solid minute

➠ even starts telling you to 'stop messing around' and 'get up'

➠ even as your body is placed into one of the boxes and you're taken away

➠ he will make up so many excuses and say that you faked your death

➠ deep down he knows your gone but he keeps taking a pill every time he thinks about reality

➠ the drugs never help though as much as he takes them

➠ it just makes him think about you more. like - all the time

➠ there will be times where he pretends to talk to you and acts like you're still there even if people look at him like he's crazy.

➠ doesn't listen to anybody who says you're dead and treats them like they're crazy

➠ cries during lights out especially when the drugs have worn off

➠ he just can't handle the fact you're truly gone. it all feels like one nightmare to him and he can't always keep up the confident act.

➠ he becomes very reckless after your death and his morals just take a turn for the worse

➠ You were like his anchor, the little voice in his head telling him what not to do or when to step back

➠ now, he doesn't have that, so he goes crazy

➠ If someone is responsible for your death, he makes their life incredibly difficult until they eventually die

➠ if nobody was responsible, he's just out to get everyone

➠ he needs an outlet to cope with the loss of you

➠ constant nightmares about you and he starts blaming himself eventually

➠ beats himself up about it constantly and will randomly mutter to himself like a crazy person

➠ (spoiler alert) when he dies, his last thoughts are you and how he regrets letting you die

➠ overall, can't handle your death and denies it for a long time

"..Who are you talking to?" Nam-gyu questions as he looks in the same direction as Thanos to try see if there's something he's not seeing. Thanos glances over at Nam-gyu and looks at him like he's a fucking idiot. He's obviously talking to you, was Nam-gyu blind? Thanos was annoyed at his question and let out a scoff before looking away and toward the wall again, pretending like you were very much sitting there with him. "I'm talking to her, obviously. Are you stupid?" Thanos spoke and Nam-gyu clicked his tongue in annoyance at Thanos's tone. He had half a mind to tell Thanos that you were dead but he knew it was pointless, This was just some shitty coping mechanism that would pass. He just stared at Thanos causing Thanos to look back again as he popped yet another pill into his mouth. "What? Do you need something right now or can you leave me and my girl alone?"

#xaeinfinity #squid game #squid game 2 #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game s2 #thanos squid game #choi su bong #thanos x reader #choi subong #player 230

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sleepymarimo · 1 year ago

Note

I have this head cannon that I’ve been thinking of for awhile and just had to share with you.

Imagine y/n growing up with zoro in the village and she’s a couple years younger than him and called him zoozoo once, but he kinda liked it so he let her keep calling him that.

Fast forward to them running into each other at a random market while he’s out shopping with sanji and sanji hears her call him zoozoo. Once they leave, sanji makes fun of him by calling him zoozoo and Zoro just pulls one of his swords and looks him dead in there while saying, “call me that again and I’ll cut your tongue off. Only one person can ever call me that and it’s not you.”

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬.

summary: read above! pairing: zoro x fem!reader cw: none! mostly fluff, perhaps a bit bittersweet an: hi anon!! i just had to write this bc it was too cute :) also pris try not to write something under 1k words challenge go!! ugh i need to tone it down fr... anyway, enjoy some fluff and thank the anon for their sweet hc.. also im going for a new theme soooo... wc: 2k

you were like a little fly, always buzzing around him.

technically, it was kuina that you clung to, but it might as well have been him, too.

every duel and training session, you were there. you'd clap your hands and cheer on kuina, the girl you'd come to see as an older sister of sorts. "get him kookoo!" came your chant, a toothy grin on your face as you watched the green-haired boy lose his temper once again. "y'can't beat kookoo, zoro!"

even as he barks at you to shut up, you can't help but grin. you know that you'll be scrambling to get him bandages later and you know that he'll refuse your help, all while kuina laughed in the background. this was the dynamic, the camaraderie you had all shared. kuina, zoro and you.

then it all came to an abrupt halt.

kuina's death hit everyone hard. you were inconsolable, missing her so dearly that it made your heart hurt. not knowing what else to do, you turn to the green haired boy who was the closest thing you had to her.

the two of you stand at her grave, one of your tiny hands balled into the fabric of his shirt as if he'd disappear at any moment. your free hand rubs at your tender cheeks, red and swollen from the tears you'd been shedding. "i-i miss-s her, zoozoo."

he fights back the tears in his own eyes as he keeps his gaze locked on the stone slab in front of him. this whole body is still as he utilizes as much of his willpower as possible. he's enraged. he's in mourning. he doesn't quite know how to cope in any way that isn't fighting.

your new nickname for him doesn't go unnoticed- a play on the same one you used to call kuina. he takes it with pride, not bothering to correct you.

he grabs your hand and roughly tugs you along to the training area. there was no way in hell that he'd give up, so he was going to drag you with him.

years later.

same scene, different atmosphere.

the two of you are in front of her grave, paying her respect. zoro is leaving yo- the island. he's leaving the island to fulfill his promise, to make a name for himself and become the greatest swordsman. of course you're wishing him the best, hell, you know that he's going to do it, but still, it stings a tad.

first your beloved kookoo, and now...

"zoozoo..." your arms cross and you sigh, trying to remain cheery and playful but unable to hide the concern in your tone. "y'feeling ready?"

he isn't fazed by the nickname, not when you've been calling him that for years. raising a brow and giving you an almost incredulous expression, he answers your question. "doesn't matter if i'm ready or not, i ain't gonna be the greatest swordsman if i stay here."

the two of you start the walk to the docks, a small ship ready for him. you're side by side, shoulders brushing against one another every now and then. he doesn't put any distance between the two of you. why would he? at that point in time, though he'd never admit it, you were probably the person he'd trusted most.

the silence isn't uncomfortable by any means, but there is a tension of sorts that you try your best to ignore.

when you get to the boat, you take a breath to keep cool and calm. but you're so, so bad at it. maybe a few years ago you could've gotten away with it, but zoro had grown so damn perceptive that it wasn't even funny.

"b-bye zoozoo." you nod with a shaky smile, struggling and failing to keep a straight tone as tears prick your eyes. your hands are behind your back and zoro has no doubt that they're clasped together in a bid to prevent yourself from grabbing him.

he rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue in exasperation. "y'such a pain in the ass." one of his arms slings around your shoulders and begrudgingly brings you into his chest. of course he made sure no one else was around as he did so, opting to look off toward the sea instead of down at your teary face. "i'll be fine. grow up, will ya?"

your hands unclasp and you cling to his shirt, small laughs mixing with your sniffles. "shut-t up, zoozoo."

he doesn't say anything, but if you'd quit being a crybaby for two seconds you'd notice how his grip tightened on his wado ichimonji, his knuckles whitening. the swordsman is determined to do this, but hell, even he'd be lying if he said that this didn't... well, suck.

soon after, the two of you say your final goodbyes.

he catches sight of your smile as the waves took him away, and he has to turn around. his focus is on the horizon, ending the chapter of his life that had you in it.

you're damn persistent though, like a little fly. he can't help but smirk at your words, yelled and carried by the wind.

"you're gonna be the best damn swordsman ever, zoozoo!"

such memories only come to the swordsman when he's had enough booze. when he looks at the moon and the ship is quiet except for the sound of creaking wood and crashing waves.

the thousand sunny had been docked on this island for around a day. it was a nice place, lively and sporting a plethora of shops with goods ranging from tropical fruits to exotic spices.

zoro curses when he swears he passes by the same stall for the hundredth time. "damn cook, always gettin' lost..." he grumbles, not acknowledging his notorious tendency to lose his way.

before he could take another step, he freezes at the sound of a voice that he'd only heard when he was dreaming or completely shit-faced.

"zoozoo?"

the way he turns around is almost mechanical. at this stage of his life, things like this didn't really pull a reaction from him. hell, he hadn't felt this way since he'd ran into that marine in loguetown. it was like seeing a ghost, but you're not one by any means.

he says your name, the sound almost foreign on his lips.

then he straightens up, his rational self catching up to him. you. here. in the new world?

one of his large hands makes a grab at your wrist, pulling you to an alleyway where the two of you could have some more privacy.

he has too many questions, too many thoughts and he'd be damned if he said it, but too many feelings, too. his tone is unintentionally gruff when he speaks, presenting as irritated to mask the protective urges simmering beneath the surface. "what the hell are you doin' here, huh?" you're still like a damn fly...

you take a moment to assess him, his new scars and his physique and everything. it's not like you hadn't seen him... but you're not going to admit to him that a few of his wanted posters are very much in your possession.

he still seems to be as brash as ever. headstrong and bull-headed and caring, in his own blunt way. it's not like you expected him to change much, but still, it's a relief to hear him speak to you as if you hadn't seen him in years. "well i wasn't gonna stay there either!" you defend, stubbornly crossing your arms.

that sparks a conversation about what you've been up to. he's always been alright with just letting you chatter away, but he makes sure to pay extra attention to what you tell him. your goals, your plans and where you'll be going. damn you, making this harder for him by not staying at shimotsuki village.

he's proud though, he really is.

as you continue to speak, he finds his focus directed on your expression and body language. now that the shock has worn off, he gets a closer look at you. your fingers twitch lightly, your arms snuggly crossed over your chest as if you were holding yourself together.

he remembers you being rather comfortable and relaxed around him, only growing restless when you were struggling to hold down the torrents of emotion that you were prone to feeling.

the last time he saw you like this was when he left, when you were too prideful to reach out and...

something about your little mannerisms is comforting in itself, like you haven't changed. a small wave of nostalgia crashes into the stone walls he's constructed around his heart these past few years.

you're still that teary eyed kid clinging to him like a remora, and he's damn sure that that won't ever change. you can hide it all you want, but unfortunately, he knows you.

you're good, but he's better.

"oi, c'mere, you damn crybaby." he huffs, expertly masking his satisfaction as he slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest. a smirk tugs at his lips as he looks down on you, hell, he even wraps his other arm around you too. "thought i told ya to grow up, dumbass."

your arms wrap around him and you hide your sniffle with a scoff. "yeah, and i think i told you to shut up, zoozoo." you instinctively hold him a bit tighter. "bet you didn't miss all this crybaby stuff."

oh, if you knew how wrong you were.

the moment is cut short when an exasperated yell fills the air. "oi, marimo, what the hell are you doing with a gorgeous woman!"

zoro's grip tightens on you for a split second before he releases you with a growl, his expression morphing into one of annoyance. he turns around to face the blond, hand reaching for his blade. "mind your damn business, cook! i'll cut you up like a-"

they bicker for a few minutes while you watch on in confusion, before the cook tells him that there are marines on the island. the blond, not wanting the swordsman to get lost again, firmly grips his arm and tugs him along.

zoro's gaze flickers back to yours, hardened and glinting with determination. yet, beneath that, you can see the underlying emotion.

it makes you smile, and even as he's being tugged away, you give him a big grin letting him know that you'll be okay. a smile that says you believe in him and that you know he'll be the greatest swordsman this world has ever seen. most importantly, it tells him that you'll be there waiting for him when it's all done.

your lips part and you yell out. "bye, zoozoo!"

it's a while later when zoro and sanji finally quit their running, the thousand sunny go just up ahead in the distance.

"tch, can't believe a beautiful woman like her would want anything to do with a brute like you." sanji huffs, clearly envious and annoyed as he pulls out a cigarette and lighter.

zoro's scowl deepens, not quite up for discussing any sort of feelings with the cook. "shut the hell up, curly brows." he says, his eye subtly sneaking a final glance at the town. "it's not like that."

sanji breathes out a large puff of smoke, his form relaxing somewhat. "yeah, yeah... sure. whatever you say, zoozoo."

the air changes, going almost still as sanji finds himself looking down at a blade being held to his neck. zoro holds his sword up to the cook, glaring at him with a murderous intent.

they've had their fair share of fights, never actually meaning to harm one another, but zoro makes it clear that this subject is not up for debate. “call me that again and i’ll cut your tongue off." he growls, inching the blade a little closer. "only one person can ever call me that, and it’s not you.”

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro fluff #one piece fluff

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jollyhunter · 2 months ago

Text

Beau!Dean x hunter!reader - The Broken Circle

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! ♡

Characters: (mostly) Beau Arlen / (flashbacks, for now) Dean Winchester x hunter!reader, also Denise and Cassie AU: "Supernatural" x "Big Sky" crossover, set after S15 of SPN

One Shot (???) UPDATE: A SEQUEL IS PLANNED! THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE POSITIVE FEEDBACK!! 🧡🧡🧡

Warnings: - Major MC death mentioned (end of SPN spoiler), implied panic attack, angst and just buckets of tears (I'm coping with a certain someone's death here) - No use of Y/N - English is not my native language

Words: ~4,050

Setup: "Winchester" - That's the name you applied with at the police department, when you started a new life in Big Sky, Montana, 4 years ago. It's your deceased husband's name. Or rather, meant-to-be husband, since Dean died 2 weeks before he got to propose to you. Today you return from your one month time-out. But a lot has changed since you went to visit Sam; You've got a new sheriff.

And he's the same man you thought you'd never see again.

The Broken Circle

Cold.

In one word, that's your last memory of when you gingerly cupped Dean’s face. How your tender fingers caressed his bruised cheeks and wiped away the dirt from his battered skin. Shakily combed out the rubble from his damp brown hair and scrubbed the dry blood off his fingers.

The last time you squeezed Dean's lifeless hand before it slipped from your trembling fingers. Cold and busted lips scraped against yours when you gently kissed him goodbye for the last time in this life.

...Or so you hoped. Who knew what heaven had in stock for you two.

You just wished you could have been there, in that damn barn. Been with him in his last minutes. Could have held his hand next to Sam. Could have told him how much you loved him. Reassure him that you'd give up the hunting life like you both had planned. That you'd try and live a good life for him... and that you were sure you'd see each other again.

But instead you had to take leave of Dean's lifeless body. Hollow. Drained of everything that made him the man you loved and had planned to spend the rest of your life with.

Dean gave his life for so many innocent people – hell, for the entire world. But he never got to have his own life. Never got to live it the way he wished to.

It just seemed so damn unfair. You had so much planned for your future. Have yourself some rug rats, a dog maybe, a house, a garden with those ridiculous white picket fences. You’d live a cherry pie life once you’d leave the hunting life behind you.

Or so you liked to picture it in your heads. On those rare, peaceful nights where you'd rest in each others arms like an old couple. His fingers combing your hair while your thumb carefully stroked his battered knuckles. Whispers of daring dreams filling the silence.

But reality was cold. Bloody. Like an animal put down. With a last effort, put to rest on his bed in the bunker by Sam and you.

This image will haunt you for the rest of your life, you know it. It already did for the past 5 years. If only you could have —

"Winchester?"

You blink rapidly, your mind thrown off for a moment when you snap out of your spiraling thoughts.

Denise waves with a paper in front of you to get your attention back. "She was mutilated. And it wasn't a bear. Her heart had been cut out."

"Jesus," Cassie breathes with a look of shock and disgust, shifting uncomfortably next to you.

"Yeah," Denise's face grimaces into a painful one. Her eyes are darting from Cassie, down to the report and back up to your still slightly absent gaze. "What do you make of it, Winchester?"

"Sounds like a werewolf." Damn it. The words slipped your lips before you could fully snap out of your memories. “I mean, sounds like a bit far-fetched but I’ll let Sheriff Tubbs know.” You force a wry smile when you grab the piece of paper from Denise’s hands, ready to head out of this messed up conversation.

“Sheriff Arlen,” Cassie calls after you and you stop in your tracks to look back at them with arched eyebrows.

“Sheriff who?” You inquire with a puzzled look. How the hell could you have missed this much in just one month off duty?

“Sheriff Beau Arlen,” Cassie repeats and Denise quickly adds with a teasing hum, “And his ass is just- mmmh-” she makes a chef’s kiss hand gesture while Cassie rolls her eyes with an amused chuckle.

You let out a huff in mock-annoyance but can’t help the faint grin on your face. Maybe, one day you’d dare to befriend them. Maybe, whenever you’d feel ready for letting people into your life again. But not today.

Ready to pick up your work at the police department, your eyes immediately land on the new name on what used to be Sheriff Tubbs office. ‘Sheriff Beau Arlen’ is written in an arched, golden text across the door’s glass.

You raise a sceptical eyebrow at the name. “Beau” you spit out the name under your breath, already feeling a distaste for this new sheriff.

In your defence, it wasn’t personal. It is just in your nature to feel sceptical towards anything new, especially people. Perhaps you gave up your hunting life. But any hunter will tell you between a swig of whiskey and a loaded shotgun that you’ll never lose your hunter instincts, no matter how hard you try. That’s not how it works. You don’t end this business by walking out the door.

It ends you.

In some way you were like trained bloodhounds. Always one chase away of your next kill. Unable to ignore the smell of blood. You were painfully aware of that fact. You could never live a fully normal life without the occasional hunch or a nervous look over your shoulder.

But you’d learned to accept it and make the best of it.

Here you can still help people. Save people. And once in a while nudge the sheriff into the right direction when you suspected something more than a suicide. Or you’d discreetly plant anti-possession charms on people when you had a hunch that demons were involved in a case.

Yet Sam believes you had retired fully from hunting like he did. And you liked to belief so, too. But on some days you weren’t so sure whether you even wanted to.

In some twisted way, hunting will always connect you with Dean. And at the same time it pains you, like a slow poison. Because you know it’s what he hated and never wanted for you.

And what took him from you.

It is a walk on a tight rope, really.

With a little huff of defiance you push the door to the sheriff’s office open. Your eyes dart around the empty room as you lean slightly forward, “Sheriff Arlen?”

Nothing. Oh well. With a quick glance over your shoulder you decide to take the chance and just drop off the report. You step inside, your fingers tracing the edge of the paper as your mind is instinctively drawn back to the case. I’ll have to look into this… bloody werewolf —

“Ah, Deputy Winchester, ain’t it?”

You freeze in mid motion.

And so does time. The paper slowly slides from between your trembling fingers and flutters to the floor. The unmistakable voice jolting through your mind and body like a lightning bolt. Your breath is caught in your throat, your mind and body paralysed.

The world holds its breath.

This is impossible.

“...Winchester, innit?” he repeats as he steps into the office and casually walks up to you, a wide smile spread across his face.

It can’t – NO.

You don’t dare to turn around.

Not that your body would be capable of any movement anyway. Every muscle is tense, your spine’s gone completely rigid. And your heart’s hammering against your ribs like it’ll crack your chest open from the inside.

You stand there like a deer caught in headlights. Headlights of a ‘67 Chevy Impala called Baby.

It has to be my imagination.

“Ya got somethin’ for me there? Oh-” You feel his elbow briefly brush your side as he bends down to pick up the paper next to your foot.

You don’t move an inch and stare ahead.

He straightens up again and steps around you to place it down on his desk. When he finally moves into your view and turns around to face you with his warm smile – your heart stops.

Emerald green eyes look back at you. Deep and sparkling green oceans. Alive.

Your brain freezes. Your mind scrambling for an explanation but failing to come up with anything.

This can’t be.

After a moment of tense silence, the tremors of your bottom lip make way for what your mind refuses to believe in.

“Dean?”

His name slips you in a mere breathless murmur. Afraid that whatever this is, will shatter the moment you dare to breath again.

Beau raises a brow. “Dean?”

He repeats the name with such nonchalance, such valuelessness, like it’s just some random clerk who he’s got no business with. As if that name didn’t mean the world to you once. Still would. Still does.

But the way his name dropped from his lips…

It clogs your airways. And the question mark at the end was him ramming a dagger into your heart and twisting it, without him even realising.

“Uh, no ain’t that.” He gently shakes his head and his lips melt into a cheeky smile as if that would make his next words any less painful.

“I’m Beau.”

Silence. Once again you feel like the air’s sucked out of your lungs. Like someone had pushed you off a cliff.

Someone who is an imposter of your deceased husband.

Beau. Your jaw clenches. And the name bounces off your mind. Your initial reaction being immediate rejection. No, you’re not... Beau.

Your eyes flicker across the man in front of you.

He might look quite… changed. He’s got a beard, neatly trimmed even. His hair is longer and… soft. Gone was the rugged and calloused man you loved. But it is still him. His eyes with their hidden secrets lingering behind those intense glinting, emerald green pools. His bow legs you’d recognize out of a hundred. His voice, his features, his – everything. Everything on him seems much softer but still… in your eyes, it’s Dean. No doubt.

“Why are ya lookin’ like you saw a ghost?” Beau questions with a tilt of his head, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

His voice snaps you out of your intense gaze. Your mouth opens, but no words make it past your quivering lips. All words drowned out in a flood of a million questions. Your focus drifts off, your eyes darting around the office like you’re expecting Gabriel to pop up any second and laugh at you.

But the room stays reduced to the two of you.

You feel like you’re on a tipping point.

Hands clenched, one subtly moves back to your hidden silver dagger – you do what you were trained to do in situations like these; Your mind grips for the lifeline and kicks into hunter mode. You rattle off the list of possible monsters; Shapeshifter? Ghoul? Am I dreaming? Is it some sick game of a trickster God? —

“Darlin’? You alright?” he asks, his voice now more concerned. You look terrified. As pale as a sheet, the blood drained from your face. Close to a panic attack, he guesses by your rapid breaths. Beau reaches out with his hand, gently patting your arm to get your attention. “Hey… Easy, just breathe.”

At his touch you jolt and finally snap out of your state of shock. The hand hovering over the concealed weapon falters. His worried eyes lock with yours.

The life-line snaps. Your mind tips over. Enough to make your stomach twist and turn, about to throw up. With only one shared look, everything’s back; The pain, the poignant grief, the cold skin under your fingertips, Dean’s lifeless expression, emerald eyes gone dull, the stench of decay, of old blood and dirt and his burning flesh and-- it all crashes down on you. All the emotions and memories you had buried in the depths of your mind, now laid open.

Fresh and hungry. Slowly swallowing you whole. Again.

“I- I don’t feel so… good – sorry,” you sputter, your hand clutching your chest in an effort to keep it together. The same second you spin around on your heels and storm out of the office without looking back once.

Beau. His mere presence was suffocating.

You remember the moment you and Sam cleaned up Dean’s lifeless body. How your fingers brushed against a folded paper, carefully tucked away in his jacket’s inside pocket.

Sam’s face had contorted the moment you pulled it out. Clearly, he had known what secret the paper held and before you got to question his knowing look, he suddenly got up. While walking out, he said he’d give you some time alone with his brother.

Once you unfolded the notepaper halfway, your breath stopped. Your eyes slowly shifted from one scribbled word to the next, each of them hitting harder than the next, each of them taking more of your breath. You swallowed past the lump in your throat when the realization of what you’d been holding in your hand slowly set in.

They were notes of Dean. Notes for your upcoming anniversary in two weeks.

You unfolded the rest of it and your eyes widened. The paper began to crumple in your shaking hands while wet stains swallowed some of his jotted down keywords. When your burning eyes reached the last four words, it had felt like whatever was left of your broken heart had just been ripped out entirely.

The raw emotions rolled down your cheeks, your tears mixing with his last unspoken words…

“Will you marry me?”

Beau was left back staring at the slammed door in bewilderment and a little stunned. After a moment, he sighs and pushes off the desk to follow after you.

“Winchester!” He calls down the corridor, watching you stumble out the front door into the outside. He jogs after you, slightly panting, while his eyes dart around the parking lot in search for you.

The rain crashes down on him the moment he steps outside. His head briefly tilts up to face the grey sky with an annoyed groan. The raindrops are pattering against his creased forehead, running down his cheeks to pool at the tip of his beard.

But then he hears a muffled sniffle next to him. Strands of his soaked hair fall into his face when he whirls his head around, spotting you leaned against the wall.

“No- no – it can’t be you – Damn it – it can’t…” you mutter under your rapid breaths, somehow trying to fight your scrunched up, stinging eyes with words of common sense. Your chest feels constricted. Your heart’s hammering in your ears and your breath’s clipped, feeling like you might faint any moment of lack of oxygen.

Leaning back against the wet wall for some support, your mind’s on the brink of a breakdown. There’s no explanation for this. This can’t be happening.

Beau suddenly appears in front of you and before you get to react, he places a hand on your shoulder. You flinch but don’t pull away. His hand feels heavy against your soaked jacket, grounding, gentle – but casual, like you would with a stranger. You are strangers.

“Hey, hey take it easy. You’re gonna give yourself a panic attack. You’ll be okay.” He says as he crouches down to your level. He glances over your trembling body and how your eyes try to avoid his, your expression like you’d just witnessed a murder in slow-motion.

“Look at me, deep breaths.” Beau speaks in a firmer, yet gentle tone, trying to break through your panicked state.

When you refuse to look up, he tilts his head down to meet your eyes behind some soaked stray hair that sticks to your skin. He pushes them out of your face, his intense gaze searching your contorted face for some form of hint for what’s got you so spooked.

He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. While his soothing words just keep coming, his voice now a lower whisper as he’s desperately trying to understand what is going on in that head of yours, “Hey, c’mon… talk to me, Winchester…”

Your eyes are burning from the tears that have been building up until now. Eyelashes heavy and clumped together by the droplets of the rain. And his intense eyes staring into yours, the very same eyes you fell in love with over 10 years ago, do nothing to ease your pain.

You try to tear your gaze away from his, but find yourself caught in them. It’s like you’re staring into a beautiful forest after years of living in a desert. They pull you in, and you feel like you are right back where you’d always longed to be. Home.

But a home that isn’t yours any more. The soul behind those eyes looks familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time. You thought you’d never see those eyes again – but those very same eyes hold no memory of you.

The same question keeps repeating in your head, ripping at your heart and soul like a Hellhound.

Dean… is this you?

His voice cuts through your thoughts like a soft knife. “Take deep breaths darlin’, it’s oka-”

“Please- just-” you cut him short, a painful, shaky breath rippling through your voice, “Just stop talking.” Beau’s voice is like a dagger to your heart, twisting it whenever he speaks up. Mocking your memories with that uncanny tone of his.

I’m just tired. You hear Dean’s voice in your head and just like him, you wished you didn’t feel a damn thing.

Beau raises a brow and tilts his head forward, studying your face. For a moment he opens his mouth about to speak again, but when he sees you flinch, he forces himself to shut it closed.

His jaw’s clenched from fighting the urge to talk and feeling a bit overwhelmed with the entire situation. Not knowing where to go with himself or what to do without making things worse. He isn’t sure what it is, but something about you tugs at his heart in a way he can’t quite understand. But he quickly dismisses it, for now.

His eyes snap up to the sky when the rain starts to increase. Heavy drops splatter off the both of you, coaxing a single tear to let go of the corner of your eye. It was like the sky cried for you. Eyes that parched exactly 5 years ago.

Without a word he moves closer, gently wrapping his free arm around your waist. But you stop him before his palm touches your side. Your hand's shaking as it clings to his wrist like a lifeline.

Beau’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t comment on it. His expression grows pensive and his eyebrows slightly furrow, watching your trembling form. Your chest's heaving heavily, like you’re struggling for air. And your eyes are out of focus, like they're reliving some nightmare.

He suddenly feels a strong protectiveness - decides to hold himself back, though, afraid he might make things worse. But it pains him terribly to see you this way, even if he might not know you, yet.

You don’t say anything. Unable to form the right words as nothing could express the storm of contradicting emotions you are trapped in. The wavering grip on his arm is clenching and unclenching subtly as if unsure whether you want to push him away or pull him in.

“Sorry,” you finally croak between shuddering breaths, unsure what you were even apologizing for, “I’m sorry…”

Why were you apologizing? A strange feeling settles in his guts, one of this being a lot bigger than he could comprehend.

Next moment you know, you’re pulled into a tight hug. Both his arms wrapping around you to pull you close and hold you together.

At first you stiffen. Standing there like a fragile, shaking tree. Your arms pressed against your sides, unable to comprehend any more what is happening.

But he keeps you in his embrace, murmuring soothing words, muffled by your hair and the heavy rain. You lift your head slightly, just enough for your wavering eyes to meet his again.

That’s when the realization hits you. He looks so whole. So unbroken. His skin and his hair was smooth and tender beneath that thin layer of rain. He lacks any form of scar, any edges or any memory of the horrors you and he had faced and committed. Your heart twists; This isn’t what a scarred hunter looks like. And at the same time you feel your heart sink at the next conclusion… Beau would have been Dean’s idea of a perfect life, without ever having been born into the hunting business.

And it makes you wonder whether he was granted that alternate life.

Beau feels your trembling body against him and how your gaze is searching his face for something he doesn't know. Why are you looking at him like that? A lump forms in his throat. His hand gently caresses your back in a circle motion, while his other keeps stroking your hair.

“It’s alright, s’okay. You’re okay.” Beau says in a soothing, comforting tone and he tugs you a little closer, allowing you to rest against him.

Your wet hair falls into your face once more when your head drops to his chest. You both stay still, the only sound being the pitter-patter from the raindrops against the hood of his truck and the puddles around you. Your ragged breath’s nearly drowned out by the rain. The world seems to have shrunk to the beat of his heart softly thudding against your ear.

And that breaks the dam. Tears it down as the floods of emotions search their way out. Your shoulders rise and buckle against his chest. The tears finally break free, streaming down your face, mixing with the rain soaking your clothings. Your body wracked with sobs – raw, desperate, painful. Liberating.

You begin to shake uncontrollably, the sobs growing more and more powerful. They start to rack through every fibre of your body. Your legs grow unsteady beneath you, daring to crumble from the weight of every emotion you had buried in the past 5 years released and unloading all at once.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll stay right here as long as ya need me to. C’mere…” He reassures you, and pulls you even closer. His chin comes to rest on top of your head, his facial hair brushing against your scalp and his warm breath wafting down at you. “Just let it out… you’re gonna be okay… you’re not alone, ‘kay?”

You clutch at his jacket tightly, holding onto him like you’re drowning. Like you’re afraid he might be a dream after all. Might disappear from your grasp at any moment. Everything spills out of you, incoherent words bubbling from your wet lips. “Y-y-you’re alive- you’re alive- a-alive- I missed you so much, Dean- so so much-”

Beau can’t exactly make out the words that are tumbling from your mouth, but he can feel you shaking against him terribly. He quickly takes his big jacket off to drape it over you, to try and keep the rain and cold off you.

His heart tightens at the sight of your curled-up body, clinging to him while shivering badly and breaking apart in his arms. He slowly begins to speak again, a hint of an encouraging smile on his face, “Hey, ‘m gonna pick ya up. Ya ain’t gonna stand that cold and rain. Ya’ll get sick.” He then places his arms on your back and under your thighs, before lifting you up off the ground in one smooth motion.

He holds you close against his chest, wrapping his jacket over you for extra warmth. The rain patters against the concrete floor while his boots splash through the puddles, carrying you over to his truck.

You don’t protest as your body was giving in at this point. Like a run down shed in a storm.

Your fingers slowly going numb from the death grip, the wet and cold. You choke on your sobs while the tears keep rolling down your reddened cheeks.

But from joy.

You don’t know whether he is Dean or not. Whether this is real or you finally lost it.

But in this very moment you didn’t care.

You let yourself drift back to the happiest place in your mind. One you hadn’t dared to visit for many years. Locked up and keys buried along your husband. Deep down in your broken heart.

When you close your eyes and press the side of your face against his chest, you can hear his heart pounding. When he speaks, you hear Dean’s voice above you, soft and peaceful.

And you feel his body through the drenched pieces of clothings between you.

He feels warm. Warm.

A/N: it was meant to be a drabble IT WAS MEANT TO BE A DRABBLE

I'M NOT CRYIN'- OKAY FINE I'm still coping with his death - I haven't even watched it since I'm still catching up with the seasons. GAWD I HTE THIS - I JUST NEEDED CLOSURE DAMN IT

Anyway, I just had to get this story off my chest before next year. I don’t know yet whether it deserves more parts but do let me know if you think so!

Tags:

@aylacavebear

#how do i even tag this #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen fanfiction #beau arlen x you #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #spn x reader #spn reader insert #big sky fanfiction #spn crossover #spn x big sky #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic

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ohnoitstbskyen · 1 year ago

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youtube

... y'all know Lae'zel is acting scared, right?

Video transcription: I've seen a lot of comments on my short about Lae'zel dismissing her entire character because she's mean and… I'm just checking in here… you guys know she's scared, right? She's terrified. She was kidnapped by the worst monster she knows, infected with the most horrifying death anyone in her culture can have, and then stranded on a hostile world, alone, with nothing to guide her except the dogmatic military cult indoctrination of a cruel lich demigod, telling her that her only hope of salvation is to follow Gith doctrine with total unyielding faith. And still she tries to save you. When she keeps insisting that you must get to the Githyanki crèche, it's our only hope, she's trying to guide you towards the only salvation she knows from the parasite, so she can share it with you. And Gith... aren't supposed to do that, saving an outsider is not part of the doctrine, she's breaking the rules trying to do right by you. None of that means she's not being an asshole, she's rude, dogmatic and unpleasant. But everything she does comes from a genuine, very misguided and abrasive, desire to do the right thing. It doesn't make her behaviour okay, but there is more to her character than just "being the mean one."

To expand on this a bit more than I can in a 60 second short, people acting from fear and from their damage is a major theme among the Baldur's Gate 3 companions.

Lae'zel is terrified and falling back on the only thing she believes will give her back some control over her situation, which is the dogma of the military cult she's in. Shadowheart is much the same, amnesiac and grasping on to the only solid thing she knows, which is her faith, which preaches deception, loss and duplicity as the only certain factors in life.

Gale is an inveterate people-pleaser desperately dependent on other people to help him feed his magic addiction, with his overtly affable exterior hiding a rolling boulder of guilt, ambition, greed, arrogance and legitimate hurt. Asterion is... well, no way to really lay out his deal without spoiling, but the boy has been through it and his self-destructive, hedonistic and selfish impulses are all coping mechanism and self-defense all the time.

None of that make their shitty behaviours okay, but in a fictional story, those kinds of flaws and toxic behaviours are what make for interesting stories and characters. I don't blame anyone for finding Lae'zel unpleasant and abrasive, but I do get a bit Old Man Yells At Cloud about people who casually brag about shoving her off a cliff-side, or murdering her because "she was a bitch" or whatever.

Like... being unable to face discomfort in your media is not a virtue, and lashing out reactively against fiction that doesn't validate your power fantasy isn't a flex.

Of course, I saw a lot of those reactions in YouTube comments and on social media, so my sample is biased by those algorithms, but still. A lot of people seem aggressively proud that they never engaged with her story because the terrified indoctrinated child-soldier wasn't immediately nice to them and I can't explain it but something about that reaction feels puritan to me.

#tbskyen #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #laezel #lae'zel #Youtube

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lokidjarin-7567 · 25 days ago

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Can you write a fanfic (only if you're comfortable of course) pairing kang dae-ho x f!reader, during the lights out. Basically they've developed a really strong connection since the beggining, and she's sleeping next to him while he's looking out for others (ok he's just basically watching you sleep). But you shift your position while sleeping and he sees sh scars on your wrist, and folds your sleeves and he sees multiple cuts and scars. You wake up from the motions and you see him with teary eyes and then you start to cry a lot, like having a panic attack and he comforts you and it's just a lot of fluff basically. (the reason from your cuts can be because you're deeply depressed and you're coping that way since you're 15 but at 21 you still do it)

But, if you don't feel comfortable writing about sh can you please write one also during the light out when dae-ho is on the look out and the reader is trying to sleep, but she's so scared of what's going to happen that she starts crying, he notices it, she has a panic attack and he pulls her to his lap comforting her (again really fluffy).

I'm almost one year clean so I was craving this kind of comfort, thank you <3

Your wish is my command 🫡 (sorry so cheesy)

Creature Comforts

Kang Dae-ho x reader

CW: mentions of self harm, please please do not read if you’re not comfortable with this!!, fluff and comfort

So happy to get this request - my first one!! Please send any in if you have them, I love writing them <3 And please message me if you’re having thoughts about SH or struggling with it at all, my DMs are always open 🩷

Masterlist | AO3

She looked so peaceful when she slept. She was curled up on the mattress beside where he was keeping guard, her chest rising and falling with each breath. It was mesmerising. Her hair was fanned out across the pillow, some straying into her face, strands lying delicately on her cheek. The lower half of her body was covered with a thin blanket, her top half cuddled into her jumper.

He had never seen her this calm. They had gotten close quickly in these games - the fear and horror acting as a catalyst for friendship - and he found himself getting protective over her fast. They’d first met after the first game, when Thanos and his lackey had approached her to join their little group, and he’d felt the inexplicable urge to tell him she was already spoken for. Surprisingly, she agreed with him quickly, saying she had already made her allies and hurried quickly away from that purple-haired joke. She thanked him wholeheartedly when they were out of earshot, confirming that there was something about him that made her uncomfortable so she appreciated being saved (her words, not his.) They had been inseparable since - sharing meals, sticking together in games, voting together, even bunking next to each other. When Gi-hun said that two people should always be keeping watch tonight, they didn’t even have to say they would take their shift together - it was just assumed.

But when the time came, he couldn’t bring himself to wake her up. She looked ethereal in the dim light of the room, her hair like a halo, the sound of her breathing a symphony to his ears. Soothing. He could watch her for hours, totally enthralled and at peace. His hand moved to brush a piece of hair from her face, feeling the softness of the lock between his fingers, fingertips lingering just a moment too long on the soft skin of her cheek. So he just sat beside her. He wasn’t tired yet; he could take her shift. Anything to protect her really. A few extra hours can be the difference between life and death here.

The rise and fall of her body suddenly changed rhythm, a deep sigh escaping her lips. She rolled over in her sleep to face him, and he held his breath, scared that the smallest shift might wake her. She settled back in quickly though, and he watched with a soft smile as her arms fell beside her body, head snuggling into the pillow.

He wanted to wake up like this every morning, hearing her gentle sighs and soft snores, to see the peace on her face before she woke. He had only known her a few days, but it felt like a lifetime when they spent every minute fearing for their life. He felt so unbelievably protective of her so fast. He didn’t think she was incapable of handling herself - she’d proven the opposite through this ordeal. But he didn’t want her to have to worry about that ever again. As soon as they were out of there, he would do anything to make sure she wasn’t scared ever again.

Her hair had fallen across her face again, and in the dim light, he worked carefully to move it, tucking it gently behind her ear. Then he noticed her blankets falling down a little, pooling around her waist, so he pulled it up to her shoulders. Then the cuff of her jacket was slipping, so he gently grabbed the fabric, moving to fix her sleeve, when he noticed something. There were a few scars there, barely noticeable in the dim light of the room, so he allowed his curiosity and protective nature get the better of him. Ever so cautiously, he slipped her sleeve down just a little, just enough to see the scars that littered her forearms. Some were newer than others, others long since healed, but they were unmistakable.

His heart hurt for her. Life in these games was hard enough, but he could only imagine what awaited her outside to have to…

He wasn’t sure what to do. If he addressed it, he might lose her trust. She might get embarrassed that he knew and withdraw. If he didn’t, and she somehow worked out that he knew, she would think he didn’t care.

It wasn’t something he understood completely - a few of his friends from the military struggled with self-harm, but he didn’t tend to ask them too many questions. They had PTSD, so maybe she had that too? Or something else that was making her hurt badly enough to… all he really knew was that she didn’t have any healthy avenues to alleviate her stress and emotion. He wanted to help, to hold her and tell her everything would always be okay around him, that she shouldn’t ever hurt herself again… but he knew that was condescending and naive. What he really needed to do was let her talk to him if he wanted, listen, and if there was anyway she wanted him to help, he would…

His plans were foiled though, as she woke slowly, eyes blinking open. He was lost in thought, fingers still hooked around her cuff, and he was frozen as her eyes widened, locking on her arms and where his skin was against her. She started to back away, shuffling quickly as she adjusted, fear taking over her features.

“What’re you…” she muttered quietly, pulling her sleeves back to her hands as tears started to form in her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” he blurted out quickly, face turning red. “You turned over and I saw something so I was curious, I didn’t mean to wake you I… I’m so sorry.” She had pulled her knees to her chest, shaking slightly. “Hey, listen to me, it’s ok, it’s all ok, I…” he slowed down when he realised she was crying, her whole body heaving with deep, pained breaths, her hands fisting the blankets around her. He muttered her name quietly, but she didn’t respond, her legs falling down as her breathing got more and more erratic.

Oh God, he’d ruined everything.

***

It had happened so quickly. One minute you were asleep, the next, you opened your eyes to see Dae-ho beside you. At first, you were happy just to see him, his face and demeanour and everything about him a comfort to you throughout this game. Then you noticed the way he was looking at you. A mixture of pain and confusion and worry was contorted across his face, and then you saw where he was looking.

Your sleeve must had rolled in your sleep, and he was looking at your now bare wrist, his fingers softly brushing against it. You snatched her arm away quickly, fear clouding your mind as you shuffled back.

He had seen.

Oh God, I’ve ruined everything.

There was no questioning that fact. He knew. One of your deepest secrets, one of the things you were most ashamed of. And now, the person you trusted most in here knew. What would he think? Would he view you differently? As weak? As insane? As someone who didn’t deserve to be here around people who wanted to live more than you?

All you had ever wanted was to be seen as normal. And however awful this place was, you finally had that. You had found someone who viewed you as an equal, an ally even. You weren’t the unstable girl who cut herself, or the friend no one could rely on due to unpredictable bouts of depression or anxiety, or the shitty daughter who kept to herself. You were helpful, normal even. But now?

You hadn’t noticed your breathing start to shallow until it was too late. Your vision started to go fuzzy, mind screaming that you’d let someone too close, that they would never see you the same and it was all your fault. Again.

You heard him call your name, but it felt far away, like you were trapped in a bubble and everything outside was muffled. You were paralysed with an inexplicable terror, tears streaming down your face.

Unsurprisingly, given where you were, it wasn’t the first time you’d had a panic attack in front of him. They’d been pretty consistent, after every game, during some, but now, somehow this was the worst. For some reason, someone truly knowing you was scarier than the prospect of looming death.

It took a while for your vision to come back into focus, and when it did, all you could see was his face.

“Hey, look at me, breathe, ok? Here…” he carefully placed his hand on yours, and when you didn’t pull away, picked it up and held it to his chest. “Follow my breaths, ok? In….” You did your best to follow along, stuttering slightly, but he smiled ever so softly even if you weren’t doing it perfectly. “Good, and out..” He repeated the motion a few times, and you followed until your breathing was steady enough to talk. “There we go.” He muttered gently, a hand straying to your face to wipe away the tears that had fallen.

“I’m so sorry, Dae-ho…” it was all you could choke out, already close to tears again, but he shushed you quickly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s none of my business, but I need you to know that I would never judge you… not for anything. Especially not for something that isn’t your fault.”

“Of course it is, I…”

“It’s not. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault. You’re doing your best and I’m here for you. As long as you know that, that’s all that matters.” You were crying again, his words a comfort you had never heard before. Not a moment after the first tear fell his arms were around you, pulling you tight to him and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t even speak to thank him, so you squeezed his arm instead, feeling him smile into the top of your head. You had never felt so much kindness before, so much understanding… and maybe it said something about the people around you, but you couldn’t think about that. Right now, all you could think about was the way he was holding you close, the way his breaths aligned with yours, and the way he made you feel like everything was actually going to be ok.

#kang dae ho x reader #dae ho x reader #kang dae ho #dae ho #squid game #squid game s2 #fluff #sh comfort #comfort

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ivyluvsyouu · 9 months ago

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I saw your series of genshin characters if their s/o dies and I wanted to request it with Kaveh Tighnari Furina Lyney and whoever else you wanna add?

𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟑

𝑻𝒘: 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅, 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: 𝑲𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒉, 𝑻𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊, 𝑭𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒂, 𝑳𝒚𝒏𝒆𝒚, 𝑨𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒐,𝑵𝒆𝒖𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟏 (𝑪𝒚𝒏𝒐, 𝑨𝒍𝒃𝒆𝒅𝒐, 𝑿𝒊𝒂𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑲𝒂𝒛𝒖𝒉𝒂)

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟐 (𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒖𝒄, 𝑲𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰𝒕𝒕𝒐)

𝑲𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒉

You had left for a commission a day ago. You weren't supposed to be gone long, maybe a few hours at most which is why when Kaveh woke up the morning after you left and you weren't in bed with him, he was extremely worried. He asked everyone he saw that day if they had seen you, and he even went out to where your commission was supposed to be to look for you but nothing. Not a single trace of you was left there, By the end of the day he was worried sick, and he was going around asking for the second time if they had seen you.

He had gotten Cyno to go out in the desert and look for you and he found you dead near the sight of where your commission had been. When Kaveh found this out he was in a state of shock. You? dead? his s/o? his strong s/o? there was no way, he wouldn't believe it. He refused to believe it. For a few months after your death Kaveh was just in complete denial and everyone was worried about him. Even his roommate Al-Haitham had tried talking to him about what had happened to you but every time he did Kaveh would just shake his head and deny it. "No, Y/n's not dead..." he would say, even if deep down he knew he was just saying this because he couldn't admit it. He knew you were gone, and he knew that denying it wasn't helping.

About a year after your death is when he started to come to terms with it. And it was the hardest thing he had ever done; He barely left the house and when he did, he didn't talk to anyone. He took about a year just keeping to himself and trying to cope and after that year he slowly started to become himself again. But even after that it always seemed like a piece of him was missing.

𝑻𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊

You had always been extremely sickly. It was something you had delt with since you were young and when you met Tighnari and ended up starting a relationship with him he wanted you to live a good healthy life. He would always try to make new medicines for you, but nothing seemed to work. Tighnari knew deep down that your sickness would be the thing to kill you, but he would've never admitted it.

One morning Tighnari woke up to the sound of you coughing and it was clear that you were having a hard time breathing. He immediately got to work trying to find something to give you to help but nothing worked. Tighnari desperately tried to save you but in the end, it was futile you ended up dying that afternoon. Tighnari was with you in your last moments. "Please hold on Y/n.." He begged as he held your hand tightly. As you took your final breaths Tighnari just broke down into tears.

Collei heard him crying in the room over and came into the room and she gasped when she saw the sight before her. Collei did her best to comfort Tighnari, but nothing could help right now. "I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but I need some time alone right now" He choked out. He spent the next few days locked up in his office just mourning. After about four days he knew that he had to return to work even if it was hard. When he returned to his duties, he pushed down all of his emotions and he just kept everything hidden from everyone. Whenever someone would ask him how he was doing and how he was coping he would just respond with. "I'm fine."

𝑭𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒂

(𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒔!! 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒏 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕!)

You were killed by a member of the fatui. You were out late one night, and you had run into the fatui on accident, and it didn't end well for you. The beloved s/o of the God of justice Furina, the people of Fontaine loved you just as much as they loved her and the whole nation of Fontaine was in mourning.

But it was nothing compared to Furina's mourning. You were the only one Furina trusted with her secret. The only one she confided in. You were everything to her and you were just gone? She was absolutely devasted and for months after your death she locked herself in her room. Refusing to come out and leaving all of the work to Neuvilette.

And she had no intention of leaving any time soon. She couldn't face her people like this. She couldn't put the act on right now she just couldn't. One morning she was looking out the window of her room and it was raining, and she had noticed that the water levels had indeed risen. She sighed and she knew she needed to return to her work. She did what she does best, and she forced herself to put on the act that she was okay and that she was coping well with your death. She forced herself to be strong and once again she forced herself to be a god.

𝑳𝒚𝒏𝒆𝒚

Lyney being involved with the fatui meant he was involved with some pretty dangerous people. However, he never thought that those people would end his beloved s/o's life. Lyney had some problems with a few of the people in the fatui and one of those people took it out on his s/o and one day when you were on a commission one of those people killed you. Lynette was actually the one that got the word that you had gotten killed, Lyney was away from Fontaine and when he got back, he expected to be greeted by his beloved s/o but he wasn't.

Instead, he was greeted by his sister Lynette who looked extremely worried. "What's wrong sister? Where's y/n?" He asked. Lynette frowned and looked at her brother. She told him that you had been killed and as soon as the words left her mouth Lyney gasped and covered his mouth. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, He wasn't even gone from Fontaine for long and you were fine before he left. You kissed him goodbye and told him that you'd see him when he gets home. You were alive a few days ago and now you were just gone? it was so much to process. He sat down and he stayed silent for a few moments with hundreds of thoughts running through his mind.

After a while he still realized Lynette was there waiting for him to say something. He nodded and spoke softly "Thank you for telling me..." He said getting up and walking to his room. He cried himself to sleep that night, the bed felt so empty without you next to him and he didn't get much sleep at all that night. Lyney tries to push forward and move on like normal since he knows he has a job to do, and he has to take care of his siblings. And while the people around him might think he's doing better he never fully gets over you.

𝑨𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒐

Whenever you had commissions, she would always accompany you and today was supposed to be no different but as you two were about to set out Arlecchino got word that there was a situation she needed to tend to. You assured her that you'd be fine and Arlecchino nodded. She believed you would be fine, and she kissed you bye and she told you she'd meet up with you later. But when she met up with you later what she saw shocked her. She found you lying in a pool of your own blood. You had gotten hit pretty bad in the stomach. She ran over to you, and she scooped you up in her arms. "Dear? Dear what happened!" She said trying to shake you awake.

But she was too late, you were dead. She brought you back the House of the Hearth and there was a funeral held for you. She knew mourning was for the weak, but she couldn't help but give herself a few days. She gave herself a few days to mourn and a few days only. When the few days were up, she returned to her work even if it hurt and it was hard. She became a lot more ruthless, and the children of the House of the Hearth noticed their father becoming a lot colder and more distant.

𝑵𝒆𝒖𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆

You and Neuvillette had been married for years. You were his whole world and he loved you to pieces. However, one day you came down with an illness that was going around Fontaine and had already taken the lives of so many in Fontaine. Neuvillette knew better than anyone that you were strong, and he believed you could beat this. However, over the next few months you were just getting weaker and weaker and eventually it became clear that there was no way you were going to survive.

You had a peaceful death surrounded by your family, your friends and of course your beloved husband. Neuvillette didn't take your death well, he neglected his work duties for months and since you were close friends with Furina, Furina understood completely and gave Neuvillette as much time as he needed before he came back to work.

Eventually Neuvillette came back to work, but he kept to himself, he didn't talk much and completely shut himself off away from everyone. He never re married or found anyone else, he couldn't there was no way he could move on from you. You were his everything and he thought about you every day, wishing there was some way you could come back to him.

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒎 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!<𝟑 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆!!

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rootspiral · 3 months ago

Text

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

THE LITTLE FLOWER POPPIN. THE M'LADY

seems like agatha is having An Emotion

but look! look! rio is once again being super special extra on purpose!! because if she just strolled in agatha would be overwhelmed and run away again. so what does rio do??? she corners her with a grand zombie entrance!!! the more over the top she acts, the more agatha is in her element and comfortable interacting. and in this case, angry is a better start than sad. all part of rio's Brilliant 66-Steps-Plan To Win Her Wife Back™ (or was it 666?)

her face omg

oooh are you mad??? are you big mad at little ol' me???????

agatha is like nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope

imagine being aubrey plaza and being born so effortlessly cool. she's cool even when she's awkward dear lord

jen and alice: kinda stunned by both her hotness and her weirdness

lilia: VADE RETRO SATAN (lilia's spider senses are already tingling)

will I ever be over the fact that Death is just one particularly powerful green witch?? that she's a gentle if odd girl who grows plants and flowers and mushrooms and is called the River of Life??? that she is the embodiment of life in all her forms? that decay and regrowth are all part of the same natural cycle? that the hardest and most inexplicable thing a living being can go through is also the most reassuringly organic and normal???

have I already said "i love you patti lupone" today?

we're off to see the wizarrrrd. her cute peter pan outfit!

what do we think, billy? does she want to talk about it, or does she have the emotional maturity of a baby ostrich?

same girls, same

whoa there ladies, calm down. I'm already taken

lilia is also having an Emotion. it must be pretty weird to realize that your mortal foe is this hot

alice going NOPE when she sees her mom's house. the leaves are red alice, honey. it's your turn.

(does the back of rio's jacket look like a ribcage?)

it's going to be fine baby. your friends are all here. you can do this. deep breaths.

fire moon! fire moon! fire moon! oh this is my favorite trial

*grabs the mike* WOULD

from right to left: would, would, would, would, would, oh hi joe

rio: BITCH I AM?!?!?!?!?!?!? (everyone say thank you costume department)

the Road isn't subtle, BILLY.

sure, there wasn't enough sexual tension already, let's add side boobs, shall we? and rio being like hey agatha, hey agatha, hey. guess what. I'm here again agatha. you're not gonna get rid of me this time agatha.

I keep thinking that every reflection agatha comes across is a "te veo". and even when rio isn't there she is watching from mirrors and from puddles.

OH MY GAWD AGATHA how can you expect me to cope when you look around to make sure nobody is watching and then you lean in so so so sclose and then you say no with such a deep soulful voice and so much intimacy and such quiet anger and not one lil hint of clownery. I AM ABOUT TO GO FERAL

agatha around rio is like, mind screaming in anguish and body screaming in horny. lethal combination

lilia who's been trying and failing for centuries and centuries to come to terms with the violence human beings inflict on whoever is different

if there is one thing a broadway pro is trained to do is making people cry while wearing increasingly stupid wigs

JEN SEEING MASKS BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHO HIDES BEHIND THE MONSTER THAT BOUND HER

fletwood mac?!?!!?!?!?!?!? in this economy?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? I cannot handle much more of this, my emotions are raw and fragile and tender as it is already!!!!!!!!

oh, alice.

well this episode is making me feel like agatha: sad and horny. weird vibe but okay.

go to episode 4 part 3

#agatha all along #agatha deep dive #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agathario #alice wu gulliver #aubrey plaza #kathryn hahn #ali ahn #patti lupone #character analysis

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epitaph-of-rebirth · 3 months ago

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Doing this post to explain what lots of people missed on the Cait x Maddie thing and are just angry and freaking out about the character and not understanding WHY and also show that they already broke up and will not be danger on act 3 (srly I really believe on this and feel like we all missed because is a small scene).

So here is a explanation on WHY, because I'm going crazy that you'll missed lots of things.

Some of the explanation that I'll put here we got from Amanda Overton itself (you know, one of the writers of the show) on the epi4 watchalong party (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgpWJl1NuTE) the rest is showed on the episode 4 itself so here we go (Also SPOILERS FOR ACT2 here):

First, Amanda told us that the time skip from Act 1 to Act 2 is between 3 and 6 months, is not bigger than that like some you are saying. What is very helpful to know that Cait x Maddie affair also isn't happening for so long and we get this information from Ambessa herself when meeting them on Cait's office:

Caitlyn didn't rebound imediatly after the breakup, her thing with Maddie is recent, a few weeks at maximum or one or two night stands. Yes guys, you can stop being mad thinking that she fucking Maddie for months.

Also a important piece of information that again, Amanda shared, is Caitlyn's mentality about this relationship:

She is not after Maddie because she felt for another person, Caitlyn is struggling to live up to the ghost of Cassandra, she is trying to be the daughter she never was and this affect's even who she dates.

Amanda literally told that in Cait's mind she is thinking: "What if I dated someone my mom would approve of?"

Lot's of people think that Cassandra approved Vi because of the council scene but in Caitlyn's mind that's not the truth. Maddie is someone who would be approved, she is from piltover, probably has some family name and has a good job.

With all that, why a sex scene ? Well is very clear that Caitlyn is not able to be vulnerable anymore, the only one she let's under her wall's after her mom's death is Vi and it was already hinted that for Caitlyn's flirting with woman casually was a natural thing.

The only way for her to "date" someone without being able to be vulnerable, is by the thing she knows she can separate her feelings and don't need to be vulnerable to do it: sex. And we can in this case considerate that sex is also a way for her to cope with all like Vi does with alcohol.

Also even after having sex with Maddie, Cait clearly don't want the girl touching her and this is show not only by her expressions:

But also on the way both are dressed, Caitlyn's is untouched and clothed while Maddie is basically naked under her shirt and messy, giving a subtext of Cait being a top on this encounter so she can evade Maddie's touch.

And right after the scene we can see that Maddie herself KNOWS that Cait is evading her and not wanting to be touched, she KNOWS something is wrong and that Cait seems to not listen to her.

Other information that is given by Amanda, is that Ambessa is supposed to be the devil on Caitlyn's shoulder while Maddie is to make the position of a angel. The character exists to show that Caitlyn wasn't alone against Ambessa manipulation and make clear that she has some foot herself to be able to see what is right and wrong and later realize her wrong doings and fix that.

And now comes the part I feel like most people missed and are worried about in act3.

Maddie and Cait already ended their relationship, how I know? the statue scene:

Here we can see again Maddie looking up for Cait but Cait not acknowledging the girl existence until last minute when seems like Maddie told something.

Caitlyn's expression again is cold and then we can see Maddie's:

She is thinking and ready to cry and also show some hurt. She probably is ending things with Cait because the next time we see Cait. Is from Maddies eyes, something that fortiche does a lot and did on that very famous CaitVi bed scene. And this time is done again but we are looking at Caitlyn from Maddie's eyes:

The upper and low corner's are blurry, as if Maddie is almost crying. Also we can see Cait looking the ground and thinking on the next frames, as if reacting to something said to her.

And here is their breakup.

Yes is not a spoken scene, but considering how small her relationship is to Caitlyn, makes sense for things to end and Cait not really give much thought about it.

After that we NEVER see Maddie anymore, she is not on the side of Caitlyn for the rest of the act, and also Cait is always using her Commander cape after this scene, what makes clear: She is totally on the side of Ambessa, the devil won and the angel left.

And this cape is another thing that is used to reflect Caitlyn's mental state and choices, because we only see her back to her uniform without the cape, when she decided to ally with Vi by the end of the Act 2

I understand people who got annoyed by having "another one" in the middle of CaitVi ship and yes I know everybody worry about this making messy their reunion, but I feel like most people forgot that in Arcane, and on this season mainly, lots of things are being show by the art and animation and not by text, like the statue one.

Srly guys CaitVi will be alright, Maddie is not a horrible characters and this was not a bad choice to show Caitlyn mental state and character development. I understand being bitter with the angst but also let ourselves enjoy it a little.

#caitlyn kiramman #arcane #caitvi #arcane spoilers #maddie nolan #please take attention to the details when watching the show I BEG YOU #english is not my first language so if you see any typos and grammars mistakes no you didnt

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stayevildarling · 5 months ago

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Emily Prentiss x Reader- You're the greatest thing I lost

A/N: I'm back after a little break. I have been binge watching criminal minds for weeks and am currently on Season 7. The last few episodes gave me this specific idea. I'm sure people must have done this before given the size of the fandom. 🤍

prompt: You watch Emily die on a mission, unable to cope with the aftermath of her passing until your supervisor Hotch gathers you all for an important meeting and your world spins around completely once more

tw/tags: female reader, mentions of death, mention of blood, mention of gunshots, mention of depression, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of smoking, mention of self destructive behaviour, mention of insomnia, mention of troubled eating, heavy angst, happy ending though as always

word count: 3.8k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahs , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @stepintomyworld , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

,,No'' Penelope's begging startles you, followed by JJ's ,,She never made it off the table''.

With tears streaming down your cheeks and panic deeply settled into your chest, you find yourself sitting upright in your bed, the little sleep you had managed to get lately, interrupted by another one of the nightmares. It had been the same for months, the lack of sleep, the exhaustion creeping deep into your bones, the headaches and the fight to stay awake during the day. Yet each night, you would lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling her beside you when in reality it was simply Sergio, trying to find some warmth beside you.

It had been hell, the mission, everything happening so fast as you and Morgan made it there, finding Emily on the floor, barely hanging on. The next thing you know, you had all been waiting in the hospital for hours, pacing back and forth before JJ shared the news. You couldn't breathe, collapsing into some bright bathroom, as the sheer panic gripped you. And it seems to have never quite left you, your chest always tight, your hands always shaking and your heart hurting every minute of every day.

The woman with dark brown hair and those brown eyes you could get lost in was gone. You had worked beside her and the BAU for several years, Morgan your partner at first until the three of you became the perfect trio. You worked well together, alongside Reid and Rossi and Hotch of course. There had always been a silent understanding between you and Emily, the deep trust that took a while to build, until the two of you knew you had each other's backs. But there was something else beside the trust, which you shared with other members of the team. There was something in each other's eyes that captivated you both. During a boring meeting, your eyes would find each other, silently communicating and remembering what gossip you would share over coffee afterwards.

An uncomfortable case or interrogation when either you knew Emily needed a break or this was getting to you a little much. A bumpy plane ride which Emily knew made you nervous and a gentle and subtle hand resting somewhere near you. In return, you knew exactly what got to her, certain cases, the paperwork in the middle of the night and so you kept her company, eventually growing close and seeing each other outside of work. It wasn't anything major, the occasional drinks after work, the occassional coffee before work but it had been obvious as neither of you minded it being simply the two of you rather than the whole team. Neither of you ever dared to express the underlying feelings and truths hidden beneath the smiles and the gentle strokes of each other's thumbs.

Emily had a feeling once, brushing it off as she wanted to focus on her work, and assuming that you couldn't be interested in her, when an unpleasant unsub on a case came a little too close to her and you sent him flying to the nearest wall. She had been impressed at first, but after giving it some time, she couldn't forget the expression on your face, more than it being your job, more than wanting to protect your partner. She had sensed love, in it's purest and truest forms but she brushed it off, despite her having the same feelings towards you, too busy with the cases piling up to ever adress what she had witnessed and what had been on her mind.

It had been the funeral that hit you the hardest, placing flowers on her coffin, standing beside Penelope as she held your hand, sobbing by your side while you remained with an empty expression on your face. You never cried in front of them, brushed Hotch's assessment aside as you couldn't talk about it but they had noticed. The long nights at your desk, the extensive research you had been doing on Doyle, helping Morgan find him and chasing nothing but revenge and making him pay for what he had caused. They noticed the bags under your eyes, the shaking of your hands and voice. And Reid has his suspicions about the contents of your coffee cup. Penelope worried as she never saw you eat anymore, at least around them and seeing how thin you had become. Yet throughout it all, you remained the best at what you are doing, profiling. You broke through even the toughest of cases with your team, often giving them important intel and chasing the unsubs down. And so neither of them could really do or say anything, simply watching you suffer in silence.

Your life had become dark, despite never really having Emily the way your heart had hoped, she was gone. No more smiles to share, no more silly gossip, no more running into missions with her, no one to comfort you on the plane, no one to get coffee or drinks with. And so your days had looked the same, working in the office until the late hours, long after the team had already left home. Stumbling home before forcing some small food down your throat in order not to pass out. Staring at the ceiling for hours, thinking of the woman suddenly gone from your life, getting little sleep before getting interrupted by the same nightmare. Like a robot, you got yourself in the shower and dressed, looking responsible for your day before grabbing a togo coffee and putting a little something in there in order to get you through the day.

At least three times a week you would stop by her grave, at first ever only managing to stay for a couple of minutes until it turned into hours. Sitting in front of her tombstone, no matter the pouring rain or blaring sun coming down on you as you would talk to her, cry over her, beg her to come back. The stages of grief hit you hard and each one was harder to overcome. The last couple of days had been different with you and Morgan finally chasing down the man responsible. When Morgan brought him into the BAU, you watched as anger bubbled over you, your fists clenching as you felt the urge to reach for your gun and cause him the same pain that he had inflicted upon you all. You weren't needed for the interview and you couldn't stomach it, so you remained by your desk. Yet the days leading up to this had you so exhausted, you felt on the verge of falling apart, your body barely keeping it together and the only thing getting you going the amount of caffeine in your body.

It's not until JJ finds you, asking you to join the others in the meeting room, that some adrenaline kicks back in, hoping on some updates with the case. You stand beside the table with the others, watching as they chat along. Seconds pass until your supervisor walks inside, having been gone for some months, his appearance different as he isn't wearing a suit and his facial hair grew in the past few months.

,,Welcome back'' one of them greets him, unable to quite make out who it is as everything arounds you feels a bit muffled due to your state of exhaustion.

,,Thanks. Everybody have a seat'' he encourages and his eyes fall upon you, and you reluctantly take a seat, worried you may fall asleep depending on the reason of this meeting.

,,Why? What's going on? Everything alright?'' the team almost asks in unison.

,,7 months ago I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle.'' he begins.

Your eyes force closed, really not able to stomach another one of these meetings or even hearing her name.

,,But the doctors were able to stabilize her. And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.'' he explains, your whole world spins at his words, this feeling like another one of your nightmares.

,,She's alive?'' Penelope asks, tears already streaming down her cheeks.

,,But we buried her'' Spencer stutters, unable to believe a word your boss is telling you.

,,As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me'' he carries on and as you glance at Morgan, you can tell he is about to lose his temper.

,,Any issues? Yeah, I got issues'' he argues, staring at you in disbelief. You can't react, sitting there frozen, hoping you would wake up from this nightmare sometime soon, not able to stomach this change in your dreams and the option of her being alive. Your nails dig into your skin involuntarily, hoping this can wake you up.

,,Oh, my God'' they whisper and turn around in unison.

,,I am so sorry. I really am. Not a day went by that I didn't want to... Really, I-- you didn't deserve that. And I'm so sorry. There's so much I want to tell you guys, and I will. I promise. But right now I really need to know what's going on with Declan'' her voice cuts through the air, instantly bringing tears to your eyes, not being able to hide them this time.

You couldn't bear to look at her, the realisation slowly creeping in that this was far from a dream. Your eyes dart between JJ and Hotch, having figured by her positioning next to your boss that she had something to do with this, at least knowledge before you all did. Penelope is the first one up, taking the brunette into her arms.

Without another word you reach for your jacket, standing up before walking out of the room, ignoring their concerned faces and ignoring the woman's presence altogether, not being able to handle this. Somehow through the panic and tears and shock, you manage to make your way to the rooftop, your secret hideaway lately as no one ever really came there, fumbling the inside of your jacket pocket until you reach the packet of cigarettes and the lighter, quickly putting one between your lips before lighting it. For a moment it all seems to stop, the only noises the background noise of the usual busy city, your thoughts, emotions all stopping for a moment before they come crashing right back, forcing you to your knees and sliding down the wall, sitting in silence as the cigarette continues blowing smoke into the air around you.

,,Morgan follow her'' Hotch orders, knowing they needed you on this case. ,,I don't think we should'' Penelope tries, knowing how hard the last few months have been for you. ,,With your permission, I'll do it'' Emily offers but he shakes his head, ordering them to finish this interview first, knowing how time was running out and they needed answers fast. ,,Give her whatever time she needs, let's finish this case first'' he orders, thinking it through and they all nod, before getting back to work, Emily's mind unable to think of anything other than you or your wellbeing.

They had been so busy with the case and catching the man responsible for this that by the time they return, neither of them due to the adrenaline had noticed that you never ended up joining them again. Hotch is the first one in his office and on the desk, he finds your gun, credentials and your resignation. He sighs, having expected his decision to cause consequences, knowing the emotional torture this had been for you. Emily lingers by his door, wanting to check in whether he had heard anything when she connects the dots. „No“ she whispers, already having a bad feeling from your prior behavior. Hotch looks at her, the guilt written across his face before he takes a deep breath. „I will give her a few days before I make this official, she can change her mind until then and we never speak of this again“ he says, knowing this was the only thing he could really do to help. „Thank you“ Emily sighs in relief, hoping sincerely she could find you and fix this by then.

The team waits by the cubicle desks, hoping for some information but as Emily returns and tells them, they simply look down, understanding your decision. The brunette is quick to gather her stuff, telling them not to worry and that she will figure this out. Before she can reach Penelope‘s office, hoping she could maybe share some insight on your whereabouts, Derek stops her. „Emily.. you gotta understand what Y/N went through“ he sighs before she gives him a questoning look. „Haven‘t you all went through the same?“ she questions before he shakes his head. „Not like her, she‘s been a wreck, I haven‘t seen her smile since, you know she has been sitting at your grave almost everyday?“ he asks snd this statement sends tears to her eyes, the usual strong and put together woman losing herself in the pain of his truth.

She simply nods, gesturing that she will figure this out. By the time she leaves the BAU for the night, Penelope having checked your phone and figuring you must simply be at home, sharing some insight on her suspicions snd how worried she had been about you, Emily‘s heart is both filled with anxiety and pain. She hated having to do this to her team but especially to you, not a day went past where she didn‘t think of you, hoping she could reach out and tell you it‘s all just a cruel joke. By the time she makes it to your apartment, the sky is pouring buckets on her, the occasional strike of lighting illuminating the dark sky and the sound of thunder crumbling in the background.

With caution she makes it to your apartment door, knocking gently before the knocks grow more desperate. You stumble towards the door, opening it without your usual care before laying eyes upon the woman responsible for your grief. „Y/N thank god“ she sighs in relief, her eyes scanning every single one of your features. And she could see it now, the pain behind your eyes, how thin you had become. „I“ she begins, unable to finish as you interrupt her. „I‘m sure your here to get Sergio, let me just grab him and his stuff“ you announce. By her puzzled reaction you should have known that she had no knowledge of you taking him for her yet, this definitely not the reason for her standing by your door in the middle of the night.

,,Y/N wait'' she pleads, grabbing your wrist so you can't leave her standing there. You turn around, avoiding her eyes as you wait for what she is about to say. ,,Can I please come in?'' she almost begs and by the desperation in her voice, you can't say no, never really being able to deny Emily of anything. You nod, allowing her to enter before you walk towards your living room. She stands there hesitantly, glancing at the empty bottles on the table, the empty medication wrappers laying around and the packet of cigarettes. She remains silent, unsure what to say and how to ever make you forgive her.

,,Drink?'' you ask as you gesture towards one of the bottles but she shakes her head, gesturing towards the sofa and you nod, making sure to take the opposite sofa across from her, unable to be anywhere near her as your feelings are all over the place. The thunder grumbles loudly in the distance, the lighting illuminating your apartment further before she begins speaking. ,,Y/N I'm so sorry'' she apologies, her voice sincere as she struggles to keep her emotions at bay. ,,I never meant to leave any of you but I had to'' she confesses. ,,Not a day went past when I didn't think of you'' she admits, for the first time addressing you directly rather than the team. You manage to meet her eyes at her statement, seeing the raw emotion in them, the honesty and the truth.

,,I care about you Y/N and I'm so sorry for hurting you and what you have been through'' she apologises again, her eyes glistening with tears as she takes in your state again. ,,Why didn't you tell me?'' you ask, speaking for the first time since having her back. ,,Why JJ?'' you blurt out, understanding why Hotch knew but unable to understand why she would have trusted the blonde over you after everything you had been through together. ,,She.. you know her position, she was the one able to get me the fake identities and make this whole thing possible'' Emily tries reasoning, sensing the frustration in your voice. ,,You know I have had your back for years Emily, I would have taken that secret to the grave, I could have helped you'' you blurt out, angrily reaching one of the cigarettes before lighting one in frustration.

There is a long moment of silence, the storm outside matching your emotions on the inside before Emily sighs. ,,Started again hm?'' she whispers, gesturing towards the cigarettes, knowing it had always been one of your vices in the past. ,,You have no idea what the last few months have been like'' you sigh. She stares at you before sighing again ,,I do'' she acknowledges. ,,I know you have sat at my grave everyday, I know you carried my coffin, I know you have been struggling but please let me help you'' she begs, glancing at the countless empty bottles and packets again. ,,Why do you care?'' you blurt out, the anger now very visible in your features.

,,Because I care about you.. more than you know'' she admits, letting her guard down in front of you. Her words take a while to register and before you can say anything, Sergio suddenly makes an appearance, jumping on the brunettes lap, greeting her with kisses and you can't help but smile at the picture of the two of them reuniting. He eventually settles beside her, curling up in a little ball as she focuses her attention back to you. ,,Please let me back in, I know I messed up but I will spent the rest of my days making it up to you'' she pleads and something in her statement finally causes you to break, the walls suddenly crumbling right in front of you as you fall apart on the sofa right in front of her.

The tears begin pouring, matching the rain outside before sobs wreck through your body. Emily's lips part in shock, her eyebrows knitting together seeing you like this. Without another thought, she lunges forward, kneeling down in front of you before taking you into her arms. You stifle at first, those arms having felt so familiar before and at the same time praying every day to be in her arms again for the past few months, before relaxing. Emily was back, Emily was safe and home and all you can feel in this moment is the grief of it all but her safe arms grounding you. Her own tears run down her cheeks but she still makes sure that her thumbs catch every single one of yours. ,,I'm so sorry honey'' she whispers as you continue falling apart in her arms, the weight and grief finally lifted off your heavy chest a little.

By the time your tears are dry, the sobs having subsided by now, you catch a glimpse of her eyes as she continues kneeling in front of you, her hands stroking gentle circles on your knees, a weak smile on her face, yet the worry remains. Suddenly you feel this urge to tell her, tell her all of the feelings you had been keeping in for so long, scared she would slip through your fingers again. And Emily can tell, the way your eyes dart between her own, the slight trembling of your hands and the face of realisation. ,,Emily I..'' you mumble, your emotions taking over you as you would have never told her in any clear state like this, especially after a night like this.

,,Y/N I know'' she whispers, a small smile on her features despite the pain of your truth written in her eyes. You search her eyes for any sign of disgust, of shame but all you can find is sadness between her brown orbs. You close your eyes and sigh, worried you had made a mistake, worried you had ruined whatever you may have left with her before her lips come crashing onto your own, the usual composed and careful woman not able to hold this back for a single moment longer. She had these feelings for so long and if Paris proofed anything to her, it was that she couldn't do life without you by her side. She had missed you every day, your smile, your silly jokes and needing you close to her. Tonight was all the confirmation she needed.

Your eyes force open, shocked by her actions before you relax, your lips moving in synch as your heart beats out of your chest. When the two of you pull away, a tear streams down both of your cheeks, as well as a small smile in the corner of your mouth. ,,I didn't know you..'' you whisper but she shakes her head gesturing you to shush. ,,I have known for a while, I have missed you so much darling and I don't want to do this without you, ever.'' she confesses. The night passes on, the storm eventually settling outside and in your chests as you lay in Emily's arms, the events from today having shocked you, not having expected any of this but her confession making your anger subside and hopeful for what was to come next.

,,You still wanna quit the BAU?'' she whispers with a smirk and you shake your head as you nuzzle closer into her chest. ,,Tomorrow morning, we'll go to Hotch together, alright trouble?'' she smirks, causing you to giggle into her as you nod. The brunette can feel you relaxing in her arms, assuming this must be the first night in months you would be able to get some actual sleep. She holds you throughout the night, not wanting to be anywhere else as she watches over you protectively, her arms involuntarily wrapping tighter around you. And she wasn't going to leave you ever again, not being able to stand being away from you.

#Emily prentiss #Emily prentiss x reader #Emily prentiss fic #Emily prentiss one shot #Paget brewster #paget Brewster x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #bau team

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