#being told something similar by my therapist hurt like hell

[usedtobethelegendcreator]

Why do I like Alastor?

Listen. When your therapist starts psychoanalyzing you and it sounds like an Alastor analysis, you gotta do some soul searching. So, I’m going to list off all of our similarities. This is going to be more unorganized than usual.

1. We like being in control:

We’re both puppeteers! We like having people obey us, not the other way around. We’re very anti-submission (my therapist’s word) and don’t like being told what to do. We don’t like having people more powerful than us in the room or even in the area, because something more powerful than us is something that can override our will—and, by extension, our comfort zone and boundaries.

When it comes to romantic relationships, the healthiest solution is to find someone who’s into being dominated. (Cough cough, Vox. I told you guys I write my own kinks.)

2. We have trouble feeling sympathy and empathy:

It’s something I had to practice, but I get the feeling Alastor never bothered. I’m not very good at it, either. Then again, I’m not killing people.

3. We have violent urges:

Yeah, that is very much a thing for me. The difference is that Alastor carries them out without remorse. I usually just ignore those thoughts, or try to think of something else.

4. We mostly stick to one era of music:

Alastor has the Jazz Age, I have the 2010s. Pretty much nothing after 2020 appeals to me, outside of fan songs.

5. We don’t have breakdowns often, but when we do, it’s wild:

Alastor monologued during his. I hyperventilate during mine and feel like I’m not inside my body. Like I said, it’s wild.

6. We pull our hair:

If my hands aren’t occupied, I’ll end up with a hairball in them. But the way Alastor was tugging? With those claws? Yeesh.

7. People see our rage as impotent:

Yes, this is about the people that think Alastor’s frustration with Lucifer was “pathetic”. Yes, that did hit a powerful nerve in me. If you yell right in my ear the moment you open the door, even if I don’t already know you’re the reason there are yearly mass murders, I will immediately hate you. And contrary to a lot of bad-faith fanfiction, buttering up our ego or something is not the solution. The best way to calm us down is to be taken seriously. With Alastor, of course, the ego thing will certainly help, but it’s not the root.

8. We feel impotent when we’re enraged:

This ties in with the last one. Alastor literally grows several hundred times in size when he’s truly angry, that’s pretty obviously a self-comforting action. If I’m bigger than them, they can’t hurt me. If I’m bigger than them, nothing at all can hurt me. That kind of thing.

9. We don’t like constant change:

Alastor’s outfit (which isn’t era-accurate, according to someone much more knowledgeable than I am) is evidence that he isn’t adverse to change as a whole, but someone like Vox is a constant source of anxiety for us. It’s very hard to keep up with something that’s always changing, and we can’t get our feet on the ground and a moment to breathe. I can change which jacket I wear, but never wearing the same jacket twice? Kill me now.

10. We put on a facade around people we want to be in the good graces of:

Alastor with the hotel residents, and me with pretty much everyone. This ‘facade’ I’m talking about isn’t necessarily a fake personality, it’s a facet of our real personalities that will best appeal to the people we’re talking to. That’s another thing my therapist brought up: I’m always putting on a mask, and there’s so many that no one knows who I really am. Hell, even I don’t know at this point. Alastor’s been putting on masks for over a century. I don’t think he knows anymore, either.

I think he thinks he knows who he is, but if someone poked a hole in that image of himself as the Radio Demon, he’d shatter as easily as glass. Because he’s not 100% evil, as much as he wants to be.

11. People think we’re a danger to others, even when we’re not:

*gestures to Vaggie* *gestures to the entire fucking fandom* *gestures to my mother* *gestures to unnamed family members that didn’t even have the guts to say it to my face* It sucks. Like, thank you for taking me seriously for once??? But also no.

12. We have dramatic body language to make up for stunted facial expressions:

Alastor has his eternal smile, and I have my eternal frown. The facial expressions thing was actually brought up by a previous therapist. I’ve had to throw my arms out like a theatre kid to make sure a family member knew I wasn’t being sarcastic…I’m not a theatre kid.

13. We switch between being extreme extroverts and extreme introverts:

I’ve said before that I’m low functioning in almost everything except social interaction. I can keep up with the fastest mouths and the longest-winded, but I’ll disappear for a week and only emerge for water. Meanwhile, Alastor keeps up his overly-cheerful facade up for the whole series and disappears for two episodes. And for seven years before that.

14. When people talk shit to us, we fly off the handle at the speed of light:

Husk in the hallway scene. Lucifer, period. Vox at the end of episode two. Everyone on Tumblr and Wattpad that’s ever picked a fight with me. That one anon in particular. The list goes on.

15. We have very stunted emotions, except for anger:

I don’t know why anger is an exception, either. But we don’t see any strong emotions from Alastor besides rage (and maybe amusement), so it’s clearly a thing for him too.

16. We enjoy the smell of death:

Death smells pretty nice, actually. There’s nothing quite like it. Alastor gets it. If anyone wants the full story of Larry the Rotting Deer Carcass, let me know. I’d love to tell it.

And that’s all I can think of right now. This definitely veered into a bit of character analysis for Alastor, but then again, I was analyzing myself, so that just proves my point.

[pepsi1]

P:// fuck me. why am I doing this?

K:// You uh, you said not even the devil could change him but um, but he is differentish. That and umm, I uhh, I want to try and include grandpa in our life. If he's still as bad as you remember, I. I won't push this any further.

P:// ...Fine. I suppose if nothing else, his expertise can aid in your hobbies.

[Phoenix kicks Pepsi, who was just lying in a thornbush, and he wakes up]

"...I thought I was out of your predesignated work area? Do I need to move again?"

K:// Predesignated? Dad?

P:// You are. And I wish for you to refrain from speaking of the boundaries I have set with you. If this meeting goes well, I might intend to loosen them. Stand up, it's time you are introduced to my daughter properly. I'd call her your granddaughter but with your treatment of me and my siblings-

K:// DAD

P:// ...She will act as a mediator as well. I still hold much anger towards you

[Pepsi stands up and dusts himself off which only appeared to make the dirt in his fur more noticeable]

"And with that anger I must ask how many threats are present. I just got a new kid and he's currently in Hell"

[Phoenix punches Pepsi's jaw off and Kitty slaps Phoenix. Pepsi holds his mouth until it is healed and swallows the blood]

P:// WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU SAY THAT! ARE YOU TRYING TO PUSH MY BUTTONS

"You don't have buttons to push, just switches and... Why's your kid got an angry face."

K:// My my my name is KITTY. I brought my dad here to to make ammends with you. I I thought you were smart enough to realize that. Why why are you... Why do you want us to hate you?

"If anyone has a chance at killing me it's him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. But I wasn't trying to make you hate me currently."

P:// Kid in Hell. Explain

"Alright, so not exactly a kid but he was born recently. His other father is umm... Alright first I'm technically a god and gave birth to another god or something. His name is RedBull"

P:// Sticking with drinks, how clever

"Shut it. You know damn well I don't intend to give you his real name. But he aged pretty fast and is currently exploring the realm of his other dad."

P:// in Hell? You mated with the devil?

"More or less. I met him at the edge of the universe."

K:// is is that where Hell is?

"You haven't told her? No. Hell is on earth just in a different realm which I believe you are incapable of accessing but your father is not"

K:// Why why haven't you told me this dad.

P:// ...It's a quirk of this world, the less you know about the supernatural the safer you are from it. But this asshole either forgot that or rationalized that since we're family we would never be safe from it.

"Completely forgot. Anyways ya wanna meet Lucifer? I was told to wait here until he got back which could be in like, fifteen minutes."

P:// I have a poor history with gods. Meeting the antithesis of one or even an angel does not sound pleasant.

"No need to worry, the guy is almost exactly like me."

P:// That does not alleviate my preconceptions"

K:// Can you uh... can you promise our safety?

"Yes. In fact Kitty, you and him have a similar goal. He's also been trying to push me into making ammends with Phoenix. By the way Phoenix he will study you intently because you also bit of the apple and partake of Pandora's box."

P:// ...Why does he want you to make ammends? Better question, are you two even a thing where that would even concern him?

"Oh it was something about you holding me back from true divinity and no, we are not a thing. We're just fathers to the same kid and have fun from time to time."

P:// He has fun, you just indulge in his torture

"Ha yeah. No but I actually am having fun. Sure dude can make me hurt like none other but, he's also kinda just been like a therapist and seems to actually want to improve me. Tomorrow I'm being forced to sit down with the protoborn and a few other gods. Well I guess not forced but still dragged there by Lucifer. Oh speaking of, you are definitely stronger than some who will be in attendance, you wanna come?"

P:// I TOLD YOU I'M WARY OF GODS AND AM STILL HESITANT ABOUT MEETING LUCIFER. WHY THE FUCK WOULD I GO TO A MEETING FULL OF THEM.

"Not a meeting. It's a barbecue."

P:// I CAN'T FUCKING EAT FOOD... wait? A barbecue?

"Yeah apparently it's the least stressful way for gods to get together and just catch eachother up. Paint also hasn't been to it in forever but hey, if the devil is forcing me to improve, might as well make him better too."

K:// Paint?

"It's Lucifer's alias. He doesn't mind being called either but like, Paint is lighter because it does not hold the weight of history that Lucifer does. Also let's be real, dude has a million names. I think he's been cycling through every single one over eternity."

P:// I'm glad you told us that before he showed up.

"Yes or no on the barbecue?"

P:// Let me decide after I've talked to the Devil.

K:// Yes!

P:// Fuck... Ok fine.

"Great! Bee and Caleb will also be there. Can you invite Frita for me?"

P:// they will be but... Wait. I fucking hate you and I would never invite your sister to be in any close proximity to you. You two are the fucking worst

"I wasn't asking you."

P:// Kitty no.

K:// ...But this is what I wanted when we came here. A tiny family reunion.

P:// Not tiny, he admitted to a few pantheons worth of gods being there.

"Most of which are technically family"

[Phoenix punches Pepsi again in the face with enough force to tear his head off. Pepsi's body goes limp before convulsing and regenerating fully]

P:// THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN?

"I'm the god of Nothing. I am voidborn, progenitor of the protoborn and starborn. I learned it like, a month before RedBull was conceived. The protoborn pantheon of gods are technically your siblings."

P:// I really hate you. I really fucking do. Hey y'know what, will my sister Ariel be there too?

[Pepsi's eyes go completely black and in a fraction of a second his claws are digging into Phoenix's metal throat as though it were made of paper, his posture straightened and at a full eight foot height he's holding him in the air, his tail poking hole after hole into Phoenix's chest intentionally missing vital internals. Static fills the air and the foul stench of rotten flesh wilts all life around them in a thirty foot radius. A low growl which shakes the earth is released as Pepsi bares his yellowed fangs at Phoenix. Kitty begins unleashing a barrage of attacks on him which prove useless and every weapon she attempts to use disappears in black smoke. Paint appears and swaps places with Phoenix with a snap of his fingers. Pepsi snaps his gaze to Phoenix but calms down]

"Don't ever mention her again. Understood."

P:// Fuck me. Crystal. When the hell did you get so terrifying

Paint: My fault, perhaps having this wonderful beast realize his true potential before apologizing was a mistake.

[Pepsi drops Paint who promptly severs his head and holds it in his hands]

Paint: Apologies to you as well Mr.Grimm, but it is in your best interest to only possess this head for now.

"Fine."

Paint: You do not bow before the Devil?

P:// I do not

Paint: WONDERFUL! Alrighty, so as I mentiond, this one owes an apology

"And yet I cannot say it"

P:// I can go without it, I don't think he'll ever say sorry to his creations.

Paint: What A Shame. For that is exactly what his alology should be about. His inability to recognize you as more than just his creation.

P:// Drop it.

Paint: As you wish, but know I'll get him to do so in time. As for now, I have heard him talk of me to you. It is a pleasure to meet an automaton that is just as complex as the whole of humanity. A shame however, that you have been built for pain and could not utilize that gift of free will to its full extent. I hoped for more but all I see is the same in me. Anger, hate, regret, and... oh wait. You do have more! What a clever thing to do, throw the devil for a loop. I see your soul. And hers as well!

"Phoenix, I'll catch you at the barbecue. Lucifer, drop it right now."

Paint: Aww but... Okay. That is amazing though. How did you make him as a human?

P:// Kitty. Let's leave

K:// Oh uh, okay

"Meet us at 11 AM, you know where"

Paint: It was nice meeting you!

[rabbid-rabbitt]

i think what my ex did to me is beyomd fucking me over

were both survivors of similar things, except im free and they were still stuck with their family. we knew each other for around 6 months and started dating because one of my parts fell in love with theirs, we fell quickly and many of our alters ended up dating each other passionately but most importantly my system head genuinely trusted them, she wanted to see them free and to spend our kives together. we created a planfor them to leave their abusive family and fly over to us where we would get married so they could legally settle here. my whole family knew about this and were willing to welcome them into our home, my stepdad, mum and i were going to get uo at 4am and drive 2 hours to the airport to pick them up. ny parents who have no obligation to this internet stranger who they have never met, were willing to pick them uo and welcome them into our familt because they saw how much i loved them and MY MUM EVEN SAID WE COULD END UP MOVING OUT SOON!! me moving out was something that was never mentioned before because i cant live alone and she doesnt trust others to take for me. but anyway me and my other partner (who they knew about and were friendly with) and his partner (also now my partner) spent a lot of time and emergy creating an escape plan with all of our knowledge of these groups and general safety information. my system spent hours and stayed up past exhaustion comforting our ex and giving them our whole heart in hopes they will escape and we would be able to live our lives together, we had plans to financially support them until they could legally get a job which would've been rlly hard on our situation but we were willing to do anything to get our FIANCE! YES WE WERE ENGAGED!!!! to safetyn happiness, we found them a therapist which they would aee when they came here so they could start deprogramming properly.

but on the day they were to escape, some things went wrong but we actually managed to them sorted and the airport staff themselves helped them get a direct flight here rather than a layover when they missed their first flight, we had plans to fix everything that went wrong and me and my other partner were by their side the whole time, i was shaking and on the verge of an anxiety attack irl while they were at the airport but after they got their new ticket they stopped responding. they were gone. obviously i thought i would never see them again because yk these groups work that way, fucking hell being shot point blank at an airport would be so much less embarrassing than what they actually did. i was so unwell that night my partner had ti comfort me and stayed up until i went to sleep because he was afraid id kill myself.

while i was asleep my ex talked to my other partner and a mutual friend where they apologised FOR DISAPPOINTING THEM! but when we finally got talking they had to be TOLD to apologise to me for them to actually do it then not even 24 hours after they hurt me so badly (which they coupdnt even explain btw) they asked if i would still marry them and then called my system head being angry at them a punishment over something beyond their control. they called their father to pick them up. they didnt share the fact they had a previous escape attempt that didnt work. they didnt follow the plan we worked tirelessly on and perfected. And had the audacity to be angry at our system head for being rightfully betrayed. they kept guilt tripping and acting like they were the victim until they just straight up ignored us for days, knowing that was an extreme trigger. which lead to a suicide attempt that we had an ambulance come for because my mum was too terrified to drive us to the hospital. now i did lash out at them, but they also said repeatedly to tell them how i feel and called rightful anger a punishment, im not proud of lashing out n i did apologise for it which more than they ever did for fucking us over so badly. in fact several ppl told me that i wasnt mean enough, that i handled it so well for how badly they fucked me over. during pur final talk where i demanded closure, it took them being ASKED by a mutual friend (in the chat to keep things civil) to give a half assed apology. like how are you that bad of a person you cant even apologise for fucking over your fiance who you dreamed of spendimg your life with..

anyway im out of the severe depressie episode they caused me because i had my meds upped but our system head has not recovered and in fact has changed anlot since we last properly saw her shes locked herself away and doesnt trust anyone anymore

[fragmentedmindssys]

Yesterday i told my therapist about the things I've been going through, like I was more open and more in depth with things and holy shit. I regret everything.

I regret what I personally think was ballze of me to listen to both myself and what ever feeling that told me to go through with it.

I hate how i was so persistent of being put into a psych ward because of my fear of hurting myself and others. Because i get scared of many things and is almost always in flight or fight in my home. Apparently Unspecified schizophrenia was on my file. Like its been there for a while.

My parents know now. Hope to god extended family don't find out. Dad was not happy. He wants to pull me out. A reason why i wasn't open. Told that "I guess you'll be living with me." By him.

I don't think she even believes me. I tend to explain and talk through art and animation but when I wrote alot this time she seemed to nervous laugh and said something like "Oh, I thats alot!" In what i personally think was more in a negative tone. Hell, when she got to a animation she basically went "I ain't watching all of that!😂" And that was done my this months documentation.

7 years. Seven years. Seven years.

Im rambling but this fucked me up.

I try to explain to hear how I did research, looked at the DSM-5, articles, talked with friends and others who also in the same boat and yet. "You cant believe everything on the Internet." Do you think I dont fucking know that? God.

I could tell her the similar trauma both I and a close friend could be in and she'll just shrug her shoulders and pull out that stupid fucking emotions sheet ehen i told her for god's know how long I don't fucking KNOW. I dont remember. I dont know what i did. I do recognize faces at times snd i sometimes dont recognize myself.

Feb. 16. Appointment date. Hope to god they just put me in the damn ward already.

[valkylander]

I mean this is the most sincere way what is appealing about incest shipping or underage shipping ? I understand dead dove stuff I like dead dove but ????

Okay, genuinely thank you for asking. Not just because I like to talk about it, but because I sincerely appreciate when someone asks what the appeal of something is instead of just blanket condemning people who enjoy it. And I apologize in advance that the answer is both long and, because I do not know the sum total of human experience, incomplete.

So, someone might ship something they would never condone IRL for any number of reasons.

1. The ship appeals to you for completely different reasons. Most people don't think of characters in terms of canon age and many familial relationships are not written in a way that scans to those actual relationships. Because of that, a person might ship a set of characters "in spite" of an age gap or a familial relationship. Most Wincest shippers aren't incest kinksters, they would just ship Sam and Dean together regardless of whether or not they're supposed to be written as brothers, and literally no Sonic fan artist has ever thought about a Sonic character's age in their life.

2. The forbidden love trope. You mentioned that you like non-ship dead dove content. That tells me you probably understand that sometimes the appeal of something isn't that you want it to happen, but that it is very emotionally affecting. A romantic relationship that one or all parties involved believes is completely off the table, no matter how much they want it, can be very emotionally affecting. It works better when you would also agree that that relationship shouldn't happen and having it be something you would condemn IRL does a good job of that.

In my experience, this also works very well as a queer metaphor. I don't like stories where the only reason two girls don't get together is because of internalized homophobia. But, as a lesbian, I do experience that same internalized homophobia. So I have an easier time connecting those feelings to a story where two girls resist getting together because they're related instead.

3. You have some kind of kink. I won't lie, this is the case for some people. Human brains eroticize taboo subjects, especially ones that a person has a past trauma with. This is normal and healthy. And anyone with a guro or inflation kink (or, hell, a furry) can tell you it doesn't mean you want it to happen to someone for real.

For many people this one applies to, they actually project on the would-be victim of the situation rather than the perpetrator (the younger party, the student, etc). Most of the people shipping Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask together in the 92 anime didn't want to groom middle schoolers, they wanted to pretend to be a middle schooler with a cool college aged boyfriend. (Though I should note, this does not mean people projecting onto Tuxedo Mask would be doing anything wrong. No one is being hurt, which is the important thing.)

4. It helps you cope. Projecting your trauma onto fictional characters, using fictional scenarios to play out events similar to your trauma, or even writing new, happy endings to things that happened to you, are all documented ways therapists and psychiatrists recommend coping with and healing from trauma. They allow someone to take control of what happened to them.

5. Spite. Look, is it pretty? No. But sometimes you want to do something harmless just because someone told you you can't. I feel like this also applies to crackships. Like, if someone's out there shipping Gary Oak with Delia Ketchum just because they thought it would be funny, that's a valid reason to do it. Of someone genuinely enjoys shipping Dib and Zim together solely because someone told them it was immoral and they thought that was ridiculous, that's valid.

These are generalities and specific people can talk about specific ships in more detail. And there are probably other reasons that don't fit into these categories that I don't know about or didn't think about. But these are the big ones that I know about, and none of them require ever thinking those relationships would be acceptable IRL.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

fic title: the girl with flowers in her bones

Izumi learns she has a Quirk age six when the weird bump on her shoulder is inspected by a doctor who cuts it open to reveal a pretty flower.

Said flower quickly changed and becomes deadly, nearly killing a nurse before it’s destroyed.

No one knows how it got there but now people know about it. At first Izumi is happy. She has a Quirk.

Then she isn’t.

“It’s a useless Quirk!” Kacchan taunts her. “Perfect for a useless girl like you! Flowers under the skin! Pathetic!”

Kacchan burns her shoulder and she goes home crying.

Later a flower develops where she’s been burned and after some quiet conversation with Inko about how her husband had left because of Izumi’s Quirkless status and Izumi had heard it, they figured it out.

The flowers bloom when someone hurts her. They bloom and the doctors do a scan revealing many more flowers all over her- some were small and no one could see them. Little hurts the doctors theorized.

They still had to be removed. Izumi has been getting slower, becoming more exhausted each day. It’s the flowers.

Izumi numbly lets it happen.

But it happens again. And again.

Flowers bloom because people keep hurting her. They turn deadly when exposed to the air.

“Freak, monster, liar-“ it’s all shouted at her by her class. Kacchan leads the charge.

His flowers are always an orange lily. Hatred.

Izumi wonders if it means him or her who hates the other. When it becomes a sweet pea, she has a feeling she knows why she is receiving a goodbye.

She stops growing flowers for him. Because she knows she will only get pain from him, because he is no longer one she believes to be a friend.

“The flowers are signs of betrayal,” she changes the classification. “I can only be hurt by those I do not think would hurt me, those I trust. Once I stop trusting or believing they will not hurt me the flowers stop.”

Her mother sobs upon hearing it. Inko then goes and terrifies the Bakugou family, promising that unless Kacchan leaves her alone Inko would go after them.

Kacchan doesn’t listen.

So Inko slaps them with a lawsuit she wins. It’s enough for Izumi to go to a new school where she sits quietly and doesn’t talk.

There people whisper still but it’s sad whispers.

“Her Quirk hurts her.”

“No, it’s people hurting her which sets off her Quirk.”

“She’s so quiet.”

Izumi just works. The only one she trusts is her mother. Inko who tries so hard not to hurt her, who is honest and open. Who gives her books on flowers and smiles.

When Inko hurts Izumi she leaves violets and lavender. And they’re always small, so small. Small hurts, being too honest with her daughter.

Izumi loves her mother for it.

Izumi grows and soon she finds herself applying for UA. She wants to be a hero and her mother frets and admits she isn’t sure if Izumi can do but the two have researched and researched and well, they think they can figure a way out. Sports festival- she just needs to beat all the other students.

She thinks she can. The money they won from the lawsuit had helped Izumi not only get into a new school but also got her into a martial arts studio. Her mother insisted.

Probably was upset with how many flowers Izumi grew from cuts and burns and bruises. Those were the bigger ones, when they were left on purpose. They pushed against the skin, looked strange.

Funny, Izumi noticed that she didn’t gain flowers sparring.

“It’s probably based on intention. When you gain flowers from bruises or cuts and they’re from people doing it to hurt you and betray you, they come as flowers. But when it’s done as a fight or a spar it’s on purpose still but it’s not a betrayal of yourself.” Her Quirk therapist theorizes.

It makes sense.

Izumi goes to UA after failing the entrance exam and ends up in 1C where she finds herself meeting a boy who is like her. Sharp and broken and hurt.

Shinsou is a friend and she finds herself chuckling at his comments.

Their friendship only blooms truly though when she meets Kacchan again. He sees her and attacks, screaming. She fights back. Shinsou speaks and stops Kacchan and Izumi looks at him, seeing something similar back.

The situation ends with Izumi in the principal’s office telling her story. She looks him in the eyes tiredly.

Kacchan is removed from UA- apparently, the lawsuit hadn’t been included in his application.

“It was when he was ten!” His mother tries.

“It still happened and you lied,” Nezu tells her. Izumi isn’t supposed to be there but she went to the office to pick up some papers.

She thinks her homeroom teacher arranged it.

“The papers are supposed to show us if we need to watch out students for anything. You lied on the application.”

Izumi doesn’t know what to think as she slides away. She hasn’t seen Kacchan in years. Hasn’t spoken to him.

Yet he still tried to attack her. He hasn’t learned anything.

Izumi has left him behind. The pain he caused ended any relationship between them.

He is a child. He can learn, if he wishes.

She feels as if she is choking when she runs into someone.

“Ah,” the person says and she blinks at a girl with red and white hair. It’s long and in a braid as she stares at Izumi. There’s a burn scar on her face and as Izumi looks into her eyes she sees the same sort of pain Izumi has.

The girl nods and leaves and Izumi stares after her in confusion.

Then she has to head to class and Shinsou and it’s a mess.

A flower blooms under her cheek as she speaks and she wonders if it’s from the shock someone attacked her at UA or it’s because she always hoped Kacchan would change the longer she left him.

“It’s not the same.” She tells Shinsou. “I was in hell until I was ten and then just isolated after.”

“It’s close,” Shinsou tells her. He touches her cheek and she closes her eyes. “It’s growing?”

“Yeah. It used to be orange lilies. It might be the same now.”

It is. It’s removed by Recovery Girl and Izumi breathes and doesn’t try to think.

She doesn’t know what to think about anything.

She thinks in a way that expelling him was to much. She understands that they lied, that they removed the evidence of the trial. But did they truly know that it counted?

Kacchan is a child and needs to learn things.

At the same time, he tried to attack her.

Her mind feels muddled and confused and Shinsou tries to help but it’s different for him. His bullies were cruel and never stopped and yet he never expected it either to stop.

You can only be betrayed by a friend.

He tries but they fight and eventually he yells that she’s worthless if she wishes to let a boy who hurts her back into UA.

She flinches and he does too.

Shinsou reaches for her but she leaves, feeling sick.

Izumi wanders UA campus after that- a week after the Kacchan incident- a week after the USJ got invaded. With Kacchan in the office the class hadn’t gone to USJ, something all of them expresses relief about.

Izumi wanders and then runs into the red and white girl again. She’s training in the gym that all students are allowed to Izumi wandered to it out of habit. Usually she and Shinsou train- Shinsou finally accepting that he needs to train his body.

He’s not with her though, and she feels her shoulder ache.

Shinsou didn’t mean it, he was angry and didn’t understand. Izumi gets it.

But it still was a hurt.

“... are you okay?” The girl asks and Izumi blinks, realizing she’s been standing in the gym staring off into space.

“I’m fine.” She says. “I got into a fight with my friend.” The girl looks at her and Izumi sighs.

“My Quirk lets me know when I’ve been hurt,” Izumi explains. “The hurts become flowers under my skin. Ever hurt, physical, emotional, mental, minor or major.” Izumi sighs.

“... you were the one Bakugou attacked, the reason we did not go to the USJ.,” The girl says calmly.

“We were friends once. He hurt me badly, and we stopped. He tried again, my mom sued him and his family and they didn’t put the trial in his transcripts. So he’s been expelled and I just… I feel bad for him. He’s hurt me but I cared for him once and is it fair that he was a child when this happened and he’s still himself a child?” Izumi sighs. “Sorry. I-“

“I have similar feelings to my brother and mother.” The girl offers. Her face is slightly blank. She looks at Izumi, cocking her head slightly. “My father is not a nice man and he’s only stopped hurting us due to blackmail my eldest brother has given. I’m under the custody of my second eldest brother. My other siblings were deemed unsuited and my mother is in a mental health institute.”

“Oh!” Izumi blinks. “You didn’t-“

“You told me.” The girl shrugs. “I’m Todoroki Shouto.”

“Midoriya Izumi.”

It’s the start of something.

From the hurt Shinsou dealt jasmine is dug from Izumi’s skin and he apologizes over and over again. She tells him it’s not okay but she understands he didn’t truly mean it.

It makes her sad still.

She and Todoroki meet from time to time in the gym, speaking. Sometimes Shinsou joins them, sometimes not. He wishes to keep his Quirk private, wishing to get into the hero course like Izumi wishes.

Todoroki is kind, Izumi finds. She’s standoffish and blunt but she’s kind.

Her story is a sad one, told over gym meetings. Her father is Endeavour and he wished to overcome All Might. He had children to force it, and the abuse he placed his family through broke her mother.

Todoroki loves her mother. She loves her dearly but cannot face her.

“I used to blame myself, thinking it might be my fault she burned me. Natsuo, my brother, he got me into therapy and I’ve learned it wasn’t. I was a child, it was not on me. And yet my mother is ill.” Todoroki explains. “I care deeply for her but… I can’t face her right now. Because I have learned it is not my fault what she did and I have to adjust.”

Her brother, her eldest brother Touya, is a different story.

“He blamed me for the abuse. Said it was all my fault, hated the fact I was a girl too. Kept going on I was a screw-up, that I was disgusting. He’s in therapy to now but… I don’t talk to him. Ever if I can help it. Natsuo says he’s getting better but he won’t make me do anything. My sister keeps trying to get us to forgive our dad. We don’t want to.” Todoroki tells her. “It’s a mess.”

Todoroki doesn’t know what to do herself. Her brother was young when he became angry, and her mother ill. Neither were fully at fault, and yet she struggles.

It’s nice to talk to someone who understands.

Their friendship grows and Izumi wonders why it feels different then from her and Shinsou.

Yet as she watches Todoroki smile, she thinks she knows.

At the sports festival, Izumi and Shinsou manage to get to the tournament. They manage to claw their way to the semi-finals, determining who will go on to compete for first.

Shinsou insults her, curses her. And then he confesses.

Izumi keeps her mouth shut and shoved him out, even as she feels the flowers begin to bloom.

She does tell him she doesn’t feel the same.

“I know,” Shinsou tells her. “It’s Todoroki. You two smile all the time around each other, you laugh and have fun.” He shrugs sadly. “I just wanted to be honest.

Izumi accepts it, and later she finds the flowers to be yellow tulips.

One-sided love.

Yet first comes the finals, where Izumi screams at Todoroki to use her fire, even as the girl refuses to use it.

“I won’t use his power!” She yells.

“It’s not his! It’s yours!” Izumi cries back.

It’s chaos and destruction and in the end, Izumi has a silver medal.

And she has a smile she treasures.

It’s not love, not yet. But it has a chance to be.

A chance they cultivate, a chance they find becoming stronger and stronger as time goes on. As she and Shinsou enter the hero course, as she fights to protect a boy she barely knows on the streets of Hosu, protecting her hero mentor as well.

It’s a chance she takes, kissing Todoroki after the final exams. Todoroki accidentally burns her in shock and feels horrible.

Izumi treasures the fact a red rose blooms under her skin.

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

I’m considering starting T, but there’s something i’m concerned about. I have hyperflexible joints, and I know that as amab people tend to have lower baseline flexibility as afab people, will starting T potentially cause me to lose flexibility? This aspect of my body is really important to me personally.

Lee says:

Personally speaking as someone without hyperflexible joints, I haven’t lost any flexibility since I started testosterone because I don’t really do the type of exercise that would bulk up my muscles a lot (I do cross country running and that’s it lol) and I stretch before running.

I can still do the same things as I could do before I started T, like touch my toes, and I still can't do things I've never been able to do, like a split.

It’s usually possible to maintain your current level of flexibility if you frequently stretch (maybe consider taking up yoga or something similar?) but that applies to folks with typical joints, and folks who don't body build.

I don’t know what would type of stretches would be safe for someone with hypermobile joints-- you don't want to push yourself too far end end up with joint instability, subluxations, dislocations, or any other issue.

If it's possible, maybe you could discuss this with your endocrinologist/testosterone prescriber and your primary care provider and/or the specialist you see for your hypermobility, if you have one, for advice.

Gains in muscle mass and associated hormonal changes in joints are one of the reversible changes of testosterone, so if this issue is the only thing that's holding you back from starting T and you're happy with all of the other changes, then maybe it might be worth starting T and seeing whether this is truly a dealbreaker after you've been on it for a while. You might find that even if you miss the flexibility, it's a sacrifice you're willing to make because testosterone has caused positive changes for you too.

If you end up being very unhappy about changes in your flexibility (if it occurs), and you feel like all the positive changes in the "pros" column for starting testosterone aren't worth that one "con", then stopping testosterone will likely reverse the change in flexibility.

But again, I'd urge caution in trying to preserve hyper-flexibility because you don't want to injure yourself while attempting to keep the same range of motion-- physical therapy might be able to help you increase muscle strength and joint resilience without causing injury if you want to work on stretching.

Followers, if anyone has hyperflexible joints and has personal experience with starting testosterone, please chime in and share your knowledge with us!

Followers say:

@evilphrog said: I have hypermobility and only take a very low dose of T, but I would personally feel relieved if it decreased my flexibility. Thus far it has not. To the poster, hyperextending your joints is something that seems really cool when you're young but leads to severe chronic pain as an adult. I hope you can talk to a doctor about your condition and find ways to manage it before it gets to that point.

@worminthesky said: I have a hypermobility disorder and I have noticed that some of the joint pain I had before I started t has gotten better. I haven’t noticed a decrease in the big flexibility things (I can still do fun backbends and stuff, hyperextend my elbows) but my fingers definitely got less flexible and hurt less when I use them.

@skiingmaniac80 said: Yeah so I have hEDS and I asked the doctor I see for these issues if people taking T saw improvement in pain and she said it's possible but it's not really anything they've studied. I've been taking T for around 6 months or so and haven't seen improvement in pain. To add on it's bad to hyperextend joints even if it doesn't hurt when you do it. For me I've been told not to Crack my knuckles but I still did it now when they accidently pop it hurts like hell. So be careful and if you can talk to a doctor or physical therapist that knows about hypermobility/eds.

[forever-rogue]

Afterglow - Part 8

A/N: Is it time for some much need talking? Hmm....perhaps. As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: drug and alcohol mentions; slight language 

AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You drifted in and out of sleep that night, waiting up several times due to the jolt of a startling nightmare. At first you almost forgot where you were or what was going on - why were you asleep on the couch? But it hit you like a ton of bricks; Frankie Morales was currently asleep in your bed. 

A few times throughout the night you’d gotten up and stretched your stiff bones and wandered to the bedroom door, opening it just a crack to peek inside. Each time, Frankie was fast asleep with Daisy next to him. It caused you to relax a little, knowing that he was okay, and you needn’t worry about an overdose or anything like that. But it didn’t ease the pain of seeing him again or knowing that he was struggling with an addiction...or something.

The universe had put an odd situation on your plate. 

Once you couldn’t sleep any longer, and had gotten tired of lying on the couch, which it had turned out was not an ideal sleeping situation, you made your way into the kitchen to start breakfast. You weren’t even sure what to do really, but it was a bit of normalcy to offset your otherwise shaken up routine. 

As soon as you started the coffee, something that was an absolute necessity, you’d left messages for your clients apologizing for the early call and canceling their appointments due to a last minute emergency. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind. As the coffee percolated filling the kitchen with warmth and the delicious smell, you reached into the fridge and started pulling eggs, bacon, and other items to make breakfast with. Grabbing a bowl and a pan, you quickly settled on pancakes, wondering if they were still his favorite. He’d always loved them when you were younger and on more than one occasion had your little date nights ended in a small 24-hour diner, where’d he chow down on them. 

The memory made you smile,  as you recalled one particular time when he eagerly topped off his pancakes with fresh fruit and whipped cream, which had gotten on the corners of his mouth. You’d reached over and wiped the whipped cream away, licking it clean from your own finger. It seemed like yesterday, even though it was so long ago. 

Sighing, you pushed the memory away and carried on preparing the batter and throwing some bacon into the oven. As soon as your coffee pot signaled that it was done, you grabbed your favorite mug, followed by another and poured the black coffee in. You finished yours off as you liked, topping the other off with a sprinkle of cinnamon. It amazed for a mere fraction of a second just how well you still remembered the things he liked. But your amazement was quickly cut short when you heard a quiet throat clear from the opposite side of the counter. 

“H-hi,” he said quietly, almost tentatively as he seemed to look anywhere but your eyes. You took the cup you had prepared for him and set it down in front of him, motioned for him to take a seat at the bar. 

“You look like hell,” you commented as he sat and clutched the steaming cup between his hands. He made a small sound of agreement as you turned back to your pan and poured some batter in, “I made it how you used to like it....I presume it’s still the same?”

“Yeah,” he said as he put the mug to his mouth and took a long sip, “thank you.”

“Mhmm,” it was a small, noncommittal sound as you focused your attention on the pancakes and eggs. Daisy came over and you offered her a treat before getting her into the backyard and preparing her breakfast. The tension in the air was palpable and you could see that Frankie was eager to say something. But he didn’t dare to be the one that broke the silence. Gods knew you were just as eager to say something, a lot of things honestly, but all of that could wait for now.

Once everything was finished, you grabbed two plates and piled them high with a spread of items, topping them off with some fresh berries on the side. Daisy had been a good girl, clambering between the two of you, so you offered her a piece of bacon and a few berries, which she eagerly took and ran off with and  into her bed to eat. 

Handing a plate to Frankie, you set down your own, as far away from him as possible at the small bar. It didn't create a huge divide between you, but the point came across loud and clear.

The two of you ate in silence for some time, the only sound in the kitchen was the scraping of utensils and a few small huffs from Daisy. She gave you an almost pathetic look a few times, and you just rolled your eyes at her. You knew she wanted to be out and in the company of others; once she'd overcome her initial fear of people, she thrived in attention.

"Oh hush," you told her before passing her another strip of bacon, "we'll go for a walk later, good girl. Or maybe you can go play  with Eddie."

Frankie remained silent as he watched you, doing his best to keep a smile from stretching across his features. But you were too quick and caught him staring.

"I've been bringing her into the office with me every day," you explained, "she likes being around the people and they often find just as much comfort in her. It's a win-win really."

"Hmm," he commented as he shoved another bite in his mouth, "office? W-what kind of office?”

"Yeah," you said softly, "I, ugh...I'm a therapist.” 

He caught your eye and offered you a slightly confused look. Never once had you ever mentioned wanting to be a therapist. In fact, you had wanted to avoid anything you had once deemed similar to your parents as a big no. Coming from a surgeon and a doctor wasn’t a far stretch from a therapist. When the barista at the coffee shop had referred to you as ‘doctor’, he had envisioned...many other things. This was very similar to things you had proclaimed you'd never wanted to be, "oh. I thought you wanted to be a zoologist. That’s what you always wanted to...study animals. UCLA-"

"Yeah," you cut him off sharply, "I did once. In another lifetime. I had to make decisions back then.. Ones I didn't think I'd make or have to make. I thought things were going to play out in a very different way but the joke was on me, right? So, here we are. I'm good at my job and it just...worked out."

"But do you like it?" he asked tentatively as you narrowed your eyes at him. No one ever really asked you that...it was just sort of assumed that you did, or if you didn't, that didn't matter one way or another..

"What does it matter, Francisco? A job is a job," you almost snapped at him, "but yes. For the most part I enjoy my job. I'm glad to be helping people that need it.”

"It just didn't seem like something you wanted to do..." he trailed off softly.

"Well, I also didn't think I'd go to college alone and have to make an entirely different series of choices. I didn’t think you’d just leave me and go into the military - and you were going to leave me in the dark about as long as you could. Remember that?" you knew it was a dig, the lowest of blows, but in that moment you didn't care. Things had ended a long time ago and at the end of the day, it didn't matter anymore, "because I do. So yeah, my life plans changed. But you know about that just as well. How did that work out for you?!"

You hated yourself in that moment, and as soon as the words left your mouth you wished you could take them back. You hated how much venom was lacing your words, how angry you still were with him. It was twenty years worth of pain and hurt bubbling to the surface all at once. And yet - the look on Frankie’s face was enough to make your heart break. Sighing lightly, you tossed the fork onto your plate and slid out of the bar stool. Tears were prickling at the back of your eyes as you held up your hands in surrender, lips trembling slightly. You tried to slick past him, but he reached for your arm to try and hold you back, "honey-"

"I gotta go," you said, pulling out of his grasp as motioned for Daisy to follow you. Nervously looking between the two of you, she trotted over and perked up slightly when you grabbed her leash, "I-I'll be back. I’m sorry.”

You dashed out the door as swiftly as possible, letting it shut softly behind you as Frankie stared at it, a heavily, weary sigh escaped his own lips. Setting down his own fork, he pushed his plate away, no longer feeling hungry. He wasn’t mad at your words, or the spite you still held for him. If anything it made him hurt just as much. He’d always been confused on why and when you finally decided to cut your ties with him, but he never blamed you. If the roles were reversed he might have done the same. But he’d never hated you for it. He could understand why you did what you did. He was just Frankie after all, he wasn’t worth waiting around for you. Just because he’d never let you go, didn’t mean he expected the same of you.

Standing up, he picked up his own plate, followed by yours and brought them to the sink. Turning on the tap, he set everything under the warm water to soak before quickly deciding to just clean up the kitchen then and there. It was the least he could do. Frankie carefully put everything away, making sure everything was going into what he was sure were the proper spots before loading the dishes into the empty dishwasher. He stopped himself when he reached for your empty coffee mug, holding it delicately in his large hands as he examined. It was a soft yellow, covered in little flowers and beehives and bees. A forlorn little smile crossed his features as he decided to hand wash the mug, drying it with the utmost care before putting it away in the cabinet.

The whole process to getting everything clean again took him some time, but by the time he was satisfied with his handiwork you still weren’t back from your walk with Daisy. It gave him pause to wonder if he should just head home or if he should wait for your return. Eventually he decided to opt for the latter, figuring it would be rude to just run out on you. If nothing else, he’d thank you for the help from the previous evening and then leave, but a smaller part of him hoped that you’d ask him to stay. To talk. There was a lot to talk about after so many years. 

And yet - there was nothing. The relationship was done. Ended. Nothing. 

He went back down the hall to straighten your bedroom up and gather his shoes, but he trekked slowly, taking a moment to study all the pictures on your walls. Some of it was more or less generic artwork, some were photos of you with friends and family over the years. He had admired each of them, how you had changed from the beautiful girl he had fallen in love with to the still beautiful woman he was infatuated with. It was amazing to him that you still looked the same after all this time - the same soft eyes, the same sweet smile, the aura of kindness that seemed to follow you everywhere. He was nothing like he once was, not in his mind anyway, instead of ragged and worn out. A sight for sore eyes.

Shaking his head to himself, he finished the walk back to your room and began to tidy up, making it a point to keep away from anything that looked personal. But in his keen attempt to make your bed, he accidentally knocked over what liked a journal from your nightstand. Groaning at his carelessness, he picked it up and attempted to set it back, but instead,  a couple of photographs fell out of it. He swooped them up and curiosity got the better of him as he studied the pictures intently.

They were of you - you and him. 

One of them was from one of the winters you shared together, the two of you were bundled up in thick jackets and scarves, Frankie’s old beanie on your head, with the skating rink visible in the background. You both looked so young, so carefree, so happy. You were smiling for the camera but his eyes were slowly focused on you, the grin on his face speaking volumes. 

The other one was from Halloween, and the two of you were dressed up as Morticia and Gomez from the Adams Family. Your feeble attempts at costumes had been laughable, but the joy in your faces was undeniable. This time he was smiling for the camera, an arm wrapped tightly around, but you were looking at him as though he was your whole world. 

You had kept the photos after all these years. He let out a long breath before tucking them back into the journal and setting it back on your nightstand. As he finished making up the bed and slipping his shoes back on, he heard the front door open, followed by the sound of Daisy’s footsteps. She eagerly nudged open the door and wagged her tail at him, trying to get his attention for pets. 

"Frankie?" your soft voice reached his ears as he gave Daisy a nervous look before slipping out of your bedroom. He stood in the hallway, nervously twist his hat in his hands as you stood at the other, an unreadable expression on your face.

"Hey," he softly as you just nodded. The two of you stood there for a moment, silently staring at each other. When you didn't say anything he started walking down the small way, "I should go..."

But before he could slip past you, you reached out and grabbed his wrist in a surprisingly firm, but gentle, manner. He turned and gave you a confused expression, "stay. W-w should talk...instead of just running every time we see each other."

"Okay," he agreed as you gave him a momentary smile before leading him outside, to the small little backyard sanctuary you had created. It was crisp and cool, the promise of fall and new hope with the changing season lingering in the air. Daisy was close at hand, bringing out a toy to play with as sat down at the patio table, Frankie taking a seat at the other end of the table. It was silent for some time before you finally mustered up the courage to talk to say anything.

"I'm sorry for earlier," your voice was quiet but Frankie heard you loud and clear, "I shouldn't have exploded like that at you. It wasn't fair."

"'S okay," he insisted. In his mind he deserved a lot more than just a few angry words. A new silence loomed over you as you watched your dog run around play, easily keeping herself amused.

"I was supposed to get married," you blurted out suddenly and Frankie's attention was hyperfocused on you, his deep brown eyes trying to decipher every expression, "in a few weeks actually."

"Oh," he said casually as he if hadn't noticed that you weren't sporting the huge engagement ring you had been wearing when he first ran into you again, "I-I figured...the ring and all."

"Yeah," you said with a scoff, looking over at him and rolling your eyes dramatically, "was going to. Completely dodged a bullet with that one."

"W-what happened?" he wouldn't deny that the fact that your engagement ended instilled a small sense of hope in him, "if you don't mind me asking..."

"A lot of things, honestly,” you shrugged lightly. It wasn’t a complete lie...there were a lot of factors that ultimately led to your decision. The fact that Frankie had appeared out of the blue, out of nowhere, was just another incidental happenstance that seemed to jog you into making the decision. But you weren’t about to admit that to him...not yet anyway, “I basically realized I was unhappy...that he was everything I never wanted and the life I was leading was the one I had wanted to avoid for so long.”

“Oh,” he completed quietly as you threw up your hands in exasperation, more at yourself than anything else. It was just…a hard situation. It wasn’t easy for anyone and with Frankie right there next to you it was hard not to picture a life with him. What would it all have been like if he had been the one?

“I was becoming...became everything I hated,” you laughed dryly at yourself, casting a quick glance over at him as he was watching you intently, “all those things I said I never would be. I ended up being them. I ended up as this quiet, pathetic excuse of a woman that just did what everyone told her to do, what everyone expected of her. I became the model daughter my parents always wanted - working in what they deemed a proper job, never speaking out of turn, marrying the successful lawyer, never straying from the line. And then...I just realized...this isn’t me. This was never me. It’s not who I’m meant to be. I knew that if I went through with that wedding and everything that came afterwards I would never be happy again. Despite the years of self loathing, I couldn’t do that to myself.”

Frankie was listening intently as you seemed to work this out within yourself as the words poured out of your mouth. He knew exactly what you meant, and at the end of the day, he was proud of you for being able to make the decisions you needed to for yourself, “so you just called it all off?”

“Yeah,” you dabbed at the tears that pearled up and slipped down your cheeks, before laughing lightly. In the moment, it had been a bold, dramatic move, one that you considered almost worthy of a cinematic masterpiece, but looking back on it, you had probably seemed like a mad woman, “basically. It was the day of my last dress fitting and it just...hit me. I was with the dress maker and her niece and they were asking me all about my fiance and asking me if I was excited and how in love we were and everything. And it hit me then and there - I couldn’t do this. So...I bailed and left. Called it off an hour later. You should have seen the poor things! Oh Frankie, they looked so surprised, but they understood. I paid for the dress and I told them to donate it to someone that deserved it.”

“Holy shit,” he breathed out as he pictured the scene. You caught his eye and the two of you started laughing together. Gods, in that moment, it was easy, so easy to just laugh and not think about anything else. It still felt so effortless with him, even despite everything that happened between the two of you, “you just did that!”

“You know what they say about mad women, Frankie,” you teased, taking a moment to collect yourself. Looking back on it now it was funny, but in reality...it had been a harsh end to your previous life and a bumpy start to your new one, “but...at the end of the day it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t marry Chad and just be Mrs. Wadsworth forever.”

“Chad? Wadsworth?” Frankie couldn’t help but snicker at the names as you nodded before hanging your head, giving him just a glimpse of that smile that always made him weak in the knees, “oh honey, you should have known from the name alone.”

“I was a fool,” you admitted with a dramatic sigh, “a self righteous fool. At the time it had seemed...right.”

“Did you love him?”

“I-I suppose I did,” you said softly, “at one point or another. I don’t know where along the line it just ended up as routine and just me going through the motions but obviously it did…”

“I’m sorry you had to do through all of that,” he said quietly as you shrugged. It wasn’t his fault...that was all of your own doing, “how did your family take it?”

“About as well as you'd think,” you bit the inside of your cheek to keep more tears from flowing worth, “you know them, Frankie, they’re the same as they’ve always been. At first it seemed like my mom understood, and she seemed to care, but by the next day it was like a flip had been switched. They had seemed to side with Chad and somehow none of feelings were relevant. And all of the friends we’d had basically decided that I was the bad guy. So it kind of...left me to figure things out on my own. Luckily, I do have a few really good friends left. They helped me out a lot...even to find this house actually. Things could have been a lot worse...they were rough but they’re getting better.”

“Still,” he almost whispered at you, “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. You don’t deserve it.”

“Such is life,” you looked at him and offered an almost teary smile, “but about you? Did you ever get married or anything?”

“No,” he answered quickly as you tried to ignore the small skip of your heart. He tapped his fingers against the glass top of the table for a few moments, “there was never really...anyone else.”

“Really!?”

“Nope,” he was almost nervous as he swallowed the lump in his throat, “I was in the military for a long while...overseas, special ops...never really had much chance to worry about that kind of stuff back then.”

“What about when you got out?”

“There were a few here and there,” he admitted quietly, “nothing serious, nothing that lasted more than a few months.”

“Oh,” it was your turn to be surprised. For some reason he had struck you as the type that would have settled down...the type of man that would almost yearn for domestic bliss. Little did you know he did exactly that, just not with anyone that he encountered so far. 

“Yeah,” he exhaled sharply through his nose, “it hasn’t been much of an exciting life.”

“Surely it must have been,” you insisted, “special ops? That sounds like it be one adventure after another...but it was the military…”

“I was glad to get out when I got out,” he insisted and you could tell there was a lot more he wanted to say. But he tensed up lightly and you weren’t going to push him to tell you anything. If he wanted to, he would, but as far as you were concerned he owed you nothing. And yet...a small part of you hoped he did still want to open up and confide in you.

“What...what do you do now?”

“I’m a mechanic,” he stated simply and pointedly looked away from your eyes. He didn’t know if he wanted to see the expression in them, to know if you suddenly thought him to be much lower, “it’s nothing much but I-”

“It’s brilliant, Frankie,” you insisted, quickly cutting him off and causing his head to whip in your direction, a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, “you had always had a knack for stuff like that - it never made any sense to me, but you? You always had a sharp mind.”

“I was a pilot too!” he eagerly told you, and you could have died at the excited expression on his face, “in the military and…”

“And what, Frankie?” you asked, noticing the rapid change in his mood, almost as if he hadn’t meant to tell you quite that much. He stilled for a moment before looking away, “Frankie?”

“And for a while after that for private individuals,” he almost murmured, “but umm...n-not at the moment.”

“Okay,” you replied, telling him in that one word that he never needed to go past what was comfortable for him, “Frankie, I’m glad that things worked out for you...really.”

He just nodded, and gave you a weary look before silence fell over the two of you again. You pulled your knees up to your chest and hugged them, watching as Daisy sniffed everything before bringing her ball over to Frankie. He gently took it from her and tossed it across the yard, repeating the action several times over before she grew bored of it and went to follow around a squirrel. 

After some time, you cleared your throat, deciding that now was as good of a time as any to lay everything out on table. What was the worst that just happen? He would get mad, you would get mad and then he left? It wouldn't put you in a worse position than before. There was literally nothing left to loose, and you'd hate yourself if you didn't at least tell him. If nothing else, you would get it all off of your chest.

"T-there was another reason I called off my wedding..." you admitted and slowly shifted his gaze back to you, "umm, everything kind of...I realized how unhappy I was and that things weren't right after...after running into you. That day at the coffee shop when I spilled coffee all over myself."

Frankie tried his best to keep his expression neutral but it felt like a swarm of butterflies had just been released into his stomach. He was trying not to read too much into your words but he was loathe to deny his excitement. That meant you had felt it too; he wasn't wrong in thinking it was just him. He looked at you to go on, making a small sound in his throat, "I-I remember..."

"It set off...something," you said softly, "and that's what caused me to realize everything else."

"If nothing else, I'm glad the spilled coffee led you to realizing that you deserve better...that you deserve the world..."

"I...I never stopped loving you," the words shot out of your mouth before you could do anything to stop them and Frankie's jaw dropped and practically hit the floor, "seeing you made me realize that...there was never anyone else that I could ever love because they weren't you. Even after everything that happened, all this time, it always came back to you."

"Honey bee," the nickname flowed easily and you didn’t bother to correct him. You liked the way it sounded, you had missed it even. It was so much better than sugar plum, which still made you cringe to even think about, “you…”

“I know,” you said quietly, bringing your hands up to your face as you tried to hide and  make yourself feel smaller. You hadn’t, not in a million years thought you would see him again, let alone admit this to him or yourself, “I just...the more I thought about it, especially with Chad, I kept comparing everything to you. Even if I didn’t admit it out loud to myself, that’s one of the main things that it was. It was always you.”

“I-I don’t understand…” he said quietly, “you never...I called you and you never called me back. I thought...I thought...why?”

“I know,” you admitted, “I just...I couldn’t, Frankie. You left me and I hung around waiting for you all the time. My life revolved around waiting for to call, or email, any little hint from you. It wasn’t healthy - I was missing out on so much, because I was always waiting around for you. I couldn’t do that anymore, to wait to hear from you from an hour once every two months whenever you got the chance? It wasn’t fair to me or you. So I just...decided not to anymore.”

“But I-I came back,” he said meekly as you shrugged lightly.

“When? How many hours was your life devoted to the military? How many years were you gone for the majority of the year? It wouldn’t have been fair to me to have to wait for you, and it wouldn’t have been fair to you either, to only get to see me once in a while. Wasn't it easier to just not have to worry about it?” you tried to rationalize it to yourself and him at the same time. But as the words left your mouth you wondered if it had been easier that way. Maybe it would have been easier, maybe you would have been happier if you’d tried to make it work...but now you would never know. 

“I don’t know,” he sighed heavily as he leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his tired eyes, “I don’t know...but I do know it was hard for you.”

“You left me Frankie,” you said softly, trying not to cry again as you thought back to the day you had discovered that he was leaving for the military. It had been the worst day of your life back then. It still was to this day, “we made all these plans, our future, and you left me.”

“I did what I had to do back then,” he said softly, and while you never believed, even back then, you knew he had his reasons. You knew that the choices he made for all calculated and thought out - he was never one for rash decisions, “the choices I made helped become the man I am now. And look where you needed up - a therapist. A successful therapist. That counts for something, right?”

“I know....I know you did. I understand that now. A small part of me still thinks I would have rather have been with you, Frankie,” you said softly, turning to face him and resting your head on your knees, “even looking back on everything now. I wish you would have let me come with you -”

“So what?” he almost snapped and you jumped slightly at the sudden change in his voice, “you could have been some military wife that’s never happy?”

“I would have been happy with you!” you retorted with just as much edge as he had given you, “I would have been happy if I got to be anywhere with you. You were my everything, Frankie, and that never changed.”

“You would have been alone half the time,” he sighed heavily, “and I never...I never wanted you to have to worry if I was dead or alive or if I was coming back at all.”

You remained silent as you mused over his words. He had a point...if you had been with him, when he was overseas, you would have been wondering every minute of every hour if he was alright or not. That was a fate almost as cruel if not more so than what you were put through. 

“I wanted you to have a chance at happiness,” his tone softened as he looked at you with big brown eyes. They were full of emotion, holding so many things inside of them, “without me you had a shot.”

“I thought I did too,” you agreed, your lips trembling effort to keep from crying. Gods, you felt like you had been crying more recently than you had in many years, “turns out we were both wrong.”

“Yeah?”

“In some ways I wished I’d just gone with you anyway,” you shrugged and he made a small sound. You were both stubborn fools in your own ways, “in some other ways I wish I never met you.”

It felt like his whole world stood still as he cautiously met your eyes. Now those were words he never thought he’d hear you saying. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before stumbling over his words, “w-what? I thought…”

“If I had never met you, I never would have missed you,” you explained, “I never would have gone through the heartbreak of you leaving, of loving you and looking for you in everything and everyone else, never finding you. I would have been…”

“Maybe you’re right…”

“Yeah...but I’m not,” you concluded, “because if I had never met you, I would have never been loved by you, or gotten to love you. I never would have...discovered how to be myself. You showed me that it was okay to be different from my family, to be my own person. It worked...even if I got lost along the way and things changed. At the end of the day, it was you. And just when I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life, you came back. Out of all the times. That-that has to mean something right?”

Just like that every piece of his heart that had felt like it had hardened and decayed over the years seemed to come back to life. His heart started racing in his chest as he stared at you, long and hard, and you stared back with just as much ferocity and intensity. You were thinking the same thing he was - the timing, you both coming back together, it couldn’t be for naught. It just couldn’t. The universe was a strange and wondrous thing, but maybe...maybe this time it was getting it right…

“M..maybe…” Frankie stood up as you tried to collect your thoughts and slowly strode over to you. Extending his hand slowly, he held it out to you and you stared at it for just a moment, contemplating taking it. Taking his hand was a lot more than just the simple action of taking his hand, you were both well aware of that fact. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you let him help you to your feet, and you stood directly in front of him, “Francisco.”

His large hands found your face, his touch gentle and saccharine as you relished in the feel of his soft, yet calloused skin on yours. Your lips parted slightly as he traced over the highs and lows of your features, making it a point to commit this version of you deep into his mind, just like he had twenty years ago when you were younger. His thumb swiped along your lower lip and your body was practicing screaming for him to touch you, to kiss you, anything.

“You are still as beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on you,” he whispered, inching incrementally closer and yet not close enough, “honey bee, I loved you then and I never stopped. I will never stop.”

“Francisco,” it was a soft plea as your hands found his wrists, gripping onto them tightly and vowing to never let go, “please.”

Please kiss me. Please don’t ever leave me again. Please just love me. 

It was so many things all in one simple word.

“May I kiss you?” he leaned in and his lips were practically ghosting over yours, his breath warm and sweet. You nodded quietly before closing the almost nonexistent gap between your bodies, weaving your arms around his neck as his hands found purchase on your hips.

It was slow, sweeter almost than honey as he kissed you, and you allowed yourself to get lost in him. If you thought kissing him back then had been amazing, this was that and then some. Every part of him melded perfectly against you, an ease to your movement like neither of you had to think or even try. It was like it had always been meant to be. In some ways, you supposed it was. It was always supposed to be you and your Frankie. 

“I love you, Frankie,” you murmured against his lips when you parted for a breath of air, “it was always you.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Chapter 3

⚠WARNING: Mention of previous characters' deaths

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You have no idea how you got here.

Here, being in front of the lone coffee shop on campus, on your way to meet the stranger who’s had the misfortune to get Hajime’s old phone number and receive your sad ramblings meant for no one else.

And you, the author of those sad ramblings, written in moments of weakness, are going to sit with this stranger and….

You haven’t gotten that far yet.

Honestly, you’ve been more incredulous at the odds of this meeting even happening.

What the hell am I doing???

You really have no explanation, not even for yourself. The time is 9:58 and in two minutes you’re going to walk into the cafe and meet with a stranger who is going through a traumatic life experience similar to yours.

Ok, so you can explain what you’re doing. But the why is what’s escaping you. And frankly that should scare you more than it is currently doing.

Especially seeing how you haven’t told your friends what you’re doing. You bugged off lunch (much to Oikawa’s annoyance) but didn’t tell them why. Not only would Oikawa throw a fit but he, Mattsun and Makki wouldn’t understand your reasoning for meeting a stranger you met only a few hours ago.

They really wouldn’t understand why you don’t have a solid reason for meeting this stranger.

Put all the red flags together and you would find yourself locked in your apartment with no means of escaping under Oikawa’s watch.

To be fair, you are meeting them in a public place and you have no intention of going anywhere with the stranger. You’re just going to go have a cup of tea, shoot the shit, and then leave.

Yeah, it’s definitely doable. And not at all crazy.

You take a deep breath before walking inside the shop. It’s a bit crowded - the weekend mid-morning rush makes the employees hustle behind the counter to fill orders. All of the tables are full, leaving no space for two strangers to sit and….

Oh, this was a bad idea. A really bad and stupid idea.

Your phone rings in your pocket. You pull it out and nearly jump at the caller ID.

Your brain points out that it’s not Hajime but the stranger you’re meeting. You pick up the phone quickly. “Hello?”

“Heya, how’re ya doin’?”

You hope you’ve schooled your expression into nonchalance but you can’t help your eyebrows jumping hearing the clear Kansai dialect through the phone.

Besides the surprise at the unfamiliar drawl, you’re pleased to hear a clear and strong voice on the other line. Nothing creepy or weird or anything your brain was trying to convince would be the case.

“Hi.” You reply into the phone. You can hear background noise from his end, which assures you again that he must actually be here.

“‘M over in the corner with the baseball cap.”

Your eyes move to the corner immediately and zero-in on a figure sitting at the table there. It’s a man, wearing a dark long-sleeve shirt and a dark ball cap. And he’s staring straight at you.

You hang up the phone and walk over to him. You spot a coffee cup on the table in front of him and watch as he takes his hat off and sets it on the tabletop. His silver-grey hair is messed up from the hat but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment.

No, what has you almost faltering in your steps is the exhaustion that lies deep on his face. The bags under his eyes are heavy and stark against his pale skin. His mouth is drawn in a small frown and with his eyebrows furrowed slightly it makes him look troubled.

You recognize his weariness. This is a man who is burdened to carry an intangible weight.

However this man still meets your gaze and gives you a small, tired smile. The small gesture brightens his face considerably but doesn’t completely erase the empty look. But you feel your nerves settle when he smiles at you.

“Hi,” he says when you approach the table.

“Hello.” You sit in the chair opposite of his and shrug your jacket off. “It’s busy, thanks for grabbing a table.”

“No worries.” Hearing his calm and measured tone in person relaxed you more than you realized and you felt some tension release from your shoulders. “‘M here all the time and I figured they’d be a bit busy on Saturday. D’ya want me to grab ya something from the counter?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You shake your head to emphasize your point.

“Nah, I insist. Coffee? Tea? Fancy mocha drink?”

“Uh,” you’re startled by his insistence but relent. “A tea, please. Jasmine if they have it.”

He nodded before standing and making his way to the register, letting you fully settle in your seat and try to still comprehend what the hell you are doing.

Mid-inner freak out (oh god, what if he drugs my tea, what am I doing?!) a cup materializes in front of you. Osamu comes around with another cup for himself and sits in the chair across from you.

“They had Jasmine and it smells amazin’.” He shifts in his seat and takes a sip of his coffee. “‘M not a big tea drinker but that smells like it would calm ya down real good.”

You send him a smile before lifting the cup up. The smell of jasmine tea was soothing and the taste was even better when you took a small sip. “It’s my go-to comfort drink. I’ve probably had a few more cups than normal in the past few months.”

The sympathetic look the stranger sends you makes you purse your lips, realizing too late what you said. You look away, cursing to yourself. Great, way to go and make it awkward now. It’s quiet for a bit, now awkward by your weird ~fun fact~

“My name’s Miya Osamu.” You look up at the man and see a rueful smile on his face. “I probably shoulda told ya my name earlier. ‘M a first year student at Sendai University.”

You blink. Of fucking course you didn’t know his name. You never thought to ask when texting him earlier. You met up with a LITERAL stranger for tea and coffee.

“Wow, I’m sorry for being so rude!” You hurriedly say. “I should’ve asked AGES ago. But my name’s L/N Y/N. I’m also a first year student at Sendai.”

“Huh.” Osamu (not The Stranger) says. “What a weird coincidence.”

You nod. “Yeah, um are you not from around here? I can tell by your dialect.”

Osamu hums. For the first time you see his face fall and set into something more stone-like. It’s a subtle difference but it’s there nonetheless. “Hyogo. Came to Miyagi for school and had to get a new number.”

“Oh.” It’s a dry answer that you really don’t know how to reply to. “Do you like it so far?”

He shrugs. “It’s not bad. Pretty far.”

You nod. “Yeah, it is.”

You both lapse into a silence that is neither comfortable nor relaxing.

Oh my GOD this is so awkward! Why did you agree to this? Why did you think this was a good idea?! Yeah sure, he’s not a freaking weirdo serial killer, you can check that off your list. But you didn’t think about what you would actually TALK about!

“Do ya wanna talk about Hajime?”

Your reply to his question is to spit your tea across the table.

You look up to meet Osamu’s concerned gaze. Neither of you move before you both reach across to grab napkins from the dispenser.

“Are ya alright?”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!”

In your haste to clean up your tea the napkin dispenser gets knocked to the ground, and the napkins explode out like an explosion of white confetti.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” The napkins springing up startle you so much that your knee knocks into the table hard, almost upending Osamu’s coffee.

“Argh!” You lean down to clutch your knee as it throbs painfully but your head collides with the table instead. “OUCH!”

“Are ya alright?!” Osamu asks frantically.

You exhale deeply. “Yep, I’m just a klutz. Fuck, that hurt my head.” You wish you could keep your head down and disappear. But you look up, your face bright red with embarrassment, and meet the concerned look from Osamu.

“I’m ok,” you reassure. “Really.” You look around at the mess surrounding your table and catch a few people gawking. Good lord. “Besides my pride taking a beating, I’m all good.” You stoop down to grab the napkins scattered around, wincing at the waste. Osamu also bends down to help.

“It looked like a pretty hard hit,” he notes.

“It’d be worse if I had something in my head worth keeping safe.”

Osamu smiles at your quip, a little half-smile. It’s nice.

Soon you both stand back up to throw out the napkins. Osamu grabs the bunch from you, letting you sit back down. You try to cool the fuck out and you will your face to not resemble a tomato when he comes back.

“Are you sure yer alright?” Osamu asks again.

“Yes, really.” You nod. “I’m sorry if I spat tea on you. I was just really surprised.”

Osamu tilted his head. “From what I said?” You nod. “Why?”

“I mean,” you start. “It mainly just caught me off guard. I’m not used to it, like just talking about him.”

“Do ya talk about him at all?”

You want to nod, but thinking about it you honestly don’t remember the last time you were able to tell someone about Hajime. Not his passing, but just talking about the person that he was.

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, looking at you considering. “Well my old therapist said it’s good to talk about this stuff, so I figured that’s what ya wanted.”

You don’t know how to reply to his simple explanation. Because you do want to talk about Hajime. You want to so badly. You want to tell the world how amazing he is, how he makes the world a better place just by existing, how strong he is and how much lighter you feel when he’s around

Or, how it was.

But you haven’t been able to talk about him. Every time you tried to talk outside of group therapy with your friends, Oikawa shuts down and Makki and Mattsun get uncomfortable. Your therapist is always able to handle anything you throw at her, but it’s not the same as just talking about a friend to someone.

So maybe Osamu is right about just talking about Hajime.

“He has hair like a porcupine.”

Osamu gives you a look of confusion before you continue. “Our friend Oikawa used to call him prickly, and we’d tease him when he’d bristle up and say he looks like a porcupine.” You laugh at the memory of Hajime bristling up, constantly egged on by Oikawa. “It wasn’t even bad hair, it was just so sharp. It was weird.”

Osamu doesn’t say anything for a second before he bursts out laughing. “Atsumu had weird hair too - dyed bleach blonde. Thought it made him look badass.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

You wrap your hand around your cup of tea, hesitating. An obvious question hangs in the air but for the first time since sitting down Osamu looks a bit lively.

“Was Atsumu your brother?”

The lightness on Osamu’s face is extinguished when he nods at your question. “Yeah, he’s a pain in the ass but I love him.” He pauses, looking down at his coffee cup. “Well, he was.”

You can feel the pain radiating from that one word. You understand the horrid dread that comes when you realize you’d been speaking about Hajime in the present tense. Even more so when you have to admit it out loud.

You look at Osamu and frown upon seeing his withdrawn expression. You feel immense guilt, knowing that you’ve contributed to his change in mood.

You’re desperate to lighten the mood and bring that smile back to Osamu’s face. You search through your memories, trying to find something funny. A thought crosses your mind and you feel a small smile grace your lips.

“There was one time that my friend was determined to roast smores on Iwa’s head.” You giggle at the disbelieving look on Osamu’s face. “Yeah, it was the stupidest idea he’d ever concocted. We didn’t even get one marshmallow on his head.”

“We?” Osamu asks, his voice lifting in amusement ever so slightly.

“Of course.” You reply, a smile spreading over your face at the memory and at Osamu’s content face. “I too was curious if we could do it.”

Osamu snorts, shaking his head as he brought his coffee to his mouth. “That idea would have intrigued Atsumu for sure. He was all about the far-fetched plots to piss off everyone around him.”

You smile, leaning forward in your chair. “Oh yeah? Wanna share some notes?” Osamu’s face brightens slightly at your words and he begins to talk, more animatedly than before.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: So nothing bad happened with Y/N meeting the stranger (besides her being a clumsy klutz, where are my fellow klutzes at?) Thank you for reading, I hope this chapter was a little soft respite from the initial angst~

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU (bold cannot be tagged): @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien

[specialagentsergio]

wish i were

summary: Emily’s back where she belongs, but she’s learning that you can’t come back from the dead the same as you were before. Spencer’s reeling from betrayal and broken trust. Then there’s you—their safe port in the storm. But you’re not okay either, and you have a choice to make.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader (unrequited), emily prentiss x f!reader

category: angst

content warnings: lots of swearing, mentions of/implied sex, mentions of vomiting (nothing descriptive), fighting, negative feelings towards other team members, bittersweet ending

a/n: it’s finally here. thank you all for your patience. i wasn’t planning on posting angst and unrequited love on valentine’s day, but i don’t want to wait another day to post this; i’m kinda sick of looking at it tbh. anyways, i hope you enjoy it and it lives up to your expectations. sorry it’s so long. apparently i have a lot to say.

word count: 8.7k

series masterlist || masterlist

Ten weeks ago.

“Absolutely not,” Emily croaks out. Her voice is rough and broken from the breathing tube, and it hurts her throat to speak, but she ignores it. “No. I won’t do it.”

She can hardly believe what she’s hearing. She’s only been awake for a few hours and she’s already fed up with the bullshit the world is throwing at her. Right now, it’s in the form of her boss asking her to fake her own death. “You can’t seriously think this is an acceptable solution.”

Hotch is unreadable, his unit chief face firmly in place. “It’s for your own safety.”

Emily scoffs, then immediately winces at the pain that shoots through her midsection. But she continues. “So put me in a safe house or something. I’m not making my friends bury me.”

“It’s for their safety as well,” he replies. “Doyle’s still out there. He’s targeted them before. You know he’ll do it again to get to you if he finds out you’re alive.”

“Then let them in on this,” she argues. “They can keep a secret.”

His expression slips—just a little bit, but she sees it. It’s hesitance.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” she asks, a feeling of dread settling over her. “I want to see her. I’m not making a decision like this without her.”

Hotch folds his arms over his chest. “It’s not your decision to make, Emily,” he says quietly. “It’s already done.”

Her breath catches in her throat. She looks him up and down, searching desperately for any sign that he’s lying, that this is all just some cruel joke, that any second now you’ll be walking through the door, a smile on your face—

There are none.

Her lungs burn and she’s forced to take in a breath. “You son of a bitch,” she whispers. “You... son of a bitch. How dare you? How dare you.”

He doesn’t so much as flinch as her voice increases in volume, which only serves to make her angrier.

“How fucking dare you! You let me see (Y/N) right now, you bastard!”

The door opens—her heart leaps—

It’s JJ, who, if Hotch is to be believed, is the only other one to know about this. JJ hurries to her side and reaches out, but Emily yanks her arm away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she snarls. “You—” Her eyes land on the water pitcher on the table in front of her and she lunges forward, the searing pain it causes barely registering. She seizes it and throws it with all the force she can muster.

Hotch doesn’t move out of the way, letting it hit his chest and soak the front of his clothing. Its accompanying cup follows, then the TV remote. It’s not until she grabs the vase of flowers that he ducks out of the way. The glass shatters on the floor. All the while, she’s screaming obscenities at him.

JJ tries in vain to calm her down, holding up her hands placatingly. “Emily, please—”

“Don’t talk to me!” she yells. “You have the audacity to come in here and speak to me when you know I’m alive and my girlfriend doesn’t!”

“Emily!” Her voice is stern. “I understand you’re upset—”

“Don’t use your fucking mom voice on me, Jennifer, I’m not a fucking child—”

“What’s going on in here?” A pair of nurses enter the room, no doubt drawn by the commotion.

“She’s bleeding,” JJ answers immediately. “I think she might have aggravated something when she sat up.”

“She’s not supposed to be sitting up at all. What did you two do?” one of the nurses scolds.

“She just got some bad news—”

“Well, isn’t that a nice way to put it!” The nurses are trying to coax her into laying back down, but Emily resists it. “A really great way to describe the two of you trying to force me into letting my family and girlfriend think I’m dead!”

“I think some of the stitches tore,” the second nurse says.

“Go get the doctor,” the first one instructs an orderly standing in the doorway.

Movement catches Emily’s eye and she looks towards it to see Hotch taking a step backwards.

“Don’t you dare leave!” she screams. “I’m not done with you, you motherf—”

“Agent, please, you need to lie back.”

“And you two need to leave,” the older of the nurses says.

Then there’s a third person at her side. Judging by the white coat, it’s the doctor. “What’s the problem?” he asks them.

“She’s agitated and we think some stitches might have burst.”

“Damn right I’m agitated!” Emily cries. “They’re trying to—I—” She looks past the doctor to find that JJ and Hotch are gone.

“Emily, we’re going to give you something to help you relax,” he tells her.

Her vision goes blurry and she can’t figure out why until she feels the tears sliding down her cheeks. She lets the nurses push her back now and her head thumps against the pillow. “Please—” she chokes on a sob. “Please, I want to see my girlfriend.”

“What’s her name?” the doctor asks kindly.

“(Y/N). We’ve been together for almost a year. I need…” Her limbs are starting to feel heavy. “I need to call her, or—or something. She thinks… she thinks….”

“Shh, you’re okay,” one of the nurses soothes. “You’re going to be okay.”

Emily blinks slowly and shakes her head. “But she won’t be. She…”

The world fades to black.

---

There are tear stains on your pillowcase.

That’s the first thing Emily notices when she walks into your bedroom. She recognizes them so quickly because similar ones were on her pillows in Paris.

“Sorry, I’ve been meaning to run the sheets through the wash,” you say when you notice her looking.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” She sets her bag on the bedside table, careful to jostle Sergio as little as possible. He’s in her arms, pressed against her chest and purring loudly. He definitely remembers her—she’d been a little worried that he wouldn’t.

Emily is absolutely exhausted. It has been a very long day. Doyle is dead, Declan is safe, and now all she wants to do is take a nice, hot shower and curl up in bed with you. But you haven’t been able to keep eye contact with her for more than a few moments at a time.

She expected something like this to happen. She knew once the relief of seeing her alive wore off, there was going to be a heap of more, uglier emotions surfacing.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

You glance up at her just briefly, busying yourself with stripping off the pillowcases and replacing them with a clean set. “I don’t know what to say, Emily,” you sigh. “I just… I don’t.”

She strokes Sergio’s back a couple of times to calm herself before replying. “You can say anything. You’ve been through so much, and I… I’m not going to hold what you’re feeling against you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.”

It confirms her suspicions. “(Y/N), you’re allowed to be mad at me,” she says. “Hell, you could even yell at me if you wanted to and I’d be okay with it.”

You snort. “I don’t want to yell at you. But, um, could I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Okay. Well…” You shuffle from one foot to the other. “I’m… not really sure how to ask this, but, how… how did this happen?”

Your voice is hesitant. You’re holding back, but Emily can read between the lines. “You mean, how could I let you think I was dead?” she corrects softly.

You breathe in sharply and wrap your arms around yourself. Your eyes are wet when you look up at her and nod.

Emily tries not to let her next words come out too fast, lest it seem like she’s dismissing your feelings or making excuses. “I didn’t get a choice.” Her voice cracks and she clears her throat. “When I came to after surgery, the funeral had already been held.”

Your mouth drops open. You stare at her for a few seconds, then blink several times. Your eyes move around, focused on nothing in particular as you try to process what she’s just told you. Eventually, they settle on the bedroom door behind her. “I’m gonna punch his face,” you whisper.

Emily can’t stop the genuine laugh that bubbles out of her. “Yeah, Hotch heard similar things from me.”

“Oh my god, Em,” you breathe out, and her heart skips a beat at the nickname. “That must have been awful.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” she admits. “But at least I knew you were alive and that I’d see you again someday. It can’t come close to what you went through.”

You shake your head. “This isn’t the suffering Olympics. It was harder for you in some ways than it was for me, I’m sure. Like, if I was waking up after being stabbed, I’d want my girlfriend there holding my hand.”

Emily’s eyes prick with tears as she listens to you, remembering how it felt to be at the hospital without you there to hold her hand through all the scary bits. But you? You had buried her, and now you’re here considering how Emily had felt throughout all this. She’s not sure if you’re actively trying to make her fall even more in love with you, but if you are, you’re succeeding.

“I can’t promise to never be mad at you about this,” you continue, “but I’ll take being mad at you for actually being alive rather than being mad at you for dying.”

“That’s… really mature of you,” she observes.

“I started seeing a therapist a few days after the funeral,” you say with a shrug. “Can you put Sergio down and help me change the bed sheets?”

She nods and places him gently on the floor. She’s about to ask why you’re wanting to change them right now, when you’re clearly just as exhausted as she is, when she finds a tie wedged between the top and fitted sheets at the foot of the bed. She frowns as she lifts it up—it’s not one she recognizes as yours or hers, but she does think she’s seen it before.

“Oh, so that’s where that went,” you say.

“I don’t remember you having a tie like this. Is it new?”

“It’s Spencer’s,” you clarify.

“Oh. What… what’s it doing in your bed?” she asks hesitantly.

“He would stay over sometimes when I couldn’t sleep and he’s too long—“ you spread your hands apart “—for either of the couches.”

“I see.” Emily smooths out the wrinkles in the fabric and crosses the room to put it on top of the dresser, trying to tamp down the sting of jealousy. The other side of your bed is supposed to be hers.

“Nothing happened,” you say and she realizes she’s frowning.

“I know,” she replies, and she does—she just wishes it had been her in the bed with you. But you’ve at least given her a good lead-in for her surprise. “Anyways, you wouldn’t have even had the time with the amount of online Scrabble you were playing.”

Now it’s your turn to frown. “How do you know about that?”

The corner of her mouth turns up. “I was there for every game, sergio2010.”

It takes you a moment to put it together. “You’re cheetobreath?” you ask. “I thought that was JJ.”

“It was her idea,” Emily says. “And that’s what you were supposed to think.”

Your reaction delights her—you start laughing. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I had to stick it to Hotch somehow,” she defends, barely holding back her own laughter.

You shake your head fondly as you finish tucking in the fresh sheets. Emily helps you spread the comforter back over the bed and return the pillows to their spots. She isn’t sure what to do after that, though, and nervously clasps her hands in front of her. You’re silent for a few seconds, watching her from across the bed.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” you say eventually.

“Um, okay,” she replies. “But you know, I could go stay at a hotel instead if you’d prefer.”

You shake your head. “You’re gonna join me.”

“Ah.” Emily swallows, part nervous, part thrilled. “That’s… I mean, yeah. Okay.”

You hold out your hand in invitation; she circles the bed and takes it.

After, when you’re both clean and settled into bed, she pulls you as close to her as she can. “This is so nice,” you sigh into her skin. “You’re so soft, Em.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Um, thank you?”

“Spencer’s bony,” you explain.

Emily snorts. “Yeah, I know. I fell asleep on his shoulder on the jet a few years ago and it was painful.”

You giggle. “Did you know he talks in his sleep?”

“Morgan’s mentioned it. You learn anything else when you were snuggled up with him?” she teases, running her fingers through your damp hair.

“It wasn’t like that,” you protest. “We didn’t snuggle. I’d just kind of… press my forehead on his arm and one leg against his.” Your voice lowers as you continue, “I just really missed being close to someone.”

“I did, too,” she whispers back. “I wish it had been me, but I’m glad you had him.”

You nod against her in agreement. “I love you, Emily,” you say, briefly tightening your grip on her.

“I love you, too,” she replies, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “So much.”

You drift off to sleep quickly, and she’s not far behind.

It’s the best sleep she’s had in months.

---

Spencer’s barely heard from you since the hearing last week.

He’d gotten plenty of texts from Jennifer (all of which he ignored), but only a few from you. That’s probably normal for most adult friends, but not for you two, especially so when the fact that you were the only two people not to apply for reinstatement to the BAU is taken into consideration. He thought that he’d be able to seriously talk about it with you, to share his feelings and maybe work it out together. But all he had gotten was a brief message:

Emily was reinstated, so I’m going back, too.

It left him frustrated, but when it came down to it, he understood—he was the same. Since you were going back, so was he.

On Monday morning, everyone’s first day back together, he gets off the elevator and is immediately confronted with the last person he wants to see.

“Hey, where have you been? I wanted to do brunch this weekend,” Jennifer says.

Spencer barely resists rolling his eyes, instead keeping them fixed on the file he’s holding. “I had to deal with some stuff with my mom.” It’s not a lie—he did have to check in with his mom. It just didn’t take as long as he’s implying. “Have you seen Garcia?”

“Uh, she’s with Rossi,” Jennifer answers, and she sounds startled by his behavior, but he doesn’t care. You’re at your desk, and as he passes by, he takes your arm.

“Wha—Spencer?” You’re taken aback, but you let him pull you along and into a file room.

“What?” you repeat when he turns to you after closing the door.

He tucks the file into his bag, the folds his arms over his chest. “I barely heard from you last week.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “Well, yeah, I’ve been busy,” you say. “Emily’s moving in with me so we’ve been taking her things out of storage and to my apartment to unpack.”

Spencer glances away, trying to ignore the stab of jealousy in his chest. Just two weeks ago, he was in your bed and he’s quickly been replaced. And sure, he knows you don’t feel that way about him, but it was easy to pretend you did when you were asleep right next to him. “Not busy enough to make a decision about work,��� he points out.

“So?”

“You’re the only other one who didn’t apply for reinstatement to the unit,” he replies. “You’d think that would be something for us to talk about.”

“You never said you wanted to,” you say, giving him a little shrug.

He doesn’t resist the eye roll this time. Does Spencer know he’s being a bit unfair? Yes. Does he care? Not particularly. No one bothered to seriously check in with him last week. He wasn’t expecting everyone to, but he was expecting it from you. He’s only been at work for five minutes, but his emotions are already running high, and he doesn’t care to reign them in. “I didn’t think I’d have to.”

“You should’ve. I can’t read your mind.” Now you’re getting defensive. “And what does it matter, anyways? You’re not my boyfriend; I don’t have to run my decisions past you.”

“I know that,” he snaps. He really could have done without hearing you say that. “I’m just there to warm up your bed when you’re lonely is all, huh?”

You’re shocked for only a moment before pivoting to anger. “I didn’t make you do anything. You could’ve said no. And I certainly don’t owe you anything from it.”

“Clearly,” he mutters.

You heave an angry sigh. “Look, I know you’re mad about the whole thing, but don’t take it out on me. I don’t know why you’re so surprised that I wanted to spend the past week catching up with my girlfriend after thinking she was dead for ten weeks. If you wanted to talk, you should’ve said so. Stop being such an ass.”

Spencer doesn’t answer. You’re right, and he knows it, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to admit it. He just looks down at the floor, avoiding your glare.

When it becomes clear to you that he has no intention of responding, you mutter, “whatever” under your breath and duck behind him, walking out of the door and leaving him alone again.

---

The case has been miserable.

In rural Oklahoma, their unsub is burning his victims with acid. Not the worst they’ve seen, but not pleasant, either—this job never is.

You’re still mad at him, which is bad enough, but he’s also had to watch you be far more… touchy with Emily than you ever were before. It’s not super apparent—you still keep it professional at the local P.D. and when you’re out on work assignments, but you’re going out of your way to find any excuse to touch her that you can outside of that.

Then there’s the motel they’re staying at and its thin walls. He heard a few things last night from your room next door. It was quickly followed by shushes, but he heard enough to infer what was going on. So he’d dug his noise-canceling headphones out of his bag. It had been a good solution at the time, but then he’d fallen asleep with them on. As a result, he’d slept with his neck at an odd angle. It’s midday now and it’s still aching.

To top it all off, there’s Jennifer. He’s been trying to keep his distance from her, and had thought the snide remarks he hadn’t been able to hold back might encourage her to stay away. But she keeps pressing the issue, and when she tells him she thinks he’s mad about micro-expressions, he can’t hold it back anymore.

“You think it’s about my profiling skills? Jennifer, listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you. I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

She protests, so he brings up Dilaudid. He knows it’s a low blow, and that she still feels guilty about them splitting up all those years ago, leading to his abduction and subsequent problem, but he doesn’t care. He just wants her to hurt like he is.

The team is staring and Emily says his name, but he just tells Jennifer that it’s too late to be sorry and leaves without another word.

Outside, he sits on the curb in front of one of the SUVs and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He’s not alone for long, though. Just a few minutes later, he hears footsteps coming from behind him. The sound that involuntarily comes out of his throat can only be described as a growl.

“God, Jennifer, what do I have to do to get you to understand that I want you to leave me the fuck alone!” he nearly yells.

But it’s not Jennifer that answers. “It’s me,” you say softly.

Spencer sighs. He drops his hands from his face but doesn’t open his eyes. “What?”

“Can I sit?”

He’s not sure he wants to be around anyone, but it’s hard for him to say no to you. “Sure,” he says dully.

You join him on the curb, but keep a few feet of space between you. You don’t say anything, though, just sit quietly, letting him make the first move.

“How are you okay?” he asks eventually.

“What?” You sound incredulous. “I’m not sure where you got that idea. I’m so mad at Hotch that I can barely breathe when I’m in the same room as him.”

Spencer considers this for a moment, recalling when everyone’s been in the same room during this case. He realizes that since he’s been preoccupied with you touching Emily and trying to avoid Jennifer, he’s missed how you tense up whenever you see Hotch, and that you keep him out of your eyesight whenever possible.

“But you’re fine with Emily,” he observes. That does honestly confuse him, because he’s mad at Emily as well. And if it had been you in her place? He’s not sure he’d ever be able to forgive you, even without you knowing the way he feels about you.

“For the most part,” you say. “I still feel a little mad at her sometimes, but it helps me to remember that it wasn’t her fault.”

He finally looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Being alive in Paris and not telling you isn’t her fault?”

“She didn’t really get a choice. When she woke up after surgery, the funeral had already happened,” you explain. “Hotch made the decision without her.”

“Hmm.” He files that information away to think over later. “And Jennifer?”

You shrug. “I can’t be too mad at her, since she did so much for me during those weeks.”

He snorts. “Yeah, out of guilt.”

“Probably, yes,” you concede. “But not having to pack up Emily’s things and take them to storage myself, feeding Sergio and bringing him to stay with me, bringing me hot meals when I was surviving off of cereal alone because I could barely get out of bed, let alone cook for myself… it went a long way.”

On the one hand, it’s a bit comforting for him to hear how Jennifer helped the woman he loves. On the other, she could have ended your pain with three words—Emily is alive—but she didn’t. She let the woman he loves suffer the pain of the loss of a partner.

And she sure didn’t bring him hot meals.

This shouldn’t surprise you, Spencer. You’ve always been the afterthought. The burden. You should be used to this by now.

He clenches the fabric of his pants in his hands. “That doesn’t make me any less angry,” he mutters.

“That’s fine.”

“You can’t expect me to just—wait, what?”

“That’s fine,” you repeat. “I’m not trying to tell you to just get over it or whatever because she was nice to me. Like Em told me, you’re allowed to be mad.”

Spencer bites his lip, resisting the urge to ask you to stop calling her Em. You’re the only one that calls her that—or rather, is allowed to call her that, and it’s obvious why. It’s also similar enough to you calling him Spence that he’ll always start comparing himself to Emily when he hears it, and he’s been trying to stop doing that for months.

“Maybe you just, I don’t know,” you continue, drawing him out of his thoughts. “You could just try to be a little less passive aggressive with JJ?”

He opens his mouth, about to flat-out refuse, but before he can, you tack on, “For me? Just a little bit?”

God damn it.

“Only if she stops bothering me,” he says bluntly.

“Yeah, she, um… she was crying when I left, so I think she’s got the message now,” you say quietly.

He feels a bit guilty upon hearing that, but not enough to apologize, or even really regret it. I told her I didn’t want to talk about it, he rationalizes to himself. She’s the one who decided to push it anyways.

After a few moments of silence, you reach out and pat his knee. “I love you, you know.”

He knows what you mean, knows that you don’t mean it like that, but his heart still skips a beat. He responds to you with a nod.

You push yourself to your feet, tell him to take all the time he needs, and you’ll see him when he’s ready to come back in, then walk away.

When he’s certain you’re out of earshot, he whispers back, “I love you, too.”

---

Emily sits down across from him on the plane, and Spencer is immediately reminded of the morning after he caught you and her together. That time, Emily had folded her hands in front of her on the table. This time, she slides something across it to him. He looks up from his book and sees his missing tie, wrinkles ironed out and folded neatly.

“It was in her bed,” she explains when his brow furrows.

Spencer wonders if that made Emily jealous.

He’s not a good enough person to not hope it did.

“Thanks,” he mutters, putting it away in his bag.

Emily’s quiet, but she doesn’t leave. She must have something else to say. He sighs. “What is it?”  

“Are you going to Rossi’s house tomorrow night?” she asks.

He looks back down to his book. “I don’t know. I’m not so sure I can make it.”

“Okay. Well, Reid, you can be mad at me for as long as you need to. I’m okay with that.”

Spencer frowns. He kind of wishes she wasn’t being so nice and understanding. It makes it harder to be upset with her, and he wants to be upset with her.

“I’d like to say something to you, though, if that’s okay,” she says.

He reluctantly looks back up. “What?”

Emily holds his gaze. “Thank you,” she says earnestly.

He blinks. “Uh, for what?”

Her voice wavers slightly with emotion as she speaks. “For looking out for her when I couldn’t.”

His eyes drift away from Emily and to the couch where you’re sleeping. “My pleasure,” he replies quietly. When he looks back at Emily, she has a curious look on her face.

For the first time, instead of panicking over keeping his secret, instead of shying away, Spencer looks right back at her. A few seconds later, he thinks he sees a flash of realization in her eyes, but it’s so quick he can’t be sure.

“Well, thank you,” she repeats, and takes her leave. He watches as she leans down and tucks the blanket closer around you. He closes his eyes, leans back in his seat, and imagines a world where he was the one adjusting it instead.

---

“You’re gonna go weeks, months even, feeling fine. And then you’re gonna have a bad day.”

Emily can barely get the hotel room door open, her hands are shaking so much. A bad day. What Hotch called it, she thinks, was a bit of an understatement.

She’s just come back from taking a witness statement to help wrap up the piano man case—or rather, she was trying to take one.

“I was told that you would only give your statement to me.”

“Why didn’t you let me pull the trigger?” Regina asks.

“Because you would be in prison.” Emily understands why Regina is mad at her, and she’s fine with taking the brunt of it. Lying to her to stop her from shooting the unsub was the right thing to do. “I know it’s hard--”

“No, you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like…” Regina pauses briefly, anger radiating off of her. “When the monster from your nightmares comes back for you.”

Emily breaks eye contact and looks down. She knows exactly what that’s like.

Regina recognizes it. “Wait--”

Redirect, redirect, redirect. “Look, I’m here as a courtesy--”

“Something happened to you.”

“So do you want to give me your statement or not?”

But Regina is relentless. “What did you do to him, huh? Did you arrest him like a good FBI agent? Or did you kill him?”

Emily sits down heavily on the spare bed, drawing your attention away from packing up your things for the flight home. “Em?”

She just shakes her head, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and closing her eyes. “It was the right thing,” she whispers to herself. “It was the right thing. I did the right thing.”

You sit down next to her and place your hand on her back. “What happened?”

Emily swallows hard, feeling sick to her stomach. Her hair is sticking to the back of her neck; she tilts her head to try and dislodge it. You catch on and pull it to the side for her.

“Talk to me, baby,” you urge gently. “Just something, anything I can do to help.”

She takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down enough to speak. “I—I think,” she stutters. “I th—think I just ruined a woman’s pe—peace of m—mind for good.”

You start rubbing circles on her back and ask, “How?”

“You know, when they talk about victims getting revictimized by the system, they mean you.”

Emily shudders involuntarily. “I… you know how we found the unsub with a—a victim?”

Slowly, in sentences fractured by gasping breaths, swallows to hold back the nausea, and even a few sobs, she recounts what Regina said to her.

You murmur something under your breath that she doesn’t catch, then, ever so gently, you pull her into your arms.

Emily Prentiss isn’t one to break down, not in her own home and especially not in front of others. She controls any “negative” emotions as best as she can, her feelings only displayed through a trembling voice, misty eyes, or run-down nails. Screaming, tears, and nervous gestures were not befitting of an ambassador’s daughter, after all, and those habits formed in childhood have stayed with her until this day.

But there’s one person who’s the exception. There’s one person with whom those walls just don’t seem to exist. That person, of course, is you.

You pull her into your arms, and Emily Prentiss breaks down, because she can. She can because she knows you’ll be there to help put her back together again.

“You never had a chance to mourn your own death, did you?”

She hadn’t understood what her therapist meant when she said it yesterday morning, but Emily thinks she does now. This time last year, what Regina said would have unsettled her, and she would have felt sorry for her, but she probably wouldn’t have dwelt on it much. It’s not last year, though. It’s this year, and she’s coming undone in your embrace over Regina’s words, words she knows will never leave her.

“I didn’t pull the trigger.”

“Still… your monster’s dead. I have to live with mine. That’s my statement.”

Emily has a promise to keep, so she boards the jet early. A few minutes later, Hotch slides into the seat across from her and waits. It still takes her a few moments to collect herself enough to say the words.

“I’m having a bad day.”

---

Spencer’s not sure if you’re going to be able to keep doing this job. He became very familiar with your nervous tics and outward signs of stress during those weeks, and now he can notice them almost immediately.

You seemed okay for the first few months. A few habits cropped up now and then—biting your lip, tapping each fingertip to your thumb in turn—but that was fairly normal. It’s a stressful job.

But then your bottom lip starts getting chapped again, and during conversions with anyone other than Emily, you’re quiet; you often have to be prompted to share your thoughts.

He tries to find out what’s wrong, but when he asks, you shut it down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. “But, um, you probably should talk to… somebody, you know?”

You barely look up from your paperwork as you respond. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve been seeing a therapist since this whole shitshow started. I’ve got Emily, too. If anything, I should be telling you to go talk to a professional.”

Spencer just says “okay” again, then a few minutes later he excuses himself to go hide in the bathroom and nurse his hurt feelings. He knows you weren’t trying to be mean. Flipping around the suggestion to him most certainly came from a place of love. But he’s not interested in receiving any kind of psychiatric care—he’s actively opposed to it. So being told anything of that sort upsets him and often makes him angry.

Today it’s just salt in the wound, though. The wound itself is Emily. And god, does he ever feel guilty about the resentment that crops up every time her name is in your mouth. She was dead, and every day she was gone, he wished she weren’t. He cried countless tears over her and would’ve given anything to at least be able to say goodbye.

Then the impossible happened—she came back. He didn’t have to say goodbye at all. And sure, there was the initial relief and happiness, and the warmest hug ever, but now he finds himself resenting her. He’d never wish for her to be gone again, but he can’t stop the jealousy, no matter how hard he tries.

Recently, when Emily was shot during a case in California, he held back your hair as you leaned out of the door of the SUV and threw up upon receiving the news. Spencer Reid would never deny that he’s a germaphobe, but he wants that. He wants to be the one taking care of you, the one whose shoulder you fall asleep on, the one going home with you at the end of the day.

He doesn’t want Emily gone, never, ever again, but he wants you back. Those ten weeks, as awful as they were, weren’t the worst he’s had, because during that time, you were always seeking him out. He knows you didn’t want him that way, but if Emily had really been gone, he thinks one day, that might have changed. The thought always brings tears to his eyes.

Still, he would settle for having you the way he did during the years before he fell for you. Things just haven’t been the same since Emily came back. You don’t stay up late talking anymore. You haven’t a movie night in months. You don’t ask about the books he’s reading or what he did over the weekend. This is it: this is exactly what he was afraid of happening when he found you with Emily.

Spencer doesn’t think it’s personal. He thinks it’s because you’re barely hanging on these days, and just don’t have the energy anymore to do things like you used to.

It still hurts, though. He wonders if it’ll ever stop hurting.

---

Respite can come at the strangest of times and in the oddest of ways. Today, it comes to Emily in the middle of a hostage situation at a bank, in the form of a job offer.

The team is trying to find the I.D. of the Queen of Hearts, one of the robbers, when she gets a surprise call from Clyde Easter, her old Interpol Unit Chief, who gives her the information he knows about the unsub. He doesn’t know her name, but he reminds her that she’s seen the unsub before, at a robbery in Paris while she was living there. Then when the team learns that their unsubs want to fly out to Chad, she calls him back.

“Well, unfortunately Interpol doesn’t have many assets in that particular region in Africa. Maybe that’s something you could help me with when this is over.”

Emily scoffs. “Work for Interpol again? That’ll be the day.”

“Not work, darling. Run,” he corrects. “You see, I’ve been promoted. So, the team’s yours whenever you want it.”

“It’s a hell of a time to bring that up,” she says, ignoring the questioning glances she’s getting from you, Reid, and JJ.

Clyde asks her to think about it, but there’s no time to do that now. She pushes it to the back of her mind and goes back to work.

By the time the day is over, she’s tired. Just tired. You both narrowly survive the explosion in the bank thanks to the alcove you were in, trying to help two elderly patrons. Then a mere hour later, you scare the shit out of her by finding Will strapped to an active bomb and deactivating it yourself. So Clyde’s offer doesn’t come up again until the next morning, when light is spilling through the curtains, illuminating the bedroom with a soft, warm glow.

You face each other in bed, legs twined together under the covers. “What was that about working for Interpol again?” you ask softly, tucking your arm under your head.

“Clyde was promoted,” she replies just as quietly, as to not disturb the peaceful morning feeling. “He offered me his old job. He wants me to run the London office.”

Your eyes widen. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“How are you feeling about that?”

Emily blows out a breath. “I’d like to at least… consider it.”

You reach out, finding her hand in the sheets and lacing your fingers between hers. “What’s stopping you?”

“I’m sure you can guess,” she replies, squeezing your hand back.

“Well, then I think you’re more than just considering it,” you say. “You wouldn’t bring it to me if you didn’t want to take the job.”

Emily thinks for a moment, then admits, “I… I do want to take it. But I have to know what you think, honestly.” She was already robbed out of making one life-changing decision without you in this past year. She has no interest in that happening again.

“Honestly?” you repeat, shifting a little. At her nod, you continue, “I think it’s a good option for us.”

“Us?” she asks, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, us,” you affirm. “What, you think I’m just going to stay here if you move away?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe. This is the first time we’ve talked about something like this.”

“Fair point,” you say, then sigh. “We’re… both struggling here in D.C., Em. I know it and you know it. This place, this team. It used to be my home, but now, I just… it’s not like it was before.”

“You don’t trust Hotch anymore,” Emily says quietly.

You let out a small, broken chuckle. “I’ve tried. I’ve been trying so hard. I know he did what he thought he had to, but I just… I can’t.”

“It’s okay to feel that way,” she points out. She lets go of your hand to reach up and wipe away a tear that breaks your lash line. “In fact, I’d say it’s reasonable, with what you went through.”

You close your eyes and nod, putting your hand on top of hers to keep it on your cheek. “I know it’s been hard for you, too.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I wanted to come back, and at first, I felt like I was home. But I just can’t go back to my old life and pretend that nothing happened. The only time I feel at home now is… well, it’s when I’m alone with you, just like this.”

“Emily Prentiss, I had no idea you were such a romantic,” you say, cracking a smile.

“Oh, stop,” she says, but she’s blushing. When your giggles subside, she speaks again. “I would love for you to come to London with me. But I don’t want you to forget what you’d be leaving. There’s still a lot of good here.”

You nod. “There is. I’m just not sure it’s enough anymore,” you say softly.

“I understand. You can think about it. I don’t need an answer now.”

So you don’t give her one, not right away. But you do a few hours later. So Emily picks up her phone and dials Clyde’s number.

---

JJ’s a beautiful bride, but Spencer’s eyes keep drifting over to you. The dress you’re wearing tonight is wonderful; from the cut to the color, it suits you perfectly. But that’s not what’s really got his attention. It’s the way you’re carrying yourself. You’re smiling, and you seem truly happy, without any reservations. But there’s also a bit of sadness clinging to you, and he can’t tell what’s causing it.

The party has been going on for a while by the time he finds himself dancing with you. You’d asked him, and now you’ve steered him a little ways away from everyone else. “There’s something I have to tell you,” you say just as he’s about to ask what’s going on.

To his dismay, he doesn’t have a clue what it’s going to be. He doesn’t like not having at least an idea. He swallows, then says, “Okay.”

You can’t meet his eyes; you look down to the floor instead and watch your feet move in time together. So whatever it is, I’m not going to like it, he thinks, and his anxiety spikes. “What is it?” he asks, tightening his grip on you without really meaning to.

You take a deep breath, then look up. “Emily and I are leaving.”

His heart drops and he stops in his tracks, causing you to stumble a little over his feet. “Oh, shi—sorry,” he says. “I just—you’re leaving the BAU? But you’re still going to be in D.C., right?”

You sigh, then guide him off the dance floor and to a quiet spot not too far away. “You remember what Emily said about working for Interpol again yesterday?”

“Interpol?” he repeats, his voice pitching upwards. “You mean, like, overseas?”

“London, to be specific.”

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know what to say. Things were a little rocky between you and him when Emily came back, and for a little while afterwards, sure, but recently he’d started to feel like he had his best friend back.

Apparently he couldn’t be more wrong.

Spencer’s used to people leaving. First it was his dad, then Ethan. Elle was next, quickly followed by Gideon. JJ was forced out, and although she ended up coming back, it didn’t erase the pain he felt in her absence. And then there was everything that happened with Emily.

So, Spencer’s used to people leaving. In a way, he almost expects it.

He just wishes it would stop hurting so damn much.

What is it about me? he wonders. What is it that makes people run away? There’s clearly something wrong with--

“Hey!”

He jumps, startled out of his introspection. When his eyes refocus on you, you put your hands on your hips.

“I don’t appreciate people being mean to my best friend, you know,” you tell him seriously.

“Uh…” He blinks a few times. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“That includes him being mean to himself,” you continue. “I know what you were thinking.”

“What? No, you don’t,” he protests.

“Don’t I?” You put the tip of your finger on your chin. “Was it or was it not something along the lines of, people always leave me, why do they do that, there must be something wrong with me?”

He hates that you’re right, so he doesn’t answer, just scowls and looks away.

“It’s not true, you know.”

“Sure,” he mutters. Sure it isn’t. You’ve only just added your name to the list.

“I mean it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look at me.”

Spencer doesn’t, and your resulting sigh sounds so frustrated, and then he thinks, Oh, great work, Reid. (Y/N) tells you she’s leaving and what do you do? You piss her off. Honestly, it’s no wonder--

And then your hands are on his face, cradling his cheeks, and he’s too surprised to resist your gaze anymore.

“It’s not your fault, Spencer,” you say, your voice equal parts firm and gentle. “You didn’t drive me away. Not even close. There’s nothing inherently wrong with you, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He sniffs, trying to hold back the sudden onslaught of emotions you’ve just caused. “Well, I could have gone without picking a fight with you on our first day back at work,” he says, sniffling again.

“What’re you tal—Spencer, that was almost a year ago.”

“Nine months.”

“Whatever. The point still stands. You’re not why I’m leaving, okay? You’re…” you trail off and he’s alarmed to see your eyes grow wet. “You’re the opposite, actually. You were the only thing keeping me here when Emily was gone. And now, you’re why it’s so hard to leave.”

“I am?” he whispers before he can think better of it.

“You are,” you affirm. “I think Emily’s actually a little worried you’re gonna talk me out of it.”

It gets a laugh out of him, but right after a little sob escapes him and he squeezes his eyes shut. When you hug him, he immediately reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your middle tightly.

“Hey, this isn’t the end, okay?” you say, and he can tell from the way your voice is trembling that you’re crying, too. “I know you like to ignore it, but we do live in the digital age, and I’ll be hounding you to talk to me at least once a week. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I’d certainly hope not,” he murmurs, resting his head on your shoulder.

The two of you stay like that for a while, just holding each other, trying not to cry too much. Eventually, you pull away. “Besides, it’s not like I’m leaving first thing in the morning. Our flight isn’t for another ten days. I’m gonna be around.”

Spencer nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, then swipe at your face, clearing away the tears. “Um, we should head back. You still owe me a dance.”

And dance with you he does, swaying gently from side to side with his hand resting on your waist. A look over your shoulder shows Emily and Derek dancing in a similar manner; judging by the way he’s holding her, she told him the news as well.

He has an eidetic memory, but Spencer makes the effort to commit this moment to his brain all the same. He wants to remember the way you’re holding him, resting your head on his chest and running your thumb over the back of his hand every so often. He wants to remember how your skin feels against his, the texture of your hair. The lighting in the backyard and the way it makes you glow. The words that you said, telling him that it’s not his fault, that nothing’s wrong with him. He’s not quite sure he believes it, but you’ve never lied to him before, so he’ll try to accept it.

The song ends, and tears threaten to fall again when you pick up your head and take a step back.

“Hey, no more crying tonight,” you say. “Because if you start crying, I’ll start crying, and I don’t want to cry any more tonight. Save it for my grand exit at the airport terminal.”

That makes him break into a smile and he’s able to blink back the tears. “Okay.”

“Do you mind if I take this dance?” It’s Emily, and she’s looking at him, head tilted in your direction.

“Oh, um.” He clears his throat. “No, um, go—go ahead.”

He passes your hand to her, and what he feels is silly. You’re not some prize to be won; you don’t belong to anyone other than yourself. But he feels like he’s passing you off to Emily, almost… entrusting you to her. The look Emily gives him makes him think she understands this.

“Wait,” you say before she can properly take you into her arms. You lean towards him and press a kiss to his cheek.

Spencer doesn’t stay around to watch you two dance. He retreats back into the house, fingertips on the spot you kissed. He lets them sit there for a moment, then forces himself to drop his hand. It’s far past time for him to try and move on. He doesn’t want you to leave, but it might be what he needs.

Maybe, just maybe, with some distance, he can begin to heal.

---

On the first day at work without you, Spencer finds a small frame on his desk. He immediately recognizes the picture inside of it—it’s the one you’d kept as your lockscreen for months, much to his dismay.

It’s a picture from the relatively early days of your friendship, well before he felt anything that wasn’t platonic towards you. You’d dragged him out on a weekend off to a nearby amusement park, because, “you can’t die without having ridden a roller coaster at least once, Spence.” He had no desire to do so, but he didn’t have any other plans, so he went along with it.

The roller coaster ended up making him vomit, and the picture is from shortly after that. You’re holding up the camera with one hand and making a peace sign with the other, smiling from ear to ear. He still looks a little queasy, only managing a small smile, but he still looks somewhat happy. And he was, that day. Other than the nausea, he’d had a lot of fun with you.

He picks up the frame and feels something on the back of it. He flips it over and finds one of his lilac colored post-it notes, displaying your handwriting.

“When it’s time to go, remember what you’re leaving. Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.”

Tears blur his vision. Doctor Who. Of course you picked Doctor Who. And you’ve written something else, too, in smaller letters:

If you don’t answer my calls at least twice a month, I’ll tell JJ you’ve been stealing from her Cheetos stash for eight years. Love ya.

He laughs out loud, a little wet giggle that he has to follow up with a sniffle. He slips the note under the frame’s felt backing to keep it safe, then rearranges his things until he settles on the perfect spot for it to sit on his desk. He retrieves a fresh sticky note and scribbles down a reminder to himself to call you when he gets home, sticking it the cover of one of his books. After all, he can’t have JJ knowing about his thievery. The team’s good at what they do, but he doesn’t think anyone would be able to find his body once JJ’s done with him.

His eyes drift back to the photograph, coming to a stop on your face. He misses you already. He even misses the ugly bits, when you’d snapped at each other, when you were crying on his shoulder. When he saw you with Emily that first time. It’s an odd mix of emotions. Longing, nostalgia, grief, happiness, safety. Belonging.

Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.

Spencer couldn’t agree more.

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

tell me what you thought here!

oh my god, i can hardly believe it’s over. there’s still going to be a small epilogue, but it’s optional. thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who read and supported this series and your enthusiasm for it. you’ve made me so very happy. and if you relate to spencer in this, i want you to know you’re gonna find your someone someday. if that’s what you want, i believe you’ll find it eventually. much love to all of you. 💖

series taglist: @sobereinstein , @zizzlekwum , @goldensatine , @closetedreidstan , @afuckingshituniverse , @uswntxx , @johnmulaneyslut , @90spumkin , @mcntsee , @zhuzhubii , @shadyladyperfection , @mggbler , @eva-cadeau , @esmesisle , @anothergayinthelife , @wecouldbreakthedistance , @zozoleesi , @calm-and-doctor , i think that’s everyone?? so sorry if i missed you.

[pipipinyyy]

Explaining why I have added every song in my entire and very long Niragi playlist because I can and because over analyzing him is my passion (I usually update it from time to time but I'll do it with the current songs)

Completely self indulgent post, but I decided to share to feed my fellow Niragi stans (*˙︶˙*)☆*°

This is entirely based on my view of the songs and how I interpret them while thinking about Niragi. I'm aware that most of them have entirely different meanings, this is just for fun :) (Also sorry if my explanations don't make much sense, English is not my first language and I might make mistakes when trying to put my feelings and thoughts into words)

This may contain manga/s2 spoilers

Hayloft-Mother Mother: Vibes

Criminal-Britney Spears: The whole song describes him ("he is a sucker with a gun") and the fandom's obsession ("mama I'm in love with a criminal")

Daddy Issues-The Neighborhood: I feel like he would act like this, using the most vulnerable spots to pick on someone ("cry little girl, nobody does it like you do")

Psycho-Jin Dogg, OVER KILL: Vibes

Riot-Hollywood Undead: He'd definitely start a riot like he did in the 10 of hearts, burning and destroying anything that crosses his path

Bitches-Mindless Self Indulgence: He most likely thinks he's a total fuckboy and popular with girls since he can get almost anything he wants out of scarying people

Baby's on Fire-Die Antwoord: Vibes

Insane in the Brain-Cypress Hill: This man is being consumed by his own way of protecting himself

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing-Set It Off: Based on how he feels towards the people who hurt him in the past ("Listen, mark my words, one day, you will pay" "You've always been a huge piece of shit, if I could kill you, I would" "Karma is gonna come collect your debt")

Death no more-IC3PEAK: Vibes

Gasoline-I Prevail: Sort of similar to Riot, ("So burn it all down, burn it all down, I don't give a fuck")

Toxic-Britney Spears: The whole fandom knows how much of a piece of shit this dude can be, but we still find ourselves liking/enjoying his character (to an extent), a toxic addiction

Nice Guy-GRLwood: As much as I love this man, he'd use the "I'm a nice guy c'mon" card just to fuck. If he wants to, he'll get it, if he doesn't, he'll most likely get mad

Dernière danse-Indila: Vibes

TRRST-IC3PEAK: Mostly vibes, I kinda see this song as how he felt the first time he killed someone on purpose inside the borderlands ("mama they say I'm a terrorist, I did nothing wrong but I got on the blacklist")

Saint Bernard-Lincoln: Vibes

Nowhere To Run-Stegosaurus Rex: Being with him at the Beach would either be ignoring each other completely or a game of tag, no inbetween. If this man wants to kill you, he'll get his fun time out of it as well ("You're gonna die, I'm gonna kill you")

The House of Wolves-Bring Me The Horizon: Based on how he sees life after being consumed by his current mental state ("Show me a sign, show me a reason to give a solitary fuck about your god damn beliefs" "What you call faith, I call a sorry excuse")

Smells Blood-Kensuke Ushio: Vibes

SIU-Maretu: Similar to Daddy Issues, don't expect this man to be a therapist. If he sees anyone crying or panicking in or outside a game, he'd most likely tell them to suck it up, just like this song.

Judgement-Kensuke Ushio: Vibes

MONSTER ENERGY GUN!-KevinKempt: Vibes + He for sure has an energy drink addiction, specially pre-borderlands

HURT-1 800 PAIN: Vibes

Fear Is The Mind Killer-Zheani: Vibes

I Bet on Losing Dogs: Based on how I know Niragi is toxic, and most likely unsaveable of his deteriorating mental state, but I still have him as my biggest comfort character ("I bet on losing dogs, I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place")

Emo Boy-Ayesha Erotica: He's been in an emo phase (and maybe still is), the lyrics are pretty self explanatory, they describe us Niragi simps perfecrly ("come on fuck me emo boy")

Crybaby-Destroy Boys: Vibes

The Fox's Wedding-MASA Works DESIGEN: Vibes

You're a useless child-Kikuo: We don't know much about his past, but judging by the unstoppable bullying he's suffered, his parents didn't care about him, or were straight up absent. He's been insulted by pretty much everyone in his past to the point of believing it and telling those things to himself ("You're a useless child, the most useless child in this world" "Drool in snot, dandruff, shit and piss" "I'm a useless child" "Nobody will save me" "I'm a lonely kid")

Take A Slice-Glass Animals: Vibes

Fighting With The Melody-Jimmy Urine: Vibes

Comics-Caravan Palace: Vibes

Rhinestone Eyes-Gorillaz: Vibes

Butch 4 Butch-Rio Romero: Mostly vibes, sort of how I think the most "peacefull" moments in a relationship with him would feel like, kind of bittersweet feeling

Suki Suki Daisuki-Jun Togawa: Yandere Niragi. If he's interested in someone, he'd go through an obsessive phase, most likely forcing the other person to "love" him. This man is so confused about the feeling of love that he's unable to tell when he loves someone or when he's obsessed with them due to his lack of attention ("Like you, like you, I love you. Say you love me or I'll kill you")

:(-The Garden: Vibes

Kitty City-Cyriak Harris: Vibes

Blood-My Chemical Romance: If Niragi went to a therapist, he'd act like this song, with his signature cocky and sarcastic personality (at least before he gets better) ("I can't control myself because I don't know how" "They can fix me proper with a bit of luck" "I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love")

A Mask of My Own Face-Lemon Demon: He feels like he needs to protect himself or else he will get hurt inside the borderlands by others again. He uses another personality, a completely ruthless one, even if he doesn't like it and hates himself for it, he doesn't see another way to deal with his fear, allowing his "new self" to consume himself. ("I'd wear that mask of my own face" "I look into my eyeholes and what do I see? A handsome motherfucker motherfucking looking back at me")

I'm a Murderer-Freddie Dredd: Mostly vibes ("I'm a motherfucking murderer")

'Cause I'm a Liar-Mcki Robyns-P: He would lie just for fun even in serious situations. If he needs to manipulate someone to survive, he'll do it his way, after all, he doesn't care anymore, he just seeks for excitement. ("Without emotion, without devotion. It's much easier to fake something happy")

I Disagree-Poppy: I don't know exactly how to describe it, but I feel like this is how he sees and feels the world and those around him, feeling misunderstood and going his own way ("If only all of you could see the world I see, then maybe everyone could live in harmony")

Personal Jesus-Mindless Self Indulgence: He has a superiority complex, that's for sure. I don't think he sees himself as a god, but I see him joking about it

Rainbow Factory-GLAZE, WoodenToaster: Vibes

Frontier Psychiatrist-The Avalanches: I kinda see this as Aguni taking the role of Niragi's "father figure" inside the borderlands, realizing he's turning insane and is unable to control him ("That boy needs therapy")

Hate it. Hate it. "JIGAHIDAI!"-WADATAKEAKI Kurage P: Jealousy. I can see it either in a pre-borderland situation where he hates the popular students in school, or inside the borderlands hating both Chishiya and Arisu. Jealousy takes over him constructing a big ego, causing himself to develop his superiority complex ("You see, I hate that popular girl!" "Does she think I don't notice? How she looks at me as if I'm trash" "I want to be praised" "I'm different from you all, I have my own ego! I'm not a side character" "I have zero common sense. I'm special")

Villain-Stella Jang: He knows damn well he's a villain, that's his goal after all, but what if someone took his point of view? wouldn't the villains be all of those who hurted him in the first place? ("We all pretend to be the heroes on the good side, but what if we are the villains on the other")

Violent-carolesdaughter: This is how I view an argument inside a relationship with Niragi. He's used to violence, to cause fear, and getting what he wants, so being in a healthy relationship would require a lot of patience and strenght. While he's getting better and suppressing those violent actions, there will be times where he accidentally uses violence or threatens the other person unintentionally, mostly hurting himself and his partner psychologically. The lyrics change between both points of view ("Don't make me get violent, I want my ring back baby that's a diamond" "She knows I'm a wreck" "I gave you all my trust and I told you just don't break it")

Hey Bunny-Baby Bugs: Based on how I think it would feel to partner up with him inside the borderlands and catching feelings for him while knowing the huge mess he is ("Hey bunny, what's with those evil eyes?" "Hey bunny, what the hell is wrong with us?" "Hey bunny, what if I loose you too? If I become the monster, together we can always be blue")

Kokoronashi-majiko: I'm pretty sure Niragi isn't able to see himself as someone able to love, even if he doesn't want to be alone (just like when he confesses this feeling while fighting with Chishiya and Arisu). If someone truly loved him and was willing to not letting him go, it would hurt. He can't see himself as someone who can love or be loved, so he can't accept the love he's seeking for in case that turns him "weaker" making his true self confront with the protective mean personality he's created. He could learn how to accept it, so he might want the other person to stay in the end, but it wouldn't be easy for him to accept it ("It's awful, I'd rather you destroy my body, tear it to sheds, do as you please" "No matter how much I'm loved by you, my heart is just one" "I don't know this, don't leave me alone")

Nightmare Parade-FAKE TYPE.: Vibes

Slipping Through My Fingers-Meryl Streep, Amanda Seyfried: Niragi seeing himself loosing his young, gentle and caring personality due to his fear, being unable to control what's happening inside, nostalgia and sadness kicking in ("The feeling that I'm loosing her forever" "That funny little girl" "Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time")

Kuroneko No Tango-Pink Martini, The Von Trapps: Vibes

YKWIM?-Yot Club: Him confroting his feelings of loneliness when he's left alone with his thoughts ("It feels like I care too much when I'm alone, oh no")

Romantic Lover-Eyedress: Just appreciating his physical appearance ("She's a killer, I love her features")

Wrecking Ball-Mother Mother: Based on how he sees himself as someone who needs to destroy everything in a way or another in order to be powerful + the fun he has with it ("Call me a reckless wrecking ball" "Let's break it just because we can")

Edge-Rezz: Vibes

Freaks-Surf Curse: Again, confronting feelings when loving someone, but not in such a painful as Kokoronashi ("I need a place to stay where I can cover up my face" "Don't cry, I'm just a freak")

Little Bit-Lykke Li: Vibes

6up 5oh Cop-Out (Pro/Con)-Will Wood and the Tapeworms: Vibes

PHONKY TOWN-PlayaPhonk: Vibes

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE-Måneskin: Freaky time. He would absolutely love this song, definitely his type of thing ("You could be the beauty and I could be the monster" "I wanna touch your body so fucking electric" "I wanna make you hungry, then I wanna feed you")

#BrooklynBloodPop!-SyKo: Vibes

A Cold Freezin' Night-The Books: Vibes

A Pearl-Mitski: My most favorite song to associate with Niragi. Represents his evolution as a character. Creating an scenario where he is loved by someone,he rejects it at first, acting tough ("I don't want your touch") and then proceeds to explain why ("It's just that I fell in love with a war, nobody told me it ended" "it left a pearl in my hand and I roll it around every night just to watch it glow") the war being the borderlands and his new personality, he loved it, but nobody drew a line and it's getting out of hand. The pearl is the feeling of power, the one he has to remember when feeling weak just to feel something. At the end of the song it changes to ("Sorry I can't take your touch"), realizing that he wants love, but he's not able to take it or else he'll become the Niragi from the past

Problematic-Bo Burnham: Him acknowledging his problematic actions but not wanting to apologize because he doesn't feel the need to. He knows he's done bad things but he is going to laugh at it and be a sarcastic mf about it

First Love/Late Spring-Mitski: Similar to Kokoronashi, he wouldn't be able to accept love and how it makes him feel. He would think that he prefers for everyone to hate him and be lonely instead of sacrificing his tougher side. Also talks about how he's grown way too quickly for him to understand feelings properly ("So please hurry leave me, I can't breathe, please don't say you love me" "One word from you and I would jump out of this ledge I'm on baby" "I was so young when I behaved 25, yet now I find I've grown into a tough child"

The Other Side Of Paradise-Glass Animals: Vibes

Bodybag-Chloe Moriondo: How I feel about liking his character, confronting feelings basically ("Don't know if I hate you or if I wanna date you" "I don't wanna like you, I just wanna tie you up, then keep you in a cage and watch you sleep for ages"

Get Into It (Yuh)-Doja Cat: Vibes

Psycho Killer-2005 Remaster- Talking Heads: Vibes

HOT DEMON B!TCHES NEAR U!!!-CORPSE, Night Lovell: Vibes

INFERNO-Sub Urban, Bella Poarch: Again, another song that describes him pretty well ("Baby I'm the reason why hell's so hot" "Terribly like terrible, she's a villain" "Think I'm getting butterflies but it's really something telling me to run away")

Bad Morning-Omori: Vibes

Trouble Brewing: Vibes

Dueles Tan Bien-Bruses: Another song about my confronting feelings with this man ("You know what? You taste better than alcohol to me. You know that and you've got control" "Because you hurt, and you hurt so good that I don't know what to do")

And that's it!! This took me the whole day to write but it makes me very happy to be able to share it :)

I've you've read the entire thing, hope you enjoyed the character analysis! ლ(◞‿◟ლ)

[my-simp-land]

Setting Boundaries

Lately, I've been having trouble setting boundaries in my own life, so I felt inspired to write this where there is a happy ending and not just stifling tension in the house. I hope this helps someone in need. You can do it bb. We have to take care of ourselves :)

Lucifer x reader/mc

Fluff with angst. Happy ending

1997 words

Since moving into the House of Lamination and getting to know the brothers, it was obvious that Lucifer was the main caregiver in the house. His approach was more business than affectionate, but that’s okay; that’s where I come in. In the beginning, I would try to help Lucifer directly by helping him with his paperwork or running errands for him. I quickly realized that keeping his brothers out of trouble or solving the problem before it got to him helped him far more than organizing his filing cabinets.

The new chain of authority quickly became accepted within the House of Lamination. Mammon had me on speed dial, so my D.D.D. was constantly ringing off the hook. The other brothers were nice about it though. It gave them a chance to open up about more problems without worrying about the stress and reaction it would cause.

The House of Lamination, and in turn the RAD campus, changed overnight. The student council’s relationship had drastically improved, and anyone could see it. Other demons began to come to me with their problems. I made a drop box where anyone could write their problems or thoughts and submit them. Lucifer bequeathed me a bulletin board where I could answer some of the simpler questions, but I had a column in the school newspaper where I wrote about other, more complex problems. My peers began to say I was an angel with a demon’s perspective. The blessing, or curse, of being a human, I guess

***

Everything was working out for Lucifer. With your help, he had so much more time to complete his tasks but also give himself the basic care he needed. The house was clean. His brothers didn’t run to him with their every problem. School was becoming the campus Diavolo imagined it to be. What could go wrong? Well, a lot could go wrong actually. Very easily. He just had to keep his watchful eye and stop it before it went too far.

***

A few months into my new councilor position, I began to feel the effects of my work. The world around me was on the up and up, but I was so tired. I was so exhausted, physically and mentally. It took hours to come up with some of these responses, and I was so focused on other’s needs that I began to neglect my own. Usually I went home to my room to work on my responses in private, but today, for some reason, I decided to stay in the student council room. Other members came in and out working on their own projects, exchanging pleasantries, but eventually, all became quiet. It was just me and my melted down iced coffee.

I watched the condensation run down the side of my cup as I thought of a good way to respond to this problem. How does one properly discuss their boundaries with the ones they love? I had plenty of answers, but I couldn’t think of one that I had actually used.

“MC? You’re still here. We were looking all over for you.” Lucifer.

“Oh. Uh- sorry Lucifer. I guess I just got so caught up in writing that I lost track of time I guess.” He walked over and peered over my shoulder at the paper before me. We sat there in silence for a moment before he spoke.

“So, how would you solve that problem?”

How would I solve speaking about boundaries? That's a great question, Lucifer. I’ve only been thinking about that for the last two hours.

“I’m not sure. I always try to put myself in the demon’s shoes, but it just isn’t working this time. I have plenty of hypotheticals but nothing I can solidly say would help.”

He hums in reaction and walks around the table to take his seat. Across from me, his red eyes peer into mine. We stare at each other for moments before I look back down at my paper. I can still feel his eyes locked onto me. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head. Is he trying to solve the problem? Is he thinking about replacing me? Am I becoming another problem to him?

“What if I told you I submitted that problem?”

What. Lucifer...submitting a problem...to me? I didn’t think he’d have problems with the brothers occupied. Sure, I would have to drag Mammon into his office when the problem was bigger than I was, and sometimes I would give him some insight onto the student’s thoughts. But Lucifer didn’t have any real problems. He was the Morningstar. He can do basically anything that he wants.

“Well, um- I...I guess I would ask for more context since you’re here.”

“I only wrote that. How would you answer that?”

So...so...ugh.

“I guess I would try to go to a private place with them. Make sure it’s the right time to bring it up. I wouldn’t want them to already be in a bad mood or be taken by something else. I would try to be comfortable with them. Not come off as aggressive or manipulative. Oh idk.”

I sigh and place my head between my hands. “Usually I set boundaries in the moment. It’s just a ‘I didn’t like that and would appreciate it if you didn’t do that again,’ but this leaves so many possibilities.”

I carry on with my thoughts in my head before Lucifer interrupts. “Carry on with what you were saying before.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to beat around the bush, but I wouldn’t want to be harsh. It’s a fine line to walk. Simple sentences. ‘I don’t appreciate this’ or ‘It makes me upset when you do this’ then I would follow it up with ‘I would be grateful if you were to refrain from that behavior’ or something similar. Just straight to the point but not pointing fingers at them. Don’t condemn them. Either they would agree or deny to change. If they agree, I would thank them for understanding and change the subject. If they deny, I would really set the boundary. I would tell them that I won’t be around someone who does that and would separate until they change or we meet a compromise or it could just be over. Sometimes it isn’t that easy. There’s more conversation where a compromise is made.”

“But what if they ask why?”

“I would explain. ‘I don’t like the way it makes me feel’ or ‘I don’t want to see you, someone else be hurt.’ Honesty is key. I wouldn’t see it as a defiance, but a way to understand you better.”

Lucifer reaches across the table and takes my hands. “It makes me upset when you exhaust yourself and neglect yourself because of your tasks. I would appreciate it if you let me take care of things again, so you can take care of yourself again.”

I shoot out of my seat, ripping my hands from his. “That is not an option, Lucifer. I’m helping and mending relationships; not only between humans and demons but demons and demons. I also can’t leave you to handle everything again. I set the boundary of me between you and the Devildom. I don’t appreciate it when you neglect your own problems for others!”

He sighs and pinches his brow. “Doll, I’ve done this for centuries now. You’ve given me a great vacation. The best one I’ve ever had, but it’s time for me to take back over now. I can’t let you run yourself into the ground and say I’m doing my job of watching over you.”

I press my hands into the table. “I will not let you handle everyone’s problems again. I refuse. I’m helping you by carrying some of the weight.” We sit in silence staring at each other before I speak again. “Is this because of your pride? I promise you that no one sees me as better than you. We’re not even in the same league. You do much greater things than I do. I’m just a post-it note therapist. I’m just a sounding board for my peers. You help run, not only a school, but an entire kingdom just because you’re friends with the crown prince. You deserve more, and you know i-”

“That’s enough!” He flew out of his seat and slammed his palms on the table. We were face to face; our breath running across the other’s face. “You will not carry on with your little crisis hotline if you’re going to neglect yourself.”

“I won’t give you an ounce of this weight back if you are going to neglect yourself.”

“I forbid it!”

“You might think you have some chokehold on me like you do your brothers, but you’re not stopping me from doing what I want. I’m solving problems; not causing them!”

“You are causing problems! Problems with me! You aren’t taking care of yourself!”

“Well you weren’t either when they were your problems!”

“I’m allowed to do that!”

“Like hell you are. I care too much to see you passed out in your office or turning to the bottle! As long as I can do something, I will!”

I could stare into his eyes to see the storm brewing within. He wants to say more, but his pride is holding him back. He wants it his way, but I won’t allow it. I can’t. What will he do? Will he run to Diavolo for some special permission to get me to stop? Will he tear down my board? Remove me from the school newspaper?

“I care about you too. More than I let on.” The energy in the room immediately shifts. No longer is it an argument; but a conversation. “Just as it hurt you to see me in pain, it hurts me. I cannot let you carry on this way”

My mind goes into autopilot. I take a step closer to him. My arms find their way around his torso. His circle me. I bring my head to his neck. We stand there for a few minutes, thinking of responses, enjoying the other’s care.

“So you know why I can’t give it all back to you?”

He gives me a squeeze. “Yes.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Well, what a pickle we’re in.” He laughs.

As we stand there, clinging to each other, we think. We both know it can’t carry on like this. I breathe him in. My mind eases.

“You could find some of your other friends to help. Maybe give them some sample questions to solve or just someone to help you write.” I nod into his neck.

“I can still help with your brothers. Maybe we could learn from this and set some boundaries with them.” He nods. “That sounds wonderful.”

I pull myself back just enough to look up at his face. “I’ll give you my word to take care of myself. To step back when I need it, whether it’s me who decides or you, and vice versa with you.”

“I give you my word.” “And I give you mine.”

All tension is gone from the room. We smile at each other, relishing in the fact that neither of us will be hurting anymore. “May I kiss you?” “Yes.”

His lips fall down to mine. They’re soft against mine. They move with the same grace as he does, but they’re confident. He pulls me flush against his body. The kiss maybe lasted a minute or two, but I felt like it lasted a lifetime. We moved in complete agreement. Where he ended, I began. Where I ended, he began. It was like we became one heart.

I had to pull away to fill my lungs. “Well, it didn’t go like I said, but I hope I helped you with your problem.

Lucifer’s head fell back with laughter. Not a brief chuckle but real, full belly laughter. “I’d say it did. Thank you, doll.”

P.s. I fully believe Satan heard the argument and seeing MC coming out the student council room and he was fully like "how did they not die?"

[softrozene]

Reacting to their crush/future significant other who has scars

I hope I have Katakuri’s character down! It is my first time writing for him officially, so I am excited! As for this whole request? You got me excited the second you mentioned John Marston’s scar. I got too pumped up for this that I ended up doing these as scenarios with bonus headcanons! I really hope you like this Lovely and apologies for it taking so long to get to!

Charlotte Katakuri, Trafalgar Law x Reader (Gender Neutral/Non-Binary)

Warnings: Slight angst, Fluff, hints of past violence/trauma from battles, scars

Words: 1758

Charlotte Katakuri-

*Uh this bro is so tall so um pretend you are the same height, he’s hunching down, or you are on a ladder or something lol

-

Katakuri glances around the room feeling a slight annoyance. His betrothed is late. Though thinking of them does make him feel emotionally calmer it does not excuse that they are late. Especially since he wanted to speak with them about something important.

Just then, the door to his room flies open and his betrothed comes in panting from an obvious rush. You look a bit flustered from being late, but you quickly compose yourself. It is something Katakuri admires since you are similar to him. Calm and levelheaded most of the time but upon getting this arranged marriage- Both of you have become accustomed to different fluttery feelings when with each other.

Katakuri has no idea how to feel about it (and is not aware that he is crushing) but he concludes it to be a good thing since he enjoys your company.

“Sorry I am late Katakuri. Perospero and I were having tea and he wanted me to start calling him Brother Peros from now on then on the way here I ran into Compote who wanted to have a serious talk about my family’s new alliance with Big Mom. I assured her that I am with you guys all the way and that they will follow her. Anyway, enough excuses, what did you wish to talk about?” You ask trying to stop your fingers from fidgeting.

Since you walked in all he has done is stare you down and usually, it would not bother you, but you honestly felt bad for being late. You wanted to be the perfect partner for him since all he has done is shown you kindness since the announcement of your engagement.

“I wanted to finally speak-“ He pauses as he hesitates.

This is something he does a bit often with you- Use his Observation Haki to foresee into the future is something he often does but he does more so with you when you have talked so he does not misstep. He quickly continues after you are about to ask him what is wrong.

“I apologize for that. I just was about to get straight to the point, but I feel like I need to emphasize something before I do. We are getting married soon. The date is coming up fast and I wanted to show you something but just now I saw you crying. Before I do, I need to let you know that I see you as my equal and I am proud to have you as my betrothed. I have never seen my siblings actually want to get to know an in-law as much as they do you so thank you for wanting to genuinely be apart of our family,” Katakuri states.

His words make your heart beat fast, but you nod for him to continue. “I wanted to show you my mouth. I do not like others seeing it, but we will soon be married, and you will have the right to see all of me as I do you,” He continues.

He pauses once more to make sure that he did change the future even if it was just a little bit. The amount of trust he places in you does make you want to cry but instead, you feel like you want to meet him on the trust to. You decide you will finally show him your other scars.

After he deems you okay, he takes off his mouth covering and stares at you waiting for any response. He knows that you would never make fun of him but that amount of insecurity he has to tell him otherwise. So, he is surprised when he feels your warm hand cup his scarred face.

You give him a gentle smile and say, “We do not nearly match but I do think we are the perfect match for each other.”

His heart melts at this and he is quick to cup your own scarred cheek. His thumb rubs against them and then your eyes downcast. You back up from his touch and he grows irritated momentarily from no longer touching you when you turn around and begin to take off your shirt. His eyes scan what he sees immediately. More scars litter your back.

You let him view it a moment longer before fixing your shirt.

“I think we are good now. We both have seen more of each other,” You say a bit worried he may not find you attractive anymore.

He returns to touching your cheek and with the mouth covering no longer on him, he gives you a genuine smile that washes away your doubts. “Yes, we have. I can’t wait until you officially become my spouse.”

Bonus Headcanons:

His initial reaction is neutral

He does not exactly care until he has an emotional connection then he will wonder

I think Katakuri would love his significant other with or without scars- He would want to know the story behind them, but he won’t straight up ask either

He loves to trace them when he gets sleepy and it becomes one of his favorite things to do when it is just you two alone

He will only tell you once, but he also likes when you trace his facial scars or pepper his mouth with kisses

Since he is very serious (even more so) with family members and you become his spouse he will definitely be putting lotion on your scars- He believes in taking care of them since they tell a story about you

Trafalgar Law-

“Hey Cap, (Name) fell asleep on Bepo again,” Penguin states coming into Law’s office/infirmary.

Law stares and waits for more words because there is just no way his crew is bothering him over this. Sachi who peeks in continues thankfully. “And their shirt lifted up- I think you should come see this,” Shachi murmurs.

The serious nature of the two surprises Law and he almost thinks they are sick. He says nothing, as he gets up and wordlessly, follows them- Sleep very much wanting to cloud his mind after being up all night. They lead Law to Bepo who has not moved a muscle since you fell asleep on him. Nothing so far out of the normal until Law’s observant eyes look for the part of the shirt that is lifted up and indeed-

His eyes widen and he sighs.

“Let them sleep longer. Then send them to my room,” Law orders.

He is careful as he quickly fixes their shirt and leaves. His thoughts are immediate. Something bad happened to you in the past, that much is clear, and it honestly explains a lot. How you are so slow with opening up and he honestly can’t blame you. That is why he likes you and the little moments when you do open up to him.

They mean something to him and those scars on your back are from stories you are not ready to tell. He will tell you of this mishap, but he will not push you- He would not even dream of it because he cares about you so much it hurts. He knows what this feeling is, and he wants to chase it but you both are holding back with your pasts latching onto you. That is why he has not really said anything about his feelings despite him wanting to.

They are nothing like the ones on your face either. The ones are on your face are just two/three long scars across your face- Almost like an animal attack, the ones on your back must be from previous battles or something equally terrifying if they have you closed off.

With a sigh, Law goes to his room and waits until you are up.

When Law opens his eyes, he realizes that he has taken a brief nap but immediately sees you come in and close the door behind you. Your expression tells him that someone said something. He groans and quickly says something to reverse the damage.

“Penguin and Shachi saw them and told me. You do not need to explain yourself in any way. I am not surprised, to be frank, because you are incredibly strong and have proven to be a valuable asset to my crew,” He states.

He watches your expression for a moment until you turn around and without any hesitation pull off your shirt. Law is surprised and a bit guilty for feeling his heart flutter at the bold action. Quickly pulling his mind from the gutter he takes small steps to you.

“I do not want to explain yet, but you are the person I trust most Law. I want you to at least look at what I have been hiding since I know you are the least to pity me for them,” You state.

The air feels like it turns intimate the second Law puts a finger on your back, but it remains full of trust as he casually traces each large and long battle scar. When he finishes you put your shirt back on and turn to look at him.

“I will tell you everything soon. I- Thank you for being a trustworthy and… an attractive captain,” You say with a wink.

Ah, it appears it was not just law feeling the connection. His cheeks feel warm and he smirks. He is happy to know that the attraction is mutual.

Bonus headcanons:

Law’s initial reaction is concern- Only because you are a member of his crew, when feelings get involved his concern worsens but, of course, he will not voice it unless this doctor decides to play therapist too

He will not voice it until you two are actually dating and involved with each other

Then he will be happy to know everything about you and may hint towards it, but he would never push for it

If the face scars make you feel bad about yourself he will definitely be like “oh hell no you are perfect” and obliterate anyone who says otherwise

As for the back scars, if it is a lot and from battles, you do not wish to remember he will hint towards getting a tattoo

And let’s face it

Law would definitely have matching tattoos with his significant other

Much like Katakur- Law would love to trace your scars and does so when he is sleepy

He also melts when you trace his tattoos

[ilkkawhat]

Did anyone else notice the acknowledgement to Nick’s past between the victim services advisor April Martin in the episode Death and the Maiden? How she told him to keep the other card just in case because she senses Nick’s own abuse and how hostile he is towards her for it?

oh nonny how I wish I could find the two page essay I had written to my friend back when this episode first aired, of how this episode was a perfect exploration without directly acknowledging Nick's past, of Nick's past. How he was so affected by this case but unlike 2x03 he didn't let it show--I think the 2x03 case we saw more of his emotions because it so closely paralleled his own experience that he even put himself in the damn flashback which is not something you see like, ever in that show (off topic but I hope the revival brings back those classic flashbacks)

I think April was yet another in what I feel like is a pretty sizeable pile of storylines that they probably wanted to explore a bit deeper--maybe even a full on relationship between the two of them--and hell now that I think about it, there was that bit in 12x03 where Nick had that back and forth with Doc Robbins' niece about baggage and stuff and you just know it was hinting at all of Nick's baggage--but I def think she had gotten some sort of feeling from him that made him stick out from all the other CSIs, which is why she was so willing to help and even came to him when she sensed that something wasn't right with Tommy--if any other CSI had gone into that office, would they have gotten the same treatment from her? Would they have stood up to her (fairly) cruel jabs towards the CSIs who in her eyes, treated death as a joke and victims as evidence? I feel like most others would just shrug her off but here we have Nick who's like "uhm yeah no, that's not how it is" and for once he's the one challenging that almost ignorance (similar to how his ignorance was at times, challenged, i.e a little murder) and while yeah he kinda storms off cause her words hurt him (bless his heart) and pissed him off she saw that, she saw that hostility that was obviously covering something deeper within him and extended that hand, extended her heart and I think if she reappeared in the show again, Nick would have returned the favor--maybe not full on divulging his past, maybe not directly seeking the service that she offers in the professional sense but maybe would have just...let her in a bit.

I rewatched those two scenes they had to answer this ask and another notable thing to me is that Brass was the one who led Nick to April--Brass, who has been there for all of the victimizations Nick's had to experience (and I mean...just look at Stalker. Look at how he cups his hand around Nick's neck, calming him down, comforting him with a soft smile and the assurance that "it's over") and so he obviously knows who April is, what she's capable of--and how Nick might not just need a professional consultation so to speak for a case, but a personal one too? And like yeah, he's not super reckless "i'm not afraid to die" post meat jekyll yet but I think Brass has known Nick long enough to see those cracks in him and idk man, I'm sure with just...Nick being Nick, with how he survived literally being thrown out of a window, all the gun point incidents, having been stalked, blown up, being buried alive--seeing Nick surviving all of that and still coming to the job that got him in those predicaments in the first place (well ok though, Stalker may have still happened if he wasn't a CSI since Nigel met him while installing his cable but oh god...what if the team was too late? how would that lack of personal connection to Nick affected their urgency to protect him??? What if that instance is what would pull Nick into the team? The possibilities of AUs are endless here folks)

but with all of that, there must be something else that happened to him to allow him to literally rise from a grave being like "yeah I'm fine." Something worse. Something that men in particular don't seem too eager to talk about.

Brass is a detective.

He's probably seen it all between his time in New Jersey and Vegas.

He probably saw something in Nick that he's seen before in other victims.

And not only that, he knows that like April, Nick has a big heart. A big bleeding heart even though Nick denied that April did, I think it's clear that Nick sure as hell has one and while he ends up kinda hardening up as time goes on--we still get flashes of it. we still see him admit to Doc in season 13, "sometimes this job really gets to me" and he tells Nick, "worry when it doesn't."

What if Brass felt that Nick was heading towards that direction? Season Ten Nick, while again, not as reckless as Indestructible Season Eleven Nick, was def carrying his head a little too high. Sure, he was stepping into more of a leadership role and therefore had to kinda hold back some his emotions, but seeing him work this case, seeing him say "I would have killed him too," seeing him take this case so seriously and probably in a big whole denial, "this isn't the same as what happened to me." there had to be something going on and that's why he gives him to April. To not just help the victim, but help himself before becomes too hard-boiled.

Before he stops being Nicky.

And going back to April and your original ask 😅 I could def see her being able to work with Nick a lot more than any of the "therapists" that Nick seems so against, just getting bits and pieces and running with them as much as she can. Maybe encouraging him to let her see more of the CSI side to things, and letting him see the work that she does. It wouldn't be easy, of course, I could see Nick walking away when she pushes too hard, just like Catherine did, but if he got backed too far into a corner or if she caught him on a really vulnerable night, I bet he'd crack like an oyster and just tell her everything and she would be able to help him in ways that nobody else could to that point--she could help that ghost of the nine year old boy who was too scared to do anything but sit in his room, in the dark, waiting for his mom to come home. Does she encourage him to finally tell his parents about it? Does she encourage him to tell more of the people close to him? Does she encourage him to sure, keep it to himself but to not blame himself for it? To show him that he can still trust the people he's "supposed" to trust, that the work isn't as dark and heavy as he sees it on a daily basis (which, hell, maybe they could have done the post grave danger burn out storyline george talked about wanting to do in an interview once where he couldn't' even look at spaghetti without seeing blood and bodies--god let this man just be the showrunner of his own show) and GOD! we could have just had it all. It could have been such a real, genuine relationship between two people on different sides of the same coin that tips the scales of justice--connecting over victims, and how they just want to help

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 4

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 2700+

Warnings: Angst, language, relationship abuse, domestic violence, trauma, mental/physical abuse

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

After dropping off cookies at the firehouse, you were ready to tackle another twelve-hour shift. Your morning was off to a good start, and you hoped it would stay that way.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I am at the JCPenney in the Westfield Culver City mall, and this employee is refusing to honor my coupon.”

“Do you really think this is an emergency, ma’am?

“Yes, I want to use my coupon, but this high school dude, who calls himself Brad, says he won’t give me the deal.”

“That’s because it’s expired, ma’am,” Brad stated loud enough for you to hear. 

“Sounds like your coupon is expired. You should probably take this up with the company and not complain to dispatchers, who are trying to save people from life and death situations. Goodbye, and good luck with the coupon.” You hung up the phone, covering your hands over your eyes and shaking your head.

“Bad call?” You looked over at the voice to see Bruce smirking at you.

“More like a ridiculous call about an expired coupon.”

“People can be terrible sometimes.”

“You got that right,” you replied, earning a chuckle from Bruce as he continued to make rounds to the booths.

Bruce was in charge of your call center, having been promoted from a dispatcher, but he still took calls from time to time. He was the one that offered you a job after Thor talked to him, and you were on the other end listening to the entire conversation, similar to when a parent would call and ask someone if they were hiring because you were too scared to do it yourself. During your training, you got to listen to a few calls he took, and it was crazy how calm and reassuring he was in such a high-stress situation. How did he do it? You still have no idea. 

Nearing the end of your shift, you were excited about going home, eating a hot meal, and heading off to bed. Twelve-hour shifts were long and exhausting, but it’s what came with the job. You stretched your hands over your head when an incoming call popped up on one of your computer screens. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” The line remained silent, but you could hear breathing. “Is everything okay? Hello.”

“My--my ex...,” she whispered, mumbling something you couldn’t quite understand.

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to speak up? Where are you?”

“My--my ex. He’s trying to break into my apartment,” her voice cracked. “He’s not allowed to come around me anymore. I have a restraining order against him.”

You gulped, trying to stay focused and calm. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“1170 Chip Avenue in Torrance. I’m in the Seascape Apartments room 507.”

You contacted a squad unit in the area, and they were in route. “I have units on the way. Everything is going to be fine.”

“How do you know? He wasn’t even supposed to be able to find me,” she cried. “I don’t even know what to do if….” A loud banging noise interrupted her, and she screamed.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay? What’s your name?”

“Krista...Krista Dumont.”

“Krista, my name is YN. Now, I want you to go into your bedroom, lock the door, and find something to barricade it. Then, wait for the police to arrive.”

“Okay,” she sniffled, shuffling around. “Door is locked and….” A loud noise broke out over the line, and Krista’s breathing increased. 

“Krista, what happened?”

“He’s um...Jimbo’s in my apartment. What if--” her voice cracked “--what if he gets into my room, and he...he….”

“Authorities are close.” You glanced at one of the screens, recognizing the squad car number to be Clint and Natasha. “Remain calm for me, okay?”

“I don’t know...he’s gonna….he’s gonna hurt me like before.”

“OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR, KRISTA,” Jimbo shouted, pounding hard on the door. “I just want to talk to you.”

You gulped, letting out a shaky breath. “Don’t listen to him. Keep the door closed, and stay where you are. Help is almost there.”

“GO AWAY, JIMBO,” she yelled, hearing his name crack in her voice.

“FINE, if you don’t want to do this the easy way, I guess I'll have to do it the hard way.” You heard a loud bashing sound and grunts. 

Krista sobbed over the line. “I can’t...I can’t keep doing this.” 

“Don’t give up. Hang in there. Everything will be okay.” You heard sirens over the phone, but you couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief yet. A big crashing sound came over the phone, and you knew he got to her.

“GET AWAY FROM ME,” she pleaded with him as you heard different objects crashing to the floor in all the commotion. The other line became static almost like the call was breaking up, but it cleared up, realizing she must have dropped her phone. 

“COME HERE, YOU DUMB BITCH,” he grunted, and she screamed again, forcing goosebumps to your skin. “You think you can just leave me. Did you not think I would find you? I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Police, drop the weapon and let the young lady go,” Clint stated in his police voice. No one was holding the phone or even knew you were there. You were like a fly on the wall, and all you could do was listen. 

“If you take one more step, I will slice her throat. If I’m going down, she is coming with me.”

“Whoa, whoa, big guy. No need to hurt anyone here.” You paged an ambulance to the scene in case something did happen. “How about we try and come to an understanding?”

“Hell no, she’s mine and will always be.” You could hear Krista crying, and then in one quick moment, you heard a gunshot, glass breaking, and a high pitched scream before the line cut off. You squeezed your eyes shut, taking off your headset, and walking to the nearest exit. This call hit too close to home, and you couldn’t handle it. 

It’s only been three months, but at times, it still feels like you haven’t made any progress. Little details would remind you of him every single day: hearing a certain song, smelling his favorite food, or walking past someone that smelled like him. No matter how much time and effort you put into leaving the past behind, memories of him lurked in the shadows. Everyone tells you everything will get better with time. It was always about time, time to recover, time to forget, and time to start over. No one has ever given you a straight answer about how much time it takes, and there were days you wish they knew.  

You leaned against the brick wall outside your building, trying to slow your racing heart. You took a deep breath hoping it would calm your mind, but it offered little to no reassurance. Scenarios started to play out over and over in your head of what would happen when he finds you. You got out like Krista. You escaped his controlling and abusive behavior, but right now, it felt like it didn't matter.

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump away from it and turn around to find Bruce. “I’m sorry. Are you doing okay, YN?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You waved it off. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all. You're doing a great job, but I'm concerned. You seem almost skittish after that last call,” he observed, furrowing his brows together. “This job can be stressful, and I want you to know we have resources available if you’re having a hard time dealing with the stress. There is no shame in asking for help.”

“I know. It’s not the job per se, well right now it is, but…” you sniffled, taking a seat on the bench right next to the building. 

Bruce stood still, contemplating what to do before sitting down next to you. “Call hit close to home?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” you breathed, wringing your hands together. 

“I'm not sure if you're aware, but Thor told me why you left New York. I didn’t need an explanation when he called asking if I had a job opening, but he blurted it out. It was private information that he didn’t need to share, so I’m sorry about that, but I want you to know I understand.” 

“Thanks, but it’s okay, Bruce.” You nodded at him. “Do you know what happened to her…to Krista?”

“Do you want to know?” Bruce asked, worry etching his features.

“Yes and no.”

Bruce sighed, biting his lip as he thought it over. “During the struggle, Natasha was able to get a shot off and get Jimbo in the neck, but it wasn’t enough, and he ended up pulling her with him out the window. They both hit the ground and were pronounced dead at the scene.” He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I tried, right?” You teared up, wiping at your nose. “It’s all a part of the job.”

Bruce wasn’t much of the sentimental type, but you were okay with that. He always seemed unsure of himself, but every time he put on that headset, he became a whole different person. He could be playing Tetrix and tell a person how to give CPR in extreme detail and save a life. He's an amazing dispatcher on the phone, but in person, it was like he didn’t know how to assure someone it would be okay.

“I’ll be okay, Bruce,” you smirked at him.

“I know you will, but why don’t you leave a little early today.” You nodded at him, standing up to leave. “YN, one more thing, you should talk to someone about what you went through. Trust me, it will help you more than you think.”

“I’ll think about it. Thanks, Bruce.” 

_________

You have never been able to confide in someone you barely knew, like a therapist or a support group, so that’s how you ended up at your brother’s firehouse. You sat in your car, waiting for the tears to dry up and your eyes to brighten up.

Thor could always find a way to make you feel better, but unlike Loki, he was one of those people that didn’t believe you at first when you told him about what your husband did to you. It’s not like Thor didn’t confront him about it, but your husband was persuasive and manipulative. To the outside world looking in, we were the perfect couple, and he was a good man that supported his wife. But on the inside, we were anything but perfect. 

Thor defended him when you mentioned it to him again and insisted it must’ve been an accident. After that, you never asked him for anything until you showed up at his apartment three months ago with a busted lip, black eye, and bruised ribs. On the other hand, Loki wanted you out of that relationship right from the start, but like any good girlfriend or wife, I believed him when he said he would change, but he never did. 

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath. “Fuck it.” You grabbed your hat from the backseat, slipping it on, and walked through the back door of the firehouse. You heard a booming laugh and right away, knew it belonged to your brother. You made your way up the steps, seeing everyone sitting around the living room, watching Carol and Thor play a racing video game. 

Steve lifted his coffee cup with a smirk on his face that quickly disappeared upon noticing you from the far side of the room. Whether it was the puffiness of your cheeks or your tear-filled eyes, he could tell something was off. He cleared his throat, tapping Thor on the arm.  

“Steve, stop, I’m finally going to beat Ace,” he growled, earning another nudge from Steve. He pressed pause, shooting Steve a harsh glare. “WHAT?” Steve nodded his head to you.

Thor looked over his shoulder, and his expression instantly changed. You gave everyone a small wave, rubbing your lips together while Thor stepped over Carol's legs, rushing over to you and pulling you in for a hug. You squeezed your eyes shut, silently crying into his chest. 

“Shhh...Shhh, it’s okay.” He patted your head. “Let’s talk downstairs.” You nodded, feeling eyes on you. 

Thor rested his arm across the back of your shoulders as you both walked down the stairs together. Once we reached the bottom, he pulled you in for another one of his bear hugs, resting his chin on top of your head. You bit your lip to hold back the tears, but it did nothing to keep them from falling. 

He pulled away, holding you at arm's length, while you wiped away the tear-stained residue from your cheeks with your sleeve. “What happened? Did he find you? Call you again? Threaten you?” His voice was full of concern and hate, but his eyes were filled with worry. 

“No, no. Nothing like that,” you croaked, clearing your throat. “I took a call with a woman, and her ex was--” you paused, shaking your head “--her ex was trying to break into her apartment. I told her everything was going to be okay. I told her to lock herself in her room and wait for the police, but…” your voice drifted off not wanting to remember it.

“I bet you did what you would’ve done. You helped her the best you could.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t help her. She left him, but he still found her,” you confessed, staring at the ground. “Where...where does that leave me when he finds me? Am I going to end up like...like her? Dead?"

“No,” Thor reassured, making you look up at him. “She doesn’t have a six-foot-three handsome older brother that has no problem kicking his ass. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

“Promise is a strong word, Thor.” 

“I know. Why do you think I said it,” he smirked, squeezing your shoulder. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I don’t know...I’m confused, and I don’t know if I will ever get over it. Is he going to hold me back forever? Am I ever going to get to move on and be happy?” You rub your forehead, readjusting your hat. “It’s like this one call...this one call allowed everything to rush back to me. All the memories, the pain, the fear. I feel like he’s always going to be looming over my life, and I will never get away from him.” 

“It’s..um...it’s always going to be hard. It’s a day to day progress. I know you hear it all the time, and it sounds redundant, but it’s time. It’s a waiting game, but with time it will get easier, and memories of him will fade as you make new memories. Better memories. Don’t let this moron ruin your future when he already ruined your past.” 

Thor wasn’t always great with words, but sometimes he surprised you. He did have a point, your husband did ruin your past, but maybe it was time to start making a better life for yourself and learn to live without him. 

“Hey, I’m here for you, no matter how long it takes. I’m not going to push you aside like I did before. I was an idiot back then for not believing you.”

“You were,” you smirked, earning a silent chuckle from him. “But, he was manipulative and persuasive, and I already forgave you, Thor, so stop blaming yourself.” He nodded with a closed mouth smile. 

“Have you called Loki?”

“He has a big rehearsal for his show tonight. I didn’t want him worrying about that and me,” you mumbled, not missing the left corner of Thor’s mouth twerk up. It was always a competition with your brothers. Who were you going to confide in first? 

“Do you want to hang out for a bit,” he asked, pointing to the balcony. “Feast on some takeout, play some video games? Then after my shift tonight, we could go do something?”

“Sounds fun,” you nodded. “Is NoobMaster69 at you again?”

“Bastard always is,” he chuckled, making you crack a small smile.

“It’s probably Loki, pulling a fast one on you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Wait, do you know something?”

“I know nothing, big guy,” You pressed your lips together, locking it with an invisible key, and tossing it over your shoulder. 

“I will find out sooner or later,” he smirked, putting his arm across your shoulders, and walked back up the stairs together.

_______

AN: Thanks for reading part 4. We finally got to learn a bit more about her past, but does anyone have any idea who her husband might be? The answer may surprise you! Also, did you like the cameos with Krista Dumont and Jimbo from The Punisher and Brad from Spiderman! It was definitely a heavy chapter with the angst and all I can say is expect more of that. Again thanks for reading, comments, likes, and reblogs always welcome! They can be a good motivator! 😉

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Love Where You Are

Bucky x Black Female OC.

Bucky's got to learn that sometimes people don't want more out of you than you already have. Not perfection, but what's there right now.

Fluff. Just lots of Fluff. Does take place right after The Falcon and the Winter Solider.

Masterlist (multifandom)

_____________________

“And if you are alone, that is the quietest most personal hell. And James, that is very hard to escape.”

It rings his ears, long after he leaves the office, long after he returns the notebook, long after the sun has set but sitting here, at the pier feels right. The boats rock gently with the waves and the metal anchors tap against the metal husks. It reminds him of New Orleans, of hearing the giggles and fake punches being thrown. The community that always banded together no matter what.

Bucky did really think he was alone. Just a guy, with a friend of a friend. Well, maybe he wasn’t really a guy anymore. Not in the sense that guys were young, making mistakes--that was a guy. Or at least the way he saw it back before. Back when Steve was still the kid stuffing his shoes with newspaper, and lying on enlistment forms. Back when Bucky was playing the courts for the both of them and nights out were spent drinking just as much as they were spent getting into tussles to save Steve’s ass.

A more fair assessment would be that Bucky was maybe a guy. He had made his mistakes while trying to fix them. But he sure as hell wasn’t getting younger. But he was a guy that’s definitely trying to move on. Trying to figure out what it means to be a guy now at this moment--even though the nightmares still linger.

Sam would probably tell Bucky that the nightmares are common. He’d maybe even say it’s a good thing. They show Bucky he’s still human. And maybe that’s what Bucky’s still struggling with--how to be human more than anything else. What does it mean to have friends again? What does it mean to get a chance of life that he gets some control in? No more fighting other people’s wars. Well, for right now at least.

“A fish out of water, I see.”

Bucky turns to the voice. “Who sent you this time?”

Patricia smiles before sitting next to Bucky. “You’re forgetting I’m the one who showed you this place. So the real question is why are you jocking my happy place?”

Bucky laughs. “I am not stealing your happy place, I swear.”

“Yeah, sure could’ve fooled me.”

“It is a pretty nice place to come to, just let go of everything,” Bucky whispers, staring back out at the horizon. The sun’s just starting to duck behind the horizon casting just enough of an orange glow onto the water. Patricia hums, turning her attention back to the water in front of them as well. And for a moment, it’s silent between them. Minus the slight buzz of the water beneath them of course and the traffic on the pier.

Bucky glances over his shoulder to Patricia. The moles are all still there, scattered across her face. She still looks the same, like she did when they met in Wakanda. Patricia’s not Wakandian at all. However, when Shuri started to oversee the Science center back in Oakland, she reached out to see if she could find some people locally to help her run it. Patricia happened to be one the very few people to make the list. And occasionally, she came to Wakanda to have meetings with Shuri when Shuri couldn’t leave, or didn’t want to. Though her visits were brief, Patricia never seemed to be shocked by Bucky’s presence, and a couple of times when he happened to be in the area of the castle, went out of her way to talk to him. And in those moments, though Bucky never had much to say then, Patricia would tell him about what was happening in the world, or share personal stories.

He’s not sure what made her trust him and he’s not sure why he trusted her either. Maybe it’s because at the time, she didn’t seem bothered by him. It’s like she just saw a man, some body, and not a machine. Bucky hadn’t told her, not initially who he was, or what he had done not initially. But then Patricia asked why he was in Wakana too. That question made him freeze, unsure of how to answer. And rather than answering it directly, he dodged around it and gave what he thought was a vague response. And in the sunset there, Patricia didn’t seem bothered by the answer. Instead she pushed forward, steering the conversation to something else.

“Shouldn’t you be on the other side of the country?” Bucky asks, suddenly realizing that he’s not even close to the West Coast.

“Vacation. Boss mandated vacation, but vacation nonetheless.”

“Visiting home then?”

“Yeah. Checking in on my mom and dad. They’re going on a cruise in a couple of days for their anniversary. And I try to see them before their yearly vacation too. The last I heard you were rag tagging it with Sam though. And I definitely didn’t think you’d say in New York, not after what happened.”

“You--how long have you been in town?”

“Long enough to hear and see that the life of being a superhero is never easy.”

Bucky never considered himself a superhero. Not after what he’s done. “Oh, no, I’m not. Just--” What was he doing? Trying to recklessly hold onto a person, to an idea of who he was in someone else’s perspective?

“Just Bucky?” Patricia suggests. Gently, she reaches out to take his left hand.

Bucky tenses for a second and then has to make sure to relax so he doesn’t hurt her. He goes to speak and the air leaves him for just a moment when she threads his fingers through his. With a deep breath he finds the sentence again, “You make that sound so complete. Because I-I don’t even know who Bucky is even more.”

“I think you have more of a clue than you let on.”

“Perhaps subconsciously, there is more than I know consciously.” Bucky almost wants to flex his fingers, try to figure out the right way to carry her hand and how much pressure to give. He glances down, the black metal of his arm accented with gold pairs nicely with the deep red brown of her skin. But it still feels foreign, like the first time he wore a shirt again with his new arm and he was worried the threads would get snagged in the divots.

“How long are you in town for?” Patricia asks.

“Oh, I live here in Brooklyn.”

“You never told me you were from Brooklyn.”

“Born and raised. I just recently moved back here. In Wakanda, when you told me about the pier, how you liked coming just to clear your head, I liked to hear how you saw it. Besides, it had been quite a few years since I had been back to see it. So, it was nice.”

“I mean it hadn’t changed all that much in a few years,” Patricia comments off handedly.

“Well, maybe it was, uh, a little bit more than just a few years.”

“Like several decades more.”

“Who told you?”

“I may just be the assistant director at the center, but I am let in on a lot of secrets that have a very real chance to impact us. Someone might think we have access to certain materials,” she taps his metal arm with the phrase, “or if we have information that may help them and we have to be prepared for that.”

“So that means you know about everything.”

“Only need to know. And your unique relation was classified as a need to know for me.”

With a sigh, Bucky shakes his head. “That makes this incredibly easier and ten time more awkward.”

“If it helps at all, James, clearly I haven’t run for the hills.”

“Please, call me Bucky. The only time I’m used to hearing James is when I’m in trouble or from my therapist when she was fed up with me. And as much as my mother would absolutely like to have a talk with me from the great beyond, I think I’m going to hold out on having to hear that lecture for as long as I can.”

“I don’t think she has that long of a lecture.”

It’s with a slight lump in his throat that Bucky realizes he hadn’t thought about his mother is so long. What would she think of him? What would she think of what he had done? He blinks back the tears and clears his throat. But the tears come back, the lump reforms. “Oh, God, I-my mom,” he whispers. She’d been gone for a while; that fact wasn’t new. But what was fact was that he didn’t want to disappoint her. Even though she was gone, it didn’t mean that Bucky was trying to make it hard for her to watch over him.

Patricia takes the hand holding his hand and gingerly rubs across his shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright.”

It takes a moment and a pinch at the bridge of his nose between his eyes to keep the water works at a minimum. “Thanks. I’m okay.”

“I think this calls for ice cream. My treat. What do you think?”

“Oh-I don’t know.”

“C’mon. It’s a couple scopes. It’ll make you feel better.” Patricia stands, holding out her hand, fingers motioning for him to stand.

It’s here, in the in between, between standing and sitting, between giving into the ice cream and standing firm on his denial that he wonders, why would someone like Patricia be nice to him. As far as he knew, she didn’t know about war, or constantly fighting or always looking over your shoulder. And maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe she knew more about it than Bucky was giving her credit for as a Black woman in America. Much like he hadn’t known the similar things about Sam and the shield. But why would she want to give someone like him a chance? Shouldn’t she be more afraid?

“What’s this all about?” Bucky asks, standing but not taking her hand.

“Ice cream to help soothe mental wounds.”

They stand face to face. He towers over her by a few inches. But it’s enough where she looks up at him ever so slightly. “No, if you know about me, why do any of this? Even back at Wakanda.”

There’s a pause from Patricia. She turns on her heel and he follows. Though he’s not sure he should be. They get a couple steps from the bench before Patricia exhales heavily. Perhaps, it was not the smartest move to admit this clearly after an emotional moment. But her nerve would leave her as it always did if she didn’t strike now. “On the one hand, Bucky, it’s this little thing called flirting.”

“Flirt-flirting?”

The wide eyes and dropped jaw make her laugh. “Yeah, flirting.”

“I am a little over a century old. But that-that is not flirting.”

“I am not great at it, but I was attempting,” Patricia returns, with a bit of annoyance creasing her brow.

“Oh, doll.”

“Aht, no, you do not get to ‘Doll’ me. I am not a doll. No, do I look like a doll?”

Bucky smirks. It’s all too easy; it would be all too easy. He won’t do it. Not now at least. “I apologize. But I’m just saying being nice to someone isn’t necessarily flirting.”

“Wakanda was different. I was trying to get to know you and I knew things were complicated for you. So I kept it to being nice. And then I knew I’d be Stateside most of the time. However, when I got the call from the Dora and Shuri that you were moving to the U.S, I thought maybe I could get a chance. But then the expo was coming up and I was essentially working as director and counselor to keep the center open late to let kids work and things just never worked. But then I saw you, here, at the pier and I thought it might be my chance. Sue me.”

Bucky nods as she speaks, keeping stride as they weave through the crowd. “So inviting me out for ice cream was the move?”

“It was like move two. Get you to go with me for ice cream so then I could ask you for dinner.”

“I don’t think you need to worry or waste time with me.” If Bucky could stop it, he would. If the little voice in the back of his head didn’t get so loud sometimes, he wouldn’t even have to deal with Patricia’s full halt and tugging him off to the side. If Bucky could keep the doubt down, his comment wouldn’t fall from his lips. But unfortunately, what he wants and what he does isn’t always on the same page.

“Repeat that for me,” Patricia demands.

It’s the way she says it, like he can try to repeat it but he’s sure it wasn’t lack of hearing that she’s asking. “I just mean--I’m still not like a hundred percent...together. And it’s not a process I can hope to do in seconds or one that I can promise won’t be ugly. So I don’t know--”

“Sometimes, Bucky, people want to love you where you are. No one’s perfect. Not even us non-superbeings. I’m not asking for the perfect you. I’m asking to go on some dates with whatever version of you is here, right now. I want to disasterly cook a meal and then order pizza. I’m asking you to give me whatever you have now. ”

And if you’re alone, that is the quietest most personal hell. But Bucky still doesn’t want to drag her into this world, this mess he was in. But here Patricia is, asking for whatever he has, whether it’s perfect or put together or not. And there have only been a few times in his life that people wanted whatever he had. It’s that soldier, the barking commands from his training officers that can make it hard. They always wanted more, they wanted perfection in some ways. They wanted obedience more than anything, but Patricia’s not asking for any of that.

“No-no one’s just wanted the mess I am. I thought I lost the last person that wanted that from me.”

“Well, if you let me in and say yes to ice cream and a dinner date, where I do not cook initially, then you’ll have gained another person that wants you for whatever mess you are.”

“By mess, I mean mess. Like I sleep on the floor of my own apartment. I just want you to be aware of where the bar is.”

Patricia smiles, a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “Consider my expectations set.”

“Then I would be honored to get ice cream and eventually go to dinner with you.”

Her grin widens, heats heating at the bit of a twinkle settling into his gaze. She’s thankful her blush is not visible at all. “You’re going to have to stop looking at me like that. Because a look like that is dangerous.”

“Looking at you like what?”

She circles his face with her pointer finger, “Like that, like you’re plotting something devious.”

Bucky laughs, holding his hands up in defense of himself. “You’re the one planning. Not me.”

“It’s a Mr. Suave look. I know it when I see it.” She starts back down the pier and Bucky’s quick to catch up, right hand slipping into hers. “See, now you’re plotting something for sure! But I’m not that mad at it.”

Gingerly, he gives her hand a squeeze. “Good. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”