#potential domestic violence tw

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Last, Last Time

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

WC: ~7.3k

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

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

Alternate Ending! Spencer Masterlist

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

“Y/n…”

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

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

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

“Wait for the potential of us?” 

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

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

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

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

“That’s not fair—”

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.” 

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

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

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

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

And it stuck. 

Now? It stung. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emily Prentiss

______________________________________________________________

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

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

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

Spencer just stared at the photo. 

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________

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

You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s head inside?” 

The three of you moved inside. 

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

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

“What do you know about Cat Adams?” 

That bitch. 

______________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

______________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? What happened?” 

“Y/n..”

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

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

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

“We didn’t think you’d–” 

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

Both of them went silent. 

“So is he out?” 

They nodded slowly, silently. 

“How long was he in there.”

Nothing. 

“I asked. How. Long.”

Luke spoke up. “Three months.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________

“Victimology is off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________

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

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

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

Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong. 

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

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

You nodded. “How does this affect me?” 

“She took your father and sister.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The pity from Rossi's look was palpable. 

“Don’t even start.” 

He shrugged and stayed silent. 

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

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

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________

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

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

“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.” 

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

Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.” 

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

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

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

Emily sighed in agreement. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________

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

And there he was. 

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

And here he was, kissing Catherine Adams. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?” 

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

Remember what Prentiss had said to you. 

“You know why I’m here.” 

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

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

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

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

You shook your head. “No.”

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

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

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

“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”

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

You scoffed. “What does that mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer spoke up. “With you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That doesn't mean I-I would…”

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

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

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

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

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.” 

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

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

Spencer just looked over at you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Last year.” 

“Was he good in bed?” 

Spencer stood up. “Shut up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ I planned and I... I waited.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The phone in your hand buzzed.

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

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you have written me back?” 

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

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

______________________________________________________________

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

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

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

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

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

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

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

“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”

She nodded at him and walked away. 

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

“I should explain all of this.” 

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

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

He just nodded, staring at you really. 

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

“Thank you for saving my sister and father.” 

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

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

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

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

He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger. 

“They gave me an ear piece and everything.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you. 

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

It was Spencer who spoke first. 

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

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

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

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

It’s not the way it used to be. 

“I need to go Spencer.” 

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

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. 

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

“Y/n…”

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

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

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

“Y/n please.” 

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

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

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

You didn’t. 

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

But it had to end. 

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

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

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

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

The doors shut. 

You were all alone in this hollow parking garage. 

Your heart was aching, burning. 

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

[carolmunson]

blood machine.

emperor geta x senator's daughter!reader songspiration: in keeping secrets of the silent earth 3 | coheed & cambria

did not once plan to write for this guy but here we are. also like, is it historically accurate? no. like, not even a little. (hell is mentioned and technically hell wasn't 'a place' until 400 BC but like WHATEVER.) am i making a semi effort? sorta kinda. have i been a little stoned every time i've worked on this? well, yes.

summary: when what was supposed to be a diplomatic dinner before a much bigger and lively feast becomes a marriage offer, all of the wine you drank turns to ash in your mouth. haters to haters, bay-bee. tw: 18+, drinking but like -- idk it's ancient rome, tension, fighting, some mild body shaming (??), a literal threat of domestic violence but again it's ancient rome so like i don't think they cared, two stupid little bitches who hate each other. mentions of war and ultimate distaste for the poor. reader kind of has lady macbeth vibes. my little evil queen.

Wine is poured, golden chalices exalted. You are a vision and he is a toad looking creature of a man that only his mother could love. Not quite his brother, never quite measuring up the same way -- always trying to puff his chest. It was easy to tease him, ego easy to bruise -- little brother. You’d spent time in your childhood tagging along with your brother and the other kids to taunt him, pathetic and whimpering. 'Tale teller!' you'd jeer, every time he'd run off to his mother to blubber over how mean you all were. And you were mean.

But people grow, as they do. And so did you -- still mean, but in a different way. Listening to meetings, reading maps, keeping tabs on new republics, on potential uprising. The poor -- the fucking poor. Finding new ways to keep them occupied so that they'd stop trying to find ways to be powerful. Powerful like you. Powerful like the man at the head of the table with a plum to his lips. And as it has been said, a man in possession of a good fortune and power, must be in need of a wife. It became clear when you arrived that this was not a business dinner before a grand feast, your parents simply forgot to mention what this was really about. Your best linens, your hair coiffed, your best jewelry, you should have known it had been a ruse the moment you got there. His home on Palatine just sparkling the way the gold on your fingers did, candles in the halls and stairways glittering when they hit the rubies and pearls on your chest and ears. When your father veers the conversation from politics and business to marriage you both choke, stern eyes glued to your mother's painted face. A business dinner where you are currency -- more than worthy. Just a few months shy of being eligible when Caracalla was, regrettably, forced to marry Flavia at the last moment. It would've been nice to have the gang together again in some capacity. Could've bullied the toad to assasinating himself if you were lucky enough. Total power. Complete upheaval. The more you thought about it, the more of it your craved. The pit in your stomach grew, if it wasn't with his brother -- even though you bore no attraction -- there was not a point at all. Geta didn't think nearly as critically, didn't hit hard enough, didn't strategize correctly. You'd never even seen him pick up a sword -- but then again, that made sense. You very rarely spent time in his palace, much prefering the festivities of Caracalla's close by.

You listen while your mother goes on and on about his grace, tongue dipped in honey while she blabbers. She mentions how handsome he is, his valiance in leadership, how honorable he's become as he's taken the place of his late father -- you can't help yourself but laugh. The giggle echos and bounces through the high ceilings, floating against the archways, getting caught in the drapery by the open hall. His eyes flick to you over his goblet, catching in the candle light, an aggravated sneer plaguing his face. He looks like a pig when he does that, you think to yourself.

You know that business, for the most part, is a man's game. But it does not deter you from doing your best to try and wager yourself out of this. Ideas drip into your mind while the drone of the conversation turns to fuzz in the background. How can you sell that this is a bad idea? It will bring less publicity, less of a threat, less resposibility if married to someone with equal nobility. Certainly not an emperor. Especially not one like this. So petulant, so competitive, so eager for a war he does not know how to plan, so temperamental, so weak, so conniving, so consumed with the colosseum that he doesn't think of what should be done around him. It's his voice that brings you back to attention.

"And why is it she hasn't been taken for a wife then, at this age?" he asks, brow quirking in your direction. You let out of huff of offense while he sips his wine, metal clinking as he places it back down. A smirk flits across his features at the remark, "Is something wrong with her?"

Your father, sweating with embarrassment, looks over at you and back at the emperor, "Well she, she's of course beautiful." Geta winces, cocking his head to the side with a shrug. Your father sighs, desperate to try to find a better angle, "She um, she -- she has great wits, Ceasar, unmatched. She knows her duties as a wife, but -- a great thinker. She could -- she could be helpful!" "Wits," he mumbles sourly under his breath before leaning back leisurely in his chair, "Great thinker? Very surprising." "August--" your father starts. "Co--" you correct over a sip of wine, "Co-Augustus."

Geta tosses you another sour look, tongue running over his teeth before clicking it behind his lips. You shrug while swallowing. "Semantics, Publius," you wave a hand at him. A hush falls over the room as his gaze snaps up at you, blanching at the disrespect of being called by his first name. Your mother hides her face in her napkin with a groan. Your father leans his temple against his fingers, eyes closed in frustration. "Mind how you address me," Geta corrects with a stern pull to his lips, eyes glittering with rage. Your eyes catch over the mountains of food before you, holding your glass out as one of his servants pours you another glass of wine. "Is that not what your mother calls you?" your voice feathery, but certain. A vein begins to raise and pulse in his neck while his shoulders round forward.

"Please apologize, dear," your mother mutters, putting the napkin back on the table, "Tell -- tell the emperor what it would mean, to be -- to be wed to someone of such calibur."

Your eyes stay on his, challenging him while your mother begs you to say something to make amends. Another sip of wine passes your lips, "No, shan't."

Your mother scolds you, your full name escaping her with embarrassment tainting her tongue. Sweat beads at your father's forehead while he changes the subject, doing aything to try to keep his good favor with both sides of the imperatorship.

You grin into your goblet at the sight of Geta's face -- reddened with anger and frustration at the brazen disrespect. But it was fine to continue to be an enemy if it meant you would leave these regal walls and never have to step foot in them again. And if you did, it would be as another senator's wife, visiting his brother in another house where you'll laugh and drink wine and cheer when he's killed.

Even his posture is revolting, hunched over while he listens to your father speak. Now going on and on about paper work that doesn't interest you if it doesn't have a say on who is next on the list to conquer. Your eyes glaze over in boredom while pomergranate, honey pudding, and dates are placed on the table. Rose wine replaces the red to sweeten the tongue -- you're sure your parents wished it were true.

It's not very long after dessert is served that your parents start again.

"As you know, she does come from a family of very fertile women," your father encourages. You quickly swallow the bite of date you'd taken to interrupt, nearly choking, "Excuse me, I'm not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation."

Geta looks at you while you speak, scanning you and then lingering on the dessert in your hand, "Her hips are quite sizeable -- big enough to bear multiple childen, that's certain. Is that her only sell?"

Anger bubbles under your chest, but warning looks from both of your parents keeps your sharp tongue between your lips. The grip on your goblet tightens, jaw clenching while your pass another sip through gritted teeth. You let a seething breath out through your nose. "As I tried to explain before," your father continues, "She is very on the pulse in terms of the political climate and, and, and great with strategy." "I'm not looking for a wife who tries to strategize for me--" he responds coolly. "From how the empire has not expanded since your father's death I would guess that perhaps you should be," you snap back smartly. His posture straightens, chains and medallions across his chest glinting in the candle light. The room quiets itself again, only the sound of untensils and cups being put down or collected filling the dead air. The soft scrape of metal, the rustle of linens while servants and guards alike avert their gaze downward.

"Leave us," he states, voice pungent with authority. You stretch your neck on both sides while the servants depart, already bored with the back and forth. Already moved on from the eventual scolding and potential exile that won't get put into motion because you are simply too friendly with the rest of the upcoming generals and politicians. One rogue idiot who barely has the power his brother has, that his father never trained into him, could not dole a punishment that is worth your genuine fear.

You sigh, hearing the staff make their way down the long stone corridors into the grand halls to prepare for a more formal party with other higher status families. More likely a collection of offerings for him to choose from, other parents trying to arrange a marriage with the empire's most powerful and eligible bachelor. It would be one of the few times the brothers would have to engage with each other, which you're sure put Geta more on edge than normal.

"Senator, please take your wife to the grand hall to be seated," he commands, his voice lower, delving darker. The vein in his neck continues to pulse, forearms straining against the golden cuffs over his wrists, "The guards will accompany you."

You watch as your parents rise, bowing their heads before following the guards out of the room and through the blood red drapery hung from gilded valances. Geta's eyes stay hardened on you, and yours him, while you rise as well, taking a few steps around the large wooden table toward the exit. "Not you," he says, not turning to face you, "You will stay." "It is not appropriate for me to be unaccopanied in the pres--" "Do not speak," he huffs, hand coming up to silence you, "Your voice grates on me." "Then you can imagine what your own voice does, Augustus," you say without thinking, letting the insults flow out of you like the fountain water in the courtyards. He pushes away from the table, steadily walking towards you with enough vigor that the bottom of his cape starts to billow behind him. On his way, he pulls a sword from a guard's holster, dragging it so the tip grinds against the stone, making your jaw clench at the shrill sound.

"What happens to those who speak against me?" he asks, steps clicking against the floor from the studs on the bottom of his sandals. He begins to stalk around you, circling while he waits for an answer. "Execution," you respond, keeping your eyes on the drapery just twenty feet ahead of you. "What else?" he asks, you can feel his breath behind you, the whining grind of the sword against the stone making your shoulders tense. "Exile," you answer, a laugh bubbling out of you, "But I can't imagine your brother agreeing to either of those. You'd really banish me, Publius? Because I was a little mean to you?" When he appears in front of you again, your lips stretch into a sickeningly sweet smile, sarcasm staining your tone, "But we're such old friends."

He cocks his head to the side, taking a step closer with the sword between you, "Oh, I wouldn't do that to you."

He leans forward, enough that you can smell the rose wine on his breath. His voice quiet and menacing, "Though -- it could be that the senator said something to offend me tonight at dinner. It could be that perhaps he -- spoke poorly of my dear brother or my late father. Something just dastardly enough to sour my brother's respect for him." "And you expect Caracalla to believe that?" "In what way does it benefit me to lie about it?" he challenges, "And even more so -- with your father exiled, where does that leave you?"

You swallow thickly, not giving him the satisfaction of replying while your look into his now wild brown eyes. Flashing with mania and endless possibility.

"A peasant," he spits.

"If it keeps me out of these halls I should be lucky, no?" you fire back, looking at him from under furrow brows. He continues to circle you, dragging the sword again. The click, click, click of his shoes keeping time in your head. "I'm sure my brother would be happy to keep you as a pet in the meantime," he laughs to himself, "Or we could put you in the colosseum, you think you'd fare well?" "Better than you could, that's certain," you cross your arms over your chest, "Could never stand up and fight like a man, even as a kid. Your father would be embarrassed."

The grinding gets louder as he presses harder down, causing small sparks to fly from the edge of the sword.

"If you were to be chosen, would ever even attempt to learn respect?" he asks sharply, "Or would it have to be beaten into you?" You snort, "At least you're the funnier brother, you have that going for you." You can see him out of your periphery, the way he pulls his cheeks in, the roll of his shoulders -- he's losing patience. "What, would you prefer I called you Geta? Augustus? Ceasar?" your eyes roll. A soft cackle comes from his through, canines showing in a gleeful smile, "No, no -- from you? I'd much prefer something more respectful." Click, click, click. The grind of the sword. The rose on his breath. "Dominus," he nods with the threat, "Dominus et Deus."

"You disgust me," you respond quickly. "As a husband and as emperor is that not my title, already?" he shrugs, looking at you like it's obvious.

"You are nobodies Lord and God, you are a petulant -- sniveling -- repulsive little brother who is only where he is by being lucky to be born," you glower.

"You still see me as a child, femina," he tuts, "I promise you, what ever Caracalla has told you is a tapestry of made up stories. You could hang it on the tallest arch and it would hit the floor ten times over."

"I do see just a whining child before me," you hiss, "I'm sure you'll run to your mother after this, too."

His chuckle turns to a low, dark laugh from deep in his chest. It crawls up your spine and rings in your ears, mixing with the grating 'shhhhhhinnnngggg' of the sword on the ground.

"If it were fate that there was union between us," he asks from behind you, "What would you say to that?"

You look straight ahead, hearing the click of his shoes. The heat of the torches on the walls billowing onto your face while you keep your eyes on the drapery, still closed -- still keeping you here.

"It would be a fate worse than the hottest hell," you confess, your voice not wavering.

The whine of the sword stops, sheathed into his belt. The click of his shoes halts.

Quiet.

Rose wine on his breath, you feel it on your skin now, his chest against your back while he closes the space between you. A hand reaches up to push the hair from your neck, the other gripping the fat of your hip to pull you ruthlessly against him in a thud. Your eyes shut, bile crawling up your throat in disgust. His nose coasts against the shell of your ear, making you tilt your head away while goosebumps rise on your arms. Through a knowing grin he whispers, the words burrowing deep in your chest in loathing and a glimmer of fear: "I pray every moment of it burns you."

[penumbra-mayhem]

Tank’s wolf with Quinn vs. Sam (i.e. ‘hellhound’ vs ‘pup’)

(Inspired by my post and @lookitseddie’s post)

TW: domestic violence, general violence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quinn knows his ‘hellhound’ is dangerous, so he uses their loyalty as a leash. He decides when they shift and controls what they do when they shift.

Sometimes, his ‘hellhound’ is used as a guard dog, standing post behind Quinn so he appears intimidating or powerful to other vamps or potential business partners. One word or whistle from Quinn and his ‘hellhound’ will elicit bone-chilling growls that’ll quickly make anyone compliant to Quinn’s wishes.

Other times, his ‘hellhound’ is a fighting dog. He enters them into underground werewolf cage fights and rakes in money from their undefeated streak. Or he’ll use them as a weapon against anyone who dares to attack him.

Quinn always leaves them to lick their own wounds, never getting them a healer and certainly never healing them himself. He’s much quicker to hit than to heal—which he does when they “screw up”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam knows his ‘pup’ is scared. He lets them approach him, whenever they feel comfortable. There’s never a demand for them to shift.

With him, Sam’s ‘pup’ learns the joys of their wolf form. They stick their head out of Sam’s truck on late night drives, tongue streaming from their mouth like a ribbon. They run in the woods, sometimes with Sam, sometimes on their own. They lounge in the sun, then retreat inside and let Sam feel the sun’s warmth through their fur.

His ‘pup’ still fights, but it’s always their choice. And their fighting is different. They fight with a bit more reserve; they learn not to fling themself at everything with no regard for their own safety. Their wolf form is a shield, not a weapon, and they use it to protect those they love.

Sam tends to their wounds every time, with gentle hands and many kisses. He cleans the blood from their fur and the dirt from their eyes. And he never raises a hand against them. Never. Not his ‘pup’.

[luneemeritus]

Guys have I ever commented about how both Youtube and Tiktok have the shittiest takes on Stolas? No? Then I will try to comment more often.

"I wonder why Octavia is mean to Stolas" because she's a teenager who doesn't know the truth about her parents' situation or the abuse her father went throught during 17+ years, that's why.

As Stolas antis are unable to recognize the MOST BASIC aspects of the story, let me just remind everything we know about Stolas and his relationship with his family:

(TW: MARITAL RAPE, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND HAVING TO EDUCATE STOLAS ANTIS FOR THE 100TH TIME)

1- emotionally and physically abused by his father

2- forced to marry an abusive person when he was a fucking child

3- raped multiple times by Stella before she got pregnant

4- TEEN FATHER. TEEN. FATHER. You know what a TEEN FATHER means? He was forced to be a father when he. was. A. TEEN.

5- spent 17 years surviving his wife's verbal, emotional and physical abuse FOR HIS DAUGTHER'S SAKE

6- took accountability when he realized his mistakes towards his daughter, and his mistakes were basically trying his best to make his daughter happy while being a literal survivor of parental abuse, domestic violence, SA and social isolation, literally a fucking normal human being trying his best and improving himself

7- is not only teaching her spells slowly and respecting her time, but also raising her as the teenager girl she is, and not as a 'legal adult' full of rich folk bullshit responsabilities as he was raised

"Stolas is a good dad" yes, media illiterate antis, he IS. He raised his daughter with love and care, he shield her from potential dangers (which came from her own mother), took accountability everytime he made a mistake with her, and sacrificed 17+ years in silence, surviving domestic violence, FOR HER. This is what a good parent does; loves, takes accountability and cares for their child, and as someone who has a very shitty dad who actually doesn't respect me or take accountability, I proudly affirm Stolas is doing great. You know what STELLA, an actual terrible parent, does? Abuses her husband in front of their kid and turns Via against her father. This is what a terrible parent does, oh but sorry I forgot she's the cisheteronormative woman who can do no wrong despite doing everything wrong maliciously.

Octavia acting like a teenager is absolutely in-character and justified. She doesn't have to know that her mother is an abuser, and this is why Stolas shield her from this hell, because he wanted her to have a normal fucking life. But the AUDIENCE? Grown adults who KNOW what is happening with Stolas and should understand how basic parenting works, acting like an angry teenager who hates Dada? Now that is just bad faith and urge to justify your hate boner against Stolas with the same stupid outdated arguments that were discussed a thousand times in this fandom.

For a man that was forced to have an abusive wife and a child at his teenage years, yes, he is a good father. He makes normal mistakes like any normal parent does. In LooLoo Land, he (unintentionally) ignored Via's discomfort because he was trying to cheer her up, trying to, as himself said, keep her away from their hostile house — whose hostility is Stella's fault. In Seeing Stars, he DOES NOT ignore Via nor forgot about the promise (he forgot the day, not the promise), he was busy standing up against his ABUSER. He asked for some minutes to finish his phone call, if Via had waited just a little bit longer, he would turn off the phone and listened to her. She didn't, because she's a kid with the trauma of growing up with an abusive mother and a closeted dad, again, in-character and understanding. But grown adults who were supposed to understand what is going on with Stolas having the same behaviour of a kid is hilariously telling a lot about how you react to this show.

Stolas makes the same mistakes Blitzø makes with Loona. Blitzø often infantilizes her to the point of being overprotective, and guess what? He also took accountability, because he, just like Stolas, is a good dad. And just like Lucifer as well. Buuuuut you don't really care about what is or what isnt a good father, you just want to yell about how much you hate Stolas. And the reason why you hate Stolas (at least one of the reasons) is because you can't understand basic shit about him.

Edit: by the way, let me show yall this print. It's so adorable. As irritating as Stolas's "sLaNdErInG" crowd is, the fandom always manage to make everything better. Let's smile more and think about the good things <3

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 5

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺."

summary: the rhythm of your days blends with the vibrant backdrop of your church’s dance preparations. Beneath the soft glow of Houston’s city lights and the gentle hum of Joel's truck, your deepening bond with him unfolds amidst stolen moments and whispered confessions. As you navigate the delicate dance of your emerging feelings, Joel’s own transformation remains veiled from his family.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 5

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter 4

next | chapter 6

The anticipation for the church dance troupe's performance was building. The whole town was buzzing with excitement as the event drew near, only two weeks away. The performance would be a grand spectacle attended by everyone in town, including all the elders, and it was scheduled for the same day your father was set to return.

The first week of preparation was filled with rigorous rehearsals. You and your friends gathered at the community fellowship building, a bustling hub of activity. Jemima, Pastor Ben's wife, along with a few other church members, coordinated the practices. The adults were always around, providing guidance and encouragement.

The church dance troupe was more than just an extracurricular activity; it was a lifeline, a vessel of hope and validation that you clung to. Each dance step, every twirl, and every leap was a silent plea for recognition, especially from your father. You had always loved dancing, finding solace in the rhythm and movement. It was the one place where you felt free, where the world and its heavy expectations seemed to melt away.

This performance was different. It was not just another event; it was a grand spectacle that could potentially alter the trajectory of your family's standing in the community. The mayor of the town would be there, along with other influential figures and elders. It was an opportunity for your family to be thrust into the spotlight, a chance to shine and, more importantly, a moment to make your father proud.

Your father, a man of stern demeanor and unyielding expectations, had always demanded excellence. He often showed you off, his actions speaking louder than his words. To him, you were a reflection of the family name, a testament to his own efforts and discipline. The thought of this performance being a success was not just about personal achievement for you; it was about carrying the weight of familial pride and expectation.

The rehearsals were intense, each session a blend of sweat, dedication, and the relentless pursuit of perfection. Jemima and the other coordinators pushed you and your friends hard, knowing the significance of the event. As you practiced, you imagined your father watching you, his eyes scrutinizing every move, his expression a mask of stern judgment.

During breaks, the atmosphere was filled with the usual activities of a church community—people chatting, sharing snacks, and discussing the upcoming performance. Pastor Ben often made an appearance, ostensibly to support the group's efforts, but you couldn't help but notice his lingering gaze on you. Jemima was always busy coordinating the rehearsals and offering guidance, leaving Ben with ample opportunity to keep an eye on the group.

You and Emma had both noticed Ben's attentiveness, though it was you who seemed to capture his interest the most. His questions and small talk were frequently directed at you, and his presence seemed more pronounced whenever you were around. Despite the attention, you tried to remain polite and composed, responding to his questions with the same courtesy you showed everyone else.

As the day's rehearsal came to an end, you bid farewell to your friends and began gathering your things. Just as you were about to leave, Pastor Ben approached you, his steps confident and his smile warm.

"Hey," he greeted you.

You looked up, slightly startled but quickly masking your surprise. "Oh, hey, Pastor Ben."

He chuckled softly. "Please, just call me Ben. Using 'Pastor' makes me feel old."

You smiled politely. "Alright, Ben."

"So, how did the rehearsal go today?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes attentive.

"It went well, I think," you replied, then added with a light smile, "You were there, well, what do you think?"

Pastor Ben chuckled softly, leaning against the doorframe. "You’re right, I was there. And from what I saw, you all are doing a wonderful job. There’s a real sense of unity in the group, and that’s something special."

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and a little awkwardness under his steady gaze. "Thanks. We’ve been working hard, trying to make it something memorable."

Ben’s eyes softened as he looked at you. "I can see that. And you, especially, seem to put your heart into it."

You felt your cheeks flush slightly, unsure how to respond to the compliment. "Well, I love dancing, so... it’s important to me. And I want to make my family proud, especially my dad."

Ben’s expression turned thoughtful, and he nodded. "That’s a good motivation. I’m sure your father will be proud of you when he sees what you’ve accomplished."

"I hope so," you said, the weight of your father’s expectations pressing on your shoulders. "It’s not always easy to meet his standards."

Ben tilted his head, studying you for a moment. "Parents can be tough sometimes, especially when they have high expectations. But you should be proud of yourself, too. It’s clear you’re giving it your all."

You smiled politely, feeling a bit more at ease. "Thank you, Ben."

There was a brief pause, and Ben seemed to hesitate before speaking again. "Well, are you gonna go home? Do you need a lift?" he asked, his voice casual but with an undertone that made you feel slightly uneasy.

You hesitated, glancing toward the parking lot. You were supposed to meet Joel, and he had made it clear he’d be waiting for you at the back of the school, out of sight from anyone who might be watching.

"Oh, thank you, Ben," you began, choosing your words carefully. "But I’m actually meeting someone. I’ve got a ride, so I’m all set."

Ben raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Someone from the dance group?"

You forced a smile, shaking your head. "No, just a friend. We’re heading out for a bit."

"Boyfriend?" Ben asked, his tone casual, but there was a hint of something more behind the question—curiosity, maybe even a touch of jealousy.

Your heart skipped a beat at the word. You weren’t sure how to answer, not wanting to give away too much. "No, just a friend," you repeated, trying to keep your tone light. "We’re just going to hang out for a while."

Ben nodded slowly, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. "Well, be careful, alright? It’s getting dark out there."

"Of course," you replied, maintaining your polite demeanor. "Thanks, Ben."

With that, you turned to walk away, your heart beating a little faster. As you made your way around the side of the building, your eyes darted around, searching for Joel’s truck. You spotted it parked in the shadows, just as he had said it would be.

Joel was leaning against the truck, arms crossed, waiting for you. The moment you saw him, a sense of relief washed over you, dispelling the lingering unease from your conversation with Ben.

"Hey, doll," Joel greeted you as you approached. He pushed off from the truck and opened the passenger door for you. "Ready to go?"

You nodded, climbing into the truck. "Yeah, let’s get out of here."

Joel shut the door behind you, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in. As he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, you couldn’t help but glance in the side mirror, half-expecting to see Ben watching from a distance. But the street was empty, and soon the school was behind you as you and Joel headed out of town.

"Everything okay?" Joel asked, noticing your pensive expression as he drove.

"Yeah," you replied, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts. "Just... Ben offered me a ride, and it felt a little weird."

Joel frowned slightly, glancing over at you. "Weird how?"

You shrugged, trying to put your feelings into words. "I don’t know. He just seemed...just forget about it," you said, hoping to brush it off, but Joel wasn’t letting it go that easily.

"Wait, what do you mean?" he asked, his tone more insistent.

You hesitated, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. "It’s nothing important."

Joel’s gaze remained fixed on you, his concern evident. "Doll... is he making you uncomfortable?"

You bit your lip, feeling a bit foolish for even bringing it up. "No, it’s just... he’s more interested in me than he should be. Like, he was paying a lot of attention during rehearsals and then offering me a ride. I don’t know, maybe I’m just overthinking it. Maybe he was just being nice and polite."

Joel’s frown deepened, his protective instinct kicking in. "If he’s making you feel uneasy, you need to tell me. Okay?"

You nodded, appreciating his concern. "Okay, I will."

There was a moment of silence, the tension from the conversation lingering in the air. You glanced out the window, watching as the town faded into the distance. The trip to Houston would take a while, and you wanted to shift the mood to something lighter.

"Joel," you asked, turning back to him, "can we listen to some music?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Sure, darling." He reached over to the radio and tuned in to a familiar station. As he did, the opening chords of "Harvest Moon" by Neil Young began to play, filling the truck with its soothing melody.

You couldn’t help but smile. "I love this song."

"Me too," Joel replied, his voice softening as the music enveloped the both of you.

As the song played, you let yourself get lost in the moment. The gentle strumming of the guitar and Neil Young’s tender voice seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket, easing the tension that had settled in your chest. There was something timeless about the song, something that made you feel safe and understood, like everything was exactly as it should be, at least for now.

The lyrics spoke of love, of dancing together under the light of a harvest moon, and you found yourself wishing for that kind of simplicity in your own life. Being with Joel felt like that sometimes—like you were both in a world of your own, where the complications of your life couldn’t touch you. It was just the two of you, killing time on the road, the open highway stretching out before you like a promise of something more.

You look at Joel as he drives, your eyes tracing the lines of his face in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. The music played quietly in the background, creating a serene atmosphere that made this moment feel almost dreamlike. You couldn't help but admire him—how he looked so effortlessly handsome, even in the simplest moments.

Joel had a rugged and weathered appearance that only added to his appeal. His strong, muscular build was a testament to years of hard work, and the deep-set wrinkles around his eyes and mouth told stories of a life lived through hardship and survival. His dark hair, graying at the temples, and the scruffy beard he often wore gave him a rugged charm that was impossible to ignore.

His eyes, though—a striking, soulful brown—were what truly captivated you. There was a depth to them, a mix of sadness and wariness that hinted at the burdens he carried. But in this moment, as he drove with a steady hand, those eyes held a quiet intensity, softened by the comfort of being in your company.

Joel wasn't like the boys you knew from school or the men you saw in town. There was something about him, something that made your heart skip a beat whenever you were near him. Maybe it was the way he seemed so strong yet so gentle, or how he always knew just what to say to make you feel safe. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, not as a child or a preacher's daughter, but as someone who mattered, someone worth protecting.

His flannel shirt and worn jeans might have been simple, but on him, they looked perfect. The sturdy jacket he wore only added to his rugged appeal, making him look like the kind of man who could take on anything the world threw at him and come out on top. But more than his physical appearance, it was the way he carried himself—the quiet confidence, the steady calm—that drew you in.

As you watched him, you realized that Joel was the first man you'd ever looked at this way. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t demanding or harsh. He was just... Joel. And for the first time since you were a child, you could see a man who wasn’t angry.

Joel was everything you hadn’t known you were looking for—strong, protective, kind. And as you sat there, in the passenger seat of his truck, you couldn’t help but feel that whatever this was between the two of you, it was something worth holding onto.

The miles continued to slip away as you let yourself get lost in the rhythm of the road, the steady hum of the engine, and the quiet comfort of Joel's presence. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

As you approached Houston, the city lights shimmered in the distance, a glittering array of orange and white against the dark canvas of the night sky. The sight of the city, so vibrant and alive, filled you with a sense of excitement. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, small-town life you were used to, and the thought of exploring something new with Joel by your side made your heart skip a beat.

Joel navigated the truck through the streets, eventually pulling up to a house on the outskirts of the city. It was still a work in progress, but even in its unfinished state, you could tell it was going to be beautiful. The structure was modest yet elegant, with clean lines and a minimalist design that felt both modern and warm.

As you stepped out of the truck, Joel gestured towards the house. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of pride.

You took a moment to take it all in, the smell of fresh wood and the faint scent of sawdust lingering in the air. "It's beautiful, Joel. Minimalist, not too big, not too small. It feels... cozy."

Joel nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I wanted to keep it simple, but still make it something special."

You turned to him, curiosity getting the better of you. "So, who’s this house for? A client, or...?"

Joel shrugged, his expression thoughtful. "Not sure yet. The land was sold cheap by someone I know—he was in a tight spot and needed the money. I felt bad for him, so I bought it. Figured I’d put a house on it instead of letting the land just sit there. It's only about halfway done, still a lot left to finish."

He paused, glancing around the space as if seeing it for the first time through your eyes. "Maybe for Ellie one day. Or... maybe for you if you ever decide you want to leave that small town of ours."

His words left you momentarily speechless, a warm flutter spreading in your chest. You tried to play it off with a lighthearted joke. "Houston’s still too close to our town, Joel. If I ever leave, I might need to go much farther."

Joel chuckled softly, the sound deep and comforting. "Fair enough."

He led you through the house, showing you the different rooms, each space still in varying stages of completion. It was clear he had put a lot of thought into the design, making sure every detail was just right. Finally, he stopped in front of a set of glass doors. "The balcony’s almost done. Want to see it?"

You nodded eagerly, following him out onto the balcony. It was a stunning space, with a transparent roof that let you see the sky above while keeping you sheltered from the elements. The city lights flickered in the distance, but here, under the open sky, it felt like a world of its own.

"It’s taken almost a year to get it to this point," Joel admitted, his voice soft. "Sometimes I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep going or just leave it as it was."

As you stepped further out, you noticed a couch on the balcony, neatly set up with blankets and pillows. It looked well-used, like someone had spent a lot of time there. You glanced at Joel, raising an eyebrow. "You come here often?"

Joel smiled, a bit sheepishly. "Yeah, when I need to clear my head. It’s quiet up here. Helps me think."

Before you could respond, Joel started straightening out the blankets on the couch, making it more comfortable. He then lay down, looking up at the sky. He patted the space beside him, inviting you to join him. "C'mere"

You smile and then lying down next to him. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, and as you settled in, you felt a wave of calm wash over you. The sky above was a blanket of stars, each one twinkling like a tiny beacon of light in the darkness.

Lying there beside Joel, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time. The worries and expectations that weighed so heavily on you seemed to fade away, replaced by the simple joy of being in this moment with him. It was just the two of you, under the stars, sharing a quiet connection that didn’t need words.

After a while, Joel broke the comfortable silence. “So, you really want to get out of town after you graduate, huh?” His voice was low, almost contemplative.

You nodded, your gaze still fixed on the stars. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I just… I don’t know exactly where yet. Maybe the East Coast or the West Coast. But I’ve always wanted to visit the West. Maybe California, Los Angeles… It’s just something about it, you know? All those Hollywood movies make it feel like a dream.”

Joel listened quietly, nodding as you spoke. You could feel his eyes on you, his presence a comforting weight beside you. After a moment, you turned the question back to him. “What about you, Joel? If you could go anywhere, where would you go? What would you do?”

Joel took a deep breath, as if considering the possibilities. “I’d like to live a simple life. An old farmhouse, some land, maybe a ranch,” he said thoughtfully. “I’d raise sheep. They’re quiet and do what they’re told.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “Farmlife sounds very nice, Joel. Peaceful.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that warmed your heart. “Yeah, I think it would be. But for now, construction pays the bills.”

You turned slightly to look at him, curiosity piqued. “But why construction? I mean, you’ve got a lot of money. You could leave town and move to the countryside if you wanted to.”

Joel sighed, his expression turning more serious. “Maybe. But it’s not just about the money, y’know? Construction... it gives me something to do, keeps my hands busy. After everything that happened, I needed something solid, something that made sense. Building things, working with my hands... it keeps me grounded.”

You could hear the weight of his words, the unspoken memories that lingered just beneath the surface. “And besides,” he continued, “leaving town isn’t as easy as it sounds. There’s a lot tied up in this place, a lot of memories, good and bad.”

You nodded, understanding more than you could ever say. “I guess I can relate to that.”

Joel turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, doll. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Take your time, figure out what you really want.”

You smiled softly, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for him, for how he made you feel understood and safe.

Without overthinking it, you leaned in closer, your gaze briefly locking with his before you tilted your head up to kiss him. The kiss was soft, sweet, and gentle, an extension of the warmth that had been building between you two for weeks. Joel responded in kind, his arms tightening around you as if he didn’t want to let go.

But as the kiss deepened, a thought crept into your mind—Emma's words from the other morning, about how you could show love to someone you really liked or loved. The idea lingered, urging you to be bolder, to express just how much you cared about Joel in a more intimate way.

You hesitated for only a second before kissing him again, this time with more passion. Joel seemed surprised but played along, his lips meeting yours in a way that made your heart race. You let your hands explore, moving over his broad chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. You were nervous, but the thought of showing him how much you cared kept pushing you forward.

Your kisses trailed down from his lips to his jaw, then lower to his neck, your hands beginning to wander further down his body. As you continued, you could feel Joel stiffen slightly beneath you, and just as your kisses were about to travel even lower, he suddenly pulled back, his voice firm but gentle.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he murmured, his hands coming up to hold you still. “What are you doing?”

You blinked up at him, confusion written all over your face. “I just... I want to show that I care about you and want to thank you,” you said softly, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words. “Emma told me that... that when you really like someone, you can show them by, you know, doing things like this. I just wanted to... please you, I guess.”

For a moment, Joel just looked at you, his expression a mix of surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place. Then he sighed, his hands gently cupping your face, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“Listen to me, sweetheart,” he began, his voice low and earnest. “I appreciate that you care about me, more than you know. But this? This isn’t how you show that. You don’t need to do anything like this to prove how you feel, okay? Not to me, not to anyone.”

You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, realizing that maybe you’d misunderstood what Emma had meant. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling a little foolish.

Joel shook his head, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. But I want you to understand something: love, real love, isn’t about doing things to keep someone around or to make them happy. It’s about respect, trust, and caring for each other, no matter what. And I care about you, doll, more than you know. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. There was something comforting in knowing that Joel wasn’t expecting anything from you, that he cared for you just as you were.

Joel pulled you back into his arms, holding you close as if to reassure you. “Just being here with you, that’s more than enough for me,” he murmured, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

You snuggled into his embrace, feeling a deep sense of relief and gratitude. In that moment, you realized that what you had with Joel was special—something that didn’t need to be rushed or defined by anyone else’s expectations. It was enough just to be with him, to share these quiet, intimate moments under the stars.

And for now, that was all you needed.

The morning sun filtered gently through the transparent roof of the balcony, casting a soft glow over you and Joel as you lay curled together under the thick blanket. The cool air of the dawn was a stark contrast to the warmth shared between you two. You felt the steady rise and fall of Joel’s breathing behind you, a comforting rhythm that made you feel secure.

You had called your mother last night, fabricating a story about staying over at Emma's place to work on a group project. Your mother, trusting as ever, had accepted your explanation without question. As you lay there, the peaceful silence of the morning was occasionally interrupted by the faint chirping of birds and the distant hum of the city waking up.

In your spooning position, you were nestled snugly against Joel, feeling his strong arms wrapped around you. The sensation was soothing, but as you relaxed, you became aware of something pressing against you—something firm and unmistakably intimate. You realized it was Joel’s growing arousal, a testament to his restraint and the powerful emotions he was holding back.

Joel had been incredibly patient with you, giving you the space to understand your feelings and the nature of your relationship. He had made it clear that he didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t ready for, especially after the recent emotional turbulence with Jamie. Yet here he was, still responding to your closeness despite his efforts to respect your boundaries.

You could sense the internal struggle Joel was facing. His body betrayed a desire he had been meticulously controlling, striving to honor your readiness rather than his own needs. It was a poignant reminder of his deep care and the complex layers of your relationship.

You gently shifted in his embrace, turning slightly so you could look up at Joel. His features were softened in sleep, and he looked almost serene. There was an undeniable tenderness in the way he rested, the soft lines of his face illuminated by the early morning light. His rugged charm was softened in this moment, and you couldn’t help but admire how peaceful and handsome he looked.

“Honey,” you called softly, nudging him gently.

Joel stirred slowly, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at you, a bit disoriented at first. “Hmm?”

As he fully awakened, he immediately noticed the situation. A flush of realization crossed his face, and he muttered, “Fuck, I didn’t mean for this—”

You cut him off before he could finish. “Joel, I can fix it,” you said firmly, your voice steady.

Joel's eyes widened with a mix of panic and confusion. “No, no, wait. What are you doing?”

“I can fix it,” you repeated, your tone insistent yet gentle.

Joel’s expression shifted to concern. “It’s okay, but you don’t have to do this. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for.”

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay. I want to.”

Joel’s face softened, and he shook his head slowly. “No, you’re not ready yet, sweetheart.”

“But,” you continued, your voice carrying a hint of determination, “you’re a man, and you’re going to need—right? Don’t you sometimes feel...horny? How do you handle that?”

Joel’s eyes widened at your directness, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite his attempt to remain serious. He looked both surprised and touched by your concern and curiosity. “Well, doll, it’s not always easy, but you learn to manage it. You focus on other things, or you just...take care of yourself.”

You nodded, absorbing his words. “So, it’s like...not something you can just ignore?”

Joel chuckled softly, his voice rough with sleep. “No, it’s part of being human. We all have needs and desires, but it’s about finding a balance, respecting each other’s boundaries.”

You looked thoughtful, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of understanding and curiosity. “So, there’s a time for everything?”

“Exactly,” Joel said, his voice softening. “It’s about finding the right time and the right moment. And right now, it’s important that we both understand and respect where we are.”

You smiled at him, feeling a sense of clarity and comfort in his words. “Thank you for being honest with me, Joel.”

He gave you a gentle smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Anytime, doll. We’ll figure this out together. No rush.”

You settled back into his embrace, feeling a profound sense of connection and trust. The conversation had brought a new level of intimacy and understanding between you two, reinforcing the bond you shared.

***

As Joel drove you back, he navigated the familiar streets with a thoughtful expression. The quiet between you was comfortable, punctuated only by the soft hum of the truck. When he finally stopped a few blocks away from your home, he turned to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of warmth and something more profound.

"See you later, doll," he said, his voice gentle. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. It was a tender gesture, full of unspoken promises and affection. You smiled at him, feeling a sense of contentment that you hadn't experienced in a long time.

"See you later, Joel" you replied, your voice soft but filled with emotion.

As Joel’s truck rounded the corner and vanished from view, you felt a mixture of elation and contentment. The previous night had been a rare and comforting escape from the pressures of daily life. The softness of Joel’s embrace and the quiet intimacy of the starlit balcony had left you feeling more at ease than you had in months.

You took a deep breath, savoring the lingering warmth from the night before, and headed inside to prepare for the day. A quick shower was in order to shake off the remnants of sleep and to ready yourself for the dance rehearsal later at the church. The routine of getting ready felt almost meditative, a gentle counterpoint to the excitement and nervousness building inside you.

As Joel pulled up to his house, he felt a rare surge of happiness. The morning sun cast a warm glow on everything, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how things had been lately. He parked the truck and headed inside, the familiar sound of the front door creaking open greeted him with a sense of belonging.

He dropped his keys in the bowl by the door and called out, “Ellie, I’m home!”

From the kitchen, Ellie looked up with a raised eyebrow. “Where the hell have you been?"

Joel’s eyes widened when he saw Tommy sitting at the breakfast table with Ellie. “Oh, Tommy, I didn’t see you there. What are you doing here?”

Tommy glanced up from his plate. “I’m here to pick you up. We have a meeting with clients about a big project. Remember?”

Joel’s heart sank. “Oh shit, I forgot. I’ll be ready in a minute. Just need to change clothes.”

Ellie watched Joel, noting his unusually bright demeanor. “Joel, you okay?”

Joel grabbed a pancake off the plate and took a bite, standing by the counter. “Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

Ellie gave a puzzled look, then shrugged. “Nothing. Just seemed like you’re in a good mood.”

Joel, humming softly to himself, replied, “Just give me ten minutes, okay? I’ll be right out.”

He headed to his room, still humming the tune of “Harvest Moon,” the song that had been playing during his time with you. His steps were lighter, his mood buoyant.

As Joel disappeared into his room, Ellie and Tommy exchanged glances, both intrigued by Joel’s recent behavior.

“Did you see that?” Ellie asked, her tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Yeah,” Tommy said with a chuckle. “He’s definitely different lately. Happier, more upbeat. It’s like he’s come out of a shell.”

Ellie nodded, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve noticed it too. He’s been going to church more, cracking jokes, and just generally being...more alive.”

Tommy took another sip of his coffee, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Well, good for him. Finally, thank God.”

Ellie leaned forward, her curiosity evident. “Did he tell you anything? Like, did he open up about something that’s made him happier lately, or maybe someone?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Ellie leaned in, “Did he ever, you know, confide in you about something? Like what’s made him so... different lately?”

Tommy scratched his chin, thinking back. “Hmm, now that you mention it, I do remember one time he showed up late to work. He had this... I don’t know, a woman’s perfume on him. I teased him about it, you know? I said something like, ‘Hey, look at you, smelling all fancy. Got a date or something?’”

Ellie’s eyes widened. “And? What did he say?”

Tommy chuckled. “He just brushed it off. Said I was imagining things. Tried to act all nonchalant, like it was nothing. But it was pretty clear he’d been somewhere—or with someone.”

Ellie’s curiosity was clearly piqued. “So, he really didn’t say anything more? No hints or anything?”

Tommy sipped his coffee and shook his head. “Nope, not a peep. He’s pretty tight-lipped about his personal life.”

Ellie looked thoughtful for a moment, then her face brightened with a mischievous grin. “I need to know if Joel’s finally dating someone or going out with someone. Because, hell, whoever she is, I don’t want an evil stepmother!”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. “Give your old man a break, Ellie. He’s not exactly the type to jump into things without thinking them through.”

Ellie’s expression turned serious. “I’m serious, Tommy! I don’t want a stepmother coming in too quickly. I’m really happy with how things are now—with Joel, you, Maria, and little Luke. It’s been nice.”

Tommy’s smile softened. “I get it. It’s a big change, and no one wants to feel like they’re being rushed into something. But Joel’s been through a lot. If he’s found something that makes him happy, we should be supportive, right?”

Ellie nodded earnestly. “I know. I just want to make sure that whatever happens, it’s for the right reasons. I don’t want anyone coming in and disrupting what we’ve got here.”

Tommy placed a reassuring hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Well, as long as we’re all here for each other, I think we’ll be okay."

[ray-jaykub]

Climbing Floors to Purple Light

This is a little brain worm I've had, for who knows how long, and I finally got it out. I know there isn't much interaction between reader and Donnie but I'm gonna be honest the point of this fic was to give you guys a reader who has the chance to fight for herself. Domestic violence is a rampant and killing oppression that many people face. Some do not have the strength to leave their situations, some may not even know they're in situations to begin with, and some do die. I come from a childhood filled with domestic violence and child abuse, and many years I had laid awake watching out that trailer window not knowing that what I was going through was wrong but knowing I never wanted it for myself. Sadly, that doesn't make me immune to falling into the cycle my mother and grandmother had, we are all at the potential of falling into harmful relationships. Stay aware, stay safe, and stay open to help. You are not alone

Tw: domestic violence, crude language, ugly men, ominous ending for ex

It's a little bit of a rainy night here in New York, drizzling against your umbrella as you walk back to your apartment with a pep in your step. The guy's and April had made the plan to have a fun game night to start off the weekend, and afterward, the guys would head out to do their usual rounds. Hanging with them was always the best, Mikey had a habit of making whatever drink you have coming out your nose with his jokes, but you were more excited about one brother specifically.

You and Donatello had been going steady for… 6 months? You struggled to remember, but he could tell you the exact days, minutes, and hours. He was a total upgrade from your last relationship, kind and attentive, patient, and forgiving. April claimed this should be considered the norm, but your bar had been set kinda, maybe super, low. But that just made everything better in your eyes! And yeah, sometimes when he was nose deep in some business, you can get kind of lonely. But you can't even dwell on it long before he door dashes a treat to your apartment or sends you plans for a date that he'd rolled in his brain for the past couple hours.

Just thinking about him makes you smile, and quickly, you pull your phone out, shooting a quick text to him that you're about to be inside the building. Maybe you were moving too fast with him, falling in so deep, sharing parts of yourself with him that you probably wouldn't have done with any other guy. Yet, it all felt so right.

There was one part you had not shared with him, though.It hadn't helped that your last relationship was so…mean. Being hit hurt more than it looked on TV, and a long time ago, you had convinced yourself that a part of you deserved it. The hair pulling and kicking your knees, gripping you till there were big purple splotches. You lost friends, somehow didn't lose your job, and at this point could feel the look of pity from miles away. Being handed brochures on how to leave dangerous situations by supporting groups or defacs workers and being asked if there was trouble at home by worrying grannies. You would persist that it was fine, would throw away the pamphlets or guiltily shove them in an old coat pocket in the back of your closet.It had taken being beaten down on the bathroom floor just because of how you were "looking at him" to finally realize it'd be best getting out of there. That resulted in a restraining order and moving in with April, which led to meeting the turtles and led to meeting someone who made you so happy. It was the best choice you had made in a long time. It's been nearly 2 years since then, he felt like a distant memory behind you.

You're quick to put your card key to the door panel and swing it open, shoes clicking onto the linoleum when you get in. The elevator was straight across from the main door. All you had to do was get in, and you'd be a hallway away from your apartment. Pressing the button, you wait, watching the numbers above the door dwindle down as they come to the lobby and ding open. Stepping in, the overhead light is dim, having not been changed in who knows how long, and the buttons are worn, but you know which is yours.

You expect the doors to shut, but a hand shoots out and stops them, and in a dark hood and a ball cap, your ex's face pops up.

"Y/n?" He's not even waiting before he wedges himself in through the barely opened doors. Your stomach drops, and a heavy weight makes you nauseous as your tongue feels cemented to the top of your mouth. He's standing on the opposite side of the elevator, at least, but you're thumbing your phone in your pocket. "Hope you don't mind, I followed behind you when you opened the door."

What?

Had you been so careless not to notice him right there??

"You were behind me?" It comes out as even as you can make it, a little breathless from anxiety. He nods like it's the most casual thing in the world, and the elevator doors are sliding shut. Like the heavy gates to some cage, they squeak, and your center of gravity feels off as it lifts."Yeah," He shuffles a bit, hands in his pockets. "I had to wait for you at work and everything to figure out where you were staying. You're pretty hard to find." He double takes when you do, noticing your panicked state and defensively raises his hands. "But it was just so I could talk to you! I really wanna work things out babe…"

"I don't!" Your voice cracks, and he looks stunned, so you gulp a breath down and speak again. "We are done. We have been done, I don't know why, why you at all thought it was okay to come find me li-" He's coming towards you and it makes you flinch, shoulders pressed into the corner of this suddenly very too tiny elevator. He doesn't touch you, just crowds, body blocking your line of sight from the elevator panel and doors.

"Y/n, liten to me…" You're already shaking your head and trembling hands reach up, leaving your phone in your pocket, just in the hopes to maybe keep space between you both. That makes him sneer. A rough hand tries to knock them away, but you yank away, trying to slide past him. "Y/n!"

"No! I don't want to!" You hate that you're getting panicked so easy. But he had been so cruel the last time you had seen him, had left you there to pick yourself up while he went out without you. You couldn't do it anymore. And now that he's in front of you again, it's like you're a rabbit in the jaw of some hunting dog. Raised and bred by their hunting, neglectful fathers, and sad, pushover mothers to be hateful and harmful to women. A cycle that you had repeated onto you, a flower squashed in some book about war, you can't let it happen again.

You try to turn away from him and pull your phone out but freeze as the elevator stops, the emergency alarm beeping from overhead. "I said listen to me, Y/n."You barely get to turn and see that he had pushed it before knuckles meet your face, and you crumple away from him, phone skidding across the small floor. You feel like you're blabbering as you beg for a second to catch yourself. "Wait, wait, please -"

"I don't know why you're acting like such a major bitch." He's crouching down, grabbing your ankles, trying to drag you to him. "I did a lot for you, I was the reason you even had friends, even got your job." You sober up quickly when you feel yourself coming closer to him, fingers digging into the floor to drag and lift yourself. Those few self-defense lessons Leo had given you wouldn't be for naught.You've gotta get to your phone and get out of here.

—

"Hey, where's Y/n? She was supposed to be here a couple of minutes ago, right?" April wonders, leaning against the counter as she watches the queso dip heat in the microwave. The brothers sit in the living room, watching as Raph indecisively scrolls through what movie they'd play in the background. Mikey is stacking the game boxes ridiculously high in one corner while Leo lazily scrolls on his phone. Donnie is the only one to lean back and answer her, though.

"Yeah, she texted me earlier and said she was close, so I'm assuming it'll be another minute or two." A toilet flushes, and Casey walks out from the hall, adjusting his pants.

"What are we talking about?" He comes into the open kitchen with April snuggling up to her side. "Y/n isn't here yet. Did you wash your hands?" He freezes awkwardly and backs up, sheepishly moving to the kitchen sink.

"Eeew, Case C'mon.""I bet if you ask those four, they're not washing their hands." April's face pinches up, but Donnie snorts. "I don't know, Leo is pretty anal about that kind of stuff."

April can hear Mikey and Raph giggling before they even open their mouths, and she can't help but smile herself. "Okay, you guys are officially nasty!"

Everyone laughs, carefree, and floating out the window.

—

You're panting. This elevator feels like a grave to you, buried under cement and hidden from everyone. Your phone sits, cracked in between you both. Your eye feels like it's throbbing, blood drips down your nose, and you taste it in your mouth. He has scratches on his cheek, and a part of his hair is ugily skewed from being pulled. When he had gotten ahold of your ankles, you had kicked out of them, but he was quick to lunge and slam his fists down on you.

You had done everything you could, kicked your knees up into his stomach, and slid yourself away. You had tried picking your phone up again, hands fumbling, but he knocked it from you. Crowding you again, hands going into your hair and yanking to the point it brings tears to your eyes, you take a hand and slash at him, coming up again to pull his own hair. He had a grip on you, though, shaking you violently by your hair and standing you both up. His other hand punched at your face again with no direction. One hit collided with your eye, directly into the lens. You hear your glasses crack, and the plastic pinches your nose and the soft skin of your eyebrow.

"All you had to do was hear me out!" Spittle hits your face, head whooshing, and you can barely hear him with all this sound. The emergency alarm sounds louder than it had before, thrumming in your ears and flooding your senses. And in slow motion, you're colliding with the wall of the elevator, body slammed against metal. "Why are you so fucking dense! You never learn!"

It's like a sleeper agent coming to life when you hear that phrase. The last thing he had said to you the last time he had seen you, what you had hoped was the last time.

"GET OFF ME!"

With a sudden rush, you're awkwardly hiking up your leg and shooting it straight at his gut. Your work shoes must've hurt because he's stumbling back, hand releasing your hair.

This is what leads to you both standing across from each other. Your phone, in the middle, the button to get the elevator moving beside him, nothing beside you. The choice you had to make, the levels of importance. To get this elevator moving brought you closer to home, to get your phone would let your friends know you needed help.You don't even give him a chance to open his mouth before you're jumping for the elevator panel.

You throw yourself against it, crying out as his arms wrap around you, throwing you down onto the floor. You wilt for a second, thinking you had wasted it as he grabs at your clothes, a seam ripping as he drags you again, but victoriously, the alarm stops and the elevator is in motion once more.

"You bitch!" He's staggering to get up and press it again, the elevator moving throws him off balance. And you, with vindication,kick the back of his knee and watch him stumble nose-first into the railing.

"Siri!" You shout, and the chime rings, cutting the moment of silence, and he's whipping around. The first name that comes out of your mouth, the one you had waited for all day, your purple light in that dark tunnel. "Call Donatello!"

…

"Calling Michelangelo!" Good enough!Your phone is ringing when a punch lands on your ribs. The pain makes your whole torso ache. You still have to fight, to shout, you wouldn't lie down again, and this time you wouldn't be alone picking up pieces of yourself, you were not gonna be left broken. You hear the phone pick up, Mikey's happy 'Sup Gurl!' Murmurs from the phone, and you gasp, gathering the air in this little space…And scream.

—

Things had started getting set up, Leo insisting they pull out a game so when Y/n got here, the ball would be rolling. They're all sitting around the coffee table, clue is set up, and everyone is picking pieces.

"I just don't understand why you won't let me have Mrs. Peacock." Leo fusses, looking sourly at the Reverand Greene pawn he's holding.

"The only reason is because Y/n likes her," Donnie insists and cutely makes Professor Plum and Mrs. Peacock touch faces, his oldest brother stares the action down, unamused. "It'd be unfair to leave her with leftover characters just because she's running a little late."

"Uh huh, sure," Mikey teases, fiddling with his own pawn. "Definitely not because you're thinking that's you two in another life."

"That's not plausible," Donnie snarks, "We're far more compatible than Professor Plum and Mrs. Peacock. We just like these two.

"My Bubblegum by Rasheeda starts up, coming from Mikey's pocket.

"There is no way that's your ringtone!" April giggles, watching as Casey dances in his seat to the music. Mikey is cheesing, glad it's getting recognized.

"Well, duh! It's trending right now," Taking a quick peek at his phone has him sitting up, though. "Uh oh Don, it's your snookums, think she changed her mind on which brother is the best?" He's waggling his brows for show as Donnie rolls his eyes, big hands still pressing Mrs. Peacock and Professor Plum together. Mikey answers the phone on speaker phone and with a quick "Sup Gurl!" And before he can follow up asking where she's at, her scream cuts through the speaker, shrill and frantic.

Everyone is suddenly standing, the air tenses as some man is shouting profanities at her, and dull thuds can be heard.

"Where the hell is she?" Raphael asks, but Donnie is already looking concerned at a screen with a dot flashing on it."She's here." He tries, eyes roving over nothing, trying to think of any spaces there are, but a ding reaches over her struggling, and the dots connect.

"The elevator!" April confirms, having heard the ding every day coming home. It was hard to miss. Leo starts to grab his sheathed katanas, already thinking of how to get access."Alright, we need to find a way to get into the elevator shaft, if we can get the dro- "

He doesn't even get to finish before Donnie is racing right out the front door and into the hallway. His brother's call behind him, warning him of the risk he's taking, but they don't deny following after him, Casey tailing to watch any doors that may open.

He can see before he touches the door that the elevator has reached its floor, but before the doors slide open, there's a thud, and the emergency alarm blares from it again. Donnie gives it no time before he's taking both his hands and wedging his fingers through the elevator door. What would've taken two or three men to open only took him, with barely any strain, and the sight before him makes his vision spotty.

—

That call had been your saving grace. The silence on his end showed you they had understood. The pain is nothing to the relief in that moment, his hand around your neck as the other reaches behind him and slams into the emergency button again. This time, the lights go off, and the strain on the elevator makes the overhead bulbs pop.

You fear the fight you'd have to put up in the dark, weakly kicking your feet, his hand trying to tighten around your neck, but then you hear this loud groan. A sliver of light peaks through where the doors are, and in a sense of urgency, your ex pushes off of you and separates himself. He's already stammering out some excuse as you lie there trying to catch your breath, but whatever he sees has him gasping.

"Wh, what the fuck!" His voice goes up an octave, face drained of color, the scratch marks on his face now starkly red. Your head feels heavy, flat on your back knees still hiked up in defense, you try with the last bit of your strength and turn to see.

Donnie, with the hall lights shining on his back, looks objectively terrifying and threatening. To anyone, he would be considered a monster, but to you, it was, again, that purple light in the dark tunnel.

He doesn't even pay mind to the other person in there with you, crouching down to gently lift you to your knees and beckon over some of his brothers.

"You did so good," He gently murmurs, brushing back your hair and fretting over your broken glasses, taking them off your face and pocketing them. Michelangelo comes behind him, hands reaching to guide you out, but you feel hesitant leaving Donnie, your body still shaking. "I'll handle the rest, Dove. They've got you."

That gentle nudge convinces you to move into Michelangelo's arms, being lifted and carried past a rather calm Leonardo, Raphael, and Casey, who almost look like they're holding post in the hallway. April meets you at her door, rushing Mikey in and racing for her first aid kit. You feel numb, like the energy was sucked from you, but Mikey still fidgets with your clothes, trying to imitate the way Donnie had pet your hair back.

"Don't worry, angel, it's gonna get handled, your ol' Donnie's on it." And all you can do is nod and breathe, the pain slowly growing as that adrenaline and fear fade away. April is coming back with a mess of a box when you see it, beyond the open doorway. An old man is shutting his door.

—

He watches as Michelangelo takes her back down the hall and doesn't turn back until they're both out of sight. He looks at his two older brothers, at Casey, who all nod."Do what you've gotta do." Raphael, ever the one to encourage a fight. But Leonardo looks like he's ready to agree.

He's about to speak, but a door creaks open, the one across from April's, where an old man peeks out to see what the noise is about. He freezes for a second, seeing this scuffed up guy in the elevator, but then he sees Y/n crying, sitting in sight of the doorway of April's apartment, looking worse.It doesn't take a man long to understand what's happening here. He knows Casey and April, knows their good character, and whatever they let happen with these men must be for good reason

."Have a good evening, boys, yeah?" And he shuts the door, doesn't even bother to lock the door, and it's just them again.

That was his cue.

Donnie stands to his full height, looking down at this shaking leaf, and takes a looming step onto the elevator. It creaks a little under his weight, dipping just an inch past being level with the floor, and reverently, Donnie leans over to the panel and turns the emergency alarm off. The Guy must realize what he's trying to do, and scrambles, trying to bolt out, but he's snatched up by Donatello, harshly gagging as the collar of his shirt chokes him. The elevator dings, yet the light doesn't come on, and as the doors are shutting, Donnie brings this guy right to the front of him, peering down. "Let's see if you can last as many floors as she did."

Darkness envelopes both of them.

[grubbymunchkin]

Important Scout head cannons guys

Tw: domestic abuse stuff, great angst fic potential

We all know that scout gets hurt alot. and we know that Spy, his father, hits him pretty often. go watch expiration date again if you don't believe me.

We also know that he hung out with his brothers a lot and really looked up to them. it's implied that they're pretty rough, and they play fight together with Scout, so he probably got beat up by them quite a lot.

It's not referenced, but it is likely, that Scout's ma hit him a couple times. he grew up in the 1950s, pretty naughty, not to mention she was a single mother of 8 rowdy kids in total; he probably got hit. and since she would've been super busy all the time, probably a huge portion of the individual attention he was getting from her was when he was being punished.

ok. raise your hand if you've watched the show Moral Orel, specifically if you've seen the last season and are familiar with Orel's dad, Clay Puppington. if you raised your hand you probably know exactly where i'm going with this.

anyway: Scout's getting a lot of physical abuse from his loved ones, his role models, authority figures, ect. like Clay Puppington, and a significant amount of people from that era, Scout likely associates love with physical violence.

This makes Scout extremely vulnerable to being in an abusive relationship; as the victim OR the perpetrator of violence. This is made even worse (or better, depending on your perspective) if he's dating a member of the other team, as they'll be killing each other on a daily basis.

No, I don't think Scout hits his kids. I think that by the time he has them, he's been to therapy or something and understands that physical punishment is wrong. Also it would suck if he did hit them.

I think that if someone was going to write a fic (wink wink) about Scout's growth as a person, it would have to involve Sniper or someone showing him that violence isn't love by loving him properly.

[builtaworldwithyourlove]

Free Falling

Chapter Two

2k/ (eventual) husband!joel x f!reader /minors dni

‘I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel’

Summary: you take the leap to leave your stagnant relationship, and end up falling into the arms of a man who will give you the life you always dreamed of. 

Content: loveless relationship, mention of TW: domestic violence, emotional abuse, age gap (reader is mid-late 20s, Joel is late 30s-mid 40s), angst, allusions of cheating, sad sad sad but Joel will save the day, slow burn, smut, fluff, oc(reader’s boyfriend and friends/family), mention of reader grieving loss of her dad, swearing, smoking, alcohol consumption, lovely lovely baby boy Joel, reader is a sweetheart, sexual tension, no smut just yet, some physical description of reader, Let me know if I’ve missed anything.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

Saturday morning was glorious. Your bedroom was fortunately positioned so that the sun shone through your white cotton curtains, and woke you up naturally. Although you didn’t get to revel in the peace for long, as Leo decided to scale the curtains and cry for help as he got stuck in limbo.

With a sigh, you rolled out of bed. You scooped Leo up in your arms and held him whilst you made the rounds opening all the windows and setting the house up for the day.

The coffee machine was the most important visit of the day. You were an early riser, so your 7am coffee was the surest way to keep you somewhat personable. You put some music on and started to tidy your kitchen, when your phone started ringing. It was Joel.

‘Morning, could you text me your address? I’ll be there within the hour.’ 

‘Sure! I’ll get the coffee ready now’ you replied.

Joel chuckled ‘See ya.’

Someone’s not a morning person, you thought to yourself. 

You let Joel know to let himself in round the back in case you didn’t answer as you were getting yourself ready. You ran up the stairs, trying to ignore the excitement in your chest. It would be the first time you’d have  some potential male attention, although he was an old family friend, surely he wouldn’t see you in that way. You got out of your head, made your bed and sprayed it with your fabric freshener, then lit a stick of incense followed by your favourite sedona sandstone candle.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

You showered and drenched yourself in cocoa butter and your Flora Luminare perfume. The doorbell rang and you skipped downstairs to answer.

Joel stood there, towering over you. He was gorgeous. Chiselled, tanned, the deepest brown eyes and softest looking lips.

He stood there taking you in. You were shorter than him, your hair fell down to your waist and he was encompassed by a cloud of your scent. He could’ve fallen to his knees in awe of you. He remembered the brief moments he had seen you before. It was always after one too many beers, but he knew he found you were beautiful. You made him laugh too, you were always as if butter wouldn’t melt, trying to keep your asshole ex-boyfriend sweet. But he remembered you sneaking smokes in the front yard at family parties, or downing a shot of tequila in the kitchen on your own when things got too much. The sparkle in your eyes never dulled, and your smile never faded.

‘Hey, thanks for coming so early’ you smiled.

Joel shook himself out of his daze.  He winked at you and put his hand on your shoulder.

‘No problem, show me the damage darling.’

His eyes twinkled and he smirked as you placed your hand on Joel’s. You squeezed his hand and gestured him in. 

He examined every part of your house on the way to your bedroom. The baby pink accents, the kitten toys scattered all over the place, and the framed pictures of you with your friends and family.

You quickly joined him with a mug of coffee. You sat cross-legged on the bed. You were wearing baby pink yoga pants and a plain white cropped tee. He looked you up and down, very brazen and not ashamed. You blushed and adjusted yourself to let Leo join you.

‘You the clumsy type then?’ Joel sized up the hole in the wall, and looked over his shoulder at you, with an eyebrow raised.

‘Erm, my ex-boyfriend. Fragile masculinity and alcohol’ you looked down and Joel cringed. He faced you and rested his hands on his hips. Your throat went dry and you couldn’t tell if you were turned on or terrified of being told off for letting yourself in that situation.

‘I’m sorry, baby’ Joel dropped his head and started fixing the wall. 

You watched him intently. His arms flexing as he worked his magic. You let Joel finish as you went downstairs to fix up some food for him to take with him.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

‘The wall’s fixed. Anything else I can do?’ Joel startled you and you hopped round and laughed.

He took the second mug of coffee you offered him and gazed at you. 

‘I need my locks changed’ you rifled down your drawers unable to find the replacement locks, then you remembered you had put them in your glass cabinet. 

The pictures of your dad faced outward as you opened the door to the cabinet, and Joel felt his heart drop. He was so fond of your dad, and couldn’t imagine the shit you had been through this past year. 

He chuckled and took the locks out of your hands. 

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

‘I’m all done, is that everything?’ Joel poked his head round the doorway of your dressing room. You grinned as you finished applying your lipgloss and turned around to Joel.

‘Yes thank you, Mr Miller’ you winked.

He turned as if to go. ‘Wait, wait, wait’ you clambered up out of your seat, ‘I’ll see you out.’

Joel gestured to let you lead the way and you half curtsied. He was intrigued. You were so high energy and like a ball of sunshine, and he felt like he was 18 again.

He got his stuff ready and began to head back to the car. 

‘Erm, Joel. I’m having my family and friends round tonight for some drinks. I’d love you to come, to say thank you for your help. Clara and Rufus will be there, so will Mum and the girls’ you felt embarrassed and desperate, but Joel made you feel safe.

‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world, text me a time’ Joel winked and waved as he headed back towards his truck.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

You were a woman infatuated. Joel occupied every corner of your mind. You slid on your flip flops and grabbed your purse before heading to get food and drink for your night of hosting.

You stopped off to drop Rufus and Clara’s lunch to their shop.

‘Now when were you going to tell me Mr Miller is devastatingly handsome?’ You burst through the door of the florist.

‘Well I thought it would be a welcome surprise’ Clara smirked.

‘He’s already called. Said he’s looking forward to seeing us tonight, and that you are an absolute angel.’ Rufus hooked his arm around you, roughing you up as you both do.

‘Eeek! I’m obsessed’ you twirled round and waved yourself out the door. You blew a kiss and practically waltzed down to your car.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸

‘Come here anytime from 4:30pm. Wear something pretty😉’ you felt bold after the margaritas you had downed whilst getting ready with the girls. Lottie, Jess and Rhea were your absolute world. You were dancing around the bedroom and dressing room, blaring your music and feeling half tipsy.

It was 3:37pm, and Joel sat at home waiting restlessly to leave. He decided to call your Auntie and Uncle and get a lift with them. 

‘Who are you texting?’ Rhea snatched your phone out of your hand.

‘Stop, you can’t even judge me on this. He’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen. He fixed some bits up in the house yesterday. Knows Rue and Clara, an old family friend. He’s coming tonight’ you girls all squealed in unison.

Rhea still had your phone and headed straight to Facebook. She got Joel’s profile up right away and mocked you with it. She accidentally liked a photo from 3 years ago, and her face dropped. You all went silent before freaking out. She threw your phone to the center of your bed. 

It lit up:

Facebook:

One new friend request- Joel Miller

Chaos ensued, and you were quick to accept it.

Joel texted you letting you know they were on their way. You felt giddy.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

Your mum and sisters arrived and you set your sisters up in the summerhouse at the end of the garden with some of their friends they had bought along. You made them mocktails and let them have free roam of your beauty drawers and facemasks beforehand.

You switched on the fairylights around your garden, and you and the girls sat debriefing on life with your mum and her best friend.

Joel and the rest of your family creeped round through the side gate. You stood up to greet them and your auntie and uncle held you tightly before sauntering off to see your mum and sisters. A few more family acquaintances turned up, and people you know and love, but this was all a daze as Joel kissed your cheek and pulled you in for a cuddle.

His dark curls were swept backwards, with the exception of one that fell over his forehead. ‘Thank you for having me’ he whispered into your ear.

You traced down his arms to his hands, and you squeezed them as if to say thank you. His hands lingered on your waist, perhaps a second too long and the girls couldn’t help but wolf whistle. 

Joel laughed, and headed over to meet everyone.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

The night was beautiful, everyone had too much food and drink, but everyone was happy and content. Your sisters and friends had crashed out in the spare room, which was fine, you loved having guests.  Your mum left after you assuring her you’d be fine to drop the girls off home tomorrow. Your friends had booked an uber to go to the club, but you were more of a homebody, plus Joel had stuck around and you didn’t want him to leave.

You cleared the glasses and bottles away in the kitchen, Joel offered to help but he sat at the table and watched you instead. 

You offered him a cigarette from your hidden box which was in the empty biscuit tin. You sat next to eachother on the backdoor step. The sun was setting and it caressed his features and soaked them in a golden hue. Everything had been moving in double speed since you met him, and now was the first time you got to take in every bit about him, and was also the first time you noticed he did the same to you. He made you laugh until your stomach hurt, and you made him feel relaxed. As you laughed, you leaned into his side, and he wrapped his arm over your shoulders and placed a kiss upon the top of your head.

You looked up at him and he kissed you. Deeply and passionately and carefully. You relaxed your arms over his shoulders and as you deepened the kiss. Then tested the waters and held onto his neck, under his jawline, and pulled him towards you.

‘I wanted to do this since I saw you,’ Joel tilted his forehead pressed against yours, and you grinned. ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’

‘No plans, tackling the aftermath of this I think. Why do you ask?’ Joel stroked your thigh with his thumb. It was cold from nursing a beer, but it was welcome.

‘Would you like to go on a date with me?’ Joel felt shy, and anxious.

‘I wouldn’t want to do anything else. Text me the details, and I’ll be there’ you blushed and kissed his cheek.

‘I’ll pick you up at 5pm baby’ Joel kissed your cheek and headed out as he stumbled towards the cab he had booked.

He sat in the back of the cab and motioned a phone with his hand and mouthed call me. You blew a kiss and waved him off, giggling like a school girl as he waved out of the window of the car.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

You showered and headed to bed, high on life and feeling like you were floating. 

‘Good evening Mr Miller’ you tried your best at flirting, and following Joel’s orders to call him. 

‘I’ve been wondering when you’d call’ he yawned.

‘Bad timing?’

‘Never bad timing with you. I’d answer your call at any second of any day.’ His southern drawl flipped your stomach.

‘I’ll remember that, I may need you a lot from now on.’ You rolled over and snuggled into your pillow.

‘You get some sleep baby. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow’ 

You hung up the phone, texted Joel goodnight and slept through the night in peace.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag list:

@iamsherlocked-1998

@sugakookieswithmilk

@galway-girlatwork

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Last, Last Time (alternate ending)

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

WC: ~8.2k

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

a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupiter.

hey guys! some people had asked me about a happy ending version of this, and I've never really written an alternate ending before, I was struggling with whether I wanted this to be good angst or not, so having been swayed....here is the alternate ending!

Original Spencer Masterlist

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

“Y/n…”

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

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

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

“Wait for the potential of us?” 

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

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

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

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

“That’s not fair—”

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home and no note…” 

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

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

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

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

“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.” 

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

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

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

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

And it stuck. 

Now? It stung. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and trying to decided whether your life had gotten better because of it.

You still weren’t sure.  

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

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

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

Did you make the right choice?

Something was missing. It was missing from the spot on the couch. It was missing in the mug cabinet. It was missing in the kitchen while you played music and moved around by yourself. 

But you were happy. You have been able to throw yourself into your job, and open your own firm. You had your dream career, with some of the most amazing friends you could have asked for. 

None of which you would have met if you stayed with him. 

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

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

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

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

Emily Prentiss

__________________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

Spencer just stared at the photo. 

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________________________

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

You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

“Uh, yeah Em. I’m so sorry, I, uh, I completely forgot about our plans today. Let me get ready, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are we still meeting at your place or did you have a different location in the city?” 

“We’ll be at Quantico.” 

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

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

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

Today was already stressful enough, what was the point of adding a bra. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s head inside?” 

You nodded and the three of you moved inside. 

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

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

“What do you know about Cat Adams?” 

That bitch. 

______________________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

______________________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

Part of being engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their own quirks. Which meant you saw Alvez bite his tongue and try to hide his smile. And you noticed that Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better but it was still there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?” 

“Y/n..”

“No Emily, I drove all the way from DC to Quantico on the phone, I deserve to know what happened.” 

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

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

“We didn’t think you’d–” 

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

Both of them went silent. 

“So is he out?” 

They nodded slowly, silently. 

“How long was he in there?”

Nothing. 

“I asked. How. Long.”

Luke spoke up. “Three months.” 

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

Why didn’t Spencer call you?

Well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you. 

“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here—He didn’t start….did he?” 

Emily shook her head. “He’s actually been really good about it.” She said softly, trying to calm you down. 

You started fidgeting with your rign finger; a habit you have picked up many years ago, and have yet to lose, even if the ring wasn’t there anymore. 

“Cat’s execution is coming up.” Emily started, trying to get you back on track. “And we….we found out that she’s convinced one of her former cellmates to kidnap...people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.” 

“She already ruined that relationship years ago, she won that one. Why would she bring me back into it?” You sat down and looked down at the file on the table. You had never really seen a photo of her before, doing your best to avoid all of the media surrounding her arrest. 

She was very pretty, that much was certain. 

Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her. 

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

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

Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily very casually put a hand on your knee under the table. 

“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?” 

Your head turned as you looked over to Emilt, bewildered by this woman and her, well, bewilderment. 

JJ walked over and sat down on the other side of you. “Uh, Max, this is Unit Cheif Emily Prentiss and SSA Luke Alvez.” She pursed her lips before looking over at you. “And this is another one of the victims affected by Cat Adams, Y/n Y/l/n.” 

Max had crossed her arms and nodded. “Victims?” 

You quickly onced her over, a slightly unimpressed look crossing your features. “People close to Spencer get fucked over a lot.” This came out with a sigh attached to it. 

Max almost scoffed, but you watched as she nodded. “And how do you know Spencer?” 

Your eyes met with Emily’s really quickly. 

Emily looked over at Max. “She’s…”

“I’m Spencer’s ex-fiancé.”

It felt better to let this poor girl know, but somehow saying the words out loud left the most rotten taste in your mouth. 

Watching Max’s defenses go up in real time was a little sobering.

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

______________________________________________________________________________

“Victimology is off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________________________

After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you swore you left for the last time. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved out, but there was less of it. 

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

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

Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong. 

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

She had, understandably, decided she was not your biggest fan.

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

You nodded. “How does this affect me?” 

“She took your father and sister.” 

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

His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear. JJ, who was on the couch, talking to Max, looked like she was trying to block out whatever conversation was happening in the kitchen. 

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

“Because we don’t want anyone in danger, and it’s better for us if we have eyes on both of you” 

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

Rossi nodded, and placed your phone on the counter, and you walked into the kitchen,eyes closed from the stress of the situation. 

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

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

The pity from JJ and Rossi was palpable. 

The disbelief from Max was a boulder on you back, like Atlas transferring the world to your shoulders. 

“Don’t even start.” You muttered, moving to sit down back next to Rossi on the kitchen stools. 

He shrugged and stayed silent. 

That is, until JJ’s walkie went off and she looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.” 

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

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________________________

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

Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. Plus, Y/n is not that hard to find—she’s a prominent public attorney in DC. That means Juliette must’ve had access to all of her publicly available information. “

“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.” 

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

Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.” 

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

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

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

Emily sighed in agreement. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________________________

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

And there he was. 

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

And there he was, kissing Catherine Adams. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?” Spencer’s voice cracked.

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

Remember what Prentiss had said to you. 

“You know why I’m here.” 

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

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

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

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

You shook your head. “No.”

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

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

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

“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”

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

You scoffed. “What does that mean?”

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

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

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

You sat down in your spot on the couch, eyes closed, trying not to let Cat (or Spencer) see how truly upset you were starting to feel.  

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

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

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

Spencer spoke up. “With you?”

“Without you.” Cat snapped at him. “Besides, I’m not talking to you Spencie, I'm talking to her.”

She turned to face you. “Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” You locked eyes with Cat, almost challenging her. 

She seemed to enjoy it.

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

“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?” 

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

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

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

“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to Spencer, poor Spencer who has spent the entire day entertaining her.

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

“Cat..”

“Do it.” She hissed, eyeswide with hints of threate.

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

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

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

Every single time she said Spencie you swore it was harder to not deck her in the face. 

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

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

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

Youre eyes went wide. “What?”

They just continued to argue over you.

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

“That doesn't mean I-I would…”

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

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

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

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

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.” 

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

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

Spencer just looked over at you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Last year.” 

“Was he good in bed?” 

Spencer stood up. “Shut up.” 

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

“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response was "I'm sorry, Mike." A fucking defense attorney apologizing to someone when they got hit. That's when he knew he had me.”

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

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

You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess. I never missed a day of work.”  

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

“ I…”

“Tell me.”

“I planned. I planned and then I waited.”

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

“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “But I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear, but because I-I know some people…it was sooner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The phone in your hand buzzed.

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

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you have written me back?” 

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

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

______________________________________________________________________________

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

“I need some time Emily.” He muttered, walking right past her and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in. 

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

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

He stiffly smiled at her, and returned the hug before muttering that he would be back in a moment.

Watching Spencer hug her and whisper something in her ear, make your stomach lurch, and you had to turn away. 

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

“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”

She nodded at him and walked away. 

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

“I should explain all of this.” 

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

You cut him off. “Spencer, please.” 

The two of you moved out and voer into the kitchen, providing a bit more privacy than before. “It was fake—most of it was fake. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.” 

He just nodded, staring at you, eyes cloudier than a storm crossing an ocean. 

You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, but your hand stayed where it was. 

“Mike Davis is alive, and I don’t really know about well. But he…we dated for about two years and he did…he raised a fist one time but never actually…he never hit me. I threw him out that night. I’m okay.”

Spencer lets out a breath slowly, just trying to take in everything you were saying. 

Spencer watched as what little resolve you had left crumbled under his gaze, and you looked up, trying to keep the tears at bay. 

He gently wrapped his arms around you, and helf you tightly, like all those years ago. “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.” His words melted into your skin as you wrapped your arms around him. 

After a minute of standing like this, the two of you broke apart, and one of his hands came up to your cheek, wiping away a single tear that was left. 

You took a step back, the irony of this mirror image not lost on you, and you guestered back into the bullpen. “You have…You have to talk to Max.” 

Spencer’s face dropped a little at the mention of her name and he shook his head. “I’ll…I’ll deal with her in a second. She wasn’t the one who had to face a woman who completely….”

“Changed and fucked up what I thought my life would be. Yeah, I know. But she also cares about you.” You laughed a bit, putting back together a resolve that was nonexistent. 

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

He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger. You could read him like you read one of your favorite books, knowing which emotion was coming up next. 

“They gave me an ear piece and everything.” You gave him a small smile, trying to make light of something. 

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

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

Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I didn’t know that..”

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

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

You looked over at Garcia. “Thank you Pen.” 

Taking another small step back from Spencer, even though every single neuron in your brain was firing off, telling you what you were doing was wrong. “I should, I should grab my stuff, and go back. Penelope?” 

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

Spencer flexed his hand, almost as if he wanted to grab yours and never let go, but he just walked over to Max. 

You started to collect your things, but got sidetracked by a conversation with Rossi. 

You missed the small conversation that Spencer had with Max. You missed the way they hugged, and the way that the two of them walked out of the bullpen and to the elevator. You missed as they disappeared for a few minutes. 

“Rossi, I promise to do better about keeping in touch. I swear.” 

“I don’t just invite anyone over for dinner, you know. It’s an exclusive invitation.” 

You smiled, almost all real. “Trust me. I know. Besides… the phone is a two way device, so you have to text me first sometimes too.” 

You looked over for Spencer, the smile on your face shifting ever so slightly into one of sadness when he wasn’t around. And no one would have noticed, if not for the fact that you were in a room full of profilers. 

“Well everyone, I…this was lovely. We’ll have to do this whole ‘getting my family kidnapped’ again some time.” 

This remark caused a few laughs and some smiles, as you said your goodbyes, and Emily walked over to the elevator. 

She was about to say something, but the doors opened and revealed Spencer. He seemed like a weight had been taken off his shoulders and you smiled at him.

Emily excused herself, giving your shoulder a squeeze, and leaving the two of you alone. 

“Let me walk you out.”

You nodded, and entered the elevator.

The two of you stood in silence until you reached the parking lot.

You both stepped out, and looked over at your car, before looking back at one another. 

It was Spencer who spoke first. 

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

As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you. You just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours. 

Part of being a lawyer meant that acting and diffusing situations was part of your life, but sometimes, it was just a defense mechanism. It was exhausting. 

“Are you okay?” 

Spencer looked at your face, pulling away slightly. You were worried about him. 

He went to nod, but decided to shake his head no. “Today was…I’m so sorry she…” 

“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately she just…” You whispered. You tried so hard to find the right words. 

After another moment in his arms, you took a step back and shook your head. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/n…”

“Spence you have a girlfriend.” 

“Y/n.”

“And I…I don’t know if I could put myself back to where I was four years ago.”

“Jolie.” 

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

“We won’t.” 

“You can’t promise something like that.”

“I can. I will.”

You shook your head. “Max…”

“We broke up.”

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

You didn’t. 

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

Catharsis didn’t even begin to describe the feeling of the ache in your bones subsiding. Every single moment of stress, of doubt, just melted away and left you grabbing a hold of Spencer’s shirt and pulling him impossibly closer. 

It was going to be different. Everything was not the same. You both had grown, you had changed, and for the better. But eventually, you were always supposed to find your way back to this moment, with yourself in Spencer’s arms and your lips on his lips. 

It was solidified when a few months later, Spencer left the BAU to become a full time professor in DC, and moved into your apartment, abandoning the one where Cat had ruined your life not once, but twice. 

It solidified as the two of you made time for one another, constantly finding new cities around the world to explore. 

It solidified forever when he placed a ring on your finger and whispered I do in front of your friends and family.

It was always meant to be, and sometimes, the path to forever, is everchanging. 

But at least you were able to do it with Spencer Reid by your side. 

[todorokistheories]

Why I'll Never Forgive Endeavor - An Analysis

tw: abuse, domestic violence, dehumanization, and everything you expect to come with talking about the todorokis

Endeavor was right in calling Shouto a masterpiece, because that's all he ever was to him. Just a canvas to imprint whatever beliefs he had onto. Shouto was never made to be a person. He was made to be an object, an immovable force, something Endeavor can sculpt to his desire.

We see this through Shouto's demeanor. His inability to show emotions the way others do to that extreme of a level is usually a trauma response. He's purposefully blank, lest he face the wrath of Endeavor noticing the stain on his perfect painting.

Dabi even mentions this.

Endeavor wasn't the only one who saw Shouto as a means to an end. Dabi did too. He calls Shouto a puppet and trophy son throughout the series genuinely does not seem to consider that he has feelings at all. He wants to break him, because Shouto was given the life he was promised, but he can't see past what Endeavor told him to be like class 1a did.

Dabi's plotline was never about reconciling with Shouto, it was about destroying everything Endeavor thought made him great.

Endeavor controlled every moment of Shouto's life from the day he was born. Training, probably diet, every single second of every day was planned to expect max power and effort. He wanted a machine that he could show off, like fucking Tony Stark or some shit.

This is why when Midoriya says "it's your power," it's so impactful. He essentially told Shouto "you don't have to be what he made you to be." He was finally given permission to choose, something no one in his life (not even his mother) gave him. When you're a kid like that, you don't have the perspective that you can change. Midoriya believed that he could, so Shouto did.

Shouto wanted his father to see him as valuable outside of what he could do for him. But he never gets that. That is why the ending is so important for Shouto.

Shouto's arc is, at a base level, finding purpose outside of what his father expected.

You know who was given the freedom to do that from the get go?

Touya.

Let's get into the meat of the issue. Endeavor genuinely cared about Touya. In his eyes, he gave him permission to be great and expected that of him. This lasted until Endeavor eventually told Touya that there is more to his life than being Endeavor's 'mini me' and refused to compromise for Touya's sake.

He didn't do this with Fuyumi or Natsuo, but I think at this point he would've been willing to care about them if they offered something he thought was valuable. Because at the end of the day, even if Touya wasn't going to be a hero, Endeavor believed he'd still do great things. That he would bring honor to their name.

Endeavor only started caring about how he treated his family once he saw what it did to Dabi. His wife's mental breakdown didn't do it. The disfiguration of his youngest didn't do it. Breaking his child down until all he was was just another puddle of vomit on the floor at the age of five didn't do it. Not even the death of his beloved child did it.

But seeing how he ruined Touya's potential did.

Endeavor's change only came from the knowledge that he was his own ruin. His apologies come from a place of selfishness and it destroyed his family.

The thing that both Shouto and Dabi had in common is that they both just wanted to be enough for Endeavor. And at the end of the day, and the manga, I truly don't think that was ever achieved.

And that is why I can never forgive Endeavor.

[megastrangeskeleton]

TW // child abuse, emotional abuse, neglect and domestic violence

Ok fr, can we talk about the fact that shoto went to a public school, as did the rest of the todoroki kids, and seemingly no teachers picked up that something might’ve been going on at home?

A child that comes from a family background of ice and fire quirks now suddenly has a frost burn over his right eye, his brother is supposedly dead “from an accident” and the other brother and sister in the family regularly witness domestic, emotional and physical abuse dealt by their father to the rest of their family.

And no teacher thought “this seems like a potentially dangerous situation, I should tell someone about this”

Oh yeah, they didn’t because endeavour was the number two hero and was an authority figure and trusted him.

Just thinking about this adds a whole new level of “this is fucked up” to mha. The series in itself is about raising children to be soldiers, but its very telling in saying that it’s portrayal of high ranking public figures, such as endeavour, getting away with absolutely horrific shit behind closed doors for such a long time is realistic, and honestly, scary as all fuck.

[wombywoo]

Sorry if you already answered this- but I am DYING to know more about Quinns prophetic visions. What does it mean that he puts himself in ‘near-death’ situations to have one? Could you give an example? Also do they last long/ put him in a trance or is it quick. If they last long I could imagine the first time it happened around Vincent him being totally freaked out and trying to make sure he was ok (maybe he was worried Quinn was having a stroke/seizure)

sorry it's taken me so long to respond I'm sick today 😩😭

I do have a very long answer and it's under the cut! (tw for mentions of self-harm, injury, drugs, domestic violence, non con) this is so heavy I'm sorry please read at your own discretion.

So--the first time Quinn's visions appeared was in the aftermath of the bus accident that nearly took his life. He'd been impaled in the shoulder with a metal pole, lost a lot of blood, and ended up coding when he got to the hospital. While in recovery, he experienced an intense seizure-like episode, which the hospital staff assumed was a side effect of his fever spiking dangerously high. But no--turns out his 'vision' and the delirious ramblings he tried to warn everyone about came true a week later (it was a major catastrophic event; I will touch on this later at some point..)

Hereafter, a series of injuries and illnesses in his preteen years enabled him to grasp the basics: if he gets personally close to death, a vision is granted (and it's usually a portent of something supernatural and horrible).

There were several....attempts to test the limits of this, as well as a dangerous theory: did he only experience the visions because the events he'd seen were meant to happen, or did the events happen because he saw them?

Interesting, interesting....

When Quinn experiences a vision, the effects can vary. Usually, he does exhibit something similar to a seizure--there's violent thrashing, sometimes screaming, or other times he drops to the floor, seemingly paralyzed. An outsider might assume he was dead if they didn't know better.

The length of an episode also varies: they can be as little as a couple of seconds to up to thirty minutes (at least that's the longest he's had so far)

Another thing to note is--his visions always take place from the point of view of someone else. Whatever event he's witnessing is shown to him from behind the eyes of a person present at the scene. As such, if the POV dies, Quinn reacts accordingly (thrashing, screaming, etc)

He also has other clairvoyant qualities, in that he appears to have an uncanny sense of luck in the field. What makes vampires so notorious to combat is their enhanced speed (when aiming, it's less a matter of where they're standing now as opposed to where they will be in a flash of a second) Quinn has a keen ability to prejudge where the target will be, and is almost always successful in taking an accurate shot.

After certain...events in his teen years--Quinn swore to put his prophecies behind him, and for a long time, he did his best to suppress them. It was only serving in the military and thus being thrown into danger regularly that forced him to confront the benefits of his 'gift' once more. A harrowing field injury left him a vision on the eve of a big mission: one that would fail from the things he saw. Quinn attempted to relay this 'newly discovered intel' to a higher-up, but it was ignored, and the subsequent failure played out just as he'd seen it.

Despite knowing very little about whether he'd ever be able to drastically change the future, if at all, Quinn took it upon himself to try to use the visions as a guide for future endeavors. With that came a sense of personal responsibility: if he had a chance to see a glimpse into a probable future, this could potentially save the lives of his squadmates. But he couldn't very well be exposing himself to danger regularly in order to induce a vision, could he. So he developed...other methods.

Drugs became his 'easiest' option, and that was still a huge gamble. A hit strong enough to run the risk of OD usually was enough to give him a vision. And acquiring them was simple enough--his ex bf Marc was a willing supplier. But using them in the field was not really a choice Quinn was comfortable with, especially when his CO found out and was ready to discharge him on the spot (they...worked something out)

His other options were more...creative, but usually required a partner. When his best mate Danny was first asked to drown him in the bathtub of the safe house they were holed up in, it was met with, ah...a lot of resistance. Quinn had attempted this on his own once, and yeah....that was nearly fatal. It took a lot of convincing, but eventually Quinn did persuade his friend to hold his head under the water long enough for him to stop thrashing, and then resuscitate him only to watch him writhe on the floor in apparent agony. Not at all recommended!!! good friends do not do this to their bros ❌ Danny was extremely traumatized and fucked up over the whole thing, and Quinn swore he'd never ask him to do it again (spoiler: he did)

The dangerous self-harm options just seemed to escalate though. It didn't help that Quinn's (psychotic) boyfriend was the biggest enabler of all. Marc was a violent lover, both physically and mentally. Yet Quinn didn't mind in the beginning; his mental state is not the greatest (can you tell??) so he often used Marc as an outlet to punish himself :'D There was an...incident with choking that went a little too far, and after witnessing Quinn's episode first-hand, Marc eventually figured out the basics as well. And as a result...well. Let's just say Marc appreciated hearing details of future events (for investments and whatnot) and was not at all inclined to entreat his boyfriend's safety above all else. This led to....various incidents of forced suffocation (most of which were not consensual) god this is really horrible, I'm sorry... They did break up, finally, but there's still a sense that Marc isn't done with him yet...

Eventually, Quinn does reach a healthier mindset with the help of his therapist and his commanding officer (and Fig!). At current, he hasn't had an episode since his last field assignment and injury, and hasn't induced one in over a year.

His developing relationship with Vincent comes with the eventual explanation of...all that, as well as a new catch-22--now that Quinn has someone he cares about more than anyone else, the 'personal responsibility' starts to stir up once more. Especially with a recently learned development--taking Vincent's venom-neutralizing pills is enough to induce a vision.

This can definitely complicate things....

And in the back of his mind, that notion still remains: is he the one causing these things to happen, by witnessing them in the first place??

Interesting, indeed....

So there you have it! It's not everything, and I'm still brainstorming a few of the details...but this is most of what I've thought up thus far~

Sorry I rambled when all you asked was a simple question :'D

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 31

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 

A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. Please read the TW below and only read on if you feel comfortable doing so.

Potential Trigger Warnings: mentions of domestic violence, rape, therapy, depression

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After my second show Jensen picks me up again and he starts driving towards my apartment. But as we drive back through the city streets I spot a gelato place. It’s quiet given the late hour, and I want to stop but I feel guilty. Jensen notices my sudden silence and glances over. We pass the shop and my shoulders sink, but I try to shake it off. To my surprise, he takes a U-turn at the next intersection and pulls into a park.

As he shuts of the engine he says, “Let’s go for a walk.”

“But-”

“Nope. No buts. Let’s go. It’s quiet out.” He swings his door open and I have no choice but to follow. We walk side-by-side through the surprisingly quiet streets and gaze through the dark store windows. Eventually we get a crosswalk that leads to the gelato store I spotted. He takes my hand and we cross together. We both scan the multitude of flavors before he steps forward and orders a double scoop cone with mint choc chip and chocolate. He then looks over at me for my order. I step forward and order a single scoop cone with cookies and cream ice cream with a strawberry on top. He swipes his card to pay for our order and we watch as we wait for our order. 

As we’re waiting I hear a familiar voice call out my name. I turn quickly and spot my younger colleague sitting at a booth with a few friends. She climbs over a guy and comes over to us. “You told me you didn’t recognise him! Did Stewie tell you to show him around? Why you?”

I look over at Jensen apologetically and he just smiles and hold his hand out to Jenna. “I’m Jensen, nice to meet you…”

I step in to introduce them. “Jensen, this is Jenna. She works at Mamma Jo’s with me.” I then turn to Jenna. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth, but you have to understand that we didn’t want this getting out. He deserves a quiet holiday without getting mobbed by paps and fans.”

The server calls out our order and I turn to grab it while Jensen takes a selfie with her. I sigh, but I can help but be in awe of how nice and accommodating he is. Jensen hands her back her phone and I hand over his gelato. Jenna thanks Jensen and turns, but then turns back to me and says, “Guess it really pays to be the manager, huh?

I badly want to tell her the truth but I’m too scared, I just nod and say, “You have a good night. I’ll see you on Monday.”

I quickly leave the store and speed walk in the direction of the car. Jensen rushes after me and unlocks the car once I’m close. I get in and finally take a deep breath. I can feel the cold, sticky sweet dripping down the cone and onto my hand and I can’t stop the tears. I hate hiding and lying and now I hate that I’m wasting Jensen’s money. After a few moments he finally gets in the driver’s seat. He hands me some napkins I didn’t realize he grabbed. I pass him the cone so I can wipe up the mess. Onc e I've gotten most of it he hands it back and I try to eat it. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have forced that. I just really wanted to do something normal and I could tell you wanted gelato. I’m sorry if I put you in a bad situation with your work.”

I shake my head. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have lied to her, but what could I say…”

“Yeah…it will be great when we can just come clean to everyone. But no stress okay, we’ll work it out until you’re ready.”

”I think it’s gonna be out of our hands…if we keep going out like this it’s inevitable that there’s gonna be photos and people sharing stories online.”

“You’re probably right…Im sorry…”

After swallowing a bite of decadent waffle I look over at him and say, “but you know it’s not even that…what I wanted more than anything was to set Jenna straight. Apologise, and open up and say us being there had nothing to do with work. That instead of her seeing us together and thinking I’m your tour guide it could just be as simple as two people hanging out together. That I could have a label to give her. Are we friends? Are we more than that? I mean, with kiss, cuddle, we had more than one sit down meal together, we’ve slept in the same bed…but because I’m so fucking terrified of- Shit, I’m sorry. You don’t need to listen to this…let’s just finish this and then you can drop me off at the Subway or whatever.” 

He places his free hand on my knee, but I keep my focus on what’s left of the sweet treat. “Firstly, there’s no need to apologise, if you need to vent, vent. I can listen. I am just a guy, you let me be that. So, friends, more than friends, it doesn’t make a difference. I can be here for you and listen and things will evolve at a safe pace. One that you’re comfortable with. And secondly, there’s no way in hell I’m dropping you off at the Subway at this hour. I know you take it when I’m not here and I can’t do anything about that, but we have a car tonight, so I’m not doing that to you. My best offer is that I’ll drive you back to your apartment and walk you inside or take you to Stella’s. You don’t have to spend the night with me, but you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Silence falls over the car as we both finish our gelatos. Once Jensen takes the last bite he turns on the engine and pulls out of the park. He expertly navigates back to my apartment with some help from his GPS and walks me up to my door. When I lock it and open it my eyes instantly fall on that couch again before drifting over to the counter. Terrible memories that I’ve been working so hard to repress flashback through my mind and I know Stella was right. Everything now is about so much more than just Todd. 

I startle from my dreamless sleep at the sound of the door slamming. I try to squeeze my eyes shut and calm my breathing. I listen carefully as each boot hits the tiles with a thud, followed by his bag. Next the fridge opens and shuts. Then, the sound in most terrified of: the sliding doors crash back into the wall sockets. Light instantly floods the room except for in his shadow. I stare at the dark looming presence on the wall in front of me. I don’t dare move. But he doesn’t leave me a choice. He grabs my arm, my skin burning in the worst possible way, and yanks me to my feet in front of him.

”The fridge is empty. I work terrible goddamn hours, dealing with drunken idiots, the least I deserve is to come home to a meal and a welcome home kiss from my girlfriend. Instead what? You’re off trying to live some lackadaisical dream about becoming a broadway star. I never should’a put that idea in your head!” I can smell the alcohol on his breath the second he opens his mouth. Before I have a chance to respond, not that I know what to say, he pulls me out of the room and pushes me harshly against the kitchen and I slam into the counter. But I don’t have time to focus on the newest bruise forming before he’s spitting orders out at me.

I try to throw together the semblance of a meal, but he’s right the fridge is basically empty. Our measly wages barely cover the rent and utilities, not to mention his extracurriculars. I knew he was a sucker for a good bet way back in Texas, but since moving to New York he’s only gotten worse. And he never wins, so there’s nothing left for groceries. Still I obediently do my best and take the blame. His hours do trump my few at the coffee shop so I should be trying harder. As he eats and I clean up I look down at the red marks and forming bruises on my arm and I know no one will ever hire a lead who looks like this. But that far fetched dream is all I have left, so I cling to it. It quickly fades as his empty plate clatters into the sink, hitting my hand as it does. 

“Now was that so hard?” He hisses as he gets up and storms into the ensuite. Once he’s out of sight I finally let the tears fall.

“Y/N, Darlin’. You okay? Where’s your head at?” I’m brought back into the moment by gentle hands on my upper arms and a comforting voice. I blink a few times to push away the memory and focus on Jensen’s concerned features. I shake my head as I feel tears prick at my eyes and dampen my cheeks. He softly pulls me into a hug with my head against his chest. “You’re safe. Just stay right here with me in this moment. I’ve got you.”

After a few minutes, I gently try to pull back and he lets me. But as my gaze settles past him, I feel myself falling back into those traumatic memories—memories that I’d pushed so far down for so long. I know the only way through is to face them, and I will, with help of my new therapist, not tonight. I wipe at my cheeks and say, barely above a whisper, “C-Can w-e go to your h-hotel? I can’t-“

He instantly nods. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

An hour later we’re cuddling on the couch in his fancy hotel room, having showered and changed into comfy clothes that could resemble pyjamas. He has his arms wrapped around me as he pulls my back against his chest. He just holds me and I feel so safe in his strong arms. He doesn’t force me to talk and try to change the subject, he just holds me silently and waits patiently for me. I lose track of how long we stay like this before I finally feel comfortable enough to talk. “I’m sorry about before…I just-I have been avoiding certain memories for so long. Pushing them down, trying to pretend it didn’t happen. And I guess with the recent…events and starting therapy they’re resurfacing. There’s other things that happened in that apartment…between me and my ex that no one knows. Things that he did…said…the way he was. Stella knows a little, but I left out a lot of the details. The reason that I have trust issues, the reason the littlest things send me into a meltdown, the reason I’m terrified of how I feel about you…” As I finish talking I look over my shoulder to see his reaction. 

He just squeezes me the slightest bit tighter. “I’m not gonna lie…part of me wants you to tell me everything so I can share the burden. But I know it doesn’t work like that. You need to process it on your terms. I know even just saying what you did was a massive step for you. So, you’re doing great. And I’ll be here when you’re ready to share more.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Darlin’. Whatever you need, I’m here. But I uh…I do wanna say something and I hope you’ll just listen and really consider it.” I sit up a little so I can look at him better. Once I’m still he continues, “I don’t think you should be alone in that apartment, especially at night. I know it’s got security now so it’s safer, but they can’t protect you from your thoughts. Whatever memories were haunting you tonight. You had a full panic attack, and I just don’t want you to have to go through that alone daily. I deliberately booked this hotel because of its proximity to yours…I can extend the booking for a few weeks or however long you need. I just want you to be comfortable and safe. I know I can’t fight your demons for you, but if I can offer this while you work through them.”

“But, Jensen I can’t-I can’t pay for it. And you-you need your money. You already have a place in Vancouver and Texas, you can’t…”

He rubs his hands gently up and down my arms. “In Vancouver I share an apartment with Jared, it’s less lonely that way and we get along great, like brothers really. So rent’s cheap enough. And I own my place in Texas, and since I’m barely there the utilities are low. I can afford this. My parents are always on my back about investing well for the future and not wasting my money. And I have. And this may be too soon to tell you or too much and I’m sorry if it is, but I want you in my future. And so I’m willing to invest in that. In you. In your most valuable asset…in your mental health.”

“Why me? I know I’ve asked before but I just-“

“It’s okay, I get it. It’s the fears, trust issues, the insecurities you mentioned. I’ll answer anything you need. Any reassurances you need to know I’m not messing with you. You remind me of home. You remind me who I was before the so called fame and craze that being Dean Winchester has thrown me into. I love Dean, I love the show, the fans all of it, it's a dream come true. But I also miss just being me. And with you I can just be me, a regular guy from Texas with a crush and a dream. And you inspire me, you remind me why I went into acting in the first place. Watching you up on stage and working so hard for your dream, it reminds me of my roots and keeps me grounded. And I want to share those passions with you. And you have a big heart, you always care for others before yourself. But now it’s time to care for you, and I know it’s hard, so I’m gonna be here every step of the way, to give you every chance to care for yourself the way you need and deserve.”

I tear up a little at his sentiments. Even in the early stages Trent and Tyler never said anything so meaningful. I can’t recall a time I’d ever felt this way, except maybe from my parents and that's different because they’re my parents, or Stella, but even that’s different, she’s my best friend. As if he can see my mind drifting again, he brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my wrist softly before just holding it against his lips.

“I can feel your heart racing,” he whispers.

I look at him and smile. “You really are a Pisces…” His eye brow lifts up in confusion, so I continue, “During a break from wedding planning, Stella looked up your star sign, she’s a sucker for all that stuff. I wasn’t sure if I really believed it, but yours definitely fits. You’re clearly very creative based on your acting skills, and you’re very in tune with your emotions. No guy has ever opened up with me the way you do. Nick and Stella are great together yet even she says he’s a man of few words. He shows his love in actions. You do both —not that I’m saying you love me— just you show you care by showing up, but you also talk in the way I need. I never thought I’d meet someone like that.”

“I guess I’ve always been a bit of an empath and comfortable with my emotions. I think it’s part of what makes me good at my job too, but I’m more glad that it helps you feel comfortable. And I won’t say that word yet, not until I know you’re ready to hear it and believe it…but I’m sure you know.”

I just nod and relax back into his arms. After some time of quiet I decide to try to open up. “Earlier, when I had that panic attack I wasn’t seeing the incident with Todd. It was my ex, Tyler. He used to come home late, tired and frustrated. And one night after a rough day, I’d failed one of my classes and got some harsh feedback from a tutor saying acting wasn’t my field and that I should consider a different dream, and so I came home and just went to bed. We had no food anyway since she barely had any money since he was a taxi driver and I was doing minimal hours at the cafe and he was addicted to gambling. But when he got home…he woke me up and made me make him dinner. But he didn’t just ask, he used to yank or push me around. That particular night he pushed me so hard I slammed into the counter. I was so covered in bruises, but he made me believe it was all my fault. If I was a better girlfriend he wouldn’t have to discipline me and continually teach me to be better.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that. I hope you know now that’s not true. You don’t owe anyone anything. You're not a child, neither were you one then you didn’t need teaching. And what he did was not discipline, not that he had any right to discipline you anyway. None of that was your fault, there was and is nothing wrong with you.”

“I’m learning that now. But it was hard then. He was a little older so I looked up to him. I trusted him. So I believed everything he said, until I caught him in our bed with someone else. I mean, I knew he was sleeping with other women, that wasn’t a surprise, he’d just never brought them back to our place before. He’d generally go back to their place.”

“And what, he fed you some shit about not being built for monogamy? Said he loved you but he needed more to be satisfied?” I stay quiet. “Well, that’s complete bullshit okay. Men, women, anyone can be monogamous if they care enough about that person. And if your partner isn’t satisfying you you either need to have an adult conversation about it, or buy a toy.” He sighs and then more quietly says, “Sorry, it’s just…I’ve known guys like that in the past and they really piss me off. I get polygamy is a thing, but only if it’s fully consensual, and I don’t believe that you gave full, knowing consent. You were gaslighted and manipulated.”

I shake my head. “I kinda knew…and I was glad. Because it meant I didn’t have to, you know. He wanted things that I wasn’t comfortable giving and more often than I could. So honestly I was a little relieved at first. But when his moods didn’t improve and he got more violent and demanding in other ways, I just thought I was failing in every way.”

“Oh Darlin’. He failed you, not the other way around. Relationships are a two way street, if you’re not both comfortable then neither should be.”

I roll over in his arms so I can face him. “Please don’t ever change.” In my head, I can imagine a happy future with the green-eyed man under me. I know it would involve a lot of long distance given our career choices, but at least I trust he would never hit me or force himself on me or deliberate hurt me in anyway. It feels like such a low bar, but given my past it’s everything.

He leans forward waiting mere inches from my lips waiting for me to make the final move. I close the distance. When he pulls back softly he whispers, “I’ll try not to.” He lays his head back against the armrest and guides his hands up and down my back, encouraging me to snuggle back down. I rest my hands against his sides and my head on his chest. We lay quietly like this until my eyes drift closed and my breath evens out.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never, @deansimpalababy,

@winchesterwild78, @kr804573, @chriszgirl92, @smoothdogsgirl

@speakinvain, @deans-baby-momma, @1967winchesterimpala

@lmg14, @superrey, @kamisobsessed

[barksdalesballs]

headcanons abt Donnie b.

PART 1.

word count: ≈670.

TW: s/a, domestic violence, the MENTION of racism & homophobia & LITERAL OPINIONS DON'T BE MAD.

Alright, I want to begin this by discussing the way I personally view Donnie Barksdale. Unlike a lot of people who have seen The Gift, I don’t view Donnie as this great and terrible monster. Some people simply see the racism and abuse and run with it, and while I see that, I also take into consideration that Donnie could have REASONS for behaving that way. Of course, nothing actually justifies racism or abusing your spouse/partner.

This post won’t JUST be headcanons, either, but instead it will be a mix of headcanons and some evidence that I have picked up.

---

Starting with evidence that is most believable: I think Donnie Barksdale was molested or sexually groomed as a child, as well as being physically and mentally abused. Why would I believe that? Well, Keanu Reeves himself HAS said those exact words himself. Not only that, but Donnie deliberately cheats on his wife, even though he knows it is “unchristian” and makes him a bad husband, to have sex with another woman. For some victims of S/A, hypersexuality comes from it as a result. Just because he is aware that it could be wrong, doesn’t mean that he will stop. Hypersexuality can override logical thought processes for some. This desire to go out and cheat on Valerie could also be a projection of childhood trauma involving a father figure. There is no telling WHO did it, but it could have been his father on a drunken night, or maybe some of his fathers friends. It could even be his mother for all that we know.

The emotional and physical childhood abuse could come from MANY different aspects. Donnie’s father could have been cheating on his mother and could have hit Donnie to ensure that his lips stay shut, but it could also be something as quiet as his father infiltrating his thoughts with racist thoughts and opinions that he may not have had before. One of the biggest things I think his father engraved into his head is homophobia. BUT, I strongly believe that Donnie is bisexual or queer of some sort.

It may just sound like I am projecting onto him, but if his mind IS filled with those thoughts, why would he be SOOOO insecure about Valerie leaving him? Sometimes, a queer man like that will force himself into a marriage with a woman, happy or not, just to disguise the fact that he is queer. Perhaps he really is so dependent on Val’s loyalty because he is hiding something like that. Also, if his father would have found out about potential queerness as a child, it would give him another reason to hit Donnie. This physical abuse could have left Donnie with a desire to scare “weaker beings” (his wife, Annie, Annie’s kids), because he NEEDS to be seen as a tough, dominant man, not as a queer weakling, like his father would have seen.

On top of probably hitting / S/A’ing Donnie, his father most likely hit his mother, too. Donnie could have been raised in an environment where it was “normal” for a husband to beat wife—after all, sometimes kids don’t know better until they are in their teens.

And lastly, for discussing the reasons as to why I think he behaves this way, I think his fear re-manifests inside of him. I mean, look at the scene where they find the body in his pond. He’s obviously terrified to see her body there, but then a few seconds later he’s yelling and spitting at Annie while he gets dragged away by the police. The one officer, when Annie calls them to her house after Donnie breaks in, quite-literally says that Donnie is “high-strung”. Which…if you don’t know what that means, it means to be nervous and easily upset.

---

here's the video of Keanu mentioning Donnie being possibly abused so I don't look crazy:

anddd this isn't everything I want to post, I'll eventually add more head canons about him in the future. for now I wanna focus on his background.

[goldlockets-and-redwine]

You're The Worst | Chapter 1

Pairing: Touya Todoroki x Reader

Word Count: 875 words

Summary: Paw's and Claw's has a fun staff. However, the nosy bad boy, Touya, loves to pick on you. What will happen when he notices the array of bruises hidden under your sweatshirts? Maybe he isn't so bad after all.

Author's Note: So, this fic idea has been in my mind for a while. I hope everyone likes it. This will be a multi-chapter fic as I don't have a ton of time to write. Oof. Please be patient with me. Also, I inserted my cat Thomas because it's almost been a year since he passed, and I think of him every day. I know. So self-indulgent.

TW: Domestic Violence (Not from Touya), Fem!Reader, Violence in general (There will be a fight, not in this chapter though.), drinking, smoking, cursing. Let me know if I missed anything!

“That looks like shit.”

Good god, I wish he would just shut up. This is the third time today he’s butted into my work.

“No, it looks great Touya. You’re just an ass with shit handwriting. Jealous much?” We looked over my work. The sign looked great honestly. I really outdid myself this time. In delicate script it read “Tom” adorned with little hearts around the name. I put up the sign on Tom’s’ kennel, a large grey and white cat sitting at the farthest possible corner of the kennel away from the door. “Do you have his bio?”

“Of course, what am I? Incompetent?” He made quick work of putting up his bio underneath the name card I made. He typed his up like normal. I gazed sadly at the big tom cat sitting in the cage. “Hey doll, he’ll get adopted. You always get too attached.”

I grimaced at the pet name. He always looks for a way under my skin. However, he took it upon himself to never call me by name. I need to come up with my own for him. Maybe he’ll leave me alone if I come up with something heinous.

“Some of us have hearts, jackass.” Wait, that one fits. Still not original enough. I glanced at him to see him already staring at me. If looks could kill. You would think working in a shelter there would be nice coworkers here. Everyone else was nice. Not this guy. His intimidating look didn’t help his case. Tattoos were everywhere but the one on his face gets the most frowns from potential adopters. The row of flames over his left brow. Wait is that… “Touya, did you redye your hair? You should do a better job of not getting that shit on your skin. You look insane.”

“Why you lookin’ at me so hard? Like what you see?” My face was already showing my irritation before, but now I could feel it twist in disgust.

“No. The hair dye stains are really not doing it for me.” I do a swift 180 degrees and make my way out of the cat room and into the lobby once more. “Hey Toga! Any new applications come in?” Her face lit up as she looked up at me. Her sharp canines stuck out as she smiled.

“(Y/N)! We had one come in for Mochi!” She was practically jumping out of her chair. “Dabi! Come and look at the place!” Touya leaned over the counter and looked down above the monitor as I walked around the desk. It was a beautiful house in suburbia with a huge fenced in back yard. “Mochi will love it, don’t ya think?”

“He’ll love it little vamp.” I said. My eyes hovered over the screen to notice the time. “You should head out. It’s 5:30! You know the boss won’t be happy about you staying over too much.”

Toga pouted, but I was right. Tomura gets so pressed when she stays over. It must be that big brother dynamic. She got up to gather her things for the evening and shut down the computer. “He’ll be fine, but I’ll tell him you guys said hi!” With that she gave me a big hug and skipped towards the door and out to the parking lot. Touya turned and stared at me as soon as he had locked the door. Without saying a word I got to work cleaning the lobby. Working with animals was messy and there was a mix of dog and cat hair being swept up. I heard Touya’s heavy boots moving towards the hallway leading to the dog kennels. I instantly relaxed and continued my chores, completely blocking out my thoughts.

-

“Doll,” My body was on autopilot as I put away the cleaning supplies. “Don’t ignore me doll. It’s time to bail.” I quickly finished putting things up and grabbed my bag. Both our footsteps synced as we made our way to the door. Touya held the door open. “Ladies first.” I could hear the cockiness in his voice. He wasn’t going to get a reaction out of me so late in the day. My car’s taillights blinked as I unlocked it. Today was a hot one. The evening sun was shining on me. I pushed up the sleeves to my sweater and was nearly to my car when I heard Touya’s deep voice closer to me than expected. “That’s a nasty bruise.”

The sweaters I wore for the last 6 months were to avoid these questions. It was no secret Kai, my boyfriend, wasn’t the best guy. His record was a mile long. No one would know he mistreated me, however. Kai made a good show of being a loving boyfriend while also being a piece of shit in every other aspect of his life. He won me over with gifts and treated me like a princess. He said I was his perfect girl. Do men treat perfect girls like this?

“Mind your business.”

Touya’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not a dumbass, (y/n).” With that he got in his black 5.0 mustang and pulled out of the parking lot leaving me standing next to my car.

[lestappenforever]

sorry what dear daddy ad? (your tag on your latest reblog)

In 2015, CARE Norway made an absolutely gut wrenching and horrifically accurate ad called "Kjære pappa" ("Dear daddy"), that perfectly explains the potential horrendous consequences of allowing the phrase "boys will be boys" to excuse unacceptable behaviour.

I'll link to the English translated version below.

TW for sexual assault and domestic violence.