#couples therapy clearly helped | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-kokeshi · 2 months

Note

How would TF141+Konig,Nikolai react if their reader drunk and told them about how reader family used to sold reader at brotherel.

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about prostitution, mention of trauma, and foreshadowing on murdering.

A/N: Definitely took my time writing this, so I hope you enjoy it!

Captain “Price” John:

Whiplashes at you, nearly breaking his neck as he places his cold-glass down on the table.

“Sorry, what?”

He’s pissed. He cannot fathom why anyone could possibly do something so awful to his sweet darling, but he’s heartbroken, too. His heart shatters when you explain it, going into detail of what happened. And soon, John’s hands find themselves on yours within a heartbeat, thumbs grazing over your knuckles, and squeezes them occasionally.

If you blow it off, saying it’s no biggie, John gets angrier. It’s not fine, and his tone is firm, and large hands that’s on top of yours aren’t letting go. And soon, he softens — bringing you into his lap, kissing the crown of your head. Hands running up and down your back, whispering to you of how special you are.

And soon enough, later that night when you’re sleeping, his mind is wide-awake and angered. Wondering if your family is worthwhile to get a visit, teach ‘em a lesson or two.

From now on, John is so gentle with you; checking in with you first and won’t push you for anything. He even suggests therapy, or perhaps couple-therapy, to help you in some way. He wants you to know he’s here for you, as that’s all you have.

Your parents are nowhere to be seen. The news has reported them missing, and it’s weird that John had come home after an hour when their bodies had been found, right?

—

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Whiplashes so hard, his neck popped as he looked at you. The cheap beer that you and him were drinking is set down, the loud clanking making the silence even louder, and his brown-doe eyes are staring at you.

“You bein’ serious?”

Simon is fuming, absolutely seething with rage at how they used and hurt you. And he’s extremely tempted to find all of them and break every single bone in their miserable body. How on the earth could they hurt and betray you, you, the literal light in his life like that?

“Love, you can’t jus’ drop a bomb like that and expect me to be all natural with it,” His tone seethed. He tries to soften it, he really does, but his rage with what you’ve just told him is starting to seep through the built-in cracks. And it’s clearly showing his not-so pretty side.

But as soon as he sees your face, his heart re-breaks all over again. And within seconds, he pulls you into his arms, whispering sweet words of love and promises of safety; kissing every part he can reach until you tell him to stop.

If you haven’t already cut ties with your family, Simon immediately does it for you — anger shown and his tone sharp. He removes them from any way possible of how they could connect to you, even going as far to put a restraining order against them. But, if they decide to be snide, and try to take you back? Simon is more than happy to use his physical strength to scare them away.

—

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

He laughs uncomfortably, before he really thinks and chews on the words a little more. His eyebrows crease against each other, fingers tightening around the beer bottle, as he looks at you very concerned.

“Wait– what was that?”

Kyle watches you go on, rambling about it as if it’s not a big deal, and he’s in pure shock. He’s not sure if you’re putting a brave face on, or if it’s the alcohol, but either way, it’s making him mad. His hands are shaking, his heart thundering in his chest, mind going a mile a minute, trying to understand the concept, but he can’t seem to get past the anger part.

“Baby… when did this happen?” he generally questions, uncomfortably shifting in his seat as he looks for something in you. He’s worrying. Wonder what it’s done to you, someone he loves so deeply, and he can’t fathom the idea that something so horrific happened to you.

Within seconds, he apologizes. Brown eyes looking at yours, barely forming tears. He’s pulling you into a tight hug, holding you deeply, and finding a way to blame himself. If he’d known you sooner, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. He could’ve protected you.

But, that doesn’t help the situation — so he focuses on you, helping you through things and ensuring you’ll be safe. Because you’ll always be with him.

Kyle tries to help you in every shape and form, making sure your boundaries are set and that he follows them knee-deep. And that, of course, your family doesn’t come near you. If they try to push through the cracks, he’s immediately acting viciously. And it’s not pretty.

—

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

He chokes on his drink, coughing up a storm. Hitting him like a ton of bricks, and somehow, you look at him like he’s the one who said some type of sex joke at the wrong time.

“I– beg your pardon?”

He’s right in the same area with Ghost, furious in many aspects. His face shows it. His body language, and thick voice. When you’re describing the multiple incidents, it just makes him want to track down your family and rip them in two.

Comfort is immediately given, Johnny’s arms find yours within seconds, and you’re brought into a cuddle session — one where he kisses every part, and promises that you’ll never have to face them again. He looks at you, blue eyes just admiring you before kissing your cheek, “Nobody will hurt ya’ again, swear on my and ma’s life, sweets.”

And he goes with it. Days pass, and he’s still thinking about it. He sees you so strongly, and how you’re able to go about your day and act as if it’s normal; his heart beats faster at your sewn thoughts of even crying.

Without saying, Johnny despises your family. A bitter emotion that can be easily shown if you bring them up into a conversation. His hands crunch in remembrance of their scared face, and you won’t be seeing them anymore. You can’t.

—

König:

He just looks at you, seemingly going deeper into your soul. Which, of course, creeps you out. König watches you explain, with a flushed look, and he’s tasting iron in his mouth from how hard he’s biting his cheek.

“Hase, what’d you say?”

He just keeps staring at you. And he doesn’t want you to think he’s angry at you, because he’s not — never in a million years, but it’s devastating to him. How could someone, a family that you’re supposed to trust, do that to you?

“König?” your voice brings him out of his deep thoughts, bloody thoughts, and he just looks at you before bringing you into his chest; a man, so large and beefy, has a voice so little and fragile, that you could barely hear it. He sighs, “Why did you hide it? I’d much rather you talk to me, okay?”

He’s obviously affected, but not as much as you are. He’s in a state of disbelief, and the fact you just blurted it out, whilst in a vulnerable state, makes him sick.

He’s unbelievably more clingy the next few days, ensuring you know your own worth and how strong you are. Everywhere you go, he’s touching you — smoothing the wrinkles in your clothes as his hands crawl underneath the fabric. Kissing you and nearly suffocating you with his weight.

As for your family, he ignores and diverts the questions of them into a different conversation. He doesn’t want to scare you, but with the things he’s done, König is certain you’d be smart to connect the dots.

—

Nikolai:

Not a single laugh, or fun look comes from Nikolai. He’s immediately concerned, the shot glass being put down as he really looks at you, biting his lip.

“Think that’s enough alcohol, Lyubimyy. Why don’t we head to bed, hm?”

He doesn’t necessarily react — but more so tries to make you sidetrack so you two can focus on something else. Until, the next morning, is where he re-brings it up and asks. He’s concerned, dark eyes showing sadness that’s covered by anger. But your feelings matter. They will always come first. And when he sees your reaction, Nikolai quickly understands, “We can talk whenever you’re ready, mkay lovey?”

Nikolai comforts you with the best of his abilities, ensuring that you’re not a burden. You’re the complete opposite, and you’re so strong. His hugs become deeper, kisses become longer and more intimate.

And the gifts he brings home, even to the grocery store, are enormous. His sly smile as he carries them in definitely takes your head off some things, no?

Your parents are immediately cut out of your life. Nikolai has secrets of his own, and once in a while, he has to take out the dirty trash, right? Before he leaves for the day, a mission needed for Laswell, he promises to be back before 5 PM; and he does, arriving all giddy and flirty. But his hands seem a bit too warm, a bit odd.

640 notes · View notes

anonymous-dentist · 8 months

Text

Okay I did some vod searching and here’s Cellbit’s pov of the prison announcement (in the form of a pretty badly clipped video lol)

A couple of things to note:

The silence

The stammer

The knife

The eyes

First, the silence, because it could be easy to miss from another pov because he was already pretty quiet before. But you can see the literal second it registers what Forever had just said because the change in the silence is palpable. He didn’t even raise his voice above the noise when he asked Forever if he was being serious.

Second, the stammer. This is a man who is very good at talking. Look at him during the presidential debates, nothing was able to keep him from talking, not even his own suicide. But then here he… can’t talk. He’s that shocked, and he’s terrified. See:

Third, the knife. Now this knife. Now this knife. It’s his emotional support murder knife. He only brings it out when he feels scared, and it’s gotta be a real deep fear for him to bring it out. It’s only been a few times, namely when he’s been triggered over his past, most notably when he and Richarlyson explored the Federation prison after Pac’s kidnapping.

And then fourth, the eyes. After he takes the knife out, Cellbit’s eyes flick back and forth between Forever the audience in what appears to be genuine confusion. Because, and this is important, Forever never told Cellbit about the prison. So between the fear and the Horrors, there’s some actual legitimate confusion in there because he didn’t know about this.

So now, after all that, let’s take a look at q!Cellbit’s character in general because I know there are people who don’t know about his very tragic backstory.

So Cellbit was in prison for… something. Probably murder tbh, but that was never confirmed. He was in prison with Pac e Mike and he was a really bad person. As in, murdering people, threatening people, ripping human ears off, stabbing, inciting riots (I think???). He killed Felps. He almost got Pac and Mike to kill each other.

And then, after being left to die alone on an island, Cellbit got some goddamn help for the first time in his life.

Before prison, he was in a war (ie the Hunger Games.) Then he was in prison, and the math is hunting towards him being incarcerated prior to his eighteenth birthday. He was 18-ish when he was in prison, and he’s 26 now, and he spent those eight years in therapy. Now he’s a better person, and he’s a very scared person.

He has many triggers, but the one that’s come up the most has been prison. He killed Abueloier that first time because they were in a prison-like cell. After hearing that Pac e Mike were arrested, he almost became another person as he interrogated Foolish (just watch that vod back, the whiplash is there.) When exploring the Federation’s prison, he was visibly on edge, clutching his emotional support murder knife and tensing when he saw all of the cells and almost stabbing Cucurucho when it appeared. Foolish asked if he could arrest him, Cellbit immediately turned him down, and he went behind his husband’s back to convince Foolish not to arrest him, either. (I’m not sure if he knows in-character about the prison cell in the new murder mystery game, but he will Not be happy if he gets put in there.)

So. Prison.

He wants to be a better person, is the thing. Cellbit doesn’t like thinking about who he was as Cell- he canonically even avoids cellphones when he can (see: Abueloier.) But he can’t help what happens when he’s triggered: he killed Abueloier, he almost attacked Cucurucho and risked his whole new infiltration plan. He’s worried about hurting someone again, because he knows he’s capable of it. He might not be the best at pvp, but that doesn’t matter when half the server is just as bad as he is (/affectionate.)

He doesn’t want to hurt his family, and there being a big huge physical trigger all of a sudden in the form of this prison he wasn’t ever told about has clearly made him realize that, oh shit, this could be bad. Bad for himself, and thus bad for others.

#qsmp #long post #idk guys I’m just thinking here #I’m very tired hah

550 notes · View notes

captain-mj · 2 months

Text

The Journal

I don't know. Cw: Ghost's backstory

Soap found the unassuming book on his desk. The edges of the paper had turned slightly yellow and they were clearly flipped through quite often. He frowned at it, wondering who went into his room and set this there. It felt... almost threatening.

Soap gently opened the book to look at the first page.

I'm writing this journal as a "therapy" exercise. Frankly I think it's fucking bollocks. I'm fine. I dream about nothing.

Well. That wasn't very helpful. The handwriting was odd. Almost scrawling, like the person who was writing had shaky hands but also couldn't be bothered to hold the pen properly.

Soap frowned. This seemed a rather personal thing to give to a person. But it was in his room.

Just one more page.

Apparently I'm supposed to introduce myself. Fine. My name is Simon Riley. I belong to the SAS. I was a POW for a couple of months. I keep hearing numbers but none of them feel right. I think parts of me are still down there.

I hurt. Everywhere. Especially when people touch me. I can't sleep. Can barely eat. My mum is worried. So does Tommy. I want to tell them to fuck off. I have. But they keep worrying. I wonder if this is how Beth felt.

On the page was a polaroid. A baby faced Simon with nasty scars on his face, still fresh and angry. He looked half dead. Dark circles under his eyes and an expression nothing like his usual. Someone had their hand on his shoulder, but he could only see their arm.

Soap sucked in a breath. There was no way Ghost gave this to him. No fucking way.

He got up and grabbed the book, going straight for Ghost's quarters, planning on returning it immediately and pretending he had found it and couldn't find Price to turn it in.

Ghost's quarters were empty. His knives were missing, but his clothes were still there, meaning he was on a mission.

Fuck.

Soap paused and tapped his foot. He wasn't sure if Price was around. How did someone get this? If he left it in his room, he was worried someone would find it. He'd have to keep it. Just to be sure.

Soap set it back on his desk. When he saw Price, he'd talk to him.

After a minute of staring at it, Soap shoved the book into a drawer and closed it tight. He left to talk to Gaz to distract himself for a few hours.

Gaz was nice enough to tell him that Ghost and Price were on a mission together and that they wouldn't be back for a few days.

No big deal.

A few days with a book that potentially had a lot of answers to some questions he had about Ghost.

Soap didn't make it the night before he was reading more pages. He never claimed to have great self control.

Good morning. I feel like a teen, writing in a diary. I've been put on new medication today. Supposed to help. It makes me dizzy for some reason.

My mum keeps making me tea. She wants to make sure I'm real. I see her hands hovering around me. If I wasn't such a shit son, I'd tell her she can hug me. The thought makes my skin crawl. I see her dead body in my dreams. I see the skull they said was hers. I want to tell her I'm okay, but I don't want to lie.

Soap felt sick. There was a drawing. It was crude, clearly done out of boredom and with no real care behind it. Soap was pretty sure it was a skull that was dripping something. Maybe blood. The ink was all black so there was no way to tell. "Mum" was written several times around it.

I dreamed about her again.

That caught Soap's attention. Her? Was Ghost into women? That seemed unlikely.

She used to speak so soothingly in spanish to me. I wonder if she was like me. Did Roba rape her too?

Soap shut the book and shoved it under his pillow. Enough of that. Nope. He didn't want to think of those words and what they meant.

Fucking too.

No.

No...

No!

The idea of something like that happening to his Lieutenant was... It just... didn't happen.

Soap pulled the book out and kept reading. Just... to prove it wasn't real.

I don't know. It's not a nice thought. Maybe I want someone else to hurt too. I tried to jack off the other day and ended up scrubbing myself raw afterward from how it made me feel. How pathetic right?

Not sure what this is doing. What benefit this has. I'm writing my thoughts. Trying to feel better. Tommy joked about me buying a hooker. I had a panic attack. it was like i was back in high school again. fucking baby.

There was a picture of someone, presumably Tommy, and Simon hanging out. They were both smoking and Tommy was making a sign with his hands. He had a giant grin on his face. Simon had a carved out Glasgow smile that looked like it hurt. Raw. it looked to be after the earlier polaroid. The dark circles hadn't gotten better, but there was more color and flesh in his face.

My mum wants me to talk to my dad. I don't know why. I don't know want to see him. Can't let him see me right now. Maybe when I'm recovered. Last time I saw him, I beat his ass. Doubt he's going to forgive me.

Bastard is pure evil. He gets off on hurting people. Got off on hurting me. I think he's trying to use the cancer as an excuse to get close to my mum again. I'll beat his ass again. I'm putting on more weight. I'll fucking do it.

There was a little stick man drawing labeled 'Simon' and 'Bitch' with Simon beating him to death. Soap thought the blood was rather well drawn, even if the stick figures wasn't.

As the week went on, he kept reading a few pages at a time. He learned... things.

Ghost liked Vanilla tea.

Ghost had been assaulted by more than one person.

Ghost's father had beaten him. A lot.

Ghost was scared of snakes.

Ghost loved his Mum.

Ghost hated most mystery movies.

Tommy was Ghost's brother and was the second most important in his life.

And that they were all dead. All of them.

He wrote an explanation of everything there. In a clinical, harsh detail.

I wish I had died down there in Mexico. I wish I had laid down in that grave and died. It's my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault.

It kept repeating and then he had just started over and wrote over the first layer.

Soap was crying. He couldn't help it. Tommy was so... young. Not to mention the descriptions Ghost gave of his family in general. The pages after that were mostly drawings or scribbles, all made with heavy hands.

Simon knocked. He could tell by the sound he made when he knocked. "Johnny?"

"When did you get back?"

"...Just now. Can I come in?"

"Yeah." Soap wiped his face so he'd look... normal. "Yeah come in."

Ghost stepped inside and saw the book. "Enjoy it?"

"What?"

"I left it for you."

"Why?"

Ghost hummed. "Thought it would be the easiest way to let you in."

Soap swallowed. "You don't do anything half assed do you?"

Ghost's eyes stared at him. Answer enough right there.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

155 notes · View notes

fortheloveofwonderland · 4 months

Text

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 18 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - You and Spencer try to cope in the aftermath of running into each other. Spencer makes a series of stupid decisions which lead him back to you and then away from you once more.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - drinking, slightly tipsy reader, swearing, AA meetings, talk of therapy, tears, Spencer falls off the wagon, arguing, slightly aggressive and intimidating Spencer, mention of erectile dysfunction, making out, use of “good girl”, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial(?), Spencer goes from 0-100 and back again, Spencer is incredibly mean.

WC - 7.9k

Chapter 18 - Sandcastles

We built sandcastles that washed away,

I made you cry when I walked away.

Oh, and although I promised that I couldn't stay, baby,

Every promise don't work out that way, oh, babe.

Every promise don't work out that way.

“How much further is this place? I said we should have gotten a cab.” Tara groaned, her feet howling from the high heels she was wearing.

“Just a little further.” Penelope insisted.

Tara glanced at Emily and JJ who seemed to be struggling just as much as she was. Garcia was the only one of the four who wore heels on a regular basis and as such the walk wasn’t bothering her like it was them.

“You said that five blocks ago.” Emily moaned, clinging to Tara’s arm to help keep her balanced.

“A little walk never hurt anyone.” Garcia clucked.

“Tell that to my feet.” JJ rolled her eyes.

They continued for another two blocks before Penelope picked up her pace and started pointing down the street towards a blue neon sign proclaiming the name Trouble Bird.

According to Penelope it was the best cocktail bar in the district and she’d insisted they go there for girls' night.

The four of them had already polished off a couple of bottles of wine at Garcia’s apartment and the blonde had assured them the bar was just around the corner.

“I don’t care what you say, next time we are getting a cab.” Tara huffed as they closed in on the bar.

All that walking had seriously sobered her up, making the pre-drinks pointless. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on a cocktail or two. Maybe even five.

As they neared the entrance, someone heading in their direction clearly caught Penelope’s eye and she slowed until she came to a stop.

The others did the same, a collective groan leaving their lips.

“Please god don’t tell me it’s closed.” Emily threw her head back in frustration.

But Garcia wasn’t listening. She took a few steps closer to the woman wearing a long, black evening dress, heels hanging limply from her fingers.

“Y/N?” She spoke and your eyes shot up from where you’d been looking at the pavement.

You blinked a few times, eyes darting between the four women and recognising two of them. You wiped your face where your mascara was probably staining your cheeks from crying.

“Penelope, right? Spencer’s friend. And JJ.” You looked between the two blondes.

“Y/N?” Tara frowned. “The Y/N?”

“Uh…yes?” You frowned.

“This is Tara and Emily, we all worked with Spencer at the BAU.” Penelope informed you. “Are you ok? Have you been crying?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You shook your head. “It was nice to see you and meet you. I should be going.”

You started past the women, meanwhile Penelope was giving them all wide eyed glances.

“Look at her,” she whispered. “We can’t let her leave.”

“Are you proposing we ask Reid’s ex-girlfriend to hang out with us?” Emily hissed under her breath.

“I feel bad for her.” JJ replied in equally hushed tones.

“Me too.” Tara agreed.

“For the record,” you spun back to face them. “You’re not being as quiet as you think you are. I’m fine, really. I’m getting used to being broken up with recently. Growing a pretty thick skin.”

Penelope’s face fell, her heart bleeding for you. She hated seeing anyone upset, even people she barely knew. She moved past JJ, Emily and Tara closer to you.

“I insist you join us for a drink. This bar is supposed to be great.” She pointed over her shoulder at the Trouble Bird.

“I think that sounds super weird.” You pulled a face. “No offence, I’m sure you’re all really lovely but as Emily said, I’m your friend's ex-girlfriend. I’m sure Spencer would not love the idea of me drinking with you.”

“Can I ask you one thing?” Emily stepped forward now, eyebrow raised.

“I guess.” You shrugged.

“You being upset, does it have anything to do with Reid?”

“Uh…” you inhaled. “In a roundabout way, kind of.”

“In that case, you will drink with us. If he’s upset you, screw him.” Emily smiled at you, clamping a hand down on your shoulder.

“But you’re his friend?” You pulled a face.

“Guess what, girly?” Garcia clapped her hands together. “We’re your friends now too.”

And with that she took you by the hand and the five of you continued on inside of the bar.

***

Two shots of a tequila and an exuberantly large glass of wine later, you’d eased up a little, spilling your guts to four women you barely knew.

“It’s not even like I care that much, you know?” You sighed. “Sam and I didn’t have a future, I wasn’t in love with him. But bumping into Spencer like that was…fuck it was the worst.”

“What was Spence doing at an art gallery? I am struggling to picture that.” JJ shook her head.

“Blair,” you spat her name out of your mouth like a bad taste. “Beautiful, sweet Blair. She works at the gallery.”

“I’m lost.” Tara looked at the others.

“Yeah, who’s Blair?” Emily added.

“Spencer’s new girlfriend.” You whined.

“Spence has a new girlfriend?” JJ pulled a face.

“Oh!” Garcia gasped, clapping her hands to her face. “The mom! The mom of the boy Daisy likes.”

“You knew?” JJ glared at Penelope.

“I knew he had a date a while ago. Luke and I watched the girls and…” she trailed off as the three BAU ladies smirked.

“You owe me fifty bucks.” Tara nudged Emily. “I told you Alvez and Garcia were dating.”

“Oh boy,” Penelope blushed. “Uh…surprise?”

“I really didn’t think it was true.” Emily shook her head, slapping a bill in Tara’s hand.

“Oh please, Alvez gets all heart eyes every time she walks into a room.” Tara laughed. “But back to the matter at hand. Reid really has a new girlfriend?”

“Yes,” you pouted. “And Sam broke up with me because I got all heart eyes over Spencer without even realising.”

“What is up with him lately?” Emily scoffed. “I’ve never known him date like this.”

“He was married for a really long time.” JJ shrugged.

“He's going through some stuff. Cut him some slack.” Tara sighed and suddenly all eyes were on her.

“What do you know?” Penelope asked her.

“What? I don’t know anything.” Tara tried to shake her off.

“Liar! You know something!” Penelope gasped again. “Spill!”

“I promised him I wouldn’t say anything.” Tara pulled a face. “He’s trying to get sober, I went to a meeting with him a while ago. And he’s seeing a therapist.”

All four of you looked at Tara, letting her words sink in. Tara looked painfully guilty, feeling terrible for breaking her promise to Spencer. But the girls were worried about him, she wanted to try and stem their fears.

“So he’s got himself all shiny and new for Blair.” You huffed. “Fabulous. So I was just the rebound after his wife and now this woman gets the new and improved Spencer? Fucking super.”

Out of nowhere you started to cry. And it wasn’t just a few tears, you started sobbing. You doubled over in your chair, resting your head on the table and wrapping your arms around yourself while you wept.

Penelope was next to you and she wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to her.

“Oh Y/N,” She cooed, rubbing your back. “Oh dear, sweet Y/N.”

“Spencer is not himself lately,” Emily reached across the table and stroked your hair. “He’s not always like this.”

“I feel like such an idiot.” You sat up, tears still falling rapidly. “I should not be crying about Spencer in front of you guys.”

“Don’t worry about it.” JJ tried to placate you. “Honestly, it's ok.”

“No it’s not.” You wiped your eyes on the back of your hand. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Don’t leave, not like this.” Tara tried to insist but you were already on your feet.

“Thanks for this, and I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You sniffed.

“Y/N, you really don’t have to go.” Penelope looked up at you sadly.

“It’s best that I do. Enjoy the rest of your night, please don’t worry about me.” You turned on your heels and fled the bar, the four BAU ladies watching you go.

“Goddamn Reid.” Emily grunted. “She seems like a nice girl.”

“She is.” Penelope was pouting. “When Luke and I ran into them at Barkhaus they seemed so happy.”

“I have so many questions about that sentence, that I am going to put a pin in for now.” JJ shook her head. “Clearly Spence is going through a lot.”

“How long has he been going to therapy, Tara?” Emily asked her, turning to her left.

But Tara wasn’t listening.

She was looking down at her phone and the seven missed calls she’d had in the time they had been sitting here. As she stared at it, it started to ring again, the same number as all the others.

“Who is it? Do you need to get that?” Emily nudged her arm.

With a sign, Tara looked up at her friends, nodding her head stiffly.

“Yeah I probably should,” she exhaled. “It’s Reid.”

***

Spencer sat on the steps of the building with his head between his knees and his eyes closed. He listened to the passing cars, counted them in his head. He also kept count of every set of shoes he heard walk by.

He estimated he sat there for twenty four minutes before he heard another set of footsteps getting closer. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, her image coming into view.

“How many?” Tara asked softly although her body language was somewhat defensive.

“Three.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I stopped at three scotch’s.”

Tara exhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring as she did so. She put her hand on his shoulder.

“You should have called me sooner.”

“Most likely.” He nodded, feeling like a naughty schoolboy. “I’m sorry.”

“I guess it's some kind of relief you stopped at three.” She guided him back towards the building steps he’d been sitting on.

“Any more than that and I wouldn’t have made it back.” He confessed.

He let Tara lead him inside to the meeting he so sorely needed. Afterwards she took him for coffee, despite the late hour.

“Did I drag you out of bed?” He asked over his mug.

“No, I was at a bar a few blocks away with the girls.” She rolled her lip guiltily between her teeth.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

“I had to.” She replied. “And uh, Y/N too.”

Spencer almost dropped his mug. His eyes bulged and his mouth fell open as he glared at her as if she’d just grown a second head.

“Excuse me?” He spat a little angrier than he’d meant to.

“We bumped into her outside the bar. Garcia and JJ recognised her. She’d been crying and we felt bad for her.” Tara shrugged meekly.

“She’d been crying?” His face fell and his bottom lip pouted at the thought.

“Yeah, she broke up with her boyfriend.”

“She did?” He sat up straight suddenly, like he’d been juiced with an electric current.

“Don’t get too excited,” Tara rolled her eyes. “She’s heartbroken, Reid. You did a real number on her. She thinks she was nothing more than a rebound from Maeve.”

“That’s not true.” He shook his head frantically. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“You moved on pretty fast.” Tara sighed, picking up her coffee.

“Only because she did.” He whined a little. “If anything, Blair is a rebound from Y/N. I love her Tara, I love her so much.”

“I am not the one you should be telling this to.” She shrugged.

“You’re right.” He nodded, slipping out of the booth and throwing some bills on the table.

“Where are you going?” Tara frowned up at him.

“To talk to Y/N.”

“Right now?”

“Yes right now!”

“Seems like a pretty bad idea to me.” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Don’t care. I need to see her.” He sounded like he’d made up his mind.

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Tara focused back on her coffee.

“Thanks for coming to the meeting with me.”

“You’re welcome. See you soon, Reid.” She sighed, watching him flee the diner.

She hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. But she feared this would only end in disaster.

***

You were still awake, in bed and staring at the wall unblinking. The alcohol you’d consumed tonight seemed like a long distant memory and you felt horribly sober.

Every muscle in your body hurt but you weren’t sure why. It was as though the heartache was spreading through your extremities, encompassing every pore.

You’d missed Spencer every single second of every single day since you broke up. But after tonight you missed him with a renewed intensity.

To see him with another woman, holding her hand, thinking about what they got up to behind closed doors tore your heart apart all over again.

You’d meant nothing to him, it was as simple as that. You’d just been a notch on his bedpost, a rebound from his wife.

You’d cried so many tears you physically couldn’t cry anymore. So you continued to stare at the wall and hope at some point sleep would wash over you.

After a while there was a knock on your bedroom door but you ignored it. It came again twice more but both times you remained quiet.

Then the door opened and your eyes flicked from the wall to the figure in the doorway.

Your roommate Travis tentatively stepped inside, hands in his pockets.

“Uh, you have a visitor.” He shrugged.

“Don’t care.” You croaked.

“I don’t think he’s going away.” Travis shrugged again.

You frowned and shifted a little on the bed.

“He? He who?” You grumbled, rubbing your sore eyes.

Travis didn’t reply, instead he stepped aside so your visitor could enter the room.

Spencer looked about as bad as you probably did as he shuffled in your room. Travis slipped out behind him and closed the door.

His tie was undone, hanging limply around his neck and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone under his jacket.

You sat up in bed, glaring at him angrily whilst hugging the sheets around your body like some kind of protective armour.

“You’ve got a nerve showing up here.” You tried to sound angry but your voice was no more than a pathetic croak.

“I drank tonight.” He seemingly ignored you, stepping further into your room. “For the first time in weeks, I caved and I drank. Because I saw you.”

“Am I supposed to apologise for that? You’re a grown man Spencer, if you can’t handle your alcohol then that’s on you.” You managed to sound angrier this time.

“It’s called an addiction, Y/N! I don’t have any control of it! I don’t have a healthy, normal attitude towards alcohol. I’m not the kind of person that can just have a drink, I have to drink to excess, get wasted to forget my pathetic fucking life!” He yelled at you and you flinched a little.

“If you just came here to yell at me then leave. I am in no mood to listen to your bullshit, Spencer. Go back to your girlfriend. I don’t want you here.” You shook your head at him.

“No,” he stepped even further into the room. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve said what I came here to say.”

“And what did you come here to say?” You got out of bed as he got closer, hating the way he was looming over you.

You only wore a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top and you tried to ignore how exposed you felt.

“I quit drinking, or at least it tried, I’m trying. I started therapy, I’m trying to be a better version of myself.”

“Yeah, for your new girlfriend.” You scoffed.

“Seriously? That’s what you think? You think I’m doing all of this for her?” He sounded incredulous.

“Who did you do it for then? Enlighten me.” You growled, throwing your hands up in the air.

“For a start, I’m doing it for my daughters because they deserve more from me.”

“Agreed.” You rolled your eyes.

“But I’m also doing it for you! I’m doing it because I want to be the kind of man who is worthy of your love.” He lowered his voice a little but the anger still shone through.

“Oh please,” you shook your head. “You didn’t love me, Spencer. You love your ex-wife. Or maybe you love Blair, who knows? I can’t keep up with you.”

“Yeah, I do love my ex-wife, ok?” He grabbed you by the biceps suddenly, making you whimper. “Of course I do! It’s normal for me to feel that way. Her hurting me doesn’t change the fact that we had a lot of good years together. It doesn’t erase the fact she’s the mother of my kids. But it also doesn’t mean for a second that I don’t also love you.”

“I think you’re just scared to be alone.” You shook your head. “You can’t stand to be lonely. You don’t love me Spencer, you just want someone to play happy families with. Well it won’t be me.”

Spencer hissed and suddenly, using his grip on your arms he spun you around and shoved you up against the wall.

You whined as your back slammed into it, his grip on your biceps tightening.

“You think I’m lying? You think I would stand here and lie to you?” He spat right in your face.

“I didn’t say that. You might think you love me, but you only want me until the next pretty face walks by.”

“What the fuck do you think of me?” He shook you a little. “You think I’m some kind of fucking asshole who uses women and throws them aside once he’s done with them?”

“If the shoe fits.” You shrugged.

His jaw clenched tightly and his eyes were brimming with his rage.

“I didn’t throw you aside, Y/N, you walked away.”

“Because I heard you telling your ex you were still in love with her!” You yelled again, fighting against his hold on you but he was stronger. “And then suddenly you’re dating someone else entirely. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

“I thought she was what I needed. She knows what I’ve been through, she understands because she’s been there too. But she’s not you, she’ll never be you. And you aren’t exactly innocent in all of this, you moved on from me pretty fast if I remember correctly.” He was caging you into the wall, trapping you in your own room.

“I was trying to get over you.” You scoffed.

“By fucking some frat boy looking behemoth?” He raised his voice again.

“Don’t turn this around on me. It was your fault we broke up, not mine. If you’re allowed to sleep with every single mom who looks your way then I’m allowed to sleep with the decent guy who has had feelings for me since college!” You yelled back but you noticed his expression falter. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, finally letting go of you and taking a step back.

“What is it? I touched a nerve.”

“I didn’t sleep with her, ok? Is that what you want to hear? I didn’t sleep with her.”

“You expect me to believe that? You couldn’t get me into bed fast enough when we met!” You shook your head.

“You want to know the truth?” He suddenly grabbed you again and you found yourself quickly being pinned to the wall once more. “The truth is I couldn’t get it up for her. And I thought it was because of my goddamn antidepressants but it wasn’t. It wasn’t my meds, it couldn’t have been.”

“Why couldn’t it have been?” You swallowed thickly.

“Because,” he clenched his jaw again. “From the second you got out of bed and I saw what you were wearing…I got hard without so much as touching you and I have been ever since.”

You felt the air leave your lungs and you couldn’t stop from glancing down between your bodies, as if you needed proof. But low and behold you saw it, the obvious tenting in his slacks.

Your eyes flicked back up to his face and he was staring intently at you.

“So while you might have been spreading your legs for someone else, I couldn’t physically bring myself to sleep with her. I couldn’t even fucking masturbate because my hand isn’t you!” He spat.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You scowled at him. “Am I supposed to fall to my knees and thank you? You think you can come here and tell me you can’t get it up for another woman and I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“You got in my head, don’t you understand? You got in my head and into my heart. You’re under my skin, in my veins like a drug. Maeve, Blair; they have nothing on you. I thought Maeve was the love of my life because I didn’t know any better. She’s not the love of my life, you are!” He pushed you more firmly against the wall, his hips now pressing into yours and you could feel just how hard he was.

Did it make you a complete idiot for thinking you may fall back into bed with him? He made it so easy to hate him, but he also made it impossible not to love him.

You didn’t want to forgive him, didn’t want to give in and relent to him but it felt inevitable. The way he was looking at you coupled with his firm hold on your arms and his hard cock pressing against you was making you weak.

It was only a matter of time.

“I’m not even sure you know what love is.” You scoffed.

Were you deliberately baiting him? Were you purposefully trying to anger him further? Was there a part of you that liked seeing him like this, pushed to his limits?

As expected he tightened his grip on you and you could feel the bruises starting to form.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me, sweetheart?” He spoke, practically reading your mind.

“Whether I am or not, clearly it’s working.” You shrugged. “But if I really wanted to get a rise out of you I suppose I could tell you that while you couldn’t get it up for your girlfriend, I was having some incredibly mind blowing sex with Sam.”

Why were you doing this? What the fuck was wrong with you?

Perhaps it was the anger still flooding your veins, the hurt Spencer had caused you lingered like a rain cloud. Maybe you wanted him to know how it felt, you wanted him to feel your pain.

His eyes darkened as he stared at you and a menacing kind of smirk spread across his lips.

“Oh darling,” he chuckled deeply, angrily. “You and I both know he has nothing on me.”

“Wow, big headed much?”

“It’s not big headed if it’s a fact.” He laughed darkly again. “I put my all into everything I do, research and study so I am the very best at anything I set my mind to. And that is how I know I am good in bed. Better than that oversized asshat you spent your time with.”

You swallowed again, subconsciously pressing your thighs together. You hoped he didn’t notice but of course he did.

“How wet are you right now, Y/N?” He smirked, his eyes practically black.

“I’m…not.” You lied and he saw right through you.

“Oh ok,” he laughed again with a roll of his eyes. “So if I was to do this…”

He trailed off and removed one hand from your bicep. You watched it move between your bodies and suddenly it was between your legs, ghosting over the fabric of your shorts.

The soaking wet fabric of your shorts.

You hissed involuntarily and Spencer moved his hand back up to your bicep looking incredibly smug.

“I thought so.” He grinned dangerously. “You know you only need to say the word and I’m yours.”

“No.” You shook your head. “You hurt me, you broke my fucking heart!”

“Let me make it better, princess. I can make it up to you.” He softened, looking at you with something akin to love in his eyes.

“No.” You whimpered. “You can’t make up for what you’ve done.”

The darkness quickly returned to his eyes and in one swift move his lips were slamming into yours. You whined and the second your lips were parted his tongue plunged into your mouth.

You allowed him to kiss you, his hips grinding against yours. You were putty in his hands, a complete and utter idiot. But you didn’t care.

The kiss didn’t last very long before he was pulling back and staring deep into your eyes.

“You don’t want me?” He narrowed his eyes on you. “You want me to leave?”

You swallowed, trying to muster the strength to tell him to go, to leave and never come back. But you couldn’t.

Instead you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him back in for another kiss. And if you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn he was smirking into your lips.

Soon enough he was manoeuvring you away from the wall and over to your bed. His lips remained on yours, deepening the kiss as he went. You felt the back of your calves hit the bed but Spencer kept you upright with his hold still on your arms.

He moved his hands now, fingertips grazing down the sides of your rib cage, lower and lower until they reached the hem of your tank top. He hooked his fingers in the fabric and started raking it up your body.

He pulled back from the kiss, his lips puffy and swollen, and you raised your arms for him to lift the top the rest of the way off. He tossed it aside quickly and your hands found the ends of his tie, still hanging around his neck.

You used it to pull him back in for another kiss and then started on the buttons of his shirt. He shrugged his jacket off in the meantime and let it hit the floor.

You got him out of his shirt and it joined the other clothes on the floor. And then he pushed you back to the bed until your back collided with the mattress.

He regarded you with his dark eyes and a sinful smirk before crawling on the bed, kneeling either side of your hips. He laid on top of you, hissing at the contact from your bare chests.

He stroked your hair lovingly back off of your face in a stark contrast to his previous roughness. But it only lasted a moment as soon he was kissing you again with renewed fervour.

He grinded his hips against yours, relishing in the feeling of being able to get hard again. He should have known it wasn’t his meds. He should have known you’d be the cure.

His lips left yours and peppered kisses along your jawline. Your head rolled back to allow him access to your neck. In kind he moved lower, lips sucking against the skin on the front of your throat.

Your hands wandered to his shoulder blades, nails kneading the muscles while he moved on to place kisses all along your collarbones.

Soon they ebbed lower, lips leaving their trail over the tops of your breasts and then down your sternum.

He circled back to place a deep kiss on the swell of your breast before you felt his tongue swirl around your hardened nipple.

You moaned as he took the bud in his mouth, teeth grazing your peak, teasingly nibbling it. You arched your back, toes curling.

He sucked and nipped for a few moments before offering the same treatment to your other nipple. You were writhing beneath him on the bed, wanton moans and breathy pants leaving your parted lips.

A few more strategically placed kisses between your breasts and he was continuing his journey down your stomach, around your belly button and then across each hip.

You were rolling your hips up to meet him, desperate for more. He smirked against your skin, knowing he was driving you crazy but that was part of the fun.

He looked up at you through his hair which had now fallen into his face, while he placed kisses along the waistband of your cotton shorts.

You’d moved to grip his shoulders and were not so subtly trying to push him lower.

“Use your words, princess.” He spoke against your shorts. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want.” You whined.

“Do I?” He teased. “I think you might have to spell it out for me.”

He sat back a few inches, his large hands now on your thighs and parting them so he could kneel between them.

Your pupils were blown out as you looked up at him, face flushed red with your arousal.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please, what?” He was enjoying this. He was enjoying this too much.

“Please go down on me. Please, Spencer? God I missed your mouth between my legs.”

He made the most animalistic sound, closing his eyes and feeling his cock throb painfully. When he opened his eyes again you were staring right at him, begging him with your gaze.

“Oh how I have missed being between your legs.” He lowered himself again, kissing along your stomach once more whilst tugging at the hem of your shorts.

You arched your back again to aid him pulling them down your legs, the wet patch left behind in the fabric making Spencer feral.

He balled up the garment and brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply and moaning as the scent of your arousal encompassed him.

“Is this all for me, angel?” He smirked, dropping the shorts on the floor.

“Of course,” you nodded, hooking your legs over his shoulders. “Only ever for you, Spence.”

“Such a good girl for me.” He rewarded you by placing a kiss on your inner thigh. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-you.” You stuttered, desperate for him.

“Good girl.” He repeated and kissed the inside of your other thigh. “Who’s better in bed, angel? Me or that pumped up frat boy?”

“You are!” You whined. “No one’s better than you.”

“You really are such a good girl for me, Y/N.” He smiled, kissing slightly higher on your thigh.

“So g-good.” You agreed. “P-please?”

“Well, since you did ask so nicely.” He bowed his head, blowing air between your legs and making you squirm.

He lifted one arm and pressed his forearm over your hips, holding you in place. And then his tongue cautiously swiped through your silken folds.

He collected your arousal on his tongue, moaning at how good you tasted. You whimpered and your eyes fell shut, blindly reaching out until you found his head and threaded your fingers into his locks.

You dug your nails into his roots when he found purchase on your clit. He swiped his tongue back and forth over your sensitive bud a couple of times before wrapping his lips around it.

He suckled on you, tongue jutting out every so often to add to the pleasure. You tugged at his hair, grinding against his face, needing more.

He smiled against you, his free hand edging up your thigh. You felt two long, nimble fingers press against you.

He glanced up at you through his lashes and he saw your eyes squeezed tightly shut and a few tears forcing their way out.

He continued to lap over your clit while he pushed his two digits inside of you. He growled against you, he’d almost forgotten how good you felt. The way you stretched around his fingers was heaven, and suddenly he couldn’t wait to feel it around his cock again.

He’d had every intention of bringing you to orgasm like this and he knew it wouldn’t take a lot. But as he fingered you, his digits moving deftly in and out of your throbbing cunt, he simply couldn’t wait any longer.

He pulled his mouth away from you, causing your eyes to suddenly open. He kept his fingers inside of you, stretching you as much as he could in preparation.

“Why’d you stop?” You whimpered, tears staining your face.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.” His fingers brushed against your cervix and you shuddered and moaned. “I’m sorry, I need to be inside of you so badly.”

“Ok.” You nodded. “Please?”

He kissed your hip bones whilst scissoring his fingers inside of you a few more times. His other hand worked on the button of his slacks.

When he removed his fingers you whined again, feeling horribly empty. Spencer sat back so he could shimmy off his pants and underwear before laying back down on top of you.

His hard member found its way between your legs and he moved back and forth through your slick a few times. He bowed his head to kiss you, cupping your jaw tenderly.

“You’re not on birth control are you?” He spoke against your lips.

“I am now, I started on the pill.” You replied.

What you didn't say was that you’d gone on it because of his own paranoia. He’d somehow transferred his obsession with birth control onto you. He’d told you condoms were ninety eight percent effective, eighty five when factoring in human error. The pill, as you’d researched, was over ninety nine percent effective when taken at the same time every day, which you did religiously.

“Great.” He swallowed thickly, sitting back between your parted legs.

He held the base of his shaft and lined himself up with your desperate hole.

“I have condoms though.” You frowned up at him.

“I want to do this. I want to feel you, really feel you.” He insisted.

“You’re sure?”

“Did you use protection with him?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Then I’m sure.” He nodded although he wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

He did want this, more than anything, but that didn’t take away his fear of getting you pregnant. Realistically he knew the pill was incredibly safe, and the likelihood of you getting pregnant was very low. He couldn’t help but be paranoid.

But he wanted this, needed this. He wanted to take your relationship to a level he never thought he’d experience again. He wanted to be sheathed inside of you with no barrier, nothing between his cock and your throbbing walls.

“I will warn you I have not had unprotected sex in a very long time and I’m already dangerously close so if this doesn’t last long…”

“I don’t care.” You rolled your hips against him. “Please, Spencer?”

He nodded, taking a breath to stem his nerves. Keeping hold of the base of his cock he slowly pushed his way inside of you, his eyes rolling back in his head the second he inched passed your entrance.

The sounds emanating from his lips could only be described as sinful. He was careful in his movements, disappearing inside of you inch by painful inch.

It felt like coming up for air. Being inside of you like this was the most incredible feeling of his whole life. He could feel every tiny movement of you stretching around his heavy length, the smallest fluttering of your walls.

He bottomed out inside of you and collapsed on top of you, nuzzling his face against your neck and breathing heavily.

“There are no words in any human language to describe what that feels like.” He spoke into your skin. “You're definitely on the pill?”

“One hundred percent.” You confirmed, wrapping your arms around him.

“Good,” he lifted his head enough to look you in the eyes. “Because I want nothing more than to come inside of you.”

You moaned deeply and he felt you clench around him. His hips bucked involuntarily.

“P-please,” you nodded. “Please I want you to come inside me.”

He pushed himself back up, his hands either side of your face. You wrapped your own hands around his biceps, squeezing him to encourage him to move.

He started slowly, not wanting this feeling to end too soon. He pulled back almost all the way before leisurely sinking back inside of you.

He stared down on you, not breaking eye contact as he moved in and out of you. He was already close and he didn’t want this to end so soon so he continued his slow thrusts.

With each one his blunt head nudged against your bundle of nerves, and elicited a deep moan from your lungs. He was panting and grunting, closing his eyes briefly every time you clenched around his bare dick.

At that moment he had never felt so intrinsically connected to someone. He felt like he’d become a part of you and you him. Your body was simply an extension of his own.

He could feel so much, he’d forgotten what it was like to be like this, it was a feeling he wanted to last forever.

He’d never been so raw and exposed with another person and for a while that was the most wonderful feeling. But as he felt his orgasm start to build in the pit of his stomach, another unwelcome sensation joined it.

What the fuck am I doing?

He closed his eyes as an onslaught of emotions erupted inside of him. The voice of a woman he’d had a one night stand with telling him she was pregnant. Falling in love with a woman who could so easily tear apart the life they’d built together like it was a house of cards.

Spencer I’m keeping this baby whether you want to be a part of its life or not.

Spencer I’ve been having an affair.

Spencer, this is Bobby, my boyfriend.

Why is mommy leaving?

Why doesn’t she want to live with us anymore?

“Can’t do this.” He mumbled, his movements slowing ever further.

“Huh?” You panted squeezing his biceps. “I’m close Spence, don’t stop.”

“Can’t do this.” He repeated, his eyes snapping open.

He stared down at you again, stilling his movements completely. A look of remorse washed over him and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” He withdrew you, physically and mentally.

You whined when he pulled out, sitting up and frowning at him.

“What are you doing?” You mumbled, head hazy with your impending orgasm of which you’d been denied.

“I can’t do it.” He moved off the bed, getting to his feet, ignoring the fact his cock was still standing at attention.

“So we’ll use a condom.” You stared at his back.

“No, it’s not just that.” He turned back to you, eyes full of sorrow. “I should go.”

“What? Why?” You pulled the sheet around your body feeling exposed although Spencer didn’t seem to notice he was still naked.

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry. I can’t do this Y/N.”

“Do what?”

“This. Us. It’s not going to work is it? We know that.”

“How do we know that?” You frowned at him.

“Have you just completely forgotten that we want different things? That hasn’t changed.” He shrugged, finding his boxers on the floor and pulling them on now as his dick started to soften with his overwhelming emotions.

“You came to me. You came to me, not the other way around. You come here and tell me you love me and sleep with me and now you’re saying this?” You were incredulous.

You jumped out of bed, quickly throwing your clothes back on while Spencer did the same. He didn’t button his shirt properly but he didn’t care or notice.

“I can’t do this, I can’t bring someone into my girls lives when it’s not going to work out. They’ve already been hurt by one woman, I can’t have them be hurt by another.” He raised his voice a little, stuffing his tie in his pocket.

“They have or you have?” You scoffed. “Let’s be honest here, Spencer. This isn’t about your kids, it’s about you.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No it’s not.”

“Maeve hurt you, I get it. But not everyone is like that.” You tried to reason with him but he kept shaking his head.

“I’ve known you for all of five minutes Y/N, I knew her for thirteen years. If someone can hurt another person that way after over a decade of marriage and two children then who’s to say you couldn’t do the same?” He spat, pushing his hair back from his face.

“So this is about you.”

“No,” he frowned. “What is meant is, if someone can hurt their own daughters that way, who’s to say a stranger couldn’t do it too.”

“Bullshit,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re scared Spencer and I understand that. What Maeve did to you was horrible, I can’t even begin to imagine what that was like for you. But you have to have faith that not everyone is out to hurt you.”

“Faith?” He scoffed, his expression indignant. “I have to have faith? Faith in another human being not to hurt my girls the way their own mother hurt them?”

“Spencer, come on. This isn’t just about them and you know it!” You yelled, getting frustrated by his deflection.

“You don’t get it.” He growled. “You don’t get it because you don’t have kids.”

“Kids are tough. They bounce back quicker. It’s adults that are the vulnerable ones. We’re the ones that hang onto those losses, that feel the pain longer. I’m not doubting for a second that your wife hurt them when she left and I am not saying they probably aren’t still harbouring some kind of feelings about it. But they are buoyant and you’ve let yourself drown.” You folded your arms over your chest, shaking a head a little in disappointment.

You saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way his eyes darkened again and it didn’t at all take you by surprise when he stepped forward and grabbed you roughly by the arm.

“You don’t know anything,” he was really close to you, spitting his words right in your face. “You don’t have kids, you don’t get it. You don’t get to tell me what my kids are going through. You don’t get to tell me what I’m going through. You don’t know my girls, and you don’t know me.” He shook you by the arm but you wouldn’t show him your fear.

“You think I don’t know you? Oh please.” You scoffed, his grip on you getting firmer, blunt fingernails pressing into the previous marks he’d left behind.

“You know the things I’ve actively shown you. You know the side of me I am willing for you to see. You don’t know me. Not the real me.” He growled, spittal flying from his lips.

“I know you.” You spat back. “I know you’re scared of being vulnerable, terrified of letting someone close to you because you were hurt in a way no one should ever have to be hurt by someone they love. You built up walls to protect your heart from another beating. You use your kids as an excuse not to let anyone in. Because deep down you are petrified of getting your heart broken again. So you’re pushing me away because you think it’ll be easier than giving me a chance to hurt you.”

His eyes were practically black now, his pupils and irises bleeding together in his anger. His grip on you was so tight it was starting to hurt but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him as much.

“You don’t know shit. You think because you're getting your doctorate in psychology that you can read me? If that’s the best you’ve got you’ve got a lot to learn.” He let go of you now, turning away from you. “This isn’t up for debate Y/N. This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have come here and now I’m leaving.”

“Coward,” you spat. “Fucking coward.”

He spun back to you, eyes somehow even darker than before.

“Fuck you.” He replied childishly.

“You’d rather be alone and miserable than be with someone you love on the off chance you might get hurt? That’s pretty cowardly Spencer.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I only told you I loved you to get you into bed?” A menacing smirk blossomed on his lips. “You said it yourself, I couldn’t get you into bed fast enough when we met. I was touch starved, I needed to get laid. I would have said just about anything to get in your pants.”

“That’s not true.” You shook your head meekly.

“It most certainly is true, Y/N.” He chuckled darkly.

“You’re lying.” You whimpered.

“Am I?” He clucked. “Do you really believe that?”

“If that’s true you are exceptionally cruel.” Your eyes misted over with tears.

“Like I said, you don’t know me. Maybe I’m just a cruel person.” He shrugged, taking a few steps backwards.

“I hope one day you wake up and realise you made a huge mistake.” You snarled at him. “I hope you wake up and it hurts, it hurts everywhere. It hurts because you threw away a chance at real happiness. I hope that day comes and I hope you track me down to tell me how much it fucking hurts. Just so I can say, respectfully Doctor Reid, go burn in hell.”

You stormed past him, flinging the door open and glaring at him angrily. His expression faltered a little, the darkness in his eyes fading.

“Y/N I…”

“Leave.” You motioned to the open door. “Get out of my apartment you asshole.”

He clenched his jaw, feeling a tightness spread to chest. It was as though he had been possessed for a moment, like something else had taken over his body. Now he looked at you, the pain behind your eyes, he wanted to take back every single word he hadn’t meant to say.

“I don’t think that I-”

“Don’t care.” You cut him off. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t care. I am done listening to you now. Get the fuck out of my apartment and don’t even think about coming back here. You might have saved yourself and your kids the pain but you have shattered my heart into a million tiny pieces Spencer Reid. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

“Y/N…”

“Go!” You yelled. “Now! Or I’ll call the cops.”

Spencer clenched his jaw again, rhythmically grinding his rear molars together to try and stem any tears that might threaten to fall. He gave you one last look before he nodded and headed past you through the open door.

Seconds later, before he even made it to your front door, he heard the bedroom one slam, so loudly the walls shook.

And he knew before he even got to the door that he was going to leave here, find a bar and get so drunk he may never wake up.

@foxy-eva @kbakery @chrissyflo3 @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @redbulldinner @derekm24

@pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @hades-disappointment-child @weirdothatwritess

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

237 notes · View notes

honkytonk-hangman · 7 months

Text

Line of Sight [4]

JAKE ‘HANGMAN’ SERESIN X READER

Summary: In which everyone's worst nightmare is realised, and Jake's girlfriend isn't actually the reasonable one at all. She's actually just as bad. There's a reason she's with him, after all. or Penny bollocks you over your petty antics with Jake during a volleyball game, but you're too busy enjoying being the only thing on Jake Seresin's radar (on the ground, anyway).

Warnings: fluff, mentions of jakes clealry very healthy mental health that is in no way compromised or flawed and he defintiely wont be needing therapy. thats mostly a joke, this chapter is all fluff :P

Notes: Its done!!! thanks so much for readin this little series and sticking with it <3 I hope this is a nice little happy ever after for these two <3

MASTERLIST

“It's impolite to stare.” Jake scolds, not even bothering to look away from where he prepares to land his third bullseye in as many minutes. For your part, you don’t bother to stop staring as he at last throws his dart, earning a mix of impressed cheers and annoyed groans. You’re still watching him when he turns to you, ignoring the others as they clap him on the back or try to goad him into another game. Instead he steps in toward you, collecting his beer and taking a swig, now just as focused on you as you are on him.

“Say, you’re pretty good at this darts thing,” you ignore his prior commentary and instead shift your weight to pop your hip out. Jake takes another swig, raising an eyebrow, but shrugging all the same. “Maybe you could teach me a thing or two.” You bat your eyelashes innocently, earning an amused look from the blond.

“Who am I to refuse helping a lady out?”

Before you can even really respond, Jake has stepped around you, one hand trailing down your side and to your hip, the other curling around your elbow as he guides you the few steps over to the dart board. Just as ever when you do this routine, Jake is pressed right up behind you, and just as ever, he pays no real attention to teaching you a thing at all, instead simply using you as a vessel to show off once again. He knows you love it, and you do, your body growing warmer with every bullseye he lands, his hand at your waist gripping tighter when you snuggle further back into him. He squeezes you a little in warning when you wiggle your hips again, but when you glance up to shoot him your best innocent look, you find him grinning down at you with only trace amounts of smugness present.

“Gee, you really are good at this,” you tease, speaking softer now so only he can hear. Playfulness seems to leave his smile entirely then, and he leans in, hand tracing up from your arm to your chin, where he directs you to a much better angle for kissing. It’s only a quick kiss, but you can’t help but laugh a little at the way your little show melts Hangman right down to the Jake at his core. You bounce up to peck the corner of his mouth as he begins to pull back, aware of the crowded bar around you, and neither of you wanting to be that couple (although, you definitely were that couple, Phoenix has reliably informed you), but you weren’t willing to let him go so quick.

Jake chuckles at your display of clear affection, and even all these months later, you know it’s still something he’s getting used to. It saddens you sometimes, how he was so easy to give affection, but in many ways never seemed to expect it back. It makes you think of the year and then some that he practically ignored you, for what he thought was your own good, working off of the assumption that should you talk, you simply wouldn’t like him.

He was dead wrong of course, you had grown to like him without him ever saying a word to you, and once he did, your interactions only served to confirm the feelings you had. Jake’s soft little surprise anytime you plainly and clearly expressed your interest in him or what he believed to be his various character flaws quickly grew to be one of your favourite things about him, and you loved taking the time to complement or fawn over him at any given opportunity, to big him up in a way that you can.

You place one last kiss to the underside of his jaw as he straightens fully again, and you both become aware of the discussion of a pool competition. Still with his hands firm on your hips, he turns his head long enough to invite himself to the game.

“Duh.” Javy replies with a smile and a half-hearted roll of his eyes. Phoenix’s eye roll isn’t nearly as subtle, but her smile is.

“I’ll get you another drink,” you say softly, reluctantly extracting yourself from him. Jake seems to hesitate for a moment, eyes flickering between you and Dagger before you reach out and give his chest a light shove. “Go on, win for me, Hangman.” You have to suppress a giggle when his chest seems to puff out. A wide smirk pulls across his face, and he gives you a little nod. You loved how seriously he took these sorts of things.

“Careful what you wish for, baby, don’t want to get too competitive about a friendly pool game just to make you happy,”

“That is like the most romantic threat anyone’s ever given me!” you exclaim with a mostly genuine dreaminess. You yelp as you turn around, as the moment you have your back to him, Jake delivers a light swat to your backside. You fix him with faux-disapproval and flick your hair hastily in a way you know he finds extremely sexy.

“Careful there, Hangman,” you call in a sing-song manner, all the while he continues to smirk at you in a way that some may consider ‘infuriating’ (Review courtesy of Phoenix) or ‘annoying as fuck, man! Blink!’ (Feedback provided by Coyote). “Penny’ll have you thrown out for that sort of thing…'' you say with sickening amounts of fake innocence, batting your eyelashes at him, as he non-verbally calls your bluff, his smirk widening and his chin lifting as if to say ‘go on, then, do it.’.

You don't bother pretending you can win that sort of battle with him, especially not while you’re still clothed, so you flick your hair even more aggressively this time, and begin making your way toward the bar, swaying your hips dramatically for the sole benefit of the seaglass-green eyes that you know will follow you until you reach your destination.

You manage to find your way to the front of the drinks queues fairly quickly, and push yourself up and into the empty seat at the end of the bar. You’re in kind of a blind spot here, you’re more than familiar with the Hard Deck by now to know if you were anyone else, part of any other group, you’d be seriously worried about you chances of actually ordering, but all things considered, you aren’t anybody else, and you just so happen to be a part of the owner’s husband’s little band of merry men.

Penny spies you almost impossibly, and despite the heavy crowds at every other section of the bar, you see her pick up an already cleaned glass, and pretend to wipe it down as she makes her way to where you are, placing the glassware away and hitting you with a blindingly warm smile.

“If it isn’t one of my favourite love birds… what can I get for you hon?” Just as Penny finishes her eyes flicker to the place behind you before she frowns and looks back at you in slight confusion. “Where’s your shadow?” She follows up. You give her a little laugh and roll your eyes, gesturing the general direction of the pool table.

“He’s about to win some pool for me, although he did debate whether or not to come with me instead for at least seven seconds, so you know, we’re improving on the shadow front.”

Penny laughs loud and joyfully, giving a shake of her head at nothing in particular.

“If it weren’t so sickeningly sweet, I’d say good for him, but to be honest, at least I know he’s not going to get into that much trouble when he’s with you,” she says with the sort of wry knowingness one is only allowed to use when married to Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. You raise an eyebrow and cock your head.

“Why does everyone always assume I’m keeping him out of trouble?” you wonder aimlessly, knowing Penny wasn’t one of those people, and in this rare context, she was also correct about keeping Jake from trouble.

Penny shrugs.

“You and Jake are just about the most perfectly matched duo I’ve seen in a while, but I think you hide your assholery better than he does,” Penny tells you with a laugh. You pout at her.

“You think I have assholery?!” you ask, faux-offended. Penny reaches across the bar to give you a light smack, rolling her eyes at you as she does.

“I saw you at the beach party last weekend, egging that man of yours on to humiliate your poor new friends,”

The memory brings an immediate smile to your face and you let out an involuntary bark of laughter.

“Oh my god, but that guy was such a douche! God, he had no idea what he was in for, challenging us to volleyball! Idiot,” you snicker only a little evilly thinking about how thoroughly you’d wiped the floor with the small group of beach goers who had wound up joining your party, only for you all to realise too late that they were kind of really annoying.

“Do you know what most mature adults do, what the other mature adults did?” Penny questions like you’re a preschooler. You roll your eyes, again. “They ignore school yard bait and try to make peace.” Penny tells you, which you don’t think sounds like the right answer. She looks at you expectantly, as if she’s waiting for you to concede her point. You make a face.

“Penny, those guys sucked, and they were talking such a big game about their volleyball skills. They didn’t even bring a volleyball with them! It was a netball!” you justify. Penny you can tell is only half telling you off, being a not-so-reformed troublemaker herself these days. “Jake and I play v-ball literally every sunday, we didn’t do anything or humiliate anyone on purpose, all we did was accept the invitation of a game.” you don’t believe a word of what you say, but it does sound almost convincing. If Jake were here he’d give you a supportive nod.

Penny lets out a laugh and shakes her head at you.

“Only you and Hangman can take something adorable and sweet and romantic that you do together, and turn it into an opportunity to dunk on some tipsy losers who’d mildly annoyed you,” Penny says, still like she’s scolding you, but the sparkle in her eyes says she would have done the exact same thing had she and Maverick been thirty years old again, and if the mere suggestion of beach volleyball wasn’t cause for a physio visit.

“Besides, I’m glad y'all got to watch us play at last. Since we made the mixed regional team last week we’ve wanted to get you all down to a game sometime,” you say, dodging any accusation of pettiness. Penny nods enthusiastically.

“You know Mav, Amelia and I will be at every one of those games. We’ve got to make sure you guys actually win and don't just tell us you win, to get the free drinks I promised.”

You can't help but smile warmly. It was nice to have a family in San Diego, to be able to rely on people.

“Really, Penny, thank you so much for sponsoring the team, you totally didn’t have to do that, but it means a lot to us, to both of us,” you say gently, reaching out to rest your hand over her. Penny returns your soft smile.

“See, this is the sort of thing Jake would never say, not without a heavy helping of sarcasm, irony or whatever else he thinks makes him less vulnerable.”

You laugh at that and bow your head in agreement.

“Hey, I’m working on it with him. I mean, Pen, he still gets surprised when I just tell him that I like a particular facet of his personality… Anyway, in the meantime, I’m happy to be the emotional go-between.”

Penny gives you a knowing, sympathetic hum.

“That man is everything he says he is and more, but he just can’t seem to bring himself to believe it. I’m glad he has you to show him it’s not just bluster.”

Your eyes momentarily prickle at Penny’s frankness, the words painful to hear from somebody else. Although she’s completely correct, it really does upset you to think of the way Jake must consider himself sometimes, and why you were so determined to adjust the way he clearly thought about certain things, mostly, himself.

“Very little of him is just bluster, and I can’t understand sometimes how he doesn’t actually see that, considering it’s a narrative he made for himself… he’s complicated, but I’m pulling at those threads as they come,” you nibble your lip with a small frown, before dropping your gaze to the bar top. “I just wish he’d see him the way I see him, and the way other people see him…” you pause, and Penny lifts a sardonic, incredulous eyebrow at you. You immediately relent, waving your white flag on that point in the form of holding up your hands. You’d had to come to terms a while ago now with the fact that you’re an exceptionally unreliable source when it comes to how you think others see your boyfriend, Dagger squad notwithstanding. “Okay, maybe not the way other people see him. Pretty sure that's the one thing he’s not mistaken about.”

You both share a soft laugh before Penny straightens, and throws a cursory glance over her shoulder at the seemingly ever growing crowd around the bar, though she still remains clearly unbothered as she turns away from the rush, and shifts her weight to her hip as she looks back at you.

“Anyway, I believe you came for drinks, and I believe I should go get them. The usual?”

You nod, thanking her as she steps away to fetch one bottle that supposedly contained beer, before she fetches your much nicer, far superior sarsaparilla, and waves you off when you attempt to pay.

“My shout, for the two of you making the regional team, and celebrating by destroying some amateurs, because you were bored.” She tells you with a playful wink. You grin widely, cheekily, before shooting her a faux-scolding look.

“Rewarding us for our supposed asshole shenanigans? That’s only gonna reinforce our poor behaviour, Penny! This is exactly why we’ll never learn!” you call out raising the drinks as your excuse for choosing to ignore any self-growth.

You manage to narrowly dodge a ‘rogue’ ice cube that finds itself mysteriously launched at your head, and poke your tongue out at the now distracted bartender, who somehow sees your childishness despite her mixing some brightly coloured cocktail, and spares a moment to throw you the bird, then a blown kiss. You laugh to yourself, as you push away from the bar, feeling quite pleased with yourself, and adjusting your focus to immediately inform your boyfriend of Penny’s definitely very real disapproval of your actions, and not at all conflicting response to the two of you grown adults humiliating some random pricks that in complete honesty, you certainly would have expended far less energy by just ignoring for the rest of the night.

You pause briefly, realising that that is the exact sort of petty assholery that Penny had suggested you hid, and briefly consider that you’re just as bad as Hangman, not Jake. You quickly come to the conclusion that you don’t find that to be a terrible thing, and so shrug to yourself, and continue on, unbothered by such little things like being a peaceful, non confrontational and relaxed person. In your eyes, being chaotic, always down to clown (on others) and quite likely an incredibly petty asshole at times sounded like way more fun, and involved far less unwanted self-introspection, you suspect.

The closer you get to the pool tables, the less you have to work to get through the crowds. All the Navy guys tended to congregate most thickly in this part of the bar, a sea of flight suits and unfamiliar patches greeting you, a fun quirk of which you’d discovered fairly soon after you’d visited Jake on base for the first time a month ago. Although you had no clue who any of these sailors were, or if they knew Dagger in any way, they definitely had become aware of you, and more importantly to this topic, who you were dating.

It's probably the petty-asshole in you again, but you get a sweet kick of satisfaction when you approach anywhere near the Navy guys, and for the first time in any bar ever, you don’t have to make yourself known to anyone for them to get out of your way. It’s almost as though a definitely unknown person may or may not have subtly mentioned (see: threatened to the best of his not-inconsiderable abilities) to any Hard Deck regulars on base, that should you be making yourway over to your regular spot, they are to clear the path and make sure you’re able to walk without going unnoticed by rowdy sailors who can't hear or see you.

You’d be annoyed that someone, surely not anyone you’d know, went to such efforts after just one incident in which you were trying to get past some sailors for much too long, only for one of them to step and into you, making you drop the round of drinks you’d been carrying, but honestly, as a remarkably unintimidating woman who wasn't known for her great assertiveness when not backed up by her six foot actually intimidating Navy Officer boyfriend, you kind of loved that someone, who you really had no clue as to the identity of, had gone out of their way to make sure you’d not have any more issues during what should be an uneventful commute from the bar to the pool table.

You have no idea who could be willing to use their mean side to your benefit, the result of which is the most unbothered walk anyone has ever done in a crowded bar, and a bunch of random sailors you don’t know occasionally giving you polite, stern little nods as you pass, as though their instinct was to salute you, before they remembered that you are not in fact any form of authority to them, but they couldn’t not do something as a sign of respect. You really do wish you could find out who it was that had put the fear of god into these men, if only to give him some really, really good head later.

You finally arrive back at the pool table, the red sea closing back up behind you to form a seemingly dense wall of uniforms, that Payback looks at in clear confusion, then to you, as if you had an explanation you were willing to give. He lifts his brows and you shrug, putting on your best smile.

“Guess they just all thought I was cute or something’!” you say brightly, wishfully. From the direction of the pool table, a familiar voice responds to you.

“Yeah, I guess they did, how polite of them.” Jake says meaningfully, though you don't know what he’s on about, but you suspect is in fact a veiled suggestion-not-threat to the sailors within hearing range.

You wander over to Jake, making sure he's not about to take a shot before you step right into his personal space, and hand him his what apparently passes for beer these days. Jake takes a sip, and thanks you, dropping a brief kiss to your temple. You see him briefly take a look at what you’d ordered, only to receive a scoff.

“And you have the nerve to call my choice in drinks ‘nasty’. Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re drinking’ cough medicine.” This is the one facet of Jake’s personality you can’t stand, and have made clear to him you dislike.

“‘Oh look at me, I’m a grown man from Texas who hates Sarsaparilla, how unique and quirky!’” you mimic his voice in a fairly insulting way, it sounds not a thing like him, but that's part of the jab. Jake narrows his eyes and pokes you in the side.

“You ain’t witty, plenty of people hate that shit,” he tells you, frowning. You ignore him.

“Oooh, I claim to be accepting and appreciative of the few differences i have with my girlfriend, but always happens to forget her favourite drink when he goes out for snacks!’” you mock him further.

Jake huffs and is about to open his mouth, no doubt in his defence, but you cut him off, narrowing your eyes.

“You ain’t slick, Seresin.” you say darkly.

Somewhere around you, wherever your friends are, you don’t know, you hear Rooster whistle lowly.

“Hey guys, first fight!” he says mirthfully, but with no real conviction. You snap your head in his direction.

“This is not our first fight,” you correct him with an eye roll, no longer concerned with your petty argument, both you and Jake forming up into a single entity once more to face the rest of the world. Jake’s arm slings casually around your waist and he leans on his hip, into your side.

“Get a load of this, Rooster thinks that's what a couples fight really sounds like,” Jake adds, as if speaking to you conspiratorial, toxic levels of faux-sympathy for his squad mate.

“If that's what he thinks a fight is, I’d hate to see what he thinks a declaration of love sounds like,” you say, mostly for the benefit of Jake and yours little game you’ve started, and not for Rooster, who was already ignoring you both and rolling his eyes as he moves to take his shot.

You glance up at your boyfriend, who is smiling Cheshire-like, but he shoots you a wink when he returns your gaze. He turns toward you then, using both hands, both of which also hold a beer and a pool stick respectively, to grasp your hips and duck his face into your eye line.

“The corner store we go to for snacks doesn’t have sarsaparilla, but it’s kinda a bust most times anyway, let's find a new snack stop, alright?” Jake says, definitely earning him some extra, extra good head later.

“I didn’t think you really were leaving it out on purpose, it's so hit and miss in Cali what stores stock it.” you tell him, grumbling that you couldn't just go to any store and get you some cough syrup.

Jake hums, and steps around you, your convection on pause briefly as he steps up to take his shot, sinking all the balls he's supposed to and not the ones he isn't (you refuse to learn more about pool than absolutely necessary), before he turns back to you as if he’d never stepped away at all, and sweeps you up again.

“I know a place back home where you can get a year's supply, I’ll see if one of my sisters can figure something out,” Jake says softly, as if a little worried the others might hear him being so gentle and tender. The others, while certainly all pretending not to eavesdrop, only wear various expressions reminiscent of the sort generally worn after being shown a baby animal video compilation.

“And how are either of your sisters supposed to get a year's supply of sarsaparilla up to North Island from Austin?” you question, not wanting to bat away his clear intent to apologise for any wrong you may have thought he’d done. Jake’s eyes swing toward the ceiling like you’ve just said something stupid and he won't actually believe it.

“You forget I’m a pilot.” he says as if it's obvious and also a good point. You frown.

“Pretty sure your jet can barely fit you, let alone a bunch of sarsaparilla.” you say, feeling distinctly like you might be about to walk into a verbal trap he’s laid.

Jake huffs, and still keeping his eyes off of you, he all but stomps his foot at your logic and reasoning.

“Whatever, I’ll drive it back if I have to,” he says, even more quiet and even more worried of the others hearing him. You refrain from ‘aww’ing dramatically, and instead cup his cheek.

“You can just apologise or like, use your words you know. You don't have to communicate with me via intense acts of devotion and service.” you give him a little smile to let him know you were being serious, despite your light tone. Jake’s eyes fall on you at last and he purses his lips.

“It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“But driving around forty hours round trip to Texas and back again all for some cough syrup does?”

“Yes.”

You consider him for a few moments, but relent, and release him of his obligation to make eye contact during vulnerability, patting his cheek lovingly.

“Alright, well, if that's what you’d like to do, Jake,” you say, not fully understanding why words aren’t his thing in this one aspect of his life, when in every other area he excels in anything verbal, damn-near silver-tongued. But you also don't have to understand it, you just had to know it, and then see his displays of love and affection no matter how odd or unconventional or totally over the top and ridiculous, for what they were.

Jake takes a few moments to process the amicable end of that discussion, seemingly expecting a fight or more pushback, but you only nudge him, to draw him from his distraction.

“Hey Hangman, aren’t you supposed to be winning this for me?” you ask playfully. Making the blond frown at you as he looks between the table and your face.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” he asks back, making you pause. You glance back at the table with an earnest frown and after you seemingly take much to long to decipher the secrets of the little round balls, Jake chuckles, stepping up beside you and wrapping you up in one arm, pulling you in as he continues to laugh at you (you retract one extra off of the ‘extra extra good head’ you were planning on giving him later) and kisses your temple, his chuckle nothing sweet and instead completely, totally, and all-consumingly infuriatingly smug (Review by His Girlfriend).

“You have no idea what you’re looking at, do you?” he asks, quieter than you’re expecting, so only you hear. You glare, and answer him with an exasperated sigh.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, darlin’.”

You now glare directly up at him as he watches you with a mix of genuine assholery and softer playfulness that lets you know he’s fully aware of the former trait making a rare appearance in reaction to you.

Sometimes, you almost wish he’d go back to ignoring you. It had to be better than suffering this. You didn't deserve it, you were an occasionally good person, right?

Jake draws you back from your silent pleading for a time machine, and he leans down toward you, smolderingly self-satisfied with how his little display has gotten under your skin, and his expression combined with his much more intimate proximity suddenly brings to mind that night several months ago now at the club, the night that Jake had paid attention to you for the very first time, and you’d understood clearly what it must feel like to go up against Hangman in a dogfight, what it felt like to be in his direct line of sight.

Jake plasters on an identical smile to the one he has in your memory, but unlike that night, he gains an evil glint to his eyes, which you find out the reason for mere seconds later, when he gently boops your nose in a manner that tells you he definitely knows has lost him all extra good head privileges for the night.

Apparently, he deems it worth it, and sadly, you can't help but be swept up by him, rolling your eyes in mock frustration, but unable to keep from grinning up at him like a lovesick fool, waiting for him to finish his line.

Jake’s smile turns momentarily sweet, but he quickly covers back up with his bluster and fake mega-douche routine you actually definitely loved.

“Let ol’ Hangman take care of it for ya’.”

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction

390 notes · View notes

lutawolf · 7 months

Text

My Personal Weatherman and the D/s element Ep 7

If you haven't read my other commentary on this show, you can find it here.

Ahhh, I'm so excited for this show. I've been looking forward to it so much. Yoh sweet baby is till watching Segasaki on his show. Aww... "I could watch his face forever." This miscommunication is crazy, but these two really love each other so much.

Yoh really does have an awesome friend in Minnie aka Manju.

Segasaki worrying that Yoh left again. This is a jealous Dom, but that's because he isn't secure in what he has. I've said countless times, there are no bad emotions, only bad reactions. Yoh knows there is something wrong, but he doesn't know what. He wants to fix it, and he is hitting all his usually submissive ways, but they aren't working.

Omg... I can't tell you how many times I watched that side eye from Segasaki as Yoh goes to removed the bag. This is very much a Dom fed up with his brat. 🤣🤣🤣

Yay! Flashbacks from Segasaki's point of view! He is extremely observant. Interesting that he at first negatively viewed Yoh, even though he himself admitted that the people he was surrounded by were shitty.

Segasaki is arrogant, but not unkind. He observes, makes judgment calls, but isn't afraid to re-evaluate. That is actually a good thing to look for in a Dom. You don't want a Dom that is indecisive, nor one that can't admit when he's made a wrong call.

Like I said, kind but arrogant. "You're really talented." I can smile much better. He isn't saying that Yoh didn't capture him right because he clearly admires his talent and tells us that his drawings were so good. It's that he saw something about himself to improve.

He carefully cultivated what others saw, but Yoh saw through this. Knows his small little flashes of facial features. When I say that D/s couples really do watch each other this closely, we do. Remember, our relationships revolve around a lot of nonverbal communication. Each wanting to instinctively please each other, though in different ways. Each needing to anticipate the other's need. Verbal communication also needs to be good, but that's always why we often write guidelines. It helps us communicate our needs. However, you have to remember that this D/s relationship happened organically, so the verbal communication isn't there yet.

Side note, most Doms hate showing vulnerability to anyone other than their submissive. I do on here because I'm pretty much anonymous and this place is my therapy. In real life, though, I'm not very good at showing vulnerability even to my submissive. Though I've gotten softer since my kids.

There is that arrogance again. No one was worth showing his true feelings to. Got me questioning myself when people call me arrogant. But damn, I melted when he asked Yoh not to leave.

The famous curry. We're finally going to know the story. OMG, but I love how natural they both are in their positions. They might not understand their feelings towards each other, but they understand themselves. Segasaki's face as he eats the curry! I'm dying. And you can not tell me that Yoh can read all of Segasaki's facial expressions but didn't recognize Segasaki's facial expression this time? Segasaki covers himself well by bringing up the congee.

Segasaki goes right into commanding Yoh. Telling him to put the curry in Tupperware, and he'll be the only one eating it. He better not touch it. Yoh instinctively obeys. The way he taps Yoh's forehead and tells him, "This is mine." Damn, Yoh, how did you miss that? You is cute and you is stupid. Segasaki happily eating the terrible curry says everything.

Ahh, Segasaki rubbing Yoh's head. Bestowing a reward. The way Yoh's eyes literally twinkled due to it. Absolutely fucking adorable.

"I came all the way here for you. Go ahead and take a good look and draw." When they talk about Segasaki's face when he asked if he really looked like this. Who called it peeps? Who called it. "Draw more. If it's the depths of my heart, as long as it's you, then I don't mind." And there is that Dom intensity and possessiveness.

And back to present day with rain crashing down outside. Segasaki goes looking for Yoh, but can't find him.

OMG, the roof scene is everything. "Without you, I can't breathe." The kiss, that Yoh didn't even think of denying Segasaki. The fact that Segasaki cried because he thought Yoh left. Ugh. We have to watch this again.

I think this is my favorite episode. Yoh is so excited because Segasaki apologizing because he never has before. Nope, Segasaki is apologizing for trusting him and ties him up. Dead. This is the best.

Normies who might be thinking that Yoh is scared. Please note, other than saying "hold on, wait." He offers up no further struggle. Our little coconut is confused and maybe a little scared because he doesn't know why Segasaki is acting like this, but he isn't scared of Sagasaki or what he is doing. There is a fundamental comfort and trust there, hence the no struggle. Remember he is a brat, if he wants to struggle he will. Remember the last episode where he threw a fucking fit? As far as Segasaki doing it without asking, well remember their relationship has an in place agreement of Segasaki having total control. Yoh knew that Segasaki was controlling and a tyrant when he made the agreement. But let me say this, in real life there should be a safe word in place even in these types of relationships. Again, though, this is an organic lifestyle relationships, so we were lucky we got the agreement.

I'm so excited about the next episode!!! Why must we wait! Ahhh. Hope you guys enjoyed! 💜💜💜

#taikan yoho #my personal weatherman #segasaki x yoh #luta talks my personal weatherman #luta talks kink

250 notes · View notes

yourhighness6 · 2 months

Text

NATLA Episode 2 Debrief (by yours truly)

Hi again! Here's episode 1 if anyone is interested. This is going to be another outrageously long post, just a tw

I absolutely loved the ominous start and then it's just:

They really captured the Zuko/Iroh dynamic the cartoon had in this scene. I hope they keep this sort of thing throughout the show. Also, side note, but for whatever reason Zuko seems a LOT more violent in this version. This child needs some serious therapy.

I guess this is their version of the map joke, huh? Low-key disappointed but not as mad as I thought I would be.

I'm not sure how I feel about the writers prolonging some of the conflicts that were resolved back in the SWT into this episode. I guess it makes sense that they would have to extend the drama, but I'm a little disappointed these thoughts didn't make it into the first episode. I'm glad they're included, but I think at this point team avatar had started to feel like family already in the cartoon, so it's kind of annoying and misses the mark a bit.

Yes I'm so glad they put GranGran's blessing back in! I was really mad when they took it out, but this honestly feels more meaningful than it did in the cartoon. It's a precious cultural artifact rather than just a couple of blankets. This is similar to what I was mad about with extending SWT conflicts, but I don't have nearly as much of a problem with it, as it seems like they're carrying a little piece of home with them rather than just extra drama.

The burial scene was very sweet and sad. It gave us a bit more insight into Air Nomad culture, and a sense of closure the cartoon didn't really give us. A+ for Gordon's acting as well (he is perfect for this part, even if he does still need some more acting experience)

Zuko has officially mastered the "my uncle dragged me here and I'm an agnsty teenager" face. A+ to Dallas for this entire scene. I am absolutely LOVING the Iroh and Zuko dynamic. Never change (jk I wish you a wonderful redemption arc)

Suki looks just as beautiful as she did in the trailer. Unfortunately can't say the same for the Kyoshi statue (I wish it had been made out of wood), but there is something to be said for the little shrines to the avatars instead of a few big ones. I actually kind of like that they changed that element, and I hope they explore it more in future episodes, because I assume some of the spiritualism surrounding them would have to be changed. Side note: but I've seen nothing of the spirit world so far and I'm getting a little nervous. I guess I wouldn't mind if they decided it was some long-lost avatar trick or is introduced in the NWT, but if they get rid of it altogether I'm gonna be pissed.

I'm glad they decided to make Kyoshi Island a matriarchal society instead of having a male leader. It just makes sense based on the lore and I like to see more strong adult women than in the cartoon. Also Suki got a mom! Maybe she'll get some development too!

This Aang speech was very in-your-face storytelling, but I feel like the whole show is gonna be like that so I'm just accepting it at this point. I think it stayed true to his character while getting the point across, and it also kind of helped his character compared to the cartoon. He's very emotionally open and has a charming nativity about him, but he's clearly trying to help. Loved it.

He's so awkward I love it. This whole interaction was really cool, because it expanded on their relationship in a cool way. They're both struggling between doing what their parents expect of them to help their respective villages, but are being faced with a pull to the outside world, Suki with her "big heart" and Sokka with his need to protect Katara. Thishonestly gives more depth to their relationship and I don't mind the writers dragging out first episode conflicts if this is how they're choosing to explore them.

Aww look at these cute little siblings. I like that the writers are giving them more time to progress from strangers to besties. Their interactions seem more natural, and Aang's grief more realistic. It's also great to once again see Katara growing more confident and powerful in her abilities. I love the smell of some good character development in the making.

Look at her face! She's like,"I'm so good at flirting. Mother would be proud." Meanwhile Sokka's scared of her. Anyway I'm living for their scenes and they're making me giggle. (Despite Sokka's sexism being toned down it still exists to a lesser level and I love to see her beating his ass while he tries to flex)

I love the new subplot! I love that flashback! I love this conflict! It gives more credence to his fears as a prodigy. Whatever writer came up with this deserves a hug.

AHH the ship is sailing! I love Sokka learning to be more open minded! I love Suki learning to be more open-hearted! I love when characters in romantic relationships learn from each other! This is giving Suki and Sokka development in ways the cartoon did not without trying to play Sokka's sexism off as a joke and also giving us more screentime and when I say I love it I mean I am doing a happy dance right now!

Okay, so just a quick word on shipping besides Sukka because as Zutara trash I am legally required to do this:

It seems like they are keeping the zutara hope parallel intact, with Katara and Zuko both finding hope in the avatar but in different ways. However, I don't think this really changes anything. So far, there's beven nothing to suggest they're going with ZK instead of KA, and I'm a little worried that they're trying to parallel Sukka and KA wwith the way they're setting up both girls as kind of a "teacher" to the boys in a way and giving both ships a huge amount of screentime in the same episode. Also, and I hate to say this, they might be attempting to fix KA by toning down Katara's anger and her "dark side". She didn't get angry to break the iceberg and they're eliminating her entire waterbending scroll plotline. They're trying to make them a better match for each other by watering her down and therefore increasing her connection with Aang and decreasing the chance of a future connection with Zuko over their anger and shared trauma. It's sad news that I didn't want to deliver, and I've seen spoilers that there is another ZK moment later down the line, but at this point, I think KA is a lot more plausible than ZK. *cries*

In slightly less depressing news, they're inserting the avatar state plotline a lot earlier. This makes sense with the condensed timeline, and I think I like the way they're going with it so far. I hope they keep the concept of avatar guide intact, though, and I'm worried that they're going to play into more of a connection to all of his past lives instead of just Roku. I kind of hate Roku but I do think that's a major concept I don't want them to get rid of, and his inaction during a time of adversity mirror's Aang's own challenges with confrontation. Their dynamic is a good one, and I wouldn't be opposed to changed but I really hope they don't entirely throw it out.

Scratch whatever the fuck I said before. I'm back on my shipping bullshit I can't believe we got a BONUS FIGHT! Also kudos to whoever decided Zhao should burn the village instead of Zuko. I was always so pissed at him whenever I rewatched this episode and now I can sleep easy knowing it was that military dipshit instead of him

I love Kyoshi to an unhealthy extent but I kind of wish Katara had been the one to go off on him. It would have seriously fixed things.

COUPLES THAT FIGHT TOGETHER ARE THE BEST COUPLES CHANGE MY MIND

Also, side note, but I love the hair these in fight scenes:

Most action movies hairspray the shit out of them but these actors are allowed to look a little disheveled while they kick ass. Huge thank you to whoever decided that more natural hair is superior cuz they are 100% correct

THE BONUS FIGHT SCENE IS NO LONGER COOL I REPEAT THE BONUS FIGHT SCENE IS NO LONGER COOL

I think this was the perfect conclusion to Sukka (for now)! Sokka learned something so much more valuable and impactful than in the cartoon, in my opinion. His masculinity is handled very well in my opinion, and even if I would have liked to see him wear the warrior outfit, there's something really great about the way he continues to embrace protectiveness, a masculine trait, while having rid himself of toxic masculinity, such as not being able to learn from others. He's leaving a more open minded and humble person and I love the way they portrayed it.

Okay the speech was a little on the nose but I liked it. One of the best things about ATLA was the way they executed Aang's childishness ending up beneficial for the world. I think the new conflict is expanding on that nicely while staying true to its roots. *pats writers on the head*

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IS THIS REAL I LOVE IT SO MUCH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

IM TRYING SO HARD NOT TO THINK ABOUT THIS LINE AND HOW IT COULD BE ANOTHER PARALLEL TO K/A I HATE IT BUT I LOVE IT AT THE SAME TIME LETS JUST FOCUS ON SUKI SAYING SOKKA HELPED HER AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Also the fan was so cute. That last scene on Appa really wrapped everything up nicely. I like the way they tied in the conflicts between the siblings while engineering growth for Sokka.

Daniel Kim delivered in his two seconds of screentime. Zhao was such a bitch but idk what else I expected. Can't wait to see more of these two bastards in future!

Anyway, to recap:, things I did like:

Aang's new conflicts

Sokka's mini arc

SUKKA

Expanding on Katara's PTSD

Zhao burning the town instead of Zuko

Zuko and Iroh's dynamic

Things I didn't like:

Katara's characterization

Lack of Aang's actual avatar guide

K/A hints and lack of zutara implications

Postponing the Zhao and Zuko agni Kai

Overall, I have to say I think that they're playing into the core themes very well while expanding on the characters. If it weren't for the whole Katara debacle this would be a 9/10 episode, but with the Katara debacle imma give it a 7/10. Still, I can at least understand why the writers made their crappy decisions, even if I don't agree with them. Hopefully certain things are fixed in future episodes, but as it stands I think I'll live (barely)

#natla debrief #emmie babbles #zutara #sukka #aang #sokka #suki #zuko #katara #avatar the last airbender #natla episode 2

123 notes · View notes

retrieve-the-kraken · 1 month

Text

Okay, so I’ve finished my taxes, and I’m basically out of the woods with some overwhelming work stuff, and everything turned out well with a medical situation with my mum, but I am still very tired, but I also cannot keep going without putting my preliminary thoughts on my very first viewing of season 3 down on a post…

It seems my worst characterization so far is assuming that these two idiots would learn to communicate. They haven’t, they’re stupid teenagers, they’re really bad at it, they get mad at each other for everything, and they don’t listen. And that needs to change soon if we want Wilmon endgame.

Boris, do you do couples therapy? PLEASE HELP THEM.

I think a big reason Wilhelm lashes out, besides getting caught up in his own head, is the fact that he’s also constantly afraid of saying the wrong thing and pissing Simon off. But the stakes for Simon are clearly higher. Wilhelm really needs to learn to communicate, but he’s dragging a whole life of terrible communication and zero support, so HOW is he supposed to learn, if he naturally feels afraid to open up?

It shows in the way he reacts to learning about Erik. Simon might be right, and Erik maybe just gave in to peer pressure, like everyone else in that school (which we see over and over again, like with the strike, and that guy who just repeats ‘yeah hilarious’ when Vincent tells him, and the graduation rituals and basically everything that everyone does at that fucking school), and maybe he wasn’t particularly homophobic. Or maybe he was, but if he had found out about Wilhelm maybe he would have changed his views (after all he was a stupid kid too)… But how would Wilhelm know? Erik is dead, there’s no way of asking him, confronting him about it. And people still call him perfect, and still compare him to his brother.

It must be so traumatizing to have held this person in your head as the one you trusted for everything, the one who would support you most, the one who probably knew you better than anyone else, who would love you and be there for you no matter what, and it turns out that he might not have accepted you at all. And just like that Wille is all alone and angry and afraid again.

(This is why it’s extra cruel that August posted that fucking video, especially how premeditated it was to share it over the whole world, but also then tell Wilhelm that his brother was possibly a homophobe. It doesn’t matter that he went through that horrible hazing, it doesn’t matter that he put a stop to it, and it doesn’t matter that he’s a stupid kid too, the fact that he did THAT to someone, anyone, is awful and he should have known better.)

So that scene in season 1 when Erik teases Wilhelm about his crush potentially changes completely. Maybe he didn’t suspect anything, maybe it was just a coincidence that he never used any pronouns…

And that makes it even more traumatizing that his parents still think of Erik as the figure of perfection, and Wilhelm, who is queer and scandalous and rebellious, is the real thorn on their side. Fucking Ludvig saying that Erik really was perfect, that he didn’t have “that darkness inside of him”, to his surviving son… But for all we know maybe Erik’s death was not accidental, maybe he did have “a darkness” inside of him.

On the other hand, that “darkness” doesn’t excuse Kristina at all. I am convinced that this depression/burnout that she’s going through is absolute bullshit. Sure, she might be depressed, she’s still grieving her “perfect” heir, and she’s going through a lot. But it’s like Wilhelm says, how convenient that she shuts down and breaks down now. She wasn’t like this when the video happened, because she could still cover it up. And she wasn’t like this when Wilhelm called her to scream that he was going to abdicate, because she could still drag him out of Hillerska. It was only when he told the whole world, and there was no covering it up anymore, that she suddenly became fragile with grief.

And even if it were true, even if she’s going through a severe depression or burnout, as a result of everything that’s happened, that doesn’t excuse her previous lies and manipulations. And it makes the fact that she still really wants Wille to become her successor, despite knowing what it could do to him, despite knowing that he’s already extremely anxious and that he does not know how to manage his own emotions, is evil.

(And even if she wants August to be the backup too, knowing how he is, knowing his own family history, and how it could affect him too, is evil too.) MORE on this later.

Kristina uses her breakdowns to emotionally manipulate Wille into trying to do his best to be the perfect crown prince, now indirectly through Farima and Ludvig. And Wille’s so concerned with her and her fragility that it affects his relationship with Simon. Because he’s anxious about the possible imminence of having to take over, of being the new monarch, when he can barely control his own feelings, when he just wants to enjoy his first relationship and just be in love.

Of course he made things worse for himself and Simon when he publicly revealed their relationship, but we can understand where that’s coming from. He didn’t want to hide anymore, he didn’t want to not be able to be himself anymore, not be able to be with the boy he loves. But they’re still forced to hide, because people start hating on Simon, because people won’t stop talking about them (as much as I HATED Wille shushing Simon, I also understood that he didn’t want anyone to hear their argument, because he didn’t want to give people more reason to talk about them, but also there’s probably a lot of ‘keeping up appearances’ embedded in his mind), because they are very different and almost incompatible for many reasons, and because being the crown prince means conforming to a lot of things (no tattoos, no cutting your hair shorter than, no nail polish, no expressing political opinions, etc etc), and so he has to remove the nail polish and he doesn’t want his foundation to be geared toward LGBTQIA+ people or mental health issues… He can’t express himself, he can’t be himself, because what he is or who he is for real is not compatible with his role or what is expected of him… he’s so repressed still.

(The whole nail polish scene, and the scene where Simon suggests that Wille’s foundation could be geared toward LGBTQIA+ youth, reminded me a little of Isak in SKAM saying that he wasn’t just going to start marching in the Pride parade or wearing makeup. Wille is not necessarily about identity expression, or at least he doesn’t think that he should be. He just wants to be himself, and be with the boy he loves, and that’s it).

As for Simon, he can do no wrong, and I absolutely agree with everything he says and does, but he has always been very idealistic, and he does come across as a little more naïve than I expected, especially with the whole social media comments and his song. It wasn’t the first time he experienced it, because things went south for him when he appeared on the video, so for him now to think that people are magically not going to be cruel.

But I understand how much he’s sacrificing for Wille, and Wille not appreciating it at all must sting. Just like he points out that he didn’t have contact with Micke for years, for Sara’s sake, and suddenly she’s living with him… that fucking hurt. Simon has always been very opinionated and outspoken, and he’s very authentically and proudly himself, but he’s also always molded himself to what other people need, like being a parented child and taking on too much in the house to relieve Linda, and taking care of Sara, and worrying about his father, and letting himself be manipulated by Marcus, and now basically giving up a lot of himself to be with Wille. And as a result Linda treats him like he’s a drug addict, and Sara goes to the father she didn’t want to have contact with, and Marcus talks shit about him to the press, and Wille doesn’t listen to him…

Sara saw the light (sort of), so maybe hopefully Wille will too. More on that later too.

Anyway, it would have been nice for someone from the royal court to sit Simon down and explain to him what being the boyfriend of a royal involves, so that Wille doesn’t have to figure out how to tell him all these difficult things himself. Wille is so used to some of these things, they seem so obvious to him, that he might not immediately think of how weird or outlandish it might seem to Simon. (THat scene with the cake, I mean… it was funny in a way, but I wonder how many terrifying thoughts crossed Simon’s mind, the obvious “wait what??? did I just eat poison???” but also “wait what??? someone’s trying to poison my boyfriend????” and “there are kids here, have they also accidentally been poisoned????”).

I really really hope that, since he’s being forced to go to Boris with August, that Wille will think about going with Simon, and trying to work things out. They need to be able to say all these things to each other, get on the same page.

More importantly, I need a callback to what Boris said to him in season 2, about the expectations of his family, about being able to make his own choices. Which Wille internalized beautifully with that speech to Simon outside his house.

Anyway, this is already very long. Moving on to more general thoughts:

- I did think that the fact that they sort of resolved the whole issue with the police report and the drugs felt a little anticlimactic. It was built up and built up and the whole season 2 finale was about that, and we had a cliffhanger and everything, and then… bye. I wonder if it will come back (more on that later).

- And for that matter, Alexander just became a background character. Did he even have any lines? I could barely spot him.

- August telling Wilhelm in front of everyone at the table that he’s sure Wille will fuck up on his own… rich.

- Also Stella and Rosh was sort of hinted at, it happened in a blink, and then Fredrika was… jealous? Confused? Homophobic? All of the above? But then… NOTHING. Stella was even missing in the last episode, because she was “sick”… (scheduling conflicts for Felicia? Actually sick?)

- I think it’s interesting that Sara preached and preached to Simon about giving people a second chance, including their dad, and then she… goes and does it? It wasn’t the first time she did, she was with August despite the awful thing he did. And then she goes and… gives August ANOTHER chance????

- Someone needs to tell Sara that she needs to stop getting wtih August, because every time they get together somehow, Wilmon go south… It seems these two couples cannot exist simultaneously…

- So I still have to rewatch, but… is August then in the middle of selling his father’s estate to pay Simon? Are any of his friends aware of this?

- I have a cultural question: what was the whole deal about travelling to the US? I mean, I thought they were asking if these kids have never travelled abroad, but they mentioned the US specifically, several times… Is that a thing in Sweden, traveling to the US? Not any other part of Europe? Not Asia? Just wondering. Made me curious.

- Still waiting for this season’s Elias song… just one episode left… If we don’t get one, or a callback to Revolution, I might claw my face off…

- Nils repeating that maybe Wille would have been better off with someone from the inner circle. Seriously, Nils, who do you mean? WHO? Who could you be referring to? Hmm?

- Something else about Nils… a part of me really wished that Wille would have asked Nils for confirmation on the Erik thing. Wille obviously doesn’t want to believe it at first, but then he does, and hearing it from August makes it even worse, so maybe hearing it from someone like Nils would be the final confirmation that he would need, that his brother was the worst. On the other hand, for him to ask Nils to confirm something like that, as a gay, and possibly hearing what happened to him as a result of it… that would have probably made it even worse.

- Really hate that Marcus was mentioned, that he came back to haunt Simon in a way, even if it was minimal. But props to Simon for not rising to the bait in that moment.

- Simon, my love, i understand that you’re upset and heartbroken, but… it would have been nice if you tried to get Wille to talk to you one last time, before breaking up with him on his birthday… especially seeing everything he’s going through. Not that your feelings are any less important than his, of course, but… are you trying to get him to jump out the window????

-Eternally saddened by the disappearance of the orange sweater. Eternally saddened by the fact that Wilhelm did not set foot in or around Simon’s house this season. Although who knows, still one episode left…

Things that I liked most:

- Seriously the chemistry between Edvin and Omar is OFF THE CHARTS. The intimacy coordinator this season was very good.

- Especially that sex scene. Not just because it makes me immensely happy when my favorite ship fucks, because holy shit that was hot, but also because there’s a whole theme around all the hate mail and messages and classism and homophobia and toxic masculinity that Simon is a target of, especially being Latino, whilst Wille, being white and privileged and high class and the heir to the throne, is probably seen as the “man” of the relationship (especially since in the video he’s also the one “in control” whilst Simon is the receiver), so it’s very VERY satisfying to see that they are both top and bottom at times, and they both equally enjoy it.

- Also the use of choir music during the sex scene, giving it a very holy feel, much like Elias’s Holy playing when they have sex again in season 2… seriously I NEED my Elias song this season or I WILL START A REVOLUTION.

- At first I was annoyed at the whole “school possibly closing” plotline, because I thought it was unneeded. Or that maybe it would play a bigger role in the whole video-drugs controversy. But the truth is that it was really good, how it highlighted these kids’ privilege and the absurdity of wanting to cover things up and uphold traditions, and it also worked wonderfully to highlight the divide between Simon and Wille. As Simon says to Wille, he only takes a stand when he has nothing to lose.

- Felice. Felice this whole season was magnificent. Her whole breakdown over the end of her friendship with Sara, showing how truly important it was to her. And Madison saying that sometimes breaking up with a friend is worse than getting dumped, and I AGREE SO MUCH. But then I also think she loses her sense of self, because despite being popular and beautiful, she still gets used and treated badly, by August (obviously), but also by Wille (the kiss), and worst of all by Sara (who in a way used her for her horse, but also for the clout). And in the meantime, she’s treated differently than the other students for being one of the few black girls, and she gets singled out for her hair… and yet, the school is using her to make themselves look good. And now she decides to give Sara a second chance, because she really missed her, because it really hurt to lose that friend, and Sara goes and… does that…

- One of my favorite things about Simon is how he is proof that just because you’re gay doesn’t mean that you have flawless fashion sense. And i can’t help but wonder how fashion and style icon/ELLE’s Best Dressed Man/OMR Beauty founder Omar feels about Simon’s fashion choices. Never change, Simon, never change.

- Vincent was every bit of the tremendous asshole that I hoped he’d be this season. Did not disappoint. I wanted to punch him in the face every time he opened his mouth. Marvellous.

- I’m happy that we got more Madison, but still not enough. Still, iconic. Forever one of my favorite characters.

- I don’t know what to say about Sara and Micke. Just maybe that, when he played that song in the car, even before they started singing, i just knew “oh fuck, it’s all going to shit soon…” I guess Sara felt lost enough that she was suddenly willing to give him a second chance. And the whole “is that going to happen to me?” bit really made me sad. That she understands that mental health and mental illness is unfortunately many times hereditary, and worries that she might become just like him… But despite not being entirely like him, with addiction problems and such, she was still unreliable like him, she did bad things to her family like he did… I was rooting for you, Micke, we were all rooting for you.

- I feel that August’s love for status and for the monarchy might be starting to fray at the edges. First with the fact that he was reminded of his own traumatizing initiation, and reminded of how the crown prince, his cousin and friend and idol, himself was part of that. Second with the fact that Simon points out that he might have an eating disorder, how he would probably not fare any better than the queen if he were in such a stressful position as crown prince or king, how difficult it is for him to handle stress and anxiety. And third with seeing how it affects Wille and Simon and realizing that something similar might still happen to him and Sara. And the fact that he reveals to Sara why he is the way he is, that he lets his guard down with her, might point to even more growth (even though I hate that Sara sort of gave him a “second chance” again). Also I feel the reality of how they, the Royal Court, would control his life is finally sinking in. Hopefully he will also soon realize that they also use him as a manipulation tool. So maybe he won’t let himself be manipulated by them much longer.

- I loved Wille’s ultimate outburst at his mother and father, i love that he told them everything they needed to hear, about their emotional abuse, their neglect. Unfortunately they still refused to acknowledge how terrible parents they have been, and walked off, instead of trying to resolve it. So Wille throwing around the gifts, as impulsive and tantrum-ish it might come across, makes perfect sense. He tries to talk and gets nothing in return. If he’s repressed it’s bad, but if he expresses himself then nothing happens either.

- And I love that Simon got to see what Wille is really dealing with. As privileged as he might be, he’s still lacking the most important things: unconditional support and love. No amount of money or status can make it better, and Wille is broken. The only thing is that, Simon saw how broken Wille was over the death of his brother, whom he loved very much, but I don’t think he quite grasps the gravity of Wille learning that maybe that beloved brother wouldn’t have been so cool with him, because he has never had to deal with a parent or sibling rejecting him for his sexuality. It’s something very different to be rejected by society at large than it is to be rejected by your own family, and not everyone has the emotional strength to deal with that. So for Wille’s parents to still like his potentially homophobic dead brother more than him, is heart-wrenching. But I don’t think Simon really gets that because he’s probably not surprised that Erik might have been like that, because in his eyes those privileged kids in that school (except obviously Wille, and Felice and Madison, who is asking about the non-binaries) are probably all massive homophobes.

- Despite this, I love that Simon sets boundaries nonetheless. I mean, it hurt like fucking hell for him to tell Wille, on his fucking birthday, that maybe they shouldn’t be together. But just because Wille is hurting doesn’t mean that Simon has not also been hurting too. And if they can’t comfort each other, and try to support each other when they both obviously most need it, then maybe they’re just not going to work. And it took a lot of guts for Simon to bring it up in that moment, in Wille’s bed, in the palace, where he’s basically trapped, with nowhere to go, no way to get away (I doubt he called Linda in the middle of the night to come pick him up more than two hours away in Stockholm).

My hopes for the final episode (I don’t think I have any predictions other than, open ending or not, Wilmon will be endgame and there will be a revolution, I just don’t know how):

- Wilmon talk. An actual, healthy, heartfelt talk. A reconciliation for the ages.

- That the fucking school will close and August won’t be able to graduate, and he’ll realize that maybe he shouldn’t have “lived for that school”, as Erik once put it.

- That Wille will realize that, if Erik was not the person he thought he was, then maybe he no longer has to live up to his legacy anymore. @foreverunraveling pointed out how, now that the big Erik revelation is confirmed, then maybe the queen’s trump card to manipulate Wille into being the ideal crown prince is gone. Wille doesn’t care about the monarchy really, but he did care about not disappointing his brother, the “perfect crown prince”, and now we know that he was far from perfect. Erik lived a double life, as Wille points out, there was “public Erik” or crown prince Erik, and there was “private Erik”, or the real Erik (or so Wille thought, now we know there was a “secret Erik” which was the real Erik) and Wille struggles so much with the idea of having to split himself in two, . Wille cannot live a double life, he withers away when he has to hide himself, and now he gets the opportunity to leave that stifling life behind, and blossom.

- That Simon will get a fucking break. I hate that his whole life was turned upside down from the moment the video was leaked, and it’s just never going to be the same, whether he stays with Wille or not, he’ll always be the boy from the crown prince sex tape, he’ll always be the crown prince’s ex, or the crown prince’s boyfriend. But I want some positive feedback for him, someone bigger than the woman and the little boy wanting a selfie. I want him to have his own fanclub or something. Maybe that’s too idealistic…? (I may be imagining something like that scene in Red White and Royal Blue, when they realize that there’s a whole crowd outside the palace all excited to the the Prince and his First son boyfriend… one can dream).

- I want whatever Felice said during the interview to be taken seriously, and for her to stop doubting herself.

- I want a genuine apology from August.

- Also one from Kristina.

- I get the feeling that the fact that August leaked the video might still come out publicly, what with the whole school issue. And in that case, I would like for it to be Simon might to do it, tossing the money from the settlement in his face. It looks like Simon still feels guilty about accepting it, especially when he chided Wille about his privilege and Wille (figuratively) threw the money back in his face. What if Simon does it literally?

- I really wanna know what’s going to happen between Felice and Sara now. The outlook is not good.

- Is it too much to ask to know what’s going on between Stella and Fredrika?

- Most importantly, is the whole thing with Erik going to come out eventually? And how will people react? With support for the monarchy, or with support for Wille?

I have so many more thoughts, but I’m slightly burnt out, and I really should take a break. Also this is way too long. Might have more thoughts once I’ve rewatched the first five episodes, calmly over the weekend…

Also this is very long and I’m sorry.

#young royals #young royals season 3 #yr season 3 #yr s3 spoilers #young royals season 3 spoilers #young royals thoughts #young royals analysis

96 notes · View notes

zukkaoru · 2 months

Note

More post-mersault Dazai hcs w/ the ADA and others? 🤞😭

hmm okay well obviously cane user dazai is very near and dear to me. but also..

because of how long kunikida was without his hands, after yosano heals him, he ends up with hand tremors. this, of course, is very hard to deal with considering his ability and his workaholic tendencies. he has to relearn how to do a lot of basic tasks while accounting for his tremors

shockingly (not really), dazai is the one who best knows how to aid kunikida in his recovery process. which is by just.. acting as if it's normal. the others tend to fall into the trap of over-correcting and being too concerned, while dazai doesn't treat him any differently than pre-doa arc

but really, dazai is just sort of treating kunikida how he wants everyone to treat him

overall, dazai gets less of the "too concerned" treatment mostly because he's significantly better at hiding/playing down his disability than kunikida is. which comes partly from just who dazai is and how he acts in general. but also because kunikida clearly uses his hands for everything; whereas dazai spends a lot of time lazing around and not standing up at work anyways, so he isn't putting much strain on his leg unless he's actively working a case

eventually, the ada do realize they can be a bit overbearing towards kunikida at times and back off, because while he might have trouble using his hands now, he is still fully capable of doing most things on his own

back to dazai. despite his issues with his leg, he still very much prefers to take the stairs whenever possible

(he'd die before admitting it, but for a while, he only really feels safe in an elevator if chuuya is nearby) (though, it does help if someone else is in the elevator with him)

he blames it on feeling claustrophobic in confined spaces after spending so much time trapped in a prison cell. ranpo and sigma know that's a lie, but they don't call him out on it

after being coaxed into it by yosano, kunikida, and chuuya, dazai starts going to physical therapy for his leg. yosano does very thorough research on physical therapists in yokohama and comes up with a list of possibilities for him. kunikida goes with him to his first appointment as moral support, which dazai obviously would never admit he wanted but he does very much appreciate it

chuuya, kunikida, and yosano take turns driving him to pt. it started out as a sort of accountability thing, to make sure he was actually going to the appointments, but dazai does actually like having someone there waiting for him to be done. even if he would absolutely never say it aloud.

once, when everyone else is busy, ranpo ends up going with him. they grumpily call it babysitting duty but when junichirou offers to go instead, they say "no no. it's fine. i'm already up out of my seat." dazai assumes they just want to skip out on work, but ranpo really just wanted to assure dazai made it to the appointment and was worried he would try to slip away from the others if they went with

eventually, once it's clear dazai is content to go to pt without strict accountability, the other ada members also start taking turns going with him to keep him company. dazai always says they don't have to and he's fine to go alone, but he doesn't argue hard enough to actually sway them out of it bc he does appreciate having someone go with him

dazai also starts spending more time at chuuya's place again, which he hasn't really done since their mafia days. but something shifted after meursault and chuuya lets him back in with minimal complaint. it's almost offputting, but dazai doesn't think too much about it at first

he just assumes that he'll spend a couple weeks breaking into chuuya's place, annoying them, and then he'll eventually get kicked out and that'll be that

it takes him way too long to realize that chuuya actually feels guilty about the leg injury. because chuuya will not say that and dazai won't straight up ask why chuuya is being nicer than normal because they're still so bad at communication. but they get there eventually and dazai is just. actually genuinely surprised that chuuya would feel guilty, especially when it's really not their fault - they're the reason it wasn't worse. and dazai deserved worse, especially from chuuya of all people

but chuuya, who also has to deal with chronic pain from their ability, sees dazai with his cane and going to pt knowing that it's not ever going to be enough to permanently fix it, and it's just a constant reminder that because they didn't slow the elevator just a little bit more, or they didn't make the splint just a little bit sturdier, or they didn't insist dazai lean on them for support while walking out of meursault, or any other number of tiny things chuuya could have done to help at the time, dazai is also going to be suffering chronic pain for the rest of his life. dazai, who notoriously hates pain, who doesn't want to be alive because he doesn't see the point of it, now also has to deal with persistent pain that will never go away

after they (gasp) actually talk about this a bit, things start to go back to normal, with the two of them bickering and arguing like always. chuuya still never kicks dazai out when he shows up, though

not to be too self-serving but. at some point, dazai orchestrates a situation in which chuuya and kunikida are forced to interact outside the contexts of their jobs. because maybe he kind of likes both of them and he also thinks that if they can both put aside the mafia/ada thing, they would also like each other (and they do <3)

dazai, chuuya, and kunikida all have problems with pushing themselves past their limits. dazai bc he isn't used to caring about/taking care of his body and chuuya & kunikida bc they're both workaholics. but the three of them help remind each other to take breaks when needed (even if they all sound hypocritical doing so)

especially once they move in together, they all help each other out on bad days with pain flare ups/etc.

ranpo is also very good at telling when dazai and kunikida are pushing themselves too hard and they are not afraid to snitch on them to yosano and/or chuuya. depending on which they deem would be more effective at the time

dazai and lucy have a very frenemies-like dynamic which is actually beneficial for them both bc they need someone they can snark at who is absolutely not afraid to dish it right back out at them. it starts with dazai complaining to lucy that she isn't as nice as the other cafe waitresses and lucy's like "not my fault i'm the only one who isn't won over by empty flirting. you're not even that pretty idk" and instead of actually getting offended dazai's just like YES. someone i can ARGUE WITH!

kunikida is annoyed by their dynamic until he realizes that they're both having fun and it's like some weird form of enrichment for them

dazai has trouble getting along with aya at first, because he really has no idea how to interact with young children. kyouka and kenji are old enough and mature enough that he can manage with them. but the children aya's age he's interacted with are.. elise and q. who he didn't have the most. um. nice and normal interactions with.

he's also wary of interacting with aya bc he knows kunikida cares about her and kunikida also wants a partner who is good with kids and if dazai reveals he cannot interact with kids to save his life, he'll ruin any chance he ever had with kunikida

eventually, he's forced into a situation where he has to actually have a one-on-one conversation with aya, and she's very snarky and mean to him at first and he's like "okay cool. good to know i was right about my negative skill level interacting with kids 👍"

so he makes some comment to aya about not being good with kids (sarcastic and rude, but it does hold truth to it) and aya just. stops. and is like hold on i thought you just didn't like me specifically.

anyway once they get past that misunderstanding, dazai finds he doesn't actually mind aya that much. though he's still not a fan of kids in general

for your consideration: mirror pronouns dazai

i do think it would also be a little funny if that ^ gender crisis is happening at the same time as chuuya having their own gender crisis. that #relatable moment when you and your supposed rival who you're sort-of-but-not-really living with and who you're sort-of-but-not-really dating both start questioning your gender at the same time, completely separate of the other and not even realizing that the other is having a similar crisis

okay anyway this is so long so i will end it here

basically i just think. dazai using a mobility aid would be a really fascinating way to visually show that he's learned he needs to depend on others for support (which is one of the big themes in bsd - the good guys win because they work together; fyodor failed because he refuses to trust anyone he can't completely manipulate)

+ dazai, who hates pain and has been suicidal since at least age fourteen, deciding that even with his disability and chronic pain, it's still worth it to keep pushing forward and surviving

you can also see some more of my post-doa ada thoughts in my post-doa fic series all lights turned off can be turned on and post-doa sigma in the 5+1 sigma fic i wrote for fem sigms week

#dazai osamu #bsd #bungou stray dogs #sorry this took a minute i was combing through my mind trying to collect my Thoughts in one place #though i did come up with some of these on the fly sdfghjk #skk #kunichuuzai #armed detective agency #headcanons #asks #anon asks #also did you know there's a character-per-block limit? bc i did not until i tried to go past it on this post #ummm anyway ty for the ask hopefully you enjoy my word vomit hc dump fdghjkjkl

90 notes · View notes

ginnsbaker · 9 months

Text

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (20/23)

Chapter summary: You and Wanda go back for another couple's therapy session where Wanda reveals her abandonment issues; Afterwards, you and Wanda arrive in LA for Christmas with her family.

Chapter word count: 6.5k+ | Tags: Therapy, Healing, Comfort | Ship: Wanda x Female Reader

Author's note: Christmas part one. Can't believe there's only three more chapters and the epilogue. Enjoy!

AO3 | Masterlist

Next part: Twenty-One

Twenty

As the second therapy session with Calliope gets underway, she opens with a warm smile, “Let's start with the assignment from our previous meeting. Were you both able to write and share your letters?”

You and Wanda share a quick glance before you respond with an enthusiastic, “Yeah, we did.”

You both can't help but beam, a sense of accomplishment clearly reflected in your faces.

“That's great to hear,” Calliope says warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Tell me about the experience. How did it feel to be so open with each other?”

You glance at Wanda, who gives a small nod to signal she'll take the lead. She inhales deeply, her gaze momentarily darting to you before returning to Calliope.

“It was, you know... really special. Romantic,” Wanda confesses, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks as she feels a bit silly, like a teenager raving about a crush. Her fingers absentmindedly twirl in loops on her knees. “I mean, it wasn't a promise or anything, but being able to understand just how deeply she cares for me... it made my heart feel full, in the best way.”

Calliope's attention then shifts to you, her body language encouraging and patient as she waits for you to share your thoughts.

After a thoughtful pause, you answer, “It felt like unshackling myself. Putting all my feelings into words, it was like shedding some weight off my shoulders. And reading what Wanda wrote…” You pause, turning to look at Wanda, a gentle warmth lighting up your eyes. “It... It grounded me. Reminded me of why we are doing this, why we're trying to fix things in the middle of all this confusion... It's because we love each other.”

“I must say, I'm incredibly moved by the strides you both have made,” Calliope says. She then subtly changes her posture, turning to focus more directly on Wanda.

“Now that we've started delving into Y/N's trust issues, it's only fair that we address your feelings too, Wanda. So, let's talk about your trust in Y/N. How are you feeling about that?” Calliope asks.

A flicker of surprise crosses your face, reflected in Wanda's as well. The room falls into a hushed pause as Wanda processes the question, her brow creased in deep thought. The possibility of Wanda having her own trust issues hadn't even crossed your mind. You've been so focused on your own sense of betrayal and the need to rebuild trust, you didn't consider that she might be struggling too. As you wait for Wanda's response, a knot tightens in your stomach, making you realize just how much her answer matters to you.

For a brief moment, Wanda looks at Calliope with a blank expression. “I... I'm not quite certain how to answer that,” she concedes, her fingers subconsciously toying with a loose thread on her sleeve.

You find yourself hanging onto her every word.

“Does it count that I was jealous of Yelena even before she and Y/N got together? There was an entire history between Y/N and Yelena that we never really discussed... that I was never really a part of.”

“Lack of trust can often sow seeds of insecurity, Wanda, which in turn leads to feelings of jealousy. Trust doesn't only involve a faith in someone's actions, but also in their words and their shared history.” Calliope explains, and then she turns to you. “Y/N, this is something you need to take into account. It's not only about how your actions impact Wanda's trust in you, but also how much you're willing to share and be transparent about your past and your feelings.”

You swallow dryly and nod at Calliope’s words. It's not easy, admitting this. But it's something you realize you need to say.

“Wanda, I wasn't being completely truthful with you back then,” you start, feeling the weight of the words as they leave your lips. “When I told you I didn't think it was worth mentioning… The truth is, it made me uncomfortable to talk about her.”

Wanda's brow furrows slightly, but she doesn't interrupt. You take that as a sign to continue.

“Yelena was... she was important to me. At some point, before you and I met, I thought she was the one. And when that love was ripped away from me because she moved to another country, it hurt. It hurt a lot. So when we reconnected while we were married, it was... it was complicated. Especially because you never knew about her. I didn't know how to bring it up. How to explain it to you. So I avoided it. And I realize now that was wrong. It wasn't fair to you.” you say.

Wanda studies you intently, her hands clasped tightly together as she works up the courage to voice her question. “And what...what did you feel when you saw Yelena again that time after all those years?”

You take a deep breath. This honestly thing is harder than you thought.

“When I saw Yelena again,” you begin, your voice low and steady. “It was like being transported back in time. There was this rush of old memories, some good, some painful. It was a little unsettling.”

“Did you… realize anything?” Wanda asks slowly. She doesn't spell it out, but you can read between the lines: Did you feel a spark between you two?

You don’t think you can answer that without telling Wanda something first.

“When Yelena and I broke up, our story ended on an open note. There was no closure and part of me always wondered 'what if'. But then you happened, Wanda. You walked into my life and turned it upside down in the most beautiful way.”

You take a deep breath, looking at Wanda, her wide eyes locked onto yours, filled with anticipation. “Before I asked you to marry me, I thought about Yelena. I wondered what it meant to still have an open chapter with her. But in that moment, I knew with absolute certainty, you were the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

Wanda visibly relaxes at this, which makes you regret the next words to come out of your mouth.

“But when I found out what really happened, it just floored me,” you say. “Our trust was broken, our marriage ended, and I was left feeling totally confused and hurt. I had to question everything we ever had together.”

Your voice drops to a softer tone, “After our divorce, my history with Yelena seemed like something unfinished that I needed to explore. I was just trying to make sense of everything, looking for a way to move on. I let myself think about 'what if' with her, and even gave a relationship with Yelena a chance. But we both know how that turned out, don't we?”

You give a small shake of your head, smiling sadly, “But to directly answer your question: No, it didn't spark any old romantic feelings when I ran into her in Soho. I didn't feel the same butterflies that I felt when I fell in love with her back then, or the ones I felt when I fell for you. And I realized recently that what we had for the second time around was more about seeking a familiar comfort, a way for me to move from you.”

Wanda nods as she takes everything in. It suddenly feels like a funeral setting, mourning a series of losses.

“I think I’m just realizing now more clearly, the magnitude of what I’ve done,” Wanda begins. Her gaze is steady, albeit heavy with a kind of self-awareness that only comes after a period of reflection and growth. “When I messed up, it wasn't just about you and me. It hurt people we care about. The fallout wasn't contained to just us, it spread to almost everyone we really care about.”

Wanda inhales a deep, shuddering breath, visibly collecting herself. “I can't erase what I did. I can't change the past. But I can learn from it. That huge mistake I made... it's a part of me now. I have to live with it, not as a source of shame, but as a constant reminder of where I went wrong.”

Calliope listens, her expression softening with understanding as Wanda speaks. When Wanda finishes, she nods, thoughtful.

After a brief pause to let her words sink in, Calliope segues into the next subject. “Is there anything else that has strained your trust in Y/N, or have we covered everything?”

Wanda, after a thoughtful silence, finally murmurs, “There's something else…”

You turn to your ex-wife, surprised by her admission. You brace yourself for whatever comes next, even though a nagging feeling at the back of your mind tells you that you're about to be blindsided once again by something in your relationship with Wanda.

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. Her voice is a bit shaky as she starts, “I... I'm afraid that one day you'll just... leave. Without a word, without a trace. Just like my mother did to me and my brother when we were young.”

She looks directly at you, vulnerability written all over her face. You can see the fear that grips her in those beautiful eyes, a fear that you've unknowingly contributed to.

“That night, when I asked you to stay... when I overdosed... it was that fear. That feeling of abandonment, it just... it just became too much,” she whispers, her voice trailing off.

You’re stunned into silence at the enormity of her confession. You had no idea that she carried such deep-rooted fears. It makes you view your actions and decisions in a new light. You may have unknowingly triggered her worst fear, exacerbating the pain she felt from your separation.

You reach across the couch to take her hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I... I didn't realize that night what I was doing to you,” you say, looking down at your hands, now entwined. “I should've stayed. Maybe then things would've been different. If I'd understood...” Your voice trails off, choked with regret.

Wanda’s overdose, her hospitalization, it really was your fault. “Y/N,” Calliope's gentle voice cuts through your self-recrimination, “I see that you're blaming yourself, but it's crucial to recognize that we are all responsible for our own actions. Wanda's overdose was her response to the pain, a decision driven by her emotional state at the time. While you did play a role in her life, you didn't dictate her choices. There were other ways for her to cope, other people she could have reached out to. The path she took, as desperate as it may have been, was her decision. Our challenge now is to understand why she felt that was her only option, rather than assigning blame.”

Action and reaction. You understand that these are the things you can control if they are your own, but that doesn't negate the fact that other factors can influence them. Calliope's words don't quite alleviate the guilt threatening to engulf you.

“Y/N, would you care to share your intentions that night when you left Wanda? Did you plan to sever all communication with her?” Calliope gently prods.

“Calliope, can we–” Wanda begins, her voice breaking as if the words are lodged in her throat. “Can we not talk about this anymore?”

“No, Wanda, it’s okay,” you say softly. Your eyes lock with Wanda's, holding her gaze as if trying to communicate a silent promise. You then turn to Calliope, drawing a deep breath.

“I... I don't know," you admit, your voice low. “I was so hurt and angry... I couldn't think straight. But I never intended to... to abandon her like that. I just... I needed some space. I needed time to process everything that happened. And I thought she needed it too.”

Wanda cuts in to support your statement, “We were hurting each other... every day, every moment. It was as if we were stuck in a loop of anger, pain, and... meaningless sex. That week... it was like we were poisoning each other.”

Wanda's voice softens, reaching out to you with a heartfelt plea, “I understand now why you had to leave then. But this time, if we're trying... if we're really committed to this, can I count on you to communicate with me if you ever feel like you need space?”

As Calliope turns to you for an answer, you feel an immediate sense of calmness washing over you.

“Of course, Wanda,” you assure her with a small smile.

With a satisfied nod, Calliope wraps up the joint part of your therapy session, “That's a good place to pause for now.” She looks over at both of you, a proud smile on her face.

She then turns to you specifically, “Y/N, would you still be okay to proceed with your individual session after a short 30-minute break?”

You nod quickly. You want nothing more than to proceed and talk to Calliope about some things that have made it difficult for you to sleep in recent days.

“Alright, then. I'll see you shortly,” Calliope remarks, retreating to her desk, her pen already dancing across her notebook.

You and Wanda rise from your seats, and she mentions that she needs to rush back to the cafe to work on potential recipes for the “Cup-off”. You've only heard about this competition in passing one evening, but you nod supportively, thankful for her patience and engagement throughout these therapy sessions. She rewards you with a kiss on the cheek, and a promise to call you later.

“Okay, Y/N, let's begin,” Calliope starts, taking a deep and grounding breath. You find yourself silently admiring her resilience and strength. Her job seems like more of an emotional balancing act than you initially thought, bearing witness to all sorts of personal burdens day in and day out. Yet here she is, prepared to cross another emotional minefield. You briefly wonder if it ever gets to her–the burden of other people's problems.

“So, Y/N, how are you doing right now?”

You chuckle lightly, shaking your head as you settle back into the same spot you occupied just thirty minutes ago. “You were in the room with us,” you say with a wry smile. “You know how it went.”

Calliope grins slightly, responding patiently, “Yes, I was there. But a lot can shift in thirty minutes. It's fascinating, isn't it? The fluidity of human emotions. They can change, sometimes so rapidly.”

You smile good-naturedly, feeling the warmth from the coffee cup still lingering in your hands. Glancing out onto the balcony of the reception area had given you a moment to breathe, to reflect.

“Actually, I'm doing alright,” you tell Calliope, your voice steadier than before. “The quick break helped me calm down. I was upset, I won't lie, after hearing about the impact of my leaving on Wanda. And the thought of almost losing her without even realizing it... I would never be able to forgive myself if something had happened to her.”

“It won't be easy, but you need to forgive yourself. Wanda has,” Calliope says.

You take a deep breath, trying to absorb her words. It's one thing to hear Wanda say she forgives you, but to actually forgive yourself? That's a more complicated matter.

“Thank you, Calliope. I'll try.” You pause, collecting your thoughts, before adding, “There is actually something else on my mind.”

“What is it, Y/N?”

“Natasha,” you say, the name echoing in the room, fraught with significance. “She's my best friend. Well, was, I guess. And she's Yelena's sister.”

A brief understanding flashes across Calliope's face. “Ah,” she murmurs, leaning back in her chair. “That's a complex dynamic.”

“To say the least,” you reply, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. “I messed up with Yelena, right? I...I kissed Wanda while we were still together. And after Yelena broke up with me, Natasha and I had a big fight. She's refused to talk to me since. So, I’m just gonna go straight to it and ask you: How do I fix it?”

Calliope studies you for a moment, her gaze steady. “Y/N,” she begins, leaning further back in her chair, “A common misconception about therapy is that therapists are the 'fixers', that we hold all the answers to people's problems. But the truth is, we're here just to guide, to help you look at situations in a healthier way.”

You find yourself nodding, even though a part of you yearns for a simple solution.

Calliope pauses, letting you digest her words. “As for your situation with Natasha, you must understand that your control is limited. You cannot control her reactions or feelings. What you can control are your actions and intentions.”

She sees the understanding dawning in your eyes. “Your desire to fix the situation is natural, especially when you've caused hurt. But apologies can't be rushed, and forgiveness can't be demanded. However, there are steps you can take to start the process of healing.”

It's not an immediate solution, but it's a direction to follow. “I see,” you mutter, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Can you share with me what these steps are?”

Calliope smiles at your willingness to learn the process. “First, acknowledge what you've done wrong. In your case, it seems like you've done that. You've recognized that your actions with Wanda while being with Yelena caused you to hurt Natasha,” she starts.

“Second, reflect. Why did you do it? From what I’ve gathered, it’s because of your intense feelings for Wanda, which you have acknowledged in our previous sessions. Next, and most critically, how can you prevent such actions in the future?” she continues.

“Third, make the apology, but make sure it's sincere. People can tell when you're not genuinely sorry. Don't just say it to make yourself feel better, but rather to acknowledge the hurt you've caused," she advises, her gaze fixed on yours, driving home the importance of the words.

“I tried when I could,” you respond, frustration seeping into your voice. “But now, I don't even know how or when I could get another chance to…”

“Well, you’ve done your part, Y/N. Maybe you were sincere, but it wasn’t the right time for her yet. Maybe she wasn’t ready to hear it.” Calliope says.

You rub your face, feeling the weariness creeping in. “I just... I hope she knows how deeply sorry I am.”

“She will, Y/N, in her own time. Which brings us to the last advice I can give you,” Calliope says. “Give them time and space. It's crucial to understand that they may need time to process your apology and decide how they feel about it. They may not forgive you immediately, or even at all. That's something you'll have to accept.”

That's something you'll have to accept.

You went to kindergarten with Natasha. You shared birthdays together and even a funeral.

If Natasha never forgives you, then you permanently lose a piece of your life.

A piece of yourself.

***

The persistent drone of the plane engines always unsettled you, making you hesitant about leaving the familiarity of solid ground. This feeling has you rooted in one city, avoiding globe-trotting adventures or cross-country escapades.

But when Wanda asked you to go with her to Los Angeles to celebrate Christmas with her family, you couldn't say no. The way her eyes lit up when she asked you was irresistible, and with your mom planning to spend the holidays with her friends in Europe, you faced the prospect of being alone in Manhattan. Despite your discomfort with planes, you decided to put your fears aside and join her on the trip.

Wanda, otherwise the perfect companion, is now constantly on her phone, taking calls every five minutes, and when she's not on a call, she's texting. You overhear snippets about delayed orders and maintenance contracts, so it's probably her suppliers, but the incessant buzzing and clicking of her phone still gnaws at your attention.

Who are they, these people reaching out to her? Even if it's just business, what are all these conversations about? Wanda happens to be a very attractive woman, and people aren't blind to it.

She takes wind of your unease eventually, her hand reaching over to squeeze yours, a reassuring smile on her face. “It's just the suppliers and the maintenance people for the shop,” she explains, but the phone still rests in her other hand, a barrier that you can't quite overcome.

Before you can respond, the pilot's voice echoes through the cabin, signaling take-off, you instinctively brace yourself, your knuckles whitening as you clutch the armrests tightly. Noticing your visible discomfort, Wanda gently peels your rigid fingers away from the armrest and threads them through hers. A soft gasp escapes her as your grip tightens around her fingers instinctively, harder than you mean to. Sparky, comfortably nestled in Wanda's lap, looks considerably more at ease than you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, eyes squeezed shut as you brace for the sensation of the accelerating plane.

“It's okay, love,” Wanda reassures you. Her thumb traces comforting circles over the back of your hand, and you cling to the calming rhythm.

The plane picks up speed, the familiar pressure building in your chest. You suck in a quick breath, your free hand gripping the armrest on your other side.

Suddenly, Sparky lifts his head from Wanda's lap and turns to you, his furry face full of concern. His soft whimpering and puppy eyes manage to pull a small smile from you. Somehow, his innocent worry makes the tension ebb away slightly.

With one last reassuring squeeze of your hand, Wanda whispers, “We're about to lift off. Just remember to breathe.”

As the plane ascends, your heart flutters in response to the shift in gravity. The world outside the window begins to shrink, the vast expanse of the city transforming into a model town. You keep your eyes shut, focusing on the steady rhythm of Wanda's thumb on your hand. If you’re going to die from a plane crash today, you find comfort in having Wanda’s assurances against your ear as the last sound you’ll ever hear.

“See, we're okay,” Wanda says after a moment, a note of triumph in her voice.

You open your eyes slowly, the cabin steady around you. As you look out of the window, the sight of the sprawling city below is enough to take your breath away.

“Do I get a reward for doing a great job?” you ask with a smirk.

A playful grin takes over her features as she leans in, pressing a light kiss to your lips. She then whispers in your ear, her voice low and sweet, “You’ll get the rest of your reward tonight, baby.”

The sound of her voice makes you tingle in all the right (wrong) places and it effectively distracts you enough from your fear of flying, allowing for some much-needed conversation.

“How’s the cup competition coming along?”

“Cup-off,” Wanda corrects you with a chuckle, her chin coming to rest on your shoulder, her breath fanning against your neck as she speaks. “It’s been fun coming up with different flavors, but I don’t know…” she trails off. “But, let's face it. I'm just a home cook who loves her espresso machine, not a seasoned barista. I'll be up against real coffee connoisseurs who've been perfecting their brews for years.”

“And that's what makes it so interesting, don't you think?” You turn your head slightly to meet her eyes. “You bring something different to the table, Wanda. You have a passion and creativity that they might not have.”

She gives you a thoughtful look, clearly mulling over your words. Her lips curve into a small, appreciative smile, and she snuggles closer to you. “You always know how to make me feel better,” she murmurs, her voice dropping an octave, and you know she's doing it on purpose, trying to rile you up. But there's just plenty of things on your mind right now, and her phone buzzing with notifications again isn't helping.

“It's easy when it's the truth,” you say, stirring the topic back to coffee. “But how about you approach it from a different angle?”

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, tilting her head and looking at you with apt interest.

“Instead of flavors, return to the basics. Use single origin coffee for your brew and make sure to source only the best stuff. I don’t know. Maybe I’m not making sense. But… sometimes people just really appreciate quality ingredients, you know?”

Wanda's eyes widen, and you notice a spark of excitement in her expression. She leans closer, her attention fully on you, the phone momentarily forgotten. “You may be onto something,” she says slowly.

“Really?” Your eyebrows shoot up, surprised and delighted at her interest.

“Really,” Wanda's expression turns thoughtful, her gaze fixated on some distant point as she mulls over your idea some more. “In fact, that's actually a great idea, Y/N. It emphasizes the true essence of coffee, rather than masking it with a variety of flavors. It's raw, it's honest, and it's authentic... Just like you.”

Feeling a rush of warmth, you give her a teasing nudge. "Are you comparing me to a coffee now?"

She chuckles, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Maybe I am,” she says playfully, tightening her hold on your hand.

You roll your eyes, but your heart flutters at her words, and you find yourself leaning into her touch.

The idea of coming to LA with her just keeps getting better and better.

***

The flight to California feels endless, the hours stretching on. But the moment the plane touches down and the doors open, Wanda's face transforms with anticipation. As soon as she steps into the arrival lounge, her eyes lock onto a familiar figure. Her brother, standing a little taller than her but with the same striking features, waves energetically in her direction.

Without hesitation, Wanda breaks into a light run, her face lighting up with pure, unadulterated joy. She launches herself into his embrace. Their arms wrap around each other, the distance and time apart melting away. “Piet,” she murmurs into his shoulder, her voice thick with emotion.

He ruffles her hair, his grin matching hers. "Been too long, little sis," he teases, before turning his attention to you.

“And Y/N,” Pietro greets you, his eyes scanning your face for a moment before he extends his hand. The handshake is civil, firm but noticeably cool. His polite smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, and in that brief contact, you feel a lingering tension that serves as a reminder that not all is forgotten.

You grab Pietro's hand, giving it a quick shake. “Pietro.”

He quickly shifts his focus back to Wanda, bombarding her with questions you can't keep up with. As Wanda and Pietro chat and laugh, you feel a bit left out.

Pietro's cool demeanor makes it clear he knows about the issues between you and Wanda. You can't help but feel like you're on the outside looking in. Tugging on Sparky's leash and pulling your suitcase, you trail behind them, feeling like you're not really part of this little family reunion.

With Sparky trotting faithfully at your side, you traverse the bustling airport, lagging slightly behind Wanda and Pietro. Suddenly, Wanda seems to realize that you've fallen behind. She slows her pace and glances back at you with a soft smile. “Sorry,” she says, a slight flush to her cheeks as if she's only just remembered you're there too. “Got caught up with all the catching up.”

You offer her a small, understanding smile, grateful for the effort she's making to include you. “It's okay,” you reassure her. “It's been a while since you two last saw each other. Catch up all you want.”

Her smile widens at your words, and she squeezes your hand lightly in appreciation. The simple action is enough to wash away your earlier discomfort, reminding you that even if the situation isn't perfect, you're here for Wanda.

And that's all that matters.

To call Pietro's home in Sherman Oaks 'big' feels almost like an understatement. It's a sprawling, two-story house, complete with a wide, beautifully maintained front lawn and a driveway big enough to accommodate several cars. The house itself, painted in a warm, welcoming shade of beige, feels incredibly homely despite its size. The large windows and well-manicured garden make it clear that whoever lives here puts a lot of effort into maintaining it. For a brief moment, you feel a pang of intimidation; this is a far cry from the apartments and small houses back in New York.

Wanda's eyes widen in astonishment as they scan the surroundings. It seems she's just as impressed as you are. You lean towards her, whispering so that only she can hear, “Does Pietro really rake in that much cash?”

She gives you a sidelong glance, her eyes sparkling with amusement before shrugging her shoulders lightly. “I think it's his wife,” she responds in the same hushed tone.

“He got married again?” you ask, remembering the last time you heard about Pietro's personal life, he was going through a messy divorce.

Wanda nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, he did. And from what I can tell, I think it's really for keeps this time.”

Before you can comment further, a woman appears in the doorway. She's pregnant, very much so, at about six months based on her huge, round belly.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” she exclaims, approaching Wanda with open arms. Wanda rolls her eyes, clearly finding the grandiosity of the mansion anything but modest. She kisses each of Wanda's cheeks, and her warm smile is genuine and infectious.

However, as you watch her, you can't help but gasp softly. You recognize her. Your mind instantly takes you back to the day of your job interview at Stark Industries, and it was her–Shannon–who interviewed you.

You're so shell-shocked by the sudden realization that you just stand there, momentarily frozen.

Wanda nudges you gently, a knowing look in her eyes. “You recognize Shannon, don't you?” she asks, not bothering to lower her voice.

Shannon turns to you and her smile widens, “I see you remember our meeting.”

You manage to stammer out a surprised, “Yes,” while trying to regain your composure.

Wanda seems to sense your anxiety. She wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “I knew about the interview. Shannon told me,” she confesses, her voice just a whisper in your ear. “She was the one who gave me your new address.”

“She did what?”

“I think she did it to amuse herself because I was–I wasn’t clearly getting over you and she sort of nudged me in your direction. But I didn’t contact you until a month later, when Sparky had to be taken to the vet.”

“But my getting hired–that had nothing to do with you, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Wanda assures you, quickly dispelling your worry. “She only mentioned it to me over a month after we... after we had cut off communication. She did mention talking to Scott before hiring you.”

The mention of Scott's name brings a genuine smile to your face, tugging at the corner of your lips. You make a mental note to call him on Christmas Day.

“Why am I here hunting for a tree again?” Wanda grumbles, glancing back at the shrinking figure of you through Pietro's pickup truck window.

“Because you love me?” Pietro shoots back with a shrug.

“And Y/N, she'll be okay back there, right?”

“Y/N this, Y/N that,” Pietro mimics, feigning exasperation. “She’ll be fine.”

“You say that as if Shannon’s the loveliest host.”

“Well, she's been a lot nicer since she got pregnant.”

With a small sigh, Wanda leans back in her seat. The earlier excitement of seeing her brother at the airport is starting to fade. Now, without you or Sparky around, she feels a bit uneasy being alone with Pietro.

“I can hear the gears turning in your head, sis. What’s up?”

Wanda takes a steadying breath, searching for the right words. “It's Y/N,” she begins. “Piet, I'm... I'm nervous. With Y/N here, with everything that happened, I don't know how…” She trails off, biting her lower lip.

Pietro is quiet for a moment. “And mom?” he prompts gently.

Wanda nods, her eyes distant. “And mom,” she echoes. “I wrote back to her, you know?”

Pietro raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You did?"

Wanda had always been more hesitant to reopen old wounds, especially when it came to their mother.

Wanda nods. “I did. I... I wrote about Dad. About how much it hurt when she left. I told her that I understand we don't really have a relationship right now, but... I want to try. I want to start fixing things.”

Pietro doesn't respond immediately. He keeps his eyes on the road, but the grip on his steering wheel tightens just a bit. When he finally speaks, his tone is softer than usual. “And what did she say?”

“I only sent it recently, just before we left for this trip,” Wanda admits. “I'm not sure whether she's received it yet or if she wrote me back.”

“So, does that mean you've forgiven her?” Pietro asks.

“I can't say for sure,” Wanda confesses. “But I'm hoping to, as I get to know this new version of her–the one you seem to have bonded with so well.”

“Wanda, she's really changed,” Pietro insists. “I've been telling you this.”

“I know, I know,” Wanda says, sounding a bit apologetic. “I'm sorry it's taken me this long to pay attention.”

“Hey, no worries,” Pietro says, giving her a gentle look. “You know what they say, right? Everything happens in its own time.”

After a beat, Pietro asks, “How are you and Y/N?”

“We're doing well, actually,” Wanda says, surprise softening her voice as if she's just realizing it herself. “Y/N has been... different. More open. More like the person I fell in love with. We're communicating more, which helps.”

“That's great to hear, Wanda. Really.”

“But,” she adds, her voice dropping to a murmur, “I still feel like there's a part of Y/N holding back. Like she’s still not fully trusting me... and I get it. I just... I hope that with time, that changes.”

Pietro smiles at her, nodding, then returns his attention to the road.

“And you and Shannon?” Wanda asks after it gets too quiet again. “How are things going?”

A shadow passes over Pietro's features, and he takes a deep breath before answering. “Actually... something happened. It's not bad, per se. But…”

“What did you do, Piet?” Wanda asks, her brows already pulled together into a frown.

“Why do you automatically assume it was me who did something?” Pietro retorts with a hint of amusement.

“Didn't you?”

Pietro hesitates for a moment before finally relenting, “...Yeah, I did.”

“So?”

“Well, about a week ago, I went out to a bar with a few friends from my old college football team, and I–”

“Tell me you did not cheat again on your pregnant wife!” Wanda exclaims, her voice rife with disbelief and anger.

With her sudden outburst, Pietro slams on the brakes, the vehicle screeching to a halt in the middle of the road. His arm aches sharply from the force of Wanda's indignant punch.

“Ow! Hey, stop,” Pietro shields himself from Wanda’s onslaught. “Jesus, Wands, I didn’t cheat on her, okay?”

Hearing this, Wanda pulls back, sinking back into her seat with a wary look on her face. She waits for him to explain further. He starts steering the car back into the highway again.

“I was just…” Pietro grapples for the right words, his expression troubled. “The therapy sessions with Dr. Williams... they've been beneficial, right? I mean, they've definitely helped you. And Shannon says they're making a difference for me too, but I…”

“But you still doubt yourself,” Wanda finishes his sentence, her voice laced with understanding.

Pietro affirms her statement with a heavy nod. “So that night, I thought I'd try a little experiment–see if I've really made as much progress as everyone says. I struck up a conversation with a woman at the bar, and before I knew it, we were flirting. It was like slipping back into an old rhythm–and it didn't matter to her that I was a married man.”

A bitter edge creeps into his voice as he pauses, gazing absently at the road ahead. “Then I offered to drive her home...that's usually when things take a turn, isn't it?”

Wanda recoils slightly, her nose scrunching up in distaste. The direction this story is taking leaves a sour taste in her mouth. She's uncomfortable, disturbed even, by the idea of Pietro willingly steering himself towards temptation like that. It feels too real, too human–a crisp reminder that making progress doesn't mean you're immune to setbacks.

“Right as she put her hand on my lap,” Pietro recounts, his throat tightening slightly as he swallows. “I understood that time spent in therapy doesn't just automatically make you a better person. It's the choices you make, every single day. Loving someone, being true to them...it's a conscious effort, day in and day out. You have to continuously choose them, especially when the sailing's smooth.”

Wanda absorbs his words, feeling the truth in them echo within her. She doesn't entertain any illusions about the two of you riding off blissfully into the sunset without a care in the world. Reality is far from that. Both you and her would always have to remain vigilant. Complacency, she knows, can be her worst enemy.

Wanda waits with bated breath. “What happened next?” she whispers.

He turns his gaze back to the road. “I moved her hand away from my lap and took her home, just like I said I would. Nothing more.”

“And did you tell Shannon about this?” Wanda asks, her voice steady, almost clinical.

Pietro’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Yeah, I did. The morning after. I didn’t want to keep it from her.”

Wanda's heart aches for her brother. Maybe he's truly attempting to become a better person, even if his methods are foolish at times.

“And how did she react?”

Pietro shrugs, attempting to mask his apprehension with a nonchalant demeanor. “She was... understandably upset. But she appreciated the honesty, I think. We're still working through it.”

Wanda silently reflects on his words. She can't imagine herself taking such a risk, not after everything that's happened. It isn't about doubting her own commitment or strength of character, but she feels it's a mark of respect to you not to willingly tread near the edge of temptation.

With a soft sigh, she turns her attention to the road ahead as they pull into the Christmas tree farm. The task of picking out a tree seems almost trivial in comparison to what they had just discussed, yet it also feels grounding—a joyful tradition amidst the complexities of life. For now, they have a Christmas tree to pick out.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #agatha harkness #pietro maximoff #peter parker

292 notes · View notes