#And then Nightmare breathes a huge sigh of relief because thank god finally.

[wishing-stones]

The only reason why nightmare knows what hentai is, is due to killer.

Oh, totally. Killer, who unabashedly watches it on the community tv for shock value.

Nightmare berates him and makes him knock if off every time, but it usually takes some backup to get Killer to quit it for long enough to matter.

With the current full house from R&R, it gets stopped fast the first time either of the new recruits object, whichever of them (Ren or Baggs) encounters the issue first.

Killer had best pray it's Ren.

[sports-on-sundays]

hello hello, saw you were a bit bored apparently and had open requests soo…😛

how about a fic where gavi meets the reader during media day for the new kit launch, and as gavi doesn’t really like these events where cameras are, he’s a bit nervous hihi

the reader is the photographer or videographer and she’s shy too, but something between them sparkles🤭 they’re both too shy to talk but in the end gavi makes a move and he takes her on a date or something? just some cutesy fluff:) ty!💞

camera-shy / Pablo Gavi

Summary: Pablo x photographer!female!reader - Two shy people are drawn to each other.

Requested?: Yes!! Thank you lovely!

Author's Note: WHAT A CUTE IDEA! LOVE IT! 💞

"Gavi- Can you look at the camera, please?" the young Spanish man is asked for about the millionth time.

"Hm?" he asks, and looks up once more at the camera.

You snap a few pictures as the PR person who had spoken before says, "Come on; relax your face a bit. Smile. Yes, good. But brighten your eyes, please-"

"How am I supposed to 'brighten my eyes'?" Pablo Gavi asks in confusion and slight exasperation.

It's been a long media day for everyone, but especially Gavi, you can tell. He's not the type that likes the being filmed.

In photography, one of the biggest obstacles are people who are just simply, naturally camera-shy.

And you can tell this footballer, with his big brown eyes, is one of those people. The way he's averting his eyes, getting distracted. His stiff smiles and awkward laughs.

He's a nightmare.

But you, unlike a lot of people with your trade you know, don't get as upset about it.

Because you're one hundred percent more camera shy than him.

Besides the fact that you love the art of it, that's why you became a photographer.

You always get to be the one behind the camera.

A famous footballer being camera shy, though? That doesn't work out as well.

Suddenly, the PR guys taps your shoulder, and asks you, "Don't you have any methods of making his... you know... Appearance, better?"

"S- Sorry?!" you ask softly. Yeah, you're not only camera-shy. You're just shy-shy.

"You know, making him smile bigger, or angles for him to look-"

Suddenly, he's interrupted by Pablo Gavi saying, "Stop bothering the photographer."

You look up in surprise, but quickly look away when your eyes meet Gavi's. You silently thank him, though, as the footballer continues, "There's nothing she can do." He clears his throat, taking a deep breath, and nods, opening his eyes, looking at the camera. "Better?"

"Oh, God, perfect," you murmur as he looks at the camera with a certain playful yet thoroughly serious glint in his eyes. You quick snap some photos.

Pablo will admit he hates PR, and he hates being on camera. As his career has progressed, it's gotten better, for sure. But some days? Some days, he just isn't in the mood to do it.

It's unfortunate that today is one of those days, and it's a whole day completely dedicated to media.

His brain is spinning with the dark room, screen behind him, flashing cameras, rambling managers, and-

And, well, with the pretty photographer.

She's cute, he thinks with a small, shy smile at the girl.

She thinks he's looking right at the camera, and snaps a picture of the little smile. Right after, the PR manager snaps, "Good smile, but put a bit more strength into it!"

What the hell is a 'strong' smile?!

Then, finally, after over two hours of snapping pictures, he's done. He sighs a huge sigh of relief. Apparently, 'that will have to be good enough,' as the PR manager says.

Right, then.

But suddenly, as Pablo is about to leave, a slight disappointment in his chest stops him.

The cute girl. That photographer, I might not see her again...

He looks back over his shoulder, watching as you pack up your camera carefully.

Oh, get over it, he thinks, shaking his head.

You're too awkward to actually talk to her anyway. Just leave it. She's so beautiful, she's probably taken already anyway.

You'll just make a fool of yourself, Pablo.

Suddenly, though, from across the room, you look up.

And your eyes meet.

Pablo can't look away. It's like there's a magnetic force, a spark, holding your gazes together in the air, across the room.

Pablo, it's no use, his anxious brain screams as his legs begin walking over to you. Give it up.

Too late now.

"H- Hey," he smiles when he reaches you.

You gulp. "Uh... Yes... What can I do for you, Gavi?"

Aw. Her voice is so soft, he thinks as he says, "I... I just wanted to thank you for being so patient with me today..."

"Oh," she smiles shyly. "Of course. It's my job."

He lingers, and says, swallowing, "What's your name?"

"Y/n Y/l/n," you smile softly, scratching the back of your neck nervously.

"Oh," he smiles. "Nice to meet you... Uh... so..." he gulps, before sort of blurting, "I was wondering... if, uh, I could have your number...? Maybe, if you're free tonight..."

Your eyes widen as your face flares up pink at the handsome football player's suggestion. "Are you- asking me out?" you breathe.

"I- uh, I mean, if- you know, if-"

"Yeah!" you giggle. "I mean, sure!" You, without thinking, grab a pen and his hand, before scribbling your number on his hand. "That- That way you won't forget it."

"Oh," he nods, loving the fleeting feeling of his hand in your softer, smaller one, for just a moment. "Yeah, sounds good!" he laughs. "We can text the details!"

"Uh, yeah, right!" you laugh awkwardly.

Your head spins as he walks off.

You sit across from Pablo Gavi, over dinner. "So, uh, Gavi-"

"You can call me Pablo," he says right away with a little smile.

"Oh... Okay... So... I'm, uh, sorry... I know I'm kind of awkward..."

He smiles, hastily resting his hand on top of yours. "No, it's fine. I am, too. I was almost too nervous to talk to you."

"Oh?" you laugh a bit. "And don't worry about the filming thing today... I'm actually pretty camera-shy myself, so I get how it is..."

"Oh, you are? That's funny, for a photographer."

You grin with a little giggle, "I always get to be the one behind the camera."

He smiles warmly, his eyes almost shining in a strangely dreamy way, for a girl he just met today, as he says, "You're really cute."

You flush pink. "Oh- Uh- Thank you. You, too..."

He gives a little adorable crooked smile. "Thanks, I guess."

Throughout the dinner, as you continue talking, your fingers slowly entwine with each other. Once you're both finished eating, you're tightly holding one another's hands.

"Thanks for... talking to me, even though we're both a bit hopelessly shy..."

He smiles. "It was worth it... So, would you maybe like to go out again...? I've had... a really nice time with you."

"For sure," you giggle as you stand up together. "I've had a great time, too."

Just as you're about to slip your hand away from his, he uses it to pull you to him, into a hug. You gasp a little by the sudden touch, but immediately lean into it, hugging him back.

You stand there together, for a few moments, arms wrapped around each other, before he whispers, "Thank God I got over my nervousness and just asked you today, because I have a feeling this little date is going to go places beyond what either of us can imagine."

And in that moment, you know, deep down inside, that he is completely correct.

And you smile big, because you can't wait!

[kywaslost]

Hi I have a request can you make a platonic head cannon where hawks walks into the readers room for comfort because he had a nightmare? You don't have to write this if you don't want to.

I Just Needed to Make Sure You Were Ok - Hawks x Platonic!Reader

A/N: Omg this is such a cute idea! Thanks for requesting! I’m sorry it took so long lol. Hopefully this is what you were hoping for! Also, I decided to add it to the platonic series if that’s ok.

Black. Wait, no. Moonlight. He could see moonlight. That was something, right? But where was he? Keigo inhaled sharply, using her peripheral vision to take in his surroundings. He couldn’t move. It was as if he was tied to his bed. He could feel his bedsheets around him. His hands graced along his feathers. Hawks’ vision cleared as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. His room.

WHere were you? That’s what he was most concerned with. Did you sleep in his room? He couldn’t remember. Finally able to move, Hawks bolted upright and quickly glanced around the room. The bed beside him was empty, hidden by his huge red wings. He shot to the foot of the bed and scanned the floor. You liked to sleep down there sometimes. All he could see was his work shoes and his uniform from earlier in the day.

Oh, God, please don’t be at work, he begged himself. Hawks’ heart rate was through the roof. You had to be home, right? You were safe and sound in bed, just not his. But you had your own room, you had to be there. If you weren’t, Keigo was going to riot. You were safe and sound, that’s all he kept telling himself.

Hawks launched himself off the bed, stumbling over his feet as he threw open his already cracked door (he always left it slightly open to hear you yell if you ever needed him). He ran down the hallways, breath panicky as he searched for your bedroom door. Hall closet? No. Bathroom? Empty. Finally, he reached your door. But it was left open? You hated sleeping with your door open, even if it was cracked. It made you feel unsafe.

Keigo bumped into the door as he tried to stop himself, stumbling into the room. His breath caught in his throat. Your bed was empty. Your blankets were jumbled at the end of the bed and your several stuffed animals had fallen to the floor. Hawks choked on a sob, falling to the floor for a moment. You weren’t in his room and you weren’t on your own, so where could you be? He left his phone in the other room, he couldn’t call you. You couldn’t be on patrol, you just couldn’t be.

Hawks had to get a hold of himself. He had to think clearly. You were on patrol that afternoon. You got home just in time for dinner, which Hawks had finished the moment you walked through the balcony door. He let you shower and change quickly. So your hero gear had to be somewhere.

He could see it now. Your goggles, headset, and weapons belt were in a pile on your desk. His head was clearing up slightly. After dinner, the two of you sat together in the living room. You told him about your day, then he told you about his. You were feeling anxious so he let you lay on him for a bit, wrapping his wings around you to function as a weighted blanket.

Then you went to the study room!

He remembered now! You’d gotten off of him after about an hour, mumbling about how you had an anatomy test coming up and needed to go study. Hopefully you were still there, even though it was roughly two in the morning now. The pro hero dashed across the house and slid into the study room.

Oh, thank God, he thought in relief. There you were.

“Y/N,” he choked out, tripping over his feet as he made his way to you. You were passed out on the couch, laying on your stomach. Your wings were gone. They were gone not long after you got out of the shower. You were ok.

Hawks practically fell on top of you, holding you tightly against him. You startled awake, groaning.

“Kei, what the hell?” You grumbled tiredly, pushing yourself up with heavy arms. Your hair fell across your face as you looked around the room. You rolled onto your side with a sigh, then noticed Hawks’ relieved expression. “Nightmare?”

He only nodded, sighing. “Yeah. And then I couldn’t find you anywhere and I couldn’t remember if you were even home and I thought…” he took a deep breath. “I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”

You huffled slightly, sitting up. “Since when did you start having my nightmares?” you asked with a tired mumble. “Well, I’m alive. See.” You held out one of your hands and watched as it lit up the room with the soft glow of a fire. “And I’m 100% functionable.”

Keigo fell back to sit on his feet. “Will you please give me the piece of mind to come back to my room?”

“Sure.” You sat up, stretched, then offered Hawks a hand as he stood beside you. His hand rested between your shoulders as he led you back to his room, allowing you to get comfortable.

“Where do you want me?” you asked.

“Up here, please.” You slid into bed, exhaustion taking over you. You buried yourself under his blanket and then let Hawks pull you close to him. His hand gripped your own, then it slid down to your wrist.

“Are you taking my pulse?” you mumbled, eyes closed and face buried in his neck.

“Just making sure.” Keigo let your hand go and then wrapped his arms around you. “Goodnight dove.”

“Hmmm, night Kei,” you hummed in response, falling back asleep.

Hawks stayed awake for another hour, watching your sleeping form. He could see you breathing, he could feel your pulse, he could feel you next to him. But he just needed to make sure. You had died in his dream, or came pretty close to it. He couldn’t tell whether or not that had happened when he woke up. But now he was sure you were alive and ok, so he could rest easy for the rest of the night.

[leiawritesstories]

I Wasn’t Concerned About That

SJM ROMANCE WEEK, DAY 6: TROPES

SHIP: Rowan x Aelin

I know it’s horribly cliché, but the one bed trope.....there are just couples for whom it works. And pining Rowaelin is definitely one of them. 

Word count: 1,781

Warnings: language, horniness, nightmares (non-descriptive)

@sjmromanceweek

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

“I hate weather,” Aelin groaned, flopping back in the passenger seat. At the wheel, Rowan snorted. 

“Me too, but neither of us can do anything about it.”

“Which fucking sucks,” she grumbled. “We were supposed to be at the hotel two hours ago and thanks to the shit roads, we’re still an hour out. I really hope they keep our room, because if we get there and there’s no vacancy, I am going to murder something.”

“They’re keeping the room, we called them when the storm hit.” Rowan kept his voice calm. “Fireheart, they told us they’d keep it as long as we needed, remember?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “I’m just stressed, y’know?”

“I know.” His eyes remained on the road, barely visible through the sheets of rain and driving winds, ever watchful for deep puddles. “It’ll be okay, Ae.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, we’ll be okay. You’re too nice to me, Ro.”

“What else are best friends for?”

~

They pulled into the hotel’s parking garage just over an hour later, both of them releasing huge sighs of relief when Rowan turned the engine off.

“We made it, Fireheart.”

“All thanks to your expert driving.”

“Expert?” He shook his head. “Shit, I’m no expert. Didn’t you see me gripping the wheel for dear life that entire drive?”

“Well, you didn’t need to white-knuckle the wheel, but you brought us here safely, and for that I can call you an expert.” She held up a finger. “Uh-uh, nope, you can’t change my mind. Shut it and take the praise, Whitethorn.”

“Fine,” he griped, “but so help me gods, if we don’t go inside and find a toilet right the hell now, I’m going to piss myself from stress.”

Aelin snickered. “And here I thought guys had better bladder control than that.”

“You try driving up a freeway in a massive rainstorm and tell me you don’t need to piss after you finally stop, and I’ll call you a rotten liar,” Rowan returned. 

“Okay, okay, grab your matched luggage, pretty boy, let’s go get ourselves somewhere where it’s warm and dry.” Aelin grabbed her duffel and her backpack and hopped out of Rowan’s SUV. 

“It’s not matched luggage,” Rowan mumbled, grabbing his suitcase and its matching travel case.

Aelin raised a neatly groomed golden brow at the set. “You sure, princess?”

“Shut up.” He flushed, locked up the car, and started walking towards the entrance. Aelin followed, grinning.

“Alright, I won’t say anything more about your fancy luggage, bestie.” She blew him a kiss, cackling at his snarl of frustration. 

In the hotel lobby, she kept an eye on his luggage while he checked in and then went to the bathroom, snickering at the expression of total joy on his face when he came back. 

“Where’s our room, then? I want sleep and I want it now.”

“So demanding,” he snorted, handing her a keycard. “Third floor, and yes, there is an elevator.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Aelin headed for the elevator. “No way would I make it up three flights of stairs this tired with my duffel and my backpack.”

~

Rowan unlocked the room’s door, walked in, and stopped short. “Ae?”

“Yeah?” She plopped her duffel on the floor.

“We’ve got a bit of a problem.”

“What problem?” She walked into the room, closing the door behind her. “Oh.”

There was decidedly only one bed.

“I booked us a double room, I don’t understand what happened, I--” 

Aelin cut him off. “Ro. Calm down. It’s a king-size bed and we’re both adults. Surely we can manage to share without kicking each other like children?”

Rowan cursed under his breath. “That’s....not what I was concerned about, but yes.”

She walked around and stood in front of him, hands on her hips. “Then what, pray tell, were you concerned about?”

The tips of his ears went red. “I’d, uh, rather not say.”

A slow smirk crawled across her face. “If you insist, Whitethorn, I can sleep on top of the sheet and you can sleep underneath it, and then you won’t have to be so concerned.” 

“That’s--I--Aelin--I didn’t--” he spluttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. She just laughed, going over and taking some clothes and her toiletries out of her duffel.

“I’m going to shower and then sleep, so you have however long that takes me to get yourself used to the idea that we’re going to have to share the bed, because no way in all hell are you sleeping on either the floor or that shitty armchair.” She directed her best stern glare at him. “Understand?”

“Understood,” Rowan mumbled.

“Excellent.” Aelin shut herself in the bathroom and the shower went on. Rowan huffed a strained breath.

Shit. He was in such deep shit.

~

Shortly later, Aelin walked out of the bathroom, running a comb through her wet hair, and Rowan thanked all things holy that he wasn’t standing, because the sight of her, no makeup and clad in sleep shorts and an oversized tee did bad things to his self-control.

“Ae, is that my shirt?” he queried, surprised to see her wearing it.

She glanced down. “Oh yeah, it is. I stole it from you the last time I was at your apartment and it’s become my favorite sleeping shirt, it’s so soft.” She left her comb by the sink and climbed into the bed. “You can shower now if you want.”

He took the opportunity to have a rather cold shower, telling himself over and over that he would not make any moves, no he would not. She’s your best friend, Rowan, get yourself under control. If she wanted you to be more than that, she would have said something by now. When he came out of the bathroom, Aelin was propped up against a couple of pillows, reading a thick novel in the soft light of the bedside lamp.

“Good book?” he asked, tucking himself into his side. 

“Yeah,” she murmured, clearly absorbed in the story.

He dared a glance over at the pages and nearly had a heart attack. Holy fuck, how in the hell did Aelin Galathynius read what he could only describe as porn on paper with a completely straight face?

Aelin closed her book and set it on the side table. She rolled onto her side and saw Rowan struggling not to cough, his face flaming red. A sly grin danced across her face. “Something wrong, Ro?”

He let out a strangled cough. “What the fuck are you reading?!”

Aelin burst into helpless laughter. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed, “but your face, your reaction...it’s too priceless!” She calmed herself down and patted his shoulder affectionately. “I enjoy romance novels.”

“Awfully explicit for a romance novel,” Rowan grumbled, still trying not to imagine putting Aelin in the position of the woman in her book. 

She snickered. “But that’s the fun of reading it.”

“Not when someone else sees it!” He buried his face in a pillow. Aelin, unexpectedly, let her hand drift onto his back.

“Reading smut without visibly reacting is a learned skill, Ro, and I do apologize for shocking you with my choice of reading material.” She threaded her arm around his shoulders. He huffed a breath into the pillow and sat up, leaning against her. 

“It sure fucking was a shock,” he muttered. “I should have known, though.”

Aelin chuckled. “You really should have. Didn’t you check the summary of that book I asked for on my birthday?” He didn’t respond. “I’ll take that as a no, then, and I suppose that’s a good thing. Or else you’d barely have been able to talk to me, having seen the rather kinky content.”

“You are a menace,” he grumbled, trying to tamp down his smile. She just smirked and agreed, and he couldn’t help himself from grinning right back. “But you’re my menace.”

“Awwwww, how sweet,” she cooed, settling herself into the bed. “Good night, now. I really do need to sleep.”

~

Shifting and rustling of covers woke Aelin up in the wee hours of the morning. Disoriented in the darkness of the room, her eyes found the clock. 3:42 am. 

“Rowan?” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep. He was sitting up, his head in his hands, a sheen of sweat visible on his very muscled, very bare torso. He turned his head at her voice.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he mumbled. 

Aelin sat up and shifted closer to him, noticing his breath heaving. “You alright?”

He looked at her for a long moment, steadily calming his heaving chest. She kept her eyes steady. Finally, he gave in. “Nightmare,” he admitted.

Aelin held out her arms, somewhat timidly. Rowan all but collapsed against her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist. She stroked his back, trailed her fingers through his messy hair, not saying anything, just waiting for him to talk. When he did, slowly, haltingly, she listened, held him as he spoke.

“Thank you, Aelin,” he murmured when they had both fallen silent. 

“Always,” she returned, unable to keep herself from pressing a soft kiss atop his head. He sucked in a sharp breath at her gesture. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he breathed, “no, it was just.....do that again, Ae.”

Obligingly, she tilted her lips down again, but this time, Rowan surged upwards, cupping her face in his hands, and kissed her. Shocked, Aelin leaned into the kiss, her lips parting for Rowan’s tongue. Breathless, she pulled back, staring at him. “I...Rowan, what? When? Why now?”

“It just seemed right,” he breathed. “I’m madly in love with you, Fireheart. Have been for longer than I want to say.”

“And you waited until 4 am today to tell me?” she breathed. “Gods, Rowan, I’ve loved you for so long. I thought you didn’t see me like that, thought you only wanted to be platonic.”

“How could I want that?” His thumbs stroked across her cheekbones. “You are my other half, Aelin, and I have no idea why I didn’t tell you until now.”

Smiling broadly, Aelin tucked herself into his side. “Does that mean you won’t be so squeamish about sharing this bed?”

“Certainly,” he smirked, “provided you don’t take up all of my space.”

“Oh, there’s nothing I’d like more than taking up your space,” she purred. Rowan gaped at her, his nostrils flaring. “You heard me, Whitethorn.”

“I believe I’ll be the one taking the space,” he growled, his voice dropping low and gravelly. A delicious shiver raced down Aelin’s spine at his tone. 

Now this was exactly what she’d imagined when she edited their reservation.

~

[shozaii]

could I request some dabi, aizawa and hawks taking care of their s/o who is maybe sick or has had a rough day? 💕

(a/n): hello hello anon! ahh thank you so much for sending this in! always wanted to write for dabi too <3 enjoy, love! ❤❤

masterlist.

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

rough day.

pairings: dabi x reader, aizawa x reader, hawks x reader.

warnings: none!

i’d like to think that dabi does care, and would even go as far as he could to show you that he does. maybe when you two first started dating, he would tend to be a little reserved, quiet.

well, of course he has the love. of course he has the affection. then again, of course he has to take time to ease himself with you - to give his all for his s/o.

a scenario; it was a long, long day of constant stress and pressure. it wasn’t like your body wasn’t used to this. you knew what you signed up for - might as well endure it, put your heart and soul into it when you can. after all, rest would always come later on.

or so you thought. it went even longer, the more you started thinking of your bed. more jobs, more deadlines within a day. more ruckus. geez, what was with the world today?

the world took most of your precious time, because by the time you stepped your foot into home, it was nighttime.

more like, the next morning.

you groaned, looking at the time. 

“babe...? your boyfriend called out in what seemed like a groggy voice. “damn, look at you. rough day?”

your figure sloppily fell into dabi’s chest, inhaling his enthralling scent. he let out a little ��oof’ before saying, “you did, huh. come on, stinky. bath time.”

your arms have never felt this tired after so long, because when it reached out to punch him by the chest, it wobbled. “i have a name, you know.”

“yeah. stinky.”

“shut up.”

mans came prepared. doesn’t show it but he’s super duper aware of your schedule. doesn’t need to write it down, doesn’t need any reminder. on the dot. a fine gentleman indeed.

leads you carefully to the bath he prepared for you. he helps you scrub your back (i headcanon him being a master of massaging) he then pecks your scars/stiff areas. “seen this a lot on the shows. hope it works.”

yup, you both had a good laugh after that.

he then gives you your towels. offers to dry your hair because you nearly tucked yourself into bed while your hair was still soaking wet. 

even bought you your favorite dinner, and then chuckled softly when he watched you yawn as you rested your jaw on your palm. “bed.”

“wow. another way of saying, take me to bed, my dear prince,” his gosh darn attractive smirk appeared again. 

oh my god he is a sucker for you. 

when you both are finally on bed,  he pulls you close, peppering you with the last few kisses before you both fell sound asleep. the best part is that sometimes you two stay like that until the next morning.

oh wow. let’s be real here, we have three wonderful gentlemen in this area. now aizawa is a little different. he knows what rough days are like, especially when he himself has gone through them. almost everyday. 

resulting in the yellow sleeping bag. 

but that does not stop you from caring for him. most nights when he returns home late, you treat him like a king because hey, he deserves it. he works so hard taking great care of his students, watching them overnight at the dorms (which results in no sleep). ah, the things you do make him so happy and loved.

so he vows to do the same to you. 

this time he was home earlier than usual - which was weird because usually you come home first. he checked every room, but to no avail. he tried calling you, but you didn’t answer.

okay, weird. where were you? maybe he’s been so used to seeing you return first till the point where he completely forgets about your schedules - basically anything you were doing. and damn does he feel terrible. 

which is why he decides to own up to it.

mans dashes through the apartment, getting the stuff that you like, ditching the stuff that you didn’t like seeing when you got back home, made sure he was wide awake for what he was about to see right in front of him - a representation of him (except that it’s not his son shinsou) or you, still in your best form.

.....maybe he didn’t need to think of the second choice. he was right with the first.

“my back hurts. so, so, bad,” you whined softly as he walked towards you.

“come on, kitten.”

“you should’ve gone to bed, shouta.”

“unfortunately my senses told me not to.”

“but they tell you that everyday.”

“....today was different.”

he lets you sit down on the couch for a bit, worried that you might as well collapse and then fall into the deepest sleep. once that was settled, he lightly tapped your shoulder. “you rested enough. bath time.”

conversations stay light with shouta. he knows what it’s like to be tired, and to constantly have noise around him. at the same time, he doesn’t want you sleeping; hence the small talk.

“are you sure, love?” you asked him. “you know i can-,”

“too late.”

you laughed drowsily. oh, what a man.

he frowns when you were hesitant to take a few bites from the light supper snack he prepared for you. they were your favorite.

“eat up. then we could sleep for as long as we want. i’ll even join you and never leave.”

best wild card pulled out of his pocket because you chomped down on your snack.

i headcanon him to be a little scared when it comes to massaging his s/o, worried that he might hurt them, but when he does, it’s god-tier. his hands work like magic. your back pain was almost all gone in that instant.

the both of you were already pooped out, so at the same time, you headed to bed, finally landing on your fluffy pillows, taking it all in.

and right next to you was the man of your dreams.

okay! two rough day scenarios, now for this majestic bird boy’s s/o who isn’t feeling well!

you weren’t at your best. your nose was runny, you sweat a whole lot. for a while you felt really really hot, so you put on your blanket. suddenly you were freezing COLD. pulled them back up.

gave up and covered one half of your figure. your headache was not getting any better and you used ointment/took a painkiller to get rid of the stinging pain on the top part of your head; but to no avail. it kept getting worse. 

the worst part was that you had to skip your work schedule, and you were really precise with it no matter what. but you just couldn’t when your body hurt as if tons of rocks were placed on your back. this was definitely not going to end soon.

lucky for you, keigo was taking a nap right next to you. he got up abruptly. “um, i had a nightmare. i was...falling down....oh my god, y/n, you are RED! what did you have?”

“i had the same thing as you dummy,” you replied with a different tone in your voice. “ugh, my head.”

“you’re sick, chickadee.” he placed the back of his hand on his forehead. “nothing.” he then did so on your forehead. “you are burning hot.”

“why thank you.”

“y/n, i love you but i’m serious. your temperature is soaring hot.”

“aw, man. i can’t ditch my schedule today.”

“in this house, a ‘schedule’ does not exist. you’re staying at home, and i’m going to spend the day with you. got that?”

you blinked a few times with your sore eyes, before replying with a sniffle. “okay.”

“good little birdie.”

and boY does he finesse his way to giving you the best treatment. 

he may or may not have learnt making chicken soup over the years he has been with you, so cue him making probably the best one for you. (we all know why he learnt this anyway)

feeling cold? gives you warm water for your sore throat. feeling warm? puts a little stand fan for you to take in all the fresh air. might as well even fan you with his wings because keigo loves being extra for his s/o. 

he sits with you and holds your hand. he doesn’t like seeing you like this - who does? all he wanted to do was to head out with you, hold hands, fly with you if he could, eat some yakitori.

no, no. must cure y/n first.

he’s such a cute lil baby 

he’d place the wet cloth on your forehead, and comes checking on you every 10 minutes while he’s out of the room. 

bath time? yes please. the right scents for your already blocked nose and to also prevent you from feeling dizzy from the stronger ones that you owned. even offers to wash your back 🥺

gives you his clothing because you look so darn cute in them. he breathes this huge sigh of relief when your temperature decreases from where it was initially. then proceeds to kiss your cheeks.

“keigo! you’re going...to...get...sick!” 

“i’m practically immune. so don’t worry.” he smirked.

you started feeling a little bit better, so you moved to the living room. but the pains were still there.

“y/n. these medicines would help. you came prepared.”

“that’s because i was worried i’d get the flu once again. i hate this.”

“come on. it’s fine, love. you will get back in action in no time. i’m here for you, aren’t i?”

the day ends with more cuddles, more kisses, chicken soup, laughter, little naps, and finally to bed. it was a long day, and you were feeling a lot more better. the fever died down even more, the pains reduced.

and it was all thanks to this lovely number two hero - more so - your lover.

“get well soon, birdie. i love you.” you heard before your eyelids sealed shut.

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

(a/n) : i. am. so. sorry. this took so long. ARGHH FORGIVE ME😭😭😭

but i do hope this is a wonderful read! 🥺❤

[fanficshiddles]

Tear You To Pieces, Chapter 8

Kelly was almost sick when she saw a pile of bodies right by the front doors of the tower. But when she got closer, she realised it wasn’t just any pile of bodies. It was a statement.

Natasha, Clint, Tony, Pepper, Fury and Bruce. Along with some other SHIELD agents.

‘Oh god, no!’ She sobbed and took a step backwards, her entire body was shaking in fear.

She looked up at the tower and suddenly dread flooded all through her. Her sister…

‘MARIA!’ She screamed and ran into the tower, past the pile of bodies.

The lifts were all broken, the electricity not working anymore. She ran as fast as she could up the stairs, taking three at a time where possible. She was out of breath and her legs burned in agony, but she couldn’t stop. She needed to try and reach her before he did.

Even if it was eerily quiet now, except for the sounds of sirens outside the tower…

She passed some more bodies in the stairwell, it broke her heart with each one she passed. The guilt was horrible, building up within her. She couldn’t believe she had been so foolish and trusted him, believed that he had changed.

Anger rushed through her as well as sadness and guilt, but she needed to concentrate and just find Maria. But when she finally got to the top floor, she went straight to the control room where her sister normally was. There was no sign of her. Just some dead bodies hunched over the controls…

After checking her room, still she had no luck. The corridors and rooms were all falling apart. Holes in the walls and roof, lightings and wires hanging out everywhere, the place was a complete mess.

Rushing into the common room, the cold wind breezed in and made her shiver. The large glass windows were all shattered, leaving no protection from the cold.

She felt a lump in her throat when she saw Steve lying dead, his costume torn. His shield was nowhere to be seen. Loki had killed the Avengers…

About to crouch down to Steve, she noticed another body a bit further away. And she let out a wail and a cry, it was her sister.

Slowly, she walked over towards Maria’s body. ‘No, no, no, no.’ She cried as she fell to her knees beside her. She leaned over her sister and tried shaking her shoulders, but there was a huge blow to her head and her eyes were open. She was cold, so cold…

‘NO!’ Kelly screamed as she then pressed her face into Maria’s chest, utterly broken. ‘I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.’ She sobbed into her.

While mourning her sister, she failed to hear Loki coming into the room, cracking bits of glass under his boots.

‘You shouldn’t be here, pet.’ Loki hummed low as he strolled across the room towards her.

She gasped when she saw Loki, and as much as she wanted to cower away from him and run, she didn’t want to leave her sister’s body either. She leaned over her sister more, tears still falling down her face. ‘You… you MONSTER! WHY? Why would you do... THIS?’ She yelled at him bravely, or perhaps foolishly.

Loki smirked as he stepped over Steve’s body without so much as a thought as he continued towards the mortal girl.

‘You should be kneeling before me, thanking me for sparing you.’ He hissed at her, drawing ever closer to her, unhurriedly, but with purpose with his large strides.

She shook her head quickly. ‘No… no! I could never thank you. You used me!’ She screamed at him.

He chuckled darkly. ‘Oh no, I’ve not even begun to use you yet. There is still something you’ve been keeping from me.’

Loki was just a few feet away from her now, with the most menacing look on his face that she had ever seen. It chilled her to the core. She knew she needed to run, she couldn’t let him reach her.

Looking down longingly at her sister for the last time, she scrambled to her feet and attempted to run.

Loki laughed at her. ‘Oh, pet. I thought you’d know by now how much I love to play.’ He growled.

Kelly ran towards the lift, forgetting it was broken. She pushed the buttons in a panic as Loki leisurely strolled towards her, unhurried and looking incredibly menacing with the biggest grin on his face.

Deciding on a different tactic, she made a run back to the stairwell door, doing a big circle past Loki as she most definitely didn’t want to end up anywhere near him.

She heard Loki chuckling darkly as she was almost there, but then suddenly he appeared right on front of her. Blocking her way out. She skidded to a halt, not wanting to run right into him. She backed away, then turned to run but another Loki appeared.

Then another, and another... Until she was surrounded by seven Loki’s, leaving her nowhere else to run. She cried out in fear and fell down to her knees, tucking her head into her arms she cried and prayed that it was all just a horrible nightmare. That she would wake up at any moment and everything would be fine…

‘Kneeling for me already, what a good girl.’ Loki teased as his clones vanished and he approached her.

He reached down and slid his fingers through her hair, seeing her visibly tremble under his touch. Both in fear and still some arousal, he could easily tell. His gentle touch turned rough as he gripped her hair and pulled her head back, so she was forced to look up at him through teary eyes.

‘Aww, come now, pet. It’s me, you don’t need to fear me…’ He hummed and slid his hand down to stroke her cheek softly. ‘Unless you misbehave and are naughty. So, be a good girl and do as you’re told, won’t you?’

Kelly’s lower lip quivered as she hesitantly nodded, not wanting to anger him. She knew his strength and power, that it was pointless to even try and get away from him.

‘Good girl, now get your pretty little ass over to the sofa and get on your hands and knees, bum facing outwards to me.’ He demanded and tilted his head in the direction of said sofa.

Her eyes widened, she didn’t make a move until Loki raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to do as she was told. Not wanting to risk it, she got up on wobbly legs and made her way there. She was barely at the sofa when Loki pushed her down onto it, hurrying her up.

‘We don’t have all day, pet. So don’t waste my time.’ He snarled at her as she tried to get into the position he wanted.

She let out a sob when he grabbed the top of her leggings and yanked them down along with her knickers, down around her thighs.

‘Ohhh, yes. Finally, I will get to claim what is rightfully mine. What you’ve been keeping from me all this time.’ He cooed and, with a surprisingly gentle touch, he caressed her bum first for a moment and then his fingers began to get dangerously close to her cunt.

‘Ple… please, don’t.’ She whimpered as she closed her eyes and hung her head down.

‘No amount of begging will help, pet. I should have taken you a long time ago.’ He said low as he slid his fingers through her folds.

Kelly felt sick at what he was about to do, she had thought and hoped that Loki would be her first time… But not like this, not in this way. Not this Loki.

She was nauseated at herself when she felt her body betraying her from the way his fingers were skilfully sliding up and down, rubbing over her clit that was getting more and more sensitive with every second that passed.

‘Ooo, I think you want this more than you want to admit.’ Loki chuckled. ‘You’re already getting wet, and I’ve barely even begun.’

Loki slid a finger down to her tight opening and he had just started to slowly push into her, making her whine in disagreement, when there was a loud whirring noise from outside. He looked over through the what once was a large window, to see a space ship pulling up outside.

It was some more heroes that had come to try and take down Loki. Kelly felt relief flood through her. But at the same time, more dread. As she knew if The Avengers hadn’t been able to beat him, how could anyone else do it?

Loki snarled angrily at the interruption. He looked down at Kelly, who was still shaking from head to toe and jumping at every little noise from the other heroes that were coming into the building. With a sigh, Loki hauled her up to her feet.

‘I am going to send you to safety, far from here. But you stay exactly where I put you… Because we are far from done here.’ He growled into her ear in warning and narrowed his eyes at her momentarily, then he teleported her away to safety, before going to deal with the low life heroes that had ruined his moment.

-

Kelly let out a yelp as she landed on a hard wooden floor on her bare bum, her leggings and knickers were still down around her thighs. She looked around in alarm, but was slightly relieved to see she was somewhere safe, it was a hotel room.

After getting up and pulling her leggings back up, she rushed over to the window, her eyes widened when she saw London Bridge right outside. Loki really had sent her far away…

But she quickly got her brain working and focusing, there was no way in hell she was going to hang around and wait for him to come get her, to rape her. So she bolted out of the room as quickly as possible, surprised that there was no spell on the door, but highly relieved.

No one cared about her leaving the hotel, the receptionist and everyone else was too busy concentrating on the news with what was going on in New York. But Kelly couldn’t bear to look at the TV, so she ran away, as fast as she possibly could out onto the streets of London.

-

Loki wiped out the second wave of so-called heroes with terrifying ease.

He had the biggest, most wicked grin on his face as he was surrounded by their bodies. The power was surging through him, adrenaline running high. It was the best feeling in the Universe. And he was loving every single second of it.

But this was only the beginning.

Before getting the whole of New York to bow to him, he had something else he needed to deal with first.

Kelly Hill.

He teleported to the hotel room in London where he had placed her. When he arrived in the room, he was displeased to see the bed had not even been sat on. He marched over to the bathroom and flung the door wide open, but she wasn’t there.

Roaring in anger, he stormed out of the room and flung every single door wide open as he passed, shouting her name as he walked down the corridor, causing other poor residents to scream and cower in their rooms in fear. Relief flooding them when he walked on by.

Everyone in the world knew of what he’d done in New York to the Avengers. It was all over the news and in special alerts to everyone’s smartphones.

The receptionist downstairs almost fainted in fear when Loki, enraged, approached her.

‘Room 504. Where is she?’ He snarled at her.

‘I… I… I don’t know… There… was no one… in that room… it’s empty.’ The woman blurted out quickly, shaking from head to toe.

Loki’s nose scrunched up and the vein in his neck was close to bursting as he angrily yelled out and his telekinesis exploded, causing glass to shatter and furniture to fly everywhere. Injuring a few mortals, not that he really cared as he stormed out of the hotel.

He glared up and down the road, but there was no sign of Kelly at all.

[wordsnwhiskey]

As It Should Be | Chapter 4: Company

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: Whiskey gets a surprised call and he and Frankie have a long talk.

Rating: M

Warnings: Talks of drug use, alcohol, mentions of character death, mentions of canon typical violence, PTSD, violent nightmare

A/N: I really wanted this conversation to happen between these two given their respective histories. We all know that Whiskey needed therapy and in this verse he gets it. It’s also my HC, from what I vaguely know (I’m not an expert and I could be very wrong), that Whiskey was an officer in the Air Force where he flew/placed in jets and that’s how he knows how to fly an F-22 (The Silver Pony).

We are getting some angst and some fluff this time folks!

Also, yes I do have a specific soap in mind for Whiskey, it's Old Glory by Duke Cannon

Huge special thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the betas and encouragement!!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 3: Statesmen & Demons | AO3

He was drowning. He needed...something. He needed help.

Frankie pulled his phone out, went to the recent number that was, as of yet, unsaved, and pressed ‘call’. His shaky hand brought the phone up to his ear as the line rang.

Whiskey’s hair was still wet from his shower, and his white t-shirt clung to his damp skin. Eyeing the take out on his counter, he sank into his couch and smiled at your texts:

Whiskey: Thai sound good, sweetheart?

Bourbon: God yes Jack, I’m starving!

Whiskey: I’ll let you know when I get outta the shower, see you soon sweetheart

He was just about to send you a message to come on over when his phone rang. Glancing at the clock on his stove, then back to the unfamiliar Texas number on his caller ID, he frowned.

“Whiskey.”

His greeting was curt. Who the hell would be calling at 8:30 pm on a Wednesday?

“H-hey Whiskey, it’s me, Frankie. Is… uh, is she there?”

Whiskey’s frown deepened, not that he minded Frankie calling him, far from it, but his voice was cracking like he’d been... crying?

“Oh, hey there, Flyboy. No she isn’t, do you need me to get her?”

“N-no, no… I, uh, I don’t want her to see me right now. I’m, uh,” Whiskey could hear Frankie take a deep breath on the other side of the line. “I’m having a bad night, Jack. Could you come get me? I’m at the hotel.”

Jack shot straight up, practically leaping to his feet.

“Did you…?”

The question clung to the air like lead, crushing both of their chests in the silence.

“No, I haven’t… I just… fuck.”

Jack was moving, grabbing his leather jacket, keys, and Stetson, practically sprinting out the door.

“Don’t worry about it, Flyboy. I’m headed your way.”

He shifted his weight while he waited for the elevator to take him to the parking garage, shooting off a quick text to you in apology. Frankie’s words, “I don’t want her to see me,” rung in his ears and he decided to hold off on telling you what had come up, at least until he could see you at the office tomorrow.

Whiskey: Hey sweetheart, sorry something came up and I can’t do dinner tonight. Everything’s fine, see you at the office, sugar. X

Your phone went off and you quickly unlocked it, eager to hear back from Jack so you could head over. A frown pulled the corners of your lips down at his text, but you knew he wouldn’t cancel on you without good reason.

You: See you tomorrow, cowboy. Better make it up to me ;)

Frankie had left the door slightly ajar and was pacing around his room, arms crossed in front of him when he heard a quick knock, then the handle was turning and Whiskey crossed the threshold. He took a cursory glance around the room: nothing but minibar booze bottles, thankfully. Whiskey let out a sigh of relief that was short-lived when he took in Frankie’s demeanor. Frankie’s face was taut with shame, and his gaze refused to rise any higher than Whiskey’s boots.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” Frankie choked out, “ Pope, and Hawk… I can’t disappoint them again. I’ve been clean for three years, and I didn’t…”

Jack shook his head and beckoned Frankie over, wrapping his arm around the other man’s shoulders and pulling him in for a quick, tight hug.

“C’mon, Flyboy, this is not the time nor the place to talk about this. I’m taking you back to my place, and we’re gonna have some whiskey that’s much better than what you’ve had here, and then we can talk.”

Frankie nodded and grabbed his hat, planting it on his head as Whiskey tugged him out of the hotel room. He was so deep in his thoughts and his guilt for having Whiskey come out that he didn’t realize where he was until the elevator dinged. Whiskey unlocked and opened the door to his condo, giving way to a view so incredible Frankie almost forgot to breathe. Across from the entryway, on the far side of the condo, the gorgeous New York night skyline twinkled back at them from beyond the wall of glass windows. Frankie marveled at the rustic elegance of Jack’s home. It had an entirely open floor plan, giving Frankie a view of the dark cherry butcher block island, the top-of-the-line range top, and other appliances, all immaculately clean. For a moment, he wondered if that was because Whiskey ordered out more than he cooked, but then he saw the bags of takeout on the counter and immediately felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, looks like I interrupted your dinner plans.”

Whiskey closed and locked the door behind him, hanging his jacket up on the nearby hook. He glanced over at the takeout, then put his hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, partner. I just told her something came up. You hungry? I ordered her Drunken Noodles, be a shame to put them to waste.”

Frankie was about to decline when his stomach rumbled, and Whiskey chuckled.

“C’mon, Flyboy, go sit down on the couch and I’ll bring the food and some whiskey round.”

With a nod, he toed his dress shoes off (they were all he had without his go bag) and made for the brown leather couch. He sat down a bit stiffly, feeling awkward given the circumstances. Whiskey brought over the containers of food, handing one to Frankie and resting his own on the coffee table before grabbing them the promised drinks. He sat down, and Frankie took his drink in one hand, relishing in the smooth burn as he took a sip, then set it down to dive into his food.

They ate in a relaxed and cozy silence. Frankie finished first, which wasn’t a surprise. When Whiskey finished, he took Frankie’s empty container with him to toss in the garbage before he made his way back. An awkward silence replaced the previous comfortable one, and Frankie found himself having a hard time pulling his gaze from the amber liquid in his glass. Whiskey took a deep breath, then turned on the couch to face Frankie.

“Santiago said you’ve been clean for three years? That’s quite the accomplishment.”

“Yeah, thanks. Doesn’t really feel like it right now. I feel like I failed. I’m worried I’ll slip up.”

“I don’t think you will, Frankie. Neither do Pope or Bourbon.”

Jack didn’t know why, but the words rang true in his mind, even though he hadn’t known Frankie for very long.

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy to throw three years of hard work away, Flyboy.”

A small smile tugged at Frankie’s lips and he took a sip from his glass.

“Must’ve been weird for Halcón. Last time she saw me, fuck, I was barely with it. The suspension hit me hard. I had been getting my shit together before Colombia and the funeral. I just wanted to be able to fly. I couldn’t and still can’t stand the idea of being grounded. That, and I knew my fianceé would leave me if I didn’t get it together. But then, well, we all went to Colombia.”

“I couldn’t imagine being grounded. I don’t fly often, but to not have the option? I dunno what I’d do.”

Whiskey shook his head and grimaced. Frankie perked up, head snapping to meet Whiskey’s gaze.

“You fly?”

“Mmmhmm, was in the Air Force for a bit, did jets. Statesmen has an F-22, the Silver Pony, that I fly.”

A small buzz of excitement was washing over Frankie, and he subconsciously scooted closer to Whiskey. He didn’t really have anyone to talk to about flying, even if helicopters and jets were two very different means of flying.

“What made you risk it, Flyboy? What happened in Colombia?”

Frankie frowned and let out a deep sigh.

“Pope had been down there for a few years, chasing a narco named Gabriel Martín Lorea. He finally got a break when his CI told him she knew where he was hiding out and where he was stashing his money. He showed up outta the blue asking us, our old team, to come down and do recon, $17k just for a week of recon. If we wanted to stay on after that, we’d be entitled to 25% of whatever we seized, and the rumour was that Lorea had $75M on him. I’m guessing Halcón was busy with a mission for you guys, and I’m glad she was. It ended up being a fucking shitshow.”

Whiskey noted the faraway look in Frankie’s eyes as he sighed and took another swig from his glass, shaking his head as Frankie recalled the events.

“After the recon, Pope said he thought we could do the job ourselves, take all the money and not tell the local governments. We found out that the local agency hadn’t been the ones to pay us the $17k. That had come out of Pope’s pocket. He was so sure that the locals were on Lorea’s payroll, and if he went to the local agency, Lorea would disappear with the money. At the end of the day, none of us could say no. Turned out the rumors of Lorea having $75M were wrong. The house was stuffed, literally, with cash. Tom, our captain, got greedy. He ignored our hard-out time and insisted we take more loads of cash. We ended up stealing close to $250M, then we burned the house down.”

Whiskey whistled. “$250M is a lot of money, partner…”

Frankie barked out a humorless laugh, his eyes rueful.

“Too much. Our helo couldn’t take it all and make it over the Andes. I knew it before take off, and I warned Tom and Pope, but all any of us could see was the money. Tom didn’t want to leave it on the runway. I almost had us over the Andes when a gearbox blew, and I had to get us back to flat. We had to cut the money net, and it was just our luck that it happened to be over a coke farm. It was a bad landing. I honestly don’t know how none of us were seriously injured, but Pope and Tom went to go and convince the farmers to get out of the money. Our comms were out, so we were going off of hand signals. Tom got too trigger happy, and he dropped a few of the villagers. I-I provided cover fire, too…”

Frankie hung his head, no matter how much Will, Benny, or Pope had tried to reassure him, he still held an enormous amount of guilt over what had happened. He felt Whiskey’s hand rest on his shoulder, and he leaned into the touch.

“That’s what you were trained to do, Flyboy. You couldn’t have known any different, especially without comms.”

Frankie nodded, taking a large gulp of his whiskey, then continued on.

“A couple days later, we took fire in the mountains, and they got Tom. It ended up being a kid and another guy from the coke farm. We killed them, but there was nothing we could do for Tom. Headshot, he died instantly. 10 years we all served together, and then he was gone, leaving behind an ex and two daughters. It could have been any one of us though, Jack… we all took lives during that mission. Tom just took the wrong ones. It… it could have been me even, I shot some of those villagers, too.”

Frankie felt Whiskey’s grip on his shoulder tighten and looked up to see the empathetic sadness of someone who truly understood how he felt reflected back in Whiskey’s eyes. Frankie cleared his throat.

“We ended up bailing on a lot of the cash, taking only what we could carry in our daypacks and tossing the rest in a ravine so we could haul Tom’s body out with us. At the end of it, we made out with around $5M, but we all agreed it should go to Tom’s family. I got back to find my fianceé had left. She couldn’t stand my leaving with Pope. Looking back, my addiction is probably what really did us in, but I was devastated to come home to an empty house after everything that had happened. Things got… dark after that. I fell back on old habits, fuck, I had barely been clean a few months when we went to Colombia. I didn’t want to think about what we’d done there, didn’t want to feel the emptiness, didn’t want to sleep and deal with the nightmares. I was a mess, and I… uh, I took too much one day. Pope found me unconscious, lying on the ground, and got me to the hospital. When I came to, I realized I didn’t want to end up dead in my shitty apartment, once they discharged me, I checked into rehab.”

Frankie took another drink. No one other than Pope knew that knocking on death’s door had been the turning point for him. Whiskey chewed on his lip, taking a drink and debating whether he should share his past as well.

“Drugs are… a terrible thing to get hooked on. My high school sweetheart, carrying my unborn son, was murdered by two meth head freaks robbing a fucking convenience store. I was on leave from the Air Force, waiting for them to come home when I got the call. I didn’t realize how much it festered in me until about a year back when we were taking down the Golden Circle.”

Frankie nodded. He remembered that he had been glad he was clean by then.

“I’m sorry, Whiskey… I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have-”

Jack’s hand moved from Frankie’s shoulder to rub his back reassuringly.

“Listen, the things you’ve done and seen for our country… and not, well, it’s a lot, and I know it’s not the same as the freaks who… it’s not the same. I almost sabotaged the mission. My hate-addled brain thought it would be justice… It was Bourbon who very literally knocked me on my ass and kept me from making a decision I’d regret. She encouraged me to see a Statesmen counselor, which has been a lot of work, but has been more helpful than I ever thought it would be. Have you thought about that?”

Frankie was distracted for a moment by Jack’s hand. It felt nice, reassuring, safe, things that had been sorely lacking for him today.

���I have and I did, well, I had to as part of the program, and I kept it up for a bit after. It helped, but… I couldn’t really talk about what happened with Tom. Sure there’s confidentiality and all that, but what we did is all kinds of illegal. I couldn’t exactly bring that to a session or group.”

Frankie snorted, a ghost of a smile tugged at a corner of his mouth.

“Really though, aside from the program I was in after rehab to get my license back, I’ve gotten some hobbies and some other out-outlets. This was just a lot. I needed to not be alone.”

Jack cocked his head at the way Frankie stuttered and subconsciously fidgeted with the bandage on his right wrist. He had picked up from the night prior that Frankie had a thing for pain, and Frankie’s reaction when he had bandaged him up was further proof of that. But using it as his sole outlet or method of working through his issues was something he wouldn’t enable. His eyes narrowed, and before Frankie could blink, Jack snatched his left hand, mindful of the tender marks as he held fast and fixed Frankie with a hard stare. Frankie flinched at the sudden movement then his eyes widened a little.

“You know this ain’t a solution, Flyboy.”

Jack’s voice had an edge to it bordering on a growl. Frankie shook his head quickly.

“Shit, no, Whiskey, the i-impact p-play stuff, i-it’s an outlet, and it’s not my only outlet. I met my old partners, Sam and then later on her husband, a year and a half or two years ago. I was a year clean before I even had my first session with either of them. I met Sam when she booked a flight tour, and one thing led to another… She’d come back into town and sometimes her husband would come with, but we all kept everything pretty quiet. They helped me relax, and they had their fun.”

Frankie was doing his best to be nonchalant, but he couldn’t help the slight bitterness creeping into his voice. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Jack’s tone had thrown him off guard, unexpectedly stirring something in him. Whiskey, of course noticed on both counts, having been trained to do so. He could see through Frankie a mile away. Frankie nervously took another sip from his glass, shuddering as Whiskey’s thumb gingerly rubbed circles over the marks, seemingly accepting his explanation.

“You know, had I known about your… interests, I would have done things a bit differently last night, Flyboy.” He winked at Frankie, then smirked as he examined Frankie’s wrist more thoughtfully. “How are they doing?”

“G-good, thanks. And uh, well, you’re one of 3 people who know.” Frankie murmured.

Whiskey’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise as he nodded and released Frankie’s hand.

“Really? Not Pope or Bourbon?”

“Are you kidding me? Pope would never let me hear the end of it. There are some things he doesn’t need to know.” Frankie chuckled and shook his head. “And Halcón? Well, there was never any reason for her to know. We never did anything together before last night.”

“How long has it been since you last saw Sam or her husband?”

Frankie downed the rest of his whiskey, eyes far away for a moment, remembering their last session, the sharp pain followed by a rush of endorphins and the occasional soothing praise. He shook his head gently, blinking himself out of his memories at the feeling of Jack’s warm hand on his knee.

“It’s been a while, six months? They moved overseas.”

There was a beat of silence, Whiskey could sense there was something up, it was a subtle shadow flitting across Frankie’s face. He decided to push a little more.

“Did you have feelings for them?”

“It was complicated.”

The edge in Frankie’s voice was tinged with pain, and he tried to cover it up with a laugh that came out humorless.

“I guess it isn’t that complicated. After six months, things shifted, and they made it clear I wasn’t part of their long term plan. It became very transactional, which was fine, but there was less and less... care after.”

“Oh.”

The response slipped from Jack’s lips, and he was momentarily stunned quiet before his temper began to flare. His index finger and thumb gently gripped Frankie’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Listen carefully, Flyboy. What I did last night was the bare minimum of what someone should do in that kind of situation. Anything less is negligent. Christ, how was this ever stress relief for you if you were left to free fall afterwards?”

Whiskey’s voice was calm and even, but Frankie could see the fury raging in his eyes. Sensing Whiskey’s desire for understanding, he nodded then shrugged.

“I guess I’d try to go on a hike with one of the guys or go train at the gym.”

Silence fell between them, a muscle in Whiskey’s jaw clenching before he glanced at the clock and let out a deep sigh, willing himself to calm down.

“It’s already just about midnight, Flyboy. Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll put on a clean bandage for you once you’re done. You can use my bathroom. There’s a clean towel hanging you can use. Don’t worry about clothes, I’ll leave something for you to sleep in on my bed so you can change while I set up the guest room for you.”

Frankie was about to protest, saying he could do his own bandages, but Whiskey fixed him with a stare and shook his head.

“Go on Flyboy, get yourself in the shower. Head down the hall, second door on the left. Your room is across the hall. I’ll be waiting there with the medkit when you’re done.”

Whiskey took Frankie’s empty glass and stood, taking their glasses to the sink while Frankie got up and made his way to the shower. A pensive frown tugged at Whiskey’s lips. Tonight certainly explained a lot of things. The sharp fury that permeated Whiskey’s chest when they were talking about Frankie’s previous partners returned. How could someone not be bothered with aftercare? It was also clear that Frankie felt abandoned by them. On some level, the poor man was probably terrified of that happening again, if he even entertained the thought of something between the three of you. Whiskey waited a few moments until he heard the water running before heading into his room. He let out a sigh as he grabbed a white t-shirt and a pair of linen shorts for Frankie to wear, leaving them on the bed before he left to make sure the guest room was all set.

Frankie undressed quickly, folding his clothes and setting them down on the vanity in a neat pile crowned with his hat. Next, he made quick work of unwrapping the bandage around his wrist and tossing the materials in the garbage. He let out a sigh of relief as he stepped into the shower and the hot water scoured the last two days from his skin. The relief was quickly replaced with a small whine of pain as the water hit his wrist. Closing his eyes and bracing himself against the wall with his forearm he breathed through the pain, acclimating to the sensation. Frankie took a minute to just exist, trying to enjoy the quiet that had slowly crept back into his mind. Taking a deep breath, he set to work getting himself clean. The steam made the air thick and heavy with the scent of Whiskey’s soap, something akin to leather and tobacco leaves. It clung to Frankie’s lungs, and he could have stayed there enjoying it for considerably longer. But, he didn’t want to keep Whiskey waiting, so he rinsed off and hopped out of the shower. He toweled off, smirking to himself when he saw it was monogrammed (because of course it was), then headed out and changed quickly into the shirt and shorts that had been left for him.

Whiskey looked up in time to see Frankie stride through the doorway wearing his shirt and shorts, smelling like him, his soap. He swallowed thickly and tried to recover with a smile.

“Feel better, Flyboy? C’mon, sit down. Let’s have a look.”

Frankie nodded, then took a seat next to Whiskey on the bed and gave him his right hand. Whiskey hummed his approval at the lack of resistance from Frankie, something the pilot felt tug at his chest.

“This is looking much better, Flyboy, should be completely healed in a few days.”

Whiskey smiled as he finished tending to and wrapping up Frankie’s wrist. Without prompting, Frankie offered his other wrist and Whiskey couldn’t bite back the smirk that followed. He was glad though, glad that Frankie was trusting him with this and was embracing these moments, even if it was for something small. Frankie’s left wrist was considerably better off, but even so, Whiskey was still gentle as he looked him over.

Frankie’s heart fluttered at the intimacy of what was happening. Here was Jack, a man he’d known for barely 48 hours, who was taking care of him, who had dropped everything to come get him, who had spent his evening letting Frankie talk. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated him this way.

There was an overwhelming urge building in his chest, and without thinking, he acted on it.

He gripped the collar of Whiskey’s t-shirt with one hand, tugging him closer as Frankie leaned in and kissed him. Whiskey was shocked for a moment, it had been the last thing he had been expecting, but he quickly recovered when he felt Frankie’s tongue swipe at his lip. His hand rested along the column of Frankie’s throat, thumb grazing over the scruff along his jaw as he deepened the kiss, leaning into Frankie and tasting him.

A small moan pulled Jack back to his senses, resting his forehead against Frankie’s and cupping his jaw with this other hand. They both panted, trying to catch their breath, and Whiskey smiled as he gave Frankie another quick kiss. For a moment, Frankie was worried he had overstepped when Whiskey cut off their kiss, but looking into the other man’s eyes, he knew that wasn’t the case.

“You’ve had a long day, Flyboy, we’re not gonna do anything tonight. Tomorrow though, if you want, I could help you get rid of some of that stress and help you come down the right way. No rush, no pressure, you can say no and nothing changes. I don’t want an answer right now either, sleep on it.”

Frankie’s breath quickened and his pupils dilated at the thought, but one thing nagged at him.

“What about Halcón?”

Whiskey chuckled and patted Frankie’s shoulder.

“Well it’s what we both want, in a manner of speaking. She’d be onboard, but she doesn’t have to know exactly what we do for now unless you’re comfortable with it. A lot of this is stuff I know she wants to go over on Friday, but for now, when it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it, partner. If you want to do this tomorrow, then we can do it. If not, no harm, no foul, you’re still welcome to stay here and keep me company.”

Frankie nodded, still processing what Whiskey had said and more than a little surprised that Whiskey was inviting him back regardless of his decision. Whiskey stood up then, squeezing Frankie’s shoulder.

“G’night, Flyboy. Holler if you need anything.”

Frankie was back in Colombia. He felt sluggish, his feet refusing to respond the way he wanted them to. He saw the villager from the cocaine farm pop up from the rocky outcrop, but Frankie couldn’t move, couldn’t draw his gun to take him out. He cried out in anguish as the man fired.

“No! Tom!”

Then he was surrounded by Pope, Benny, Will, you, and Whiskey, statuesque as the man who killed Tom lined up and dropped Pope, moving his way down the line. Frankie was sobbing now, he was being swallowed up by the ground, sinking helplessly as the people he cared for were murdered.

Whiskey woke with a start to the sound of shouting.

Ripping the sheet and comforter off, Whiskey glanced at the clock. It read 01:30 and he sighed. Frankie just couldn’t catch a break.

“P-please, No! Po-Pope, God, n-no, Hal-Halcón! Whiskey!”

He really didn’t want to shake Frankie awake, worried as to how he might react waking up from that sort of dream, but Jack had to do something.

“Hey, Frankie, I’m right here, you gotta wake up. Wake up, Flyboy.”

Frankie shot up, feeling like ice water had been poured down his spine. He was wild-eyed and breathing heavily, but once again, Whiskey’s soothing words served to ground him, and he clung to them with all he had. He felt Whiskey pull him into a hug, and Frankie didn’t care about the awkward angle, he clung to the embrace as well.

Whiskey’s heart ached at the way Frankie clutched at him after hearing him call out Pope’s, his, and your names. He had a vague idea of what might have happened, he still had dreams where he couldn’t save his loved ones every now and then. Once Frankie’s breathing calmed a bit, Whiskey tugged him up out of bed.

“C’mon Flyboy, you’re coming with me.”

Frankie didn’t argue, he just followed, grateful that Whiskey was pulling him by his hand, needing that point of contact. Whiskey pulled back the covers on the side opposite of his and waited until Frankie crawled in before he pulled the covers over him, then slid in on his side of the bed. He scooted a bit closer, not wanting to crowd Frankie unless he wanted the contact, and was pleased when the other man scooted back until his back rested against Jack’s chest.

“Get some sleep, Flyboy. I’ve got you.”

Sooner than he expected, Whiskey heard soft snores coming from Frankie. He smiled then wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated!

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[sunmoonandeddie]

have you seen baby?

pairing: bucky barnes x reader x natasha romanoff

word count: 3,196

summary: You and your two lovers haven’t gotten to spend much time together.  Also, sex pollen.

warnings: Bad words.  Filthy, filthy smut.  Sex pollen.

a/n:  Thank you so much to @cake-writes for this commission!  I loved writing it and I really hope you enjoy it!

It’s late.  

Well.  Relatively late.  Nearing three in the afternoon, and Natasha hadn’t seen you.  Of course, that barred that morning when she woke up to your pretty face still sleeping beside her.  Unfortunately, Bucky was on a mission, otherwise she’d get to see his equally as pretty face on your other side.  It was disappointing.  There was just something so sweet about waking up to the two loves of her life.

But now, it was almost three, and you hadn’t even emerged from your lab for lunch.

Which is why she headed down two floors to the huge lab that you, Tony, and Bruce shared.  You kind of played as an inbetween for the both of them, wanting to know it all and then some.  It was precious.

But it also meant that you had a bad habit of getting lost in your work and not emerging for hours or sometimes days.  You had been getting better about it, if only because Bucky and Natasha were always on your ass about it.

Which is only because they love you.  So much.  Like.  So so much.

“Have you seen Baby?” Natasha asked Sam, who was wandering through the kitchen after his workout.

He had a protein shake in his hand, sweat dripping from his brow.  “No, can’t say I have.  And you know you can call her by her name when it comes to other people, right?”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a look.  “Her name is Baby.”

“To you.”

“To Bucky and me,” she retorted.  “And besides, she doesn’t even respond to her name when it’s coming from us anymore.”  A small smile crept up on her lips.  “It’s adorable.”  But she was on a mission.  She had a little box that came in with the mail that’s a present just for you.

And sometimes Bucky, depending on how he was feeling.

But Natasha didn’t like being touched.  She liked to give, but never to receive.  Her therapist said it had to do with the various traumas that she’d taken on while growing up in the Red Room.  Her body had never been her own during that time.  She’d been hurt over and over and over again, to the point where someone touching her body in a sexual way sent her into a panic attack.

Bucky was mostly the same way.  He had a hard time with sexual touch, though he’d gotten a lot better about it.

It was just one of those things that Natasha had to deal with.  Not that it was hard.  She loved taking care of you with Bucky’s help.  Their little pillow princess.

You were always the smart girl.  Some could argue that you were smarter than both Bruce Banner and Tony Stark simply because you knew both fields and then some.  You tended to become… obsessed.  You had to know more about everything just for the sake of knowing more.  But with that, your mind was always going a million miles an hour.  Which is why when it came to the bedroom, it was really nice to just be able to let go and not think for a while.  You got to be their dumb little baby girl.  It was always about you when it came to sex.

When it came to who needed cuddles and affection, that was when it was their turn.  You slept in the middle of them, cradled between them like a precious pearl.  You fought off their nightmares for them, their fears.  You made them see that they were more than the weapons they had been crafted into.  You provided relief for each other in different ways.

Before you had come along, Bucky and Natasha’s love had been volatile.  They were missing a piece of the puzzle, even if they hadn’t realized it.

And then their precious little princess had been hired on as a scientist, and their lives were forever changed.  They knew immediately that you were the one for them, their missing piece.

Of course, it had taken a while to get you to understand just what they wanted.  You might be the smartest in the lab, but when it came to relationships…

Which is what brought her to today.  You’d been a little… off lately.  Of course, that could be because her and Bucky had been on back to back missions for the past few months.  There hadn’t been a lot of time for the three of you all together, which was always frustrating.  It was the longest amount of time the three of you hadn’t gotten to all be together since becoming a triad.

And they felt even worse when they both had to leave on missions and leave you all by your lonesome.

Maybe they’d get you a kitten.  You wouldn’t have time for a puppy, but a cat?  You’d love that.  A little lab buddy.  Or maybe they’d get you one of those senior cats with three legs that was deaf in one ear.  Yeah, you’d love that.

But then it would die a lot quicker than a kitten, and they’d have to pick up the pieces because that would destroy you.  But then you’d also be so happy that you got to give the cat a really good few years at the end.

Whatever.  She’d talk to Bucky about it when he got home and they could make a decision.

But the little box.

The elevator down to the lab seemed to take forever, the silence mocking her since Tony absolutely hated elevator music and refused to let it play in the Tower.  But was even more unsettling was the fact that you weren’t in the lab.

“Hey, have you seen Baby?” Natasha asked Tony, who was fiddling with something on his tablet.

“It’s still weird that you call her that to everyone.”

“It’s her name.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Her name is—”

“Baby,” Natasha said, glaring at him.  “Yes, I know.  Have you seen her?”

“You disgust me.”  The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.  “I think she went down to the spare testing room.  Something about an unknown vapor.”

An unknown vapor?  You hadn’t mentioned that.  Then again, you’d been kinda quiet lately.

She headed down another few floors, bearing the silence as she went through a mental list of things she needed to get done.  It was your birthday soon.  She needed to make sure all three of you could get off, and she’d plan something really special.  You deserved it.

The testing room you’re in has all floor to ceiling windows for walls, but she can’t see you.

“Strange,” she muttered under her breath.  She headed for the doors, and her eyes widened as she saw you through the glass.

You were lying on the ground, sweat dripping from your brow, with your hand in your pants.  From the… rapid way your hand was moving, there was no mistaking what was happening.

But why the hell were you touching yourself right there where anyone could walk by and see you?!  Not that she didn’t like it.  She loved watching you touch yourself and she often ordered you to when she was in a dominating mood.  It was so much fun watching you edge yourself.

No, it was the whole public thing that was confusing her.

You looked up as she started to push the doors open, her eyes widening.  “N-Natasha, no!” You shouted.

But it was too late.  A sickly sweet substance filled her nose, and seconds later, she felt a strange heat creeping up over her.  What the hell was happening?  And why did her skin feel so warm?

“N-Natasha,” you whimpered, rolling on your side.  Your fingers were still rubbing desperately at your clit, trying to find some kind of release.  “Nattie, it hurts.  It hurts.  M-Make it stop.”

And god damn it.  Her precious lover begging her to make whatever it was stop hurting?  She was gonna figure out a way to make it stop hurting.

She crawled towards her, frowning as she saw a broken test tube on the floor.  “What the hell is this?”  She couldn’t read the label on it, the ink smeared.  Tossing it to the side, she finally made it to you.  “W-What hurts, Baby?  What hurts?”

Your glassy eyes were wild as your hips bucked up in the air, a vein on your forehead popping out.  “F-Fuck me.  Fuck me, Nattie, please,” she begged, whining desperately.  “Oh, my god, I need it.  I need it.  Please.”

“H-Here?  Baby, wha—”

“Natasha, please, I am literally beg… begging you.  Please,” you cried, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Well.  It’s a good thing she brought the box with her.  She ripped it open, pulling out the new harness that she ordered with it.  “Okay.  Okay, angel, but you gotta let me get my strap on, okay?”  She asked sweetly as she stripped down.  She didn’t care who saw.  She had to help her baby girl.

Your response of a weak whimper only made her go faster.

She practically ripped off your clothes, a groan tearing its way out of her throat as she spread your legs.  You were so wet it was obscene, your poor little clit swollen.

“Oh, pretty girl,” she cooed as she ran her fingers through your slick folds, slipping two in with ease.  “You didn’t ask permission to touch yourself, sweetheart…  But I think I can let this time slide…”  With her one free hand, she pulled the new dildo out of its packaging, smirking at the whimper that escaped your lips as you saw it.

It was pretty.  Really pretty.  Eight inches, made of that realistic feeling silicone, and a gorgeous opal color.  Her and Bucky ordered it especially with you in mind, since opals are your favorite.

“N-Natasha, please…”  You grinded against her fingers, your pussy clenching as you tried to get more.

“Oh, good girl…  You look so pretty, Baby.”  She used her one hand to attach the dildo to the harness, her eyes flicking back and forth between the heat between your legs and her fumbling fingers as she finally got it secure.  She ran it through your folds, getting it nice and slicked up.

That’s when the doors opened again, the familiar sound of size twelve boots coming towards them.  “What the hell is that smell and why are you two—”  Bucky broke off as he felt the heat.  “Oh, shit.”

Natasha grinned as she looked over at Bucky.  They were both clearly feeling the heat that the mysterious substance had caused, but not nearly as bad as you were.  “I caught our little baby touching herself without permission… out where anyone could walk by and see her.”

The third member of your triad was already working on undoing his belt, tearing it off so quickly that it ripped a few of his belt loops, leaving little holes in his pants.  “Has our baby been a little naughty?” He asked as he stripped down, kicking off his boots.  He grasped your face with his metal hand, the cool digits a welcome reprieve to the heat that had overwhelmed you.  “Princess, have you been a bad girl?  Huh?”  He lightly slapped your cheek, just enough to get you to answer.  “When I ask a question, I expect an answer, sweetheart.”

You nodded, whining as you nuzzled your head against his cool hand, the angle hurting your neck a little since you were still on your back.  “Yes.  Yes, Bucky.  I’ve been so bad, I’m so sorry…”  You looked up at him with glittering eyes, your cheeks tear stained.  “I need you.  Please.”

His blue eyes were soft as he leaned down, stealing a soft kiss from your swollen lips.  “What’s your safeword, Baby?” He asked, his free hand wrapping around his swollen cock.

“Bracelet.”

“And if you can’t talk?” Natasha probed, still sliding her strap through your folds.

Your hand wrapped around Bucky’s wrist, squeezing twice.

“Good girl,” he said, kissing you once more.  His strong hands flipped you over easily, placing you on your hands and knees.

Almost immediately after, Natasha’s hand came down on your ass, causing you to jerk forward.  “You better suck Bucky’s cock, Baby,” she said as a smirk curled up the edges of her lips.  “If you want me to fuck you, you better put that pretty mouth to good use.”

“But—”

“Did she stutter, angel?” Bucky asked as he grabbed her chin, forcing you to look up at him.  “Tasha gave you an order.  Are you going to be a good girl and listen?”  His flesh thumb ran over your plump bottom lip.  “Don’t you wanna be a good girl for us?  Huh?”

Fuck.  Yeah, you did.  You always wanted to be a good girl for your two lovers.

Matching moans fell from Bucky and Natasha’s mouths as your tongue flicked out to slide up his length, circling around the head.  You always gave absolutely filthy head, your eyes watering as you choked around his length.

As you took him all the way, Natasha slid her strap into your wet heat, all the way to the hilt.  You let out a choked moan, your eyes wide as she started to thrust in and out of you.  Her fingers dug into your hips deliciously, the acrylics she kept at a relatively short length leaving little crescent moon indents.  You loved it.  The pain felt so fucking good.

“We should’ve made you wear your butt plug, Baby.”  Bucky’s jaw clenched as he reached to gather some of your slick on his finger, before circling it around your tight hole.  “Could’ve had you waiting for us to fuck you proper while I was on a mission all week…”

Natasha’s hips slammed against yours as she pressed her lips to Bucky’s.  “We don’t use the diamond one enough considering how much we paid for it.”

You pulled off of Bucky’s cock with a pop, glaring at the two of them.  “Is this the time to be talking about how often we use the butt plug?”

“Did I say you could stop sucking my cock?” Bucky growled as he grabbed your face and started throat-fucking you.  “It’s been too long since we put you in your place, angel.  You’re getting mouthy.”

“She’s always been mouthy.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks as Natasha and Bucky’s thrusts sent waves of pleasure through you.  The heat that had consumed your body was faded, and all you could think about was making your doms feel good.

All the background noise that had been in your mind over the past few weeks was gone, drowned out by the praises coming from your lovers.  All the self-doubt that coursed through your mind was gone when they loved you like this.

You choked around Bucky’s cock as you came suddenly, the release coming over you like a wave.

It only seemed to spur them on more as Natasha fucked you that much harder, Bucky’s fingers scratching soothingly against your scalp as he got closer and closer to the edge.  You could always tell when he was close by the way his thrusts got more and more sloppy.

Natasha’s hand reached down and around to rub your clit, the pretty opal dildo sliding in and out of you with ease.  She wished she had her phone if just so she could record the moans falling from you and Bucky’s mouths.

Hell, she’d make it her fucking ringtone.

It wasn’t long before Bucky came with a shout, spilling down your throat.

He groaned, his head falling back as he felt you licking him clean.  He let you finish before pulling out, getting on his knees and kissing you sweetly.

Your eyes were dazed, a little bit of cum you hadn’t swallowed dribbling out of your mouth.  You looked so damn pretty like that.  Dumb from pleasure.

“You gonna cum again for us, Baby?” He asked sweetly, holding your face in his hands.

A nod, your lips starting to move to form words but not quite getting there.  Adorable.

He watched it coming.  Watched as your breath hitched and your eyes rolled back in your head before you let out a cry.  You blacked out as your second orgasm ripped through you, violently like an earthquake.  A force of nature.

“Seriously?  In the lab?!” Tony demanded, glaring at them from the entrance.  “What the hell happened?!”

Bucky and Natasha were very blasé faire about their own nudity, but they didn’t like anyone else seeing you.  The redhead reached for the little test tube that she’d tossed to the side when she’d first gotten there as he covered you up with his leather jacket, cradling your exhausted body to his chest.  He pressed soft kisses to your forehead as he rocked you back and forth.

“I think it was whatever was in this,” Natasha said as she looked at it curiously, trying to make out what the writing on the label was.  “... Sexus… Pollinis?”

Tony grumbled as he walked over and grabbed the tube, looking it over.  “It’s literally Latin for sex pollen.  Which probably means exactly what we think.”

“Is that what the smell in the air was?” Bucky asked.

Natasha nodded.  “I think most of it spilled on her, which is why she was so affected but we weren’t.”

“Okay.  I’ll… clean all this stuff up,” Tony said.  “Get her out of here and in a bed.  Or a bath.”  He shook his head as he started to call for the robots that mopped the floor.  “Animals.”

You came to in your shared room, curled up between them in your giant tub.  “Wha’ happened?”

“Hey, baby girl,” Bucky cooed, his fingers massaging your sore shoulders.  “How do you feel?”

For some reason, you started crying.  It just came over you.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Natasha said, cupping your face and wiping your tears.  “Baby, what’s going on?  Huh?  Talk to us…”

“I-I’ve just been f-feeling so alone a-and this is the first time w-we’ve all been together in two m-months,” you whimpered in a shattered glass voice, barely able to string together a full sentence through your hiccups.  “A-And you’ve been gone s-so often that all I can think is m-maybe I’m j-just here because you’re both d-dominants and needed a s-s-submissive!”

Bucky and Natasha’s faces both fell and they squeezed you that much closer to them.

“Oh, Baby, no,” Natasha said.  Her heart hurt as she realized that that’s why you’ve been so off lately.  “We love you so much.  So, so much.”

“I think it’s time we stopped going on so many missions anyway, Baby,” Bucky added, his fingers tickling up and down your back.  “I’m tired of not being home with my girls.”

“Really?” You asked softly, looking at him like he’d just told you he’d give you the moon.

“Yeah,” Natasha said, bringing your hand to her lips.  She pressed a kiss to your left ring finger as her eyes met Bucky’s, a knowing look on his face.  Maybe soon there’d be a ring on that finger.  “Really, Baby.”

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The Reward of Suffering

next chapter

Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13. 

Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins​

A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk

Word count: 12.1k

           “Reid is in jail.”

           I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.

           Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

           “Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.

           “In Mexico.”

My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.

It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”

Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”

“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”

For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.

There was no way he would throw all of that away.

“What type of drugs?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.

Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.

“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.

“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.

Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.

I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.

“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”

I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.

“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”

Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.

“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”

           The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.

--

           “This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”

           “Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.

           “The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.

           “Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

           “We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.

           “Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

           “Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.

           “Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

           “Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”

           “How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”

           “Three days.”

           “That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.

The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.

Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.

“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”

“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.

“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.

But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.

“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.

“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.

“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.

I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.

When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.

“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.

“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.

Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.

“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”

A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.

“You two are close, I take it?”

I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.

“He’s my best friend.”

Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.

“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.

Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.

“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”

“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”

“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.

“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”

Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.

“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”

My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.

“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.

When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I absolutely hated it.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”

--

The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.

“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.

“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.

“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”

“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.

Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.

My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.

“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.

Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.

           “We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.

           “Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.

           Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

           “Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”

           Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.

           “Where did you meet her?”

           Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.

           “I… I don’t remember.”

           “If you saw her, would you remember her?”

           Spencer nodded in affirmation.

           “You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.

           “It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”

           “And you’ve been drugged?”

           I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.

           “Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.

           “Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

           Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.

           “Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.

           Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.

Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.

           Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.

           “Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.

           Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

           “Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”

           Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

           “No.”

           “Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.

           “Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

           Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.

           “Can… Can you stay?”

           Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.

           “I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.

           “Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.

           Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.

           And then there were two.

           I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.

           “Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

           As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.

           “About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

           “I’m… In Mexico.”

           A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.

           “You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”

           I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.

           “It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”

           “Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”

           “Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”

           “How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.

           “I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

           “Wait, so, where are you?”

           “I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.

           “Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”

           I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.

           “The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”

           “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”

           “I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”

           “I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”

           There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.

           “Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.

“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”

           “Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”

           “I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”

           “Love you, too.”

           I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.

           For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.

           I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.

           I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.

           I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.

           “I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”

           He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.

           I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.

           “Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

           Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.

           “I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.

           “M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.

           Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.

           “Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”

           The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.

           “Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”

           The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.

           It would have to be enough for now.

--

           Nadi Ramos was dead.

           I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.

           I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.

           And target him he fucking did.

           “We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.

           “How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.

           “She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.

           Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.

           “We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”

           “What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.

           “He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”

           I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.

           “Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”

           Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.

           “It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.

           “Do I want to know?”

           Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.

           “Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”

           “I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.

           “Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.

           “I’ll try.”

           Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.

           “There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”

           Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

           “What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.

           Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.

Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,

“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

           “I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.

           Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.

           “Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”

           Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.

           “I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.

           “Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”

           Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.

           “I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.

           I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.

           “I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”

           I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.

--

           When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.

           We are so beyond fucked.

           “How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.

           “He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”

           “They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”

           Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.

--

           While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.

           “We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

           “I don’t know how.”

           “He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.

           “If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”

           “Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.

           “Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”

           “I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”

           Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

           “Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”

           “So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”

           “I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”

           I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.

--

           “We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”

           “Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.

           “Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

           “Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.

           “We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”

           Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.

           “Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.

           “Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”

           “That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

           “Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”

           “I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”

           “So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.

           “It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.

           “Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.

           “Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”

           “Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.

           “You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”

           “I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”

           “Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.

           “Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”

           “We need to know more about her,” Clara said.

           And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.

           “What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.

           Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.

           “There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”

           “Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

           “Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

           “Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.

           “Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.

           “So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.

           “Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.

           “Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”

           “Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

           “Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.

           “Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”

           “I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.

           “Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”

           “Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.

           “Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”

           “That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.

           “What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”

           “Why?”

           “Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”

           “Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.

           “Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”

           “This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.

           Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.

           “It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.

           “We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”

           Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

           “I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.

           One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.

           “With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”

           Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.

           I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.

--

           “We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.

           Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.

           “I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.

           “It was for the right reason.”

           “I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.

           “We do, too.”

           Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.

           “Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.

           “Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

           We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.

           “I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

           I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.

           “I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.

           “Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.

           Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.

           “For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”

           I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.

           We cannot give him that recording.

           Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.

           “I didn’t record it.”

           Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

           “But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.

           “I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

           Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.

           Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.

           “You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

           “We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.

           But so is Scratch.

--

           All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.

           Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.

           “You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.

           “I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”

           “You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”

           Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.

           “Since when did you get so insightful?”

           A grin stretched its way across his face.

           “Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

           “And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.

I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”

Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.

“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.

“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”

“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.

“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”

I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.

“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you’re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.

“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.

“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”

Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

--

Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.

JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.

“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.

Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.

“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?”            “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”

I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;

Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.

JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.

Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.

Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.

Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.

Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.

Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.

That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.

I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.

“We’re on our own.”

And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.

           -Storm Constantine

[imagine-loki]

Tear You To Pieces, Chapter 8

TITLE: Tear You To Pieces CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 8 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was sent to make up for his deeds by helping out The Avengers at the tower. Everyone thinks he’s changed, but he is just biding his time. He manipulates and uses someone who works there, who has a crush on him, to get exactly what he wants.  RATING: M

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: DARK LOKI, RAPE/NON-CON, MANIPULATION, MURDER, VIOLENCE, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, KIDNAPPING

  Kelly was almost sick when she saw a pile of bodies right by the front doors of the tower. But when she got closer, she realised it wasn’t just any pile of bodies. It was a statement.

Natasha, Clint, Tony, Pepper, Fury and Bruce. Along with some other SHIELD agents.

‘Oh god, no!’ She sobbed and took a step backwards, her entire body was shaking in fear.

She looked up at the tower and suddenly dread flooded all through her. Her sister…

‘MARIA!’ She screamed and ran into the tower, past the pile of bodies.

The lifts were all broken, the electricity not working anymore. She ran as fast as she could up the stairs, taking three at a time where possible. She was out of breath and her legs burned in agony, but she couldn’t stop. She needed to try and reach her before he did.

Even if it was eerily quiet now, except for the sounds of sirens outside the tower…

She passed some more bodies in the stairwell, it broke her heart with each one she passed. The guilt was horrible, building up within her. She couldn’t believe she had been so foolish and trusted him, believed that he had changed.

Anger rushed through her as well as sadness and guilt, but she needed to concentrate and just find Maria. But when she finally got to the top floor, she went straight to the control room where her sister normally was. There was no sign of her. Just some dead bodies hunched over the controls…

After checking her room, still she had no luck. The corridors and rooms were all falling apart. Holes in the walls and roof, lightings and wires hanging out everywhere, the place was a complete mess.

Rushing into the common room, the cold wind breezed in and made her shiver. The large glass windows were all shattered, leaving no protection from the cold.

She felt a lump in her throat when she saw Steve lying dead, his costume torn. His shield was nowhere to be seen. Loki had killed the Avengers…

About to crouch down to Steve, she noticed another body a bit further away. And she let out a wail and a cry, it was her sister.

Slowly, she walked over towards Maria’s body. ‘No, no, no, no.’ She cried as she fell to her knees beside her. She leaned over her sister and tried shaking her shoulders, but there was a huge blow to her head and her eyes were open. She was cold, so cold…

‘NO!’ Kelly screamed as she then pressed her face into Maria’s chest, utterly broken. ‘I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.’ She sobbed into her.

While mourning her sister, she failed to hear Loki coming into the room, cracking bits of glass under his boots.

‘You shouldn’t be here, pet.’ Loki hummed low as he strolled across the room towards her.

She gasped when she saw Loki, and as much as she wanted to cower away from him and run, she didn’t want to leave her sister’s body either. She leaned over her sister more, tears still falling down her face. ‘You… you MONSTER! WHY? Why would you do... THIS?’ She yelled at him bravely, or perhaps foolishly.

Loki smirked as he stepped over Steve’s body without so much as a thought as he continued towards the mortal girl.

‘You should be kneeling before me, thanking me for sparing you.’ He hissed at her, drawing ever closer to her, unhurriedly, but with purpose with his large strides.

She shook her head quickly. ‘No… no! I could never thank you. You used me!’ She screamed at him.

He chuckled darkly. ‘Oh no, I’ve not even begun to use you yet. There is still something you’ve been keeping from me.’

Loki was just a few feet away from her now, with the most menacing look on his face that she had ever seen. It chilled her to the core. She knew she needed to run, she couldn’t let him reach her.

Looking down longingly at her sister for the last time, she scrambled to her feet and attempted to run.

Loki laughed at her. ‘Oh, pet. I thought you’d know by now how much I love to play.’ He growled.

Kelly ran towards the lift, forgetting it was broken. She pushed the buttons in a panic as Loki leisurely strolled towards her, unhurried and looking incredibly menacing with the biggest grin on his face.

Deciding on a different tactic, she made a run back to the stairwell door, doing a big circle past Loki as she most definitely didn’t want to end up anywhere near him.

She heard Loki chuckling darkly as she was almost there, but then suddenly he appeared right on front of her. Blocking her way out. She skidded to a halt, not wanting to run right into him. She backed away, then turned to run but another Loki appeared.

Then another, and another... Until she was surrounded by seven Loki’s, leaving her nowhere else to run. She cried out in fear and fell down to her knees, tucking her head into her arms she cried and prayed that it was all just a horrible nightmare. That she would wake up at any moment and everything would be fine…

‘Kneeling for me already, what a good girl.’ Loki teased as his clones vanished and he approached her.

He reached down and slid his fingers through her hair, seeing her visibly tremble under his touch. Both in fear and still some arousal, he could easily tell. His gentle touch turned rough as he gripped her hair and pulled her head back, so she was forced to look up at him through teary eyes.

‘Aww, come now, pet. It’s me, you don’t need to fear me…’ He hummed and slid his hand down to stroke her cheek softly. ‘Unless you misbehave and are naughty. So, be a good girl and do as you’re told, won’t you?’

Kelly’s lower lip quivered as she hesitantly nodded, not wanting to anger him. She knew his strength and power, that it was pointless to even try and get away from him.

‘Good girl, now get your pretty little ass over to the sofa and get on your hands and knees, bum facing outwards to me.’ He demanded and tilted his head in the direction of said sofa.

Her eyes widened, she didn’t make a move until Loki raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to do as she was told. Not wanting to risk it, she got up on wobbly legs and made her way there. She was barely at the sofa when Loki pushed her down onto it, hurrying her up.

‘We don’t have all day, pet. So don’t waste my time.’ He snarled at her as she tried to get into the position he wanted.

She let out a sob when he grabbed the top of her leggings and yanked them down along with her knickers, down around her thighs.

‘Ohhh, yes. Finally, I will get to claim what is rightfully mine. What you’ve been keeping from me all this time.’ He cooed and, with a surprisingly gentle touch, he caressed her bum first for a moment and then his fingers began to get dangerously close to her cunt.

‘Ple… please, don’t.’ She whimpered as she closed her eyes and hung her head down.

‘No amount of begging will help, pet. I should have taken you a long time ago.’ He said low as he slid his fingers through her folds.

Kelly felt sick at what he was about to do, she had thought and hoped that Loki would be her first time… But not like this, not in this way. Not this Loki.

She was nauseated at herself when she felt her body betraying her from the way his fingers were skilfully sliding up and down, rubbing over her clit that was getting more and more sensitive with every second that passed.

‘Ooo, I think you want this more than you want to admit.’ Loki chuckled. ‘You’re already getting wet, and I’ve barely even begun.’

Loki slid a finger down to her tight opening and he had just started to slowly push into her, making her whine in disagreement, when there was a loud whirring noise from outside. He looked over through the what once was a large window, to see a space ship pulling up outside.

It was some more heroes that had come to try and take down Loki. Kelly felt relief flood through her. But at the same time, more dread. As she knew if The Avengers hadn’t been able to beat him, how could anyone else do it?

Loki snarled angrily at the interruption. He looked down at Kelly, who was still shaking from head to toe and jumping at every little noise from the other heroes that were coming into the building. With a sigh, Loki hauled her up to her feet.

‘I am going to send you to safety, far from here. But you stay exactly where I put you… Because we are far from done here.’ He growled into her ear in warning and narrowed his eyes at her momentarily, then he teleported her away to safety, before going to deal with the low life heroes that had ruined his moment.

-

Kelly let out a yelp as she landed on a hard wooden floor on her bare bum, her leggings and knickers were still down around her thighs. She looked around in alarm, but was slightly relieved to see she was somewhere safe, it was a hotel room.

After getting up and pulling her leggings back up, she rushed over to the window, her eyes widened when she saw London Bridge right outside. Loki really had sent her far away…

But she quickly got her brain working and focusing, there was no way in hell she was going to hang around and wait for him to come get her, to rape her. So she bolted out of the room as quickly as possible, surprised that there was no spell on the door, but highly relieved.

No one cared about her leaving the hotel, the receptionist and everyone else was too busy concentrating on the news with what was going on in New York. But Kelly couldn’t bear to look at the TV, so she ran away, as fast as she possibly could out onto the streets of London.

-

Loki wiped out the second wave of so-called heroes with terrifying ease.

He had the biggest, most wicked grin on his face as he was surrounded by their bodies. The power was surging through him, adrenaline running high. It was the best feeling in the Universe. And he was loving every single second of it.

But this was only the beginning.

Before getting the whole of New York to bow to him, he had something else he needed to deal with first.

Kelly Hill.

He teleported to the hotel room in London where he had placed her. When he arrived in the room, he was displeased to see the bed had not even been sat on. He marched over to the bathroom and flung the door wide open, but she wasn’t there.

Roaring in anger, he stormed out of the room and flung every single door wide open as he passed, shouting her name as he walked down the corridor, causing other poor residents to scream and cower in their rooms in fear. Relief flooding them when he walked on by.

Everyone in the world knew of what he’d done in New York to the Avengers. It was all over the news and in special alerts to everyone’s smartphones.

The receptionist downstairs almost fainted in fear when Loki, enraged, approached her.

‘Room 504. Where is she?’ He snarled at her.

‘I… I… I don’t know… There… was no one… in that room… it’s empty.’ The woman blurted out quickly, shaking from head to toe.

Loki’s nose scrunched up and the vein in his neck was close to bursting as he angrily yelled out and his telekinesis exploded, causing glass to shatter and furniture to fly everywhere. Injuring a few mortals, not that he really cared as he stormed out of the hotel.

He glared up and down the road, but there was no sign of Kelly at all.

[angstysebfan]

What’s Done is Done - Part 3

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Requested by: @joannie95

--

Your lung had collapsed and you lost a lot of blood, but after examination with Dr. Cho, you were said to make a full recovery. Bucky never felt such relief. Feeling like he was going to lose you, made him realize what a terrible, toxic, asshole he was. Every decision he made when it came to you, over the last several months, were all based on fear. You almost died on that one mission, which made him push you away... and yet here you are. He didn’t save you anyway, but caused you more hurt. He hated himself for it and wondered if there was even a chance for him to get you back.

He sat outside your medbay door, contemplating whether he should go in. The whole team went in when you woke up, but he was too scared. Steve smacked him upside the head telling him fear is his worst trait. It made Bucky think. All he thinks about is fear to the point it has become a huge part of him. He tries to fix things, or do certain actions based on his fear and they never turn out right. He decided that he will no longer let fear drive him.

He stands and walks up to your door and takes a deep breath. He opens the door to see a man sitting next to your bed, holding your hand as you slept. When did Tommy slip passed him? Tommy turned at the sound of the door and looked at Bucky, “She just fell asleep. I’ll tell her you came by,” he said before turning back toward you. Bucky looks at you for a moment before leaving the room. He totally forgot about your boyfriend. 

--

You woke up to feel someone holding your hand. You remember Tommy being there, and figured it was him. When you opened your eyes you were surprised to not see Tommy, but Bucky sitting there holding your hand. He didn’t seem to notice you woke up as he sniffed some tears away, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles. You can’t help the electricity that stems from that action through your body. 

Bucky looks up and sees your eyes on him and stops the movement of his thumb. “Uh.. S-sorry,” he says putting your hand down. “What are you doing here?” you ask softly. Bucky sniffs as he feels the tears starting to build already, “I... uh... I had to make sure you were okay,” he says looking at the ground. 

Your heart starts to pound, “I didn’t think you cared anymore,” you say, making Bucky’s eyes snap to yours. Bucky opens and closes his mouth for a second before choking on a sob. He leans forward covering his face and allows himself to just cry while you look on in shock. You have seen Bucky cry a few times in your relationship, but you know he considers this a sign of weakness, so to see him so openly sob is... concerning.

“I... I...” he stutters as he tries to catch his breath. You say nothing and just watch as he completely falls apart in front of you. Finally when you can bear it no more, you grab his metal hand making him look up at you. “Why are you crying?” you ask. Bucky looks at you, his blue eyes look more prominent with tears and redness. “You could have died... and you don’t know... you don’t know how much I wish I could take it back,” he says with a shaky voice.

You furrow your brows, “Take what back?” you ask. Bucky sighs, finally reigning his emotions and drops his shoulders in defeat. “I hurt you. I... I broke your heart, but I... I still love you,” he says. Your eye brows shoot up in surprise. “I know. But can I... Can I explain? I know it probably won’t make a difference, but I want you to know. Please?” he asks. You stare at him for a moment before nodding and sitting back.

“Ok... um... Do you remember that mission a few months ago when HYDRA managed to grab you?” he asked. You gulp as you remember the fear you felt and nodded. “Even though we managed to get you back, and though hurt, you were alive... I... I went nuts,” he says. “I kept blaming myself for your capture. That they found out you were special to me and grabbed you,” he says.

You open your mouth to respond, but Bucky cuts you off, “I know it’s stupid. Steve tried to talk me down, but the fear just overtook me. I started to have nightmares every night after that. Thankfully I never hurt you, but I was terrified that I would snap out of a nightmare with you dead beside me. I tried to create some distance between us, but you... you were like a flame and I was the moth. I couldn’t understand why someone as amazing as you, would want to be with me,” he says.

He laughs, “You deserve fucking prince charming, but you got stuck with the Winter Soldier. I’m not good enough to shine your damn shoes, let alone date you. I had been fooling myself that I could be with you. I asked Sam’s permission to marry you, and bought a damn ring! I needed you like I need air,” he says shaking his hand. “But when that damn mission happened it was like the glass shattered and I finally saw the reality. So... that night when I was sitting in the kitchen I was planning how I was going to break up with you, as much as I didn’t want to. But, when you came in to console me, I almost lost my nerve.”

“I... I knew that if I didn’t do it now, I would never do it, so I said those... horrible lies to you. I wanted to die seeing that look in your eyes. When you walked out I knew what you were doing. You were giving me space to think, hoping I would change my mind, which is why I packed your stuff, while sobbing, and locked you out. I... I couldn’t face you again. You needed better than me!” he said.

You sat up, “I needed you! Damnit Bucky! You don’t have the right to decide what is best for me. Who I deserve! I do! You just made that decision because you were scared, but you hurt me worse than HYDRA could! And you paraded those women around in front of me... why?” you ask, tears falling down your cheeks.

“I... I wanted you to keep your distance. I didn’t want you to fight for me. I hated doing it to you, not that it makes it better, but I did,” he said in desperation. You scoff, “Yea, I’m sure sleeping with multiple women was a burden,” you said looking away from him in disgust. “It... it was. Half the time the only way to make it through was thinking of you,” he said. “Ugh, seriously Bucky, I don’t need to hear that,” you snap. 

Bucky looks at the ground, knowing it wasn’t going the way he had hoped. “Y/N... if I could change one thing in my life... it would be hurting you. I was clouded by fear, but I know now I can’t let fear decide things for me. I’m so unbelievably sorry. I... I just wanted you to know,” he said standing. You look at him, “Well I appreciate it, but it changes nothing,” you say.

Bucky nods and walks out of the room. You let out the sob you were holding in once the door closes. You knew it was something stupid that made him do this! You knew he was afraid of something! But what kind of person are you who just forgives him when he apologizes? You are not a push over!

Just then the door opens and in walks Tommy. He sees your face and runs to your bed. “Y/N? Are you alright? Are you feeling pain?” he asks. You smile at him, “I’m ok. Just found out some things today that has my mind spinning,” you reply. Tommy lets out the breath he was holding in relief and sits next to you.

“So how are you feeling?” he asks. You nod, “Honestly not bad. This is nothing compared to the last time I got seriously hurt on a mission,” you say with a laugh. “Oh so you get hurt often?” he asks. “No... not often, but I mean my job is dangerous,” you say. “Well the doctor told me that you will need a few weeks rest, so that’s good,” he says. 

“Yeah, but I will do my best to keep it short. I hate not going out on missions,” you say watching Tommy’s reaction. He pales at your statement, “I mean... uh... you aren’t going to want to do missions always right? You want to get married and have a family?” he asks. You stare at him, “Well yea, but why do I need to stop missions for get married and have a family?” you ask.

“Well... I don’t know. I didn’t think you would want to put yourself in danger if you know you a family at home,” he says with a shrug. “I... didn’t realize my job bothered you so much,” you say. He shrugs, “I mean this kind of opened my eyes,” he says. 

You nodded in understanding. “Listen... I like you Tommy. You have been amazing, but if my job is going to be an issue, then maybe we need to call this what it is,” you say. Tommy looks at you wide eyed, “I mean we have only been dating a short time, and again you’re great, but I’m not giving up my job. And honestly... I think I jumped into this relationship too early,” you say. 

“It’s that Sergeant Barnes right?” he asks. “I..” “Y/N, it’s ok. I knew immediately that there was something between you too. He is the one that hurt you though, right?” he asks. You nod silently, “He just told me everything before you came in. I... I can’t forgive him for what he did. He hurt me so badly,” you say looking at your hands.

“Well, take some time... the answer will be clear eventually,” he says standing. “I would like for us to be friends, if you are ok with that?” he says. You smile and nod as he leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek. “I would love nothing more,” you say. “Well let me know when you can leave and I’ll make sure I’m here to help you,” he says. You laugh, “Thanks.”

Tommy gives you a wave goodbye and heads out the door. You look out the window thinking about everything that has transpired over the last hour. Your head hurt thinking about it, honestly. You’re glad Tommy took the break up well. You had not been feeling the relationship for a little while and knew that it wasn’t going to last. Whether if you and Bucky had that conversation today or not.

Now Bucky it a whole other story. You had way too much to process when it comes to him. You didn’t want to deal with it all right now. You felt the tears come to your eyes again. You had to admit it though, it was nice to know he still loved you, but god did a part of you hate him.

--

Decided to make this a 4 parter after all. Not sure how I feel about this part... what do you think?

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[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH45

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 45: Star Death Reality Show (XXVIII)

His right hand slammed against the emergency close button, and his body rushed out with the instant acceleration from pushing off it. As if Qi Leren had thought about the plan in his mind for a long time, he opened a hand and threw a grenade behind him without looking, sprinted out like an arrow leaving the string, and repeated this old trick when he rounded the corner, throwing down another hand grenade!

Two consecutive explosions shook the corridor like a tottering boat. Qi Leren threw himself to the ground, feeling the turbulent heat flow from the corner and blow his hair into a mess.

He coughed twice on the ground, got up, and ran away again.

Leviathan didn't catch up, and Qi Leren who had already run to the floor where the arsenal was located finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The research institute was huge, and it would take "extraordinary luck" to run into that monster again. However, he didn’t know whether Leviathan had a sensitive sense of smell... Qi Leren looked back, and the world was immersed in a bright silence. This kind of terror hidden under the light was frightening.

He Yi had been parasitized by Leviathan, who was obviously Su He’s doing. He himself had said that he’d released the dangerous creature in the underground glacier. The octopus was similar to the alien queen in Aliens, much more difficult to deal with than the ordinary octopuses. What's more, it also had human intelligence... Hey, why did you listen attentively to He Yi just now and forget to smash his head?

Qi Leren walked on, and when he came to the corridor where the arsenal was located, he saw at a glance that Dr. Lu was poking around.

"Ah! Qi Leren! You’re still alive!" Dr. Lu excitedly ran out, "How is it on your side? Have you seen Su He?"

"Have you met Du Yue?" Qi Leren asked.

Du Yue also ran out of the arsenal and took Qi Leren's arm: "Qianbei! I thought you were going to die! Thank god! You can't die!"

Hey, what did this kid say? Qi Leren lamented Du Yue, who was too agitated and incoherent, and patted him on the shoulder in comfort.

"Why is that guy so stalker-ish?" Dr. Lu muttered with a bitter expression.

Qi Leren said with a straight face: "He can hear you."

Dr. Lu's face went white with fear, staring at him, looking overwhelmed.

"I’m just scaring you, he should be gone." Qi Leren pondered that Su He seemed to have too much free time. He was acting as both a prison guard and a Devil, and he also had a lot of beautiful subordinates. No matter how much he divided his time, he couldn’t do everything. He shouldn’t be idle enough to come here to peep at how a group of wannabes did in their task.

Dr. Lu was relieved and complained, "Don't scare me all the time."

Only Du Yue, who had never seen Su He, wondered: "Who is Su He?"

Dr. Lu quickly waved his hand: "A super terrible Devil, who is cruel, cunning, and ruthless, the worst in the universe! Your qianbei was killed by him before, and his death was miserable. You could say he’s a freak!"

Du Yue was taken aback: "So bad…"

Qi Leren, who had died miserably: "........"

"Yes, your qianbei's boyfriend is grief-stricken, and he’s still wandering the world, unaware that he’s still alive."

Du Yue was dumbfounded again: "Ah, my qianbei has a boyfriend? Isn't it a beautiful woman? Qianbei said that she was particularly beautiful!"

Dr. Lu looked at Qi Leren silently. Qi Leren, who had once talked with this youth about first loves while they were watching Annie, coughed twice: "Don't talk about this now, I have something very important to say: in the glancer beneath the institute..."

Forcibly changing the subject was successful. Qi Leren locked the door of the arsenal, briefly explained the previous events, and skipped a lot of things. He only told the two people about Su He's saying that he had released Leviathan from the underground glacier, and told them about his previous fight with the monster.

"We need a temperature below minus forty degrees? Awesome, our temperature regulating clothes only guarantee that we won't lose heat in environments above minus 30 degrees. Once the temperature drops below minus 30, we won't last long, and even worse when it reaches minus 40. If you cool down that much, you may as well sign your will. To tell the truth, it's quite amazing that you can still insist on not wearing gloves..." Dr. Lu looked at Qi Leren's bare hands and then at his own hands in thick gloves and couldn't help showing envious eyes.

Qi Leren moved his fingers. Although he was cold, he wasn’t frozen. He had good resistance to cold now, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have escaped just now.

"I can't think of a way to deal with it now." Qi Leren walked around the arsenal to find the weapons he needed. "Shall we set a trap and blow it up here?"

"You can try, but if there’s an explosion in the arsenal...……S/L Data can't save you from the fire after the explosion," Dr. Lu worried.

There were indeed difficulties. There were too many explosives in the arsenal. If the explosion lasted for several seconds, even if he saved here, the resurrected Qi Leren would still be blown to pieces.

"What should we do then?" Du Yue looked sad.

Qi Leren was also depressed, and he had to worry about another question: "How much private time do you have left?"

"This is reset at 8:00 every morning...I only have half an hour left." Dr. Lu was even more sad.

"Me too." Du Yue was also worried.

Qi Leren looked at his privacy time that was less than half an hour, which was also a headache.

After the privacy time ran out, the invisible camera that followed him would ignore his instructions and shoot him from 360 degrees without any privacy. In this way, he could neither use unscientific skill cards indiscriminately nor discuss things with Dr. Lu.

If only this thing had been blown up when Mark blasted it with a rocket launcher... Unfortunately, he had used the "Prophet's Heart" at that time and he was unscathed. Sadly, even the camera was preserved.

"Where are the others?" Qi Leren asked Du Yue.

"They ran away, and then I only met Dr. Lu," Du Yue said sullenly.

"Don't worry about them, you can't stop them from dying." Dr. Lu squatted on the ground heartlessly. "Think about how to get home alive first. By now, this task is definitely not C-level. We might say there is also an A. This Leviathan looks much more difficult than the crazy lady of B-level. "

Of course, Qi Leren thought. This Leviathan was released by Su He in order to force him to level up. However, now he didn't even know what the principle of a half-field was, because his teacher Chen Baiqi hadn't expected him, a loser student, to break his shell. In her prediction, this wouldn't happen for a long time.

The plan couldn’t keep up with the changes

"Let’s think about it again... This amphioctopus is intelligent, strong defensively, fast, and aggressive... I’m afraid it’s also very strong, and ordinary weapons can't handle it. I’ll try the rocket launcher next time." Qi Leren was also very worried about this weapon that he had never used before. There was no instruction manual for weapons here, and Chen Baiqi had never taught him how to use it.

Dr. Lu and Du Yue looked at him with eyes full of doubts.

Qi Leren coughed: "Let’s think of another plan, I don't think this is foolproof."

Qi Leren’s biggest reliance was the Prophet's Heart given to him by the Prophet, but the cooldown time of this item was as long as 24 hours. To try to wait for this to finish its cooldown, Qi Leren didn't think they could spend 20 hours safely.

Then what else can I do...

Glacier.

Underground glacier.

This word jumped into Qi Leren's mind without warning, and he suddenly remembered what He Yi had said before he died: "...Even if it’s frozen in the extremely cold environment of minus 40 degrees, it will not die, but will only go to sleep. It’s like the amphioctopuses’ soldier ant, and its fighting capacity far exceeds that of the workers. Leviathan is different from the ordinary octopuses. As long as it senses the approach of living creatures, it will be forcibly thawed..."

He Yi wanted to express the danger of Leviathan, but if you thought about it carefully, wasn't this its weakness?

40 degrees below zero wouldn’t kill it, but it would go to sleep. If he could lead it back to the underground glacier and then escape quickly, so that Leviathan, that couldn't sense the biological atmosphere around it, went to sleep, then he could wait for the Prophet's Heart to cool down before going back and killing it.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt that this may be the only way.

"I have an idea," Qi Leren said into the silence. "The danger of confronting it is too great. My idea is that I’ll lure it into the underground glacier and let it return to its dormant state again."

Then Qi Leren explained his reasons, and discussed specific measures with Dr. Lu and Du Yue. The biggest problem was that Leviathan has intelligence, and it was difficult to set traps for it.

"We haven't been to the underground glacier. I don't know what the terrain is like. If it’s an underground crevasse or a huge underground lake, even you will be in danger. Why don't we try the laser corridor, surely it isn’t stronger than steel plates?" Dr. Lu also had an idea.

Du Yue nodded at the side: "Yes qianbei, it’s too dangerous for you to lure it to the underground glacier."

"He Yi knew about the laser corridor, and that I can pass through it. It would be difficult to lead it into that trap... But it reminds me that we need to find the others. After making sure that they haven’t been infected by the octopuses, I want to send them out of the research institute first, and then re-seal the basement of Annie's house. If they’re running around here, they could easily be killed by Leviathan," Qi Leren said.

The corner of Dr. Lu’s mouth twitched: "I think they aren’t already done for."

It was hard for Qi Leren to refute.

"But if you want to lure it to the underground glacier, will it be fooled?" Du Yue asked.

Qi Leren tried to maintain a strong smile: "Yes."

Only on this point, Qi Leren had full confidence. He would be able to taunt the monster’s ire towards him. As long as the laser corridor trap wasn’t in front of it, this monster would be like the most loyal boyfriend, only watching him in a crowd, abandoning all temptations and running towards him.

The two EX lucks, Dr. Lu and Du Yue, were just like wild flowers and weeds on the roadside, which were ignored by this single-minded monster.

This kind of thing had happened so many times that Qi Leren was used to it.

Time passed by, and there was only ten minutes left in Qi Leren's privacy time. The three people discussed how to explain it to the audience later, and unanimously recommended that Dr. Lu pretend to be the anchor, so that he could think of his lines quickly.

Dr. Lu wore a tearful expression as he auditioned:

Ladies and gentlemen of the audience, I have bad news. Just now, XXX went crazy, together with XXXX. Then they were all killed by Qi Leren and God. This god-like Qi Leren is neither a special soldier of the military nor an interstellar mercenary. Please believe that he is just an actor... Oh no, a lead singer of a tone-deaf band. Next, the lead singer of the strongest band in history is going to fight the boss. Please look forward to it.

"You really seem like a default actor. Come on, is this filming?" Anchor Lu said with disgust.

The heavy-hearted Qi Leren was not in the mood to make jokes and rolled his eyes.

He didn't want to waste any more time, so he could quickly took care of Leviathan and then set off for Ning Zhou in Purgatory.

Qi Leren pondered it. He could only use Save/Load now. Secretly Observing and Rain Day Laundry were cooling down alongside Prophet’s Heart. There were still Pleasing Rations left, but according to his experience, this monster was not in the range of creatures that could be bought off.

Then there were these weapons. Qi Leren picked up a rocket launcher and weighed it on his shoulder. Dr. Lu opened his mouth and said, "Wow, have you used that?"

"No, but I was shot at with one and hit straight on," Qi Leren said.

Dr. Lu looked at him with an expression of "I know you’re acting, but for the sake of friendship, I will barely cooperate with you." Only Du Yue, who was stupid, sincerely praised: "Qianbei is so powerful!"

Qi Leren glanced at the time. It was the early morning of the fifth day. Let's make it quick.

Dr. Lu considered his physical condition and suggested that Qi Leren rest for a few hours to refresh himself. Anyway, the door to the weapons room had been locked by him, so there was no need to worry about Leviathan breaking in.

In the past, Qi Leren might have thought about it, but now he was full of thoughts about Ning Zhou and refused this proposal.

Dr. Lu sighed: "Well, suit yourself. In fact, I’ve thought about waiting in this arsenal until the army arrives and rescues me. Either way, it can't get in."

Qi Leren was not so optimistic. The monster would come up with a way to break into the room sooner or later. Here, he could only wait to die, and...

Suddenly there was a slight noise above his head, as if something was crawling in a pipe. The three men looked up and looked at the metal ceiling above their heads, and fell into a strange silence.

Qi Leren suddenly thought of a problem.

The air of this large underground research institute was unexpectedly clean, and there was no staleness of air being trapped. Its exhaust facilities were obviously operational.

Qi Leren's eyes turned to the vents in the corner of the ceiling. There was a metal shutter one meter square. It seemed that the sound of something crawling had come from there!

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[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Being Human - Chapter 23

<= Chapter 22

Summary : Snatcher is taken to a familiar room of the manor. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/74145501

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(Trigger warning for this chapter : emotional abuse and creepy situation)

HEEEEEEY NEW CHAPTER

SO. Let me put some dates here.

Sunday 4th of April 2021 : chapter 24 will be posted. Thursday 8th of April 2021 : chapter 25 (last chapter) will be posted.

Why do I wait a few days to post the last chapters ? Because I want to draw for them, and, if possible, make as many drawings I can. Hopefully, you'll like this chapter and the last two as well ! Thank you for remaining so passionate about this story since its beginning, it means a lot to me !

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings​​ !

Uh if you’re interested, I post my progress on my chapters on Hatty Fan Time (the AHIT Discord server I’m moderating with two friends), so if you wanna join, go ahead !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 23 : “I can do this, I can… I will do this.”   

-“There we are,” sing-sang the Queen, opening the door leading to the nursery. To Snatcher’s horror, while the room was still relatively damaged, mostly with claw marks on the walls, it remained recognizable. The sight was enough to give him flashbacks of the time they had commissioned this room, of the time they had entered it the first time after it was completed- The former ghost could remember it like it was yesterday: the couple had been so happy, staying in the room for a good hour, imagining how their child would be like, how they wanted to give them as much love as possible… But none of that ever happened.

Instead, the Subcon Freezing had happened, ruining all hope for Snatcher to ever have kids, ruining his dreams of having a family with the woman he loved so, so much.

And now, he was back in that cursed room, a room that was reminding him of what could have been, had things been different.

Snatcher had no choice but to rely on Vanessa so he wouldn’t put any weight on his broken ankle. No need to say this was frustrating… And extremely frightening, having to depend on the one who had mercilessly killed you. The former ghost knew he had no choice anyway and he could do nothing but clench his teeth, hoping nothing would happen. With a swift gesture, the Queen grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him inside, soon closing the door behind them. The sudden movement made him cry out in pain as it forced his body to put weight on his injured ankle. It didn’t take long for Vanessa to notice what had happened and she quickly helped him to straighten, a sickening smile painted on her face.

-“There, there,” she cooed: “It’s okay. You know what you need ?” she then asked, completely out of the blue. A look of fear crossed his features as he heard her words. Oh, this couldn’t be good, now, could it…? The Queen remained silent after her own question and her face grew irritated, which were pretty good indicators that she was waiting for an answer from him. With this realization, the child quickly realized he had to give her a sign, anything- and so, unable to speak, he just shook his head, his whole body trembling from the pain, the fear and the cold.

Seeming satisfied with Snatcher’s reply, even if non-vocal, she smiled again and quickly picked him up without any warning. Naturally, out of surprise, the former ghost gasped and started to struggle. How could he not, when his own murderer was holding him in her arms, without any difficulty? However, it didn’t take much to convince him otherwise: Vanessa’s warning glare and the pain in his ankle from the movements were more than enough.

-“Now, now,” she sermonized him, all while carrying him to the crib. As soon as she got them both closer, he guessed her intents, and his face paled up. God, this nightmare was just becoming even worse- she was going to put him into the crib where their child should have been hundreds of years ago, should they have been born.

This was so disturbing, so creepy-…! But, apparently, Vanessa wasn’t seeing anything wrong with this. She really was taking him for a child, a child she had to care for.

This was sickening.

-“W-wait!” he interrupted her just as she was about to lower him into the pink crib, and she gave him both a confused and annoyed look.

-“What’s the matter?” she asked back, narrowing her eyes and furrowing her brow. Oh, this wasn’t good.

-“I’m… I’m too old to be in a cradle,” he tried, hoping this would be enough, though he couldn’t help but giggle nervously, his eyes looking away in fear they’d see anger on the Queen’s face, maybe worse. She stared at him for a moment… And soon enough, a light laughter left her lips, all trace of annoyance gone from her face, as if those had never been there in the first place.

-“Oh ho ho,” she took a deep breath as she finished laughing, sighing. Snatcher… Didn’t like that.

-“W-what…?” he wondered, his voice trembling from uncertainty and dread. Why would she laugh at something like this?

-“Oh, silly one,” she replied, an even more sickening smile painted on her ghostly lips, one that was letting him see her sharp fangs: “You need to rest, and I have the perfect bed for that. Your age doesn’t matter, does it? Cribs are for children, and you are one, don’t you?” she retorted, as if this was oh so very obvious.

Perhaps she had remained too unstable for years to remember cradles were for young infants, or toddlers. Her madness had affected her perception of reality, so much that she couldn’t see the problem here- or maybe she did, though in that case, why would she care? She had murdered him centuries ago, she wouldn’t feel guilty about forcing a kid into a crib!

And, well, it wasn’t like he could struggle more, seeing his injured ankle. After all, not only did this hurt, but this was also a very good warning of what could happen to him should he resist more. All of his instincts were crystal clear: “wait for the right opportunity”, they instructed him. And so, as the Queen lowered him into the cradle, Snatcher did his best not to cringe at the thought and didn’t resist. Once done, Vanessa stepped back and looked at him with a twisted fondness, one that made Snatcher want to throw up. Though he knew better and stayed still and silent.

-“Aaaw, look at you!” the Queen cooed, as if this was the cutest thing she had even seen in years- which was probably the case, in hindsight: “See, you fit just right!” At this remark, the young Prince examined the crib. Yeah, sure, he could fit while sitting- but lying down? This was another story. With the body of a twelve years old kid, or around that age, it was obvious this was the worst choice ever for a bed.

Although… Although this was much, much better than being put in Vanessa’s, he just realized. A chill ran down his spine at the thought. Yeah… Yeah, the cradle wasn’t so bad in comparison.

Snatcher’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard a clap of hands next to him- and unsurprisingly, it was her.

-“Good!” she spoke again: “Now that you’re ready to rest, I’ll bake some cookies!” She started to walk to the door and the former shade felt relieved at the idea of her leaving him alone- but just before exiting the room, she stopped and turned to him, a knowing smile on her lips:

-“Stay in the bed and sleep, alright?” she told him, and Snatcher had no trouble to detect that this was not a suggestion: “I don’t want anyone running around here. Otherwise, there will be consequence. Have I made myself clear… Uh…” she stopped for a moment, thinking, before tilting her head to the side: “Wait, what is your name? I don’t think I asked you before, did I?”

Oh. Oh crap. He obviously couldn’t give her his old name, this was the worst possible thing to do- but what other name could he use? Obviously, if he took too much time to decide, she would know… And yet, no words could leave his mouth.

Snatcher was simply paralyzed. At no time he had expected her to ask about his name- but how could he not think of anything like this?

-“Well?” she urged him, getting suspicious. Oh no, oh no, he had to find something, quick…!

-“Lu...” he tried, hoping he’d find a name close to his old one, something that would easily evoke close forms of the name “Lukas”, he lacked too much time to think more. But nothing was coming in his mind: “Lu…!”

The Queen frowned, confused.

-“Lulu?” she repeated, as a confirmation she had understood. Instantly, a wave of relief washed over him, though he did his best to hide it as much as he could.

-“Y-yes,” he nodded weakly, with a trembling smile: “That’s… That’s my name, yes,” he lied, trying so hard to keep his “happy mask” on. As a response, Vanessa stared at him, as if she were watching for any sign of lie in his words, in his expression. Snatcher hands were becoming clammy from how dreadful this whole situation was, his heart was beating loud and fast in his chest, he was doing his best to keep his breathing under control, no matter how difficult this was… And, finally…!

-“This is such a cute name!” exclaimed Vanessa with glee, clasping her hands once more: “Well, Lulu. I hope I can trust you, right?” Another warning, one that was even more obvious than the last one. The former ghost forced himself to smile again, despite how insincere it must have looked- but perhaps Vanessa was too unstable to see it, or so he hoped.

-“Of… Of course!” he lied again, with a nod: “I’ll just… Sleep and wait for you to come back,” he assured, hoping this would suffice. And fortunately…

-“Perfect!” her face lightened up, yet Snatcher couldn’t tell if she was fully convinced. In any case, she grabbed the door handle and waved at him affectionately, like a mother would do to her child. This was… Extremely upsetting, given the circumstances. Still, the child merely forced another smile… And let out a huge sigh of relief as the Queen finally left the room.

Gods, this had been much, much more terrorizing than anything he could have potentially imagined.

Doing everything he could to remain silent, the young Prince listened closely to her steps slowly getting away, and waited a few more minutes, just to be sure. When he was sure she was definitely far away from this room, Snatcher tried to straighten up, only to be cut short by the acute pain on his ankle. Oh yeah.

There was this problem too.

The former ghost winced and frowned. What could he do for that? He couldn’t possibly escape with such an injury… Not only would it hurt, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to move discreetly. With Vanessa being in the room under this one… Oh, yes, she would definitely hear him. Then what? It wasn’t like he could miraculously heal that ankle-

However, his body froze as a stroke of genius burst in his mind. Maybe, just, maybe this could work… Frowning and wincing in advance, not really sure if this would succeed… Snatcher moved his hands to his broken ankle and closed his eyes, focusing.

He had learnt healing magic in his past life… Now, it was just a matter of hoping this small and frail body would allow him to use it. And so, the former ghost tried to find the small spark of magic he still had under this form. Breathing in and out, it was like trying to find something that was now hidden in the depth of his mind, something that felt so familiar and yet so foreign.

“Come on…” he urged himself, feeling himself getting closer and closer to that feeling he was trying so hard to find. Healing magic wasn’t as easy as fire one for him, one of the main reasons being that his mother’s family had been gifted with the power of fire. Summoning flames was thus easier for him- healing magic, though? This was a complete new story. While fire had been easy to learn at the time, him being a natural at it, the other types of magic had to be learnt the traditional way, with teachers, a lot of reading and study times, and getting familiarized with the elements you were learning.

Of course, in his situation, Snatcher couldn’t really use any of those things. All he could do was trying to focus… And soon enough, he began to feel tingles at the tips of his fingers. Yes, this is what he had been looking for! A small smile of victory spread on his lips, but he did his best to remain focused. In the meantime, the child could feel his injured ankle becoming number and number to the pain, and maybe… Bones shifting around a bit, though it was more uncomfortable than actually painful. This was working, this was working, he knew it, he knew he could-!

And suddenly, Snatcher felt like he lost all grasp on his magic. Shocked, the former shade opened his eyes, the tingling sensation in his fingertips quickly disappearing as if it had never been there at all. Why? Confusion spread onto his features and he looked at his hands, almost hoping he’d see what went wrong. But everything seemed normal.

And in fact, it was, thinking about it. The fact that he had been able to summon healing magic when he was in a body inexperienced with it… Was already quite an achievement, and it made sense it wouldn’t last, that this would be too unstable for that.

The former ghost tentatively moved his ankle, already wincing in advance in fear of how much it would hurt- but it wasn’t as painful as he had first thought. He slowly and carefully palpated his skin, trying to feel what had changed. Sure, touching it hurt, however… However, he was almost sure that his bones weren’t broken anymore.

He had managed to heal the biggest part of his injury. A long sigh of relief left his lips: things were… Going really well. But Snatcher was far from being over with this, oh, very, very far. He still had to escape this cursed place.

As silently as he could, Snatcher straightened up and hopped over the guardrail of the crib. His feet met the floor with a muffled sound, which was enough to scare him: had Vanessa heard anything? The sudden pressure on his ankle made his face tensed greatly though he managed to contain the urge to whine in pain.

This body was definitely one of a child… But to the former shade, he was sure that his mind had been altered to a degree, and this was not something he liked. He had to find the kids and Moonjumper, making sure they were alive, that he had managed to save them… And have the brats returning him to his adult for- no, his spirit form. Yes, that was what he wanted, and for a moment, he felt confused as to why this hadn’t been the first thing popping in his mind.

What was happening to him…?

The child forced his mind to focus back on reality: this wasn’t the time for questions. Who knew how much time he had before Vanessa decided to check up on him? If he had to try something, without getting caught, this was literally now or never. Waiting was dangerous, especially if his friends needed him- it was really cold outside, freezing even… Would he even get there on time? He was pretty far away, especially on foot…

“No,” he tried to reassure himself: “I can do this, I can… I will do this.”

Determination was now fueling inside of him, almost making him forget the pain in his ankle and how low the temperatures were in the manor. He himself was also on a time limit: his fragile body would become less efficient the colder it would get- Snatcher couldn’t lose any more time.

Slowly, silently, the child moved to the door and slightly opened it. Good, it hadn’t been locked, and he couldn’t hear anything coming closer, whether it was a voice or steps. Another sigh of relief left his lips, and after hesitating a bit… The young Prince took a deep breath and moved forward, entering the hallway with a mix of apprehension, fear, and resolve.

He was going to leave this manor and find his friends again.

This was a promise.

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ONLY TWO CHAPTERS LEFT

I hope you liked this chapter, I can't wait to show you the ending of this fanfiction ! Thank you so much for following me this far, and I hope you'll be there for my next fanfic too ! (I already have an idea of the story, so now it's a matter of making it better and actually writing it).

See you next Sunday !

=> Chapter 24

[janekfan]

ive been Searching and Craving for any scenario/canon divergent au where jon and tim make up because jon shows tim thats hes just as much a victim as anyone else and tim is just like... ah. so we're both assholes. and jon insists that tim didnt do anything wrong (and obviously its all very whumpy and hurt/comforty). basically just... tim and jon making up because tim wants to after jon tugs at his heartstrings enough (because im a sucker for the whole "whatve i done" bit)

Here we go!! Sorry these are taking so long but I’m still working on prompts!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972698/chapters/67878991#workskin

Too Much Chapter 2!

Watching Martin remove the evidence of panic by carefully, slowly, swiping a damp flannel over Jon’s skin, Tim continued holding the cold pack in place. The man between them made a sound, nondescript, shifting enough that his lips parted with a soft sigh as he settled.

“He’s made a right mess of these.” Martin lamented, gingerly lifting one hand to examine the heavy bandages, soiled with fresh blood and coming undone. Not altogether certain he wanted to know what was hidden away beneath, Tim stayed silent. “Would you mind fetching the first aid kit while I get rid of these?” He used the time away to take a deep breath, attempting to gather his rampant thoughts now that he was roped into fixing up their boss. There was always the possibility of giving him the kit and hightailing it out of that place and never setting foot near document storage again but before he realized what he’d done he’d accumulated other supplies he figured they might need and the relief in Martin’s eyes when he slipped back into the room was palpable. Jon’s hands were bare, blisters laid over blisters, broken and bleeding sluggishly from torn welts, one palm layered over with a nasty burn. Tim couldn’t help the noise torn from his throat in sympathy as the walls he’d built around himself began to crumble under the weight of Jon’s wounds--and he wasn’t even the one to bear them! Jon had acquired more scars, more shadows in the gaunt hollows carved into his body by his bones since Prentiss. It was like laying eyes on a stranger, or opening his own and finally seeing what his negligent ignorance had truly cost.

Were these marks, this pain, not proof that Jon had every right to be scared? Paranoid? To suspect them? When it was his own “friends” raising hands violently against him?

“What. Martin, what happened?” He accepted the water, easing Jon’s arm over the edge of the bed and doing Tim the kindness of not reminding him that he’d never cared to know before.

“I couldn’t tell you what caused most of this, but you know. Daisy.” He swallowed, eyes narrowing as he dabbed away the worst of the scarlet slicking his skin and Tim saw red at the reminder. How dare she touch him. “Hush now, you’re alright.” Jon’s arm twitched, an aborted attempt to tug his hand away from Martin’s surely painful ministrations. “Just cleaning these up.”

“Hnn…” Saltwater-soaked lashes fluttered and damn his body’s reactions but Tim was at his side on the cot before he could blink and wholly unsure of what to do now that he was there, settling on running fingers through tangled curls, teasing out the knots as Martin worked. Clouded and slightly crossed, Jon’s glazed brown eyes peered up at him, through him, blinking slow, and Tim could feel the heat of his fever under his palms.

“Hey, bud.” Surprising himself with his own softness, Tim continued combing through his hair. “Close your eyes, boss. Marto’s fixing you right up.”

“Hur’s.” Badly slurred and tinged with vulnerability he wasn’t used to anymore, Jon’s voice sent a chill racing up Tim’s spine.

“I know.” He said anyway. “It won’t soon.” Trust and exhaustion won out, dragging bruised lids closed. “Martin.” Tim didn’t look up, tracing silver strands, so many, with the fingertips. “I would like to know. Please.”

Martin hummed, finished up the first hand, the worst hand, and cradled it over Jon’s stomach in a poor attempt at elevation before starting on the next one.

“I haven’t gotten much out of Jon--not because he won’t tell me!” He amended, remembering the promise Jon had made to be honest with them and clearly worried it would make Tim angry again if he thought he was keeping secrets. “He’s just. I mean.”

“I understand.” After leaving Elias’ office, whatever tenacity and fortitude Jon managed to scrape together after his ordeal with Daisy and Basira had faded quickly. Even Tim wasn’t able to ignore how bad off he was, more along the lines of being unable to explain than lacking any desire.

“I know she, she hit him. He’s bruised all over. Clocked him with her gun I assume, to leave him concussed--I still can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s alright. We’ve all been. Preoccupied.” Some of them only with themselves.

“He was filthy, covered in dirt and I think bl’blood? Not his. Or, not all of it I think.” Martin rubbed his own neck thoughtfully, tracing a path that mirrored the red grin carving up Jon’s throat. “I think.” He looked into Tim’s eyes, haunted. “I, I overheard them saying he’d been made to d’dig a grave.”

“His grave.” There was no real proof, not yet. But it felt right. And Tim felt sick. “His hands.”

“The burn is bad, I don’t know how he got it.” A crease formed between Martin’s knit brows. “I. Tim.” He sighed. “You’ve been so furious with him.” He dragged both hands down his face. “Jon’s doing his best. Please, you have to believe that.”

“I think I’m beginning to.” He’d yet to stop his detangling. Jon liked when people he trusted played with his hair, especially when he wasn’t feeling well. Unbidden and effervescent, memories rose to the surface of Tim’s mind, each a different moment, beads of time strung on delicate silk strands. Sasha. Sasha, whose true face, true voice, had been written over and worn, her hands on Jon’s shoulders, working out the tension he carried there despite his complaints. Tim himself draping a cardigan over him where he slumped forward on his desk in Research when he succumbed to sleep. A rare moment at someone’s apartment, Jon three drinks in, flushed bright red and ridiculous, throwing himself into Tim’s lap and nuzzling his stomach until he got what he wanted; hands in his hair, on his back, honest to god cuddles. The embarrassment in the morning would paint him vivid with blush and he would accept the painkillers and tea with a shy grin.

That Jon was still in there.

Right?

For the first time in his career Tim chose to come into work early, heading immediately to doc storage to find Jon curled up against Martin, ruddy face squished against his chest and arm slung over his waist as though he’d recently been clinging there.

And if this had been another time, another universe, he would have teased them both, but the shadows under their eyes were beginning to match.

“We had a hard night.” Martin yawned hugely and Tim caught a quick glimpse of glassy brown at the movement but Jon passed out again in the next second. “Nightmares. You remember Crew?” Tim nodded. “Explains the vertigo. He’s going to want to work.” Martin’s palm found its way to the back of Jon’s head, tucked him under his chin as he exhaled, slow and measured.

“And you want him to rest.”

“He won’t.”

He didn’t.

But the dizziness kept him in his office for the most part and Tim helped keep an eye on him, checking up regularly, awkwardly. It was almost like old times. Except Jon was careful not to speak. Not now that he might force answers out of someone. Not now that he might be hurt because of it. Jon was smart. He tried to remember the things he learned because he only seemed to learn the hard way and right now he was trying to figure out Tim while Tim was trying to figure out himself, wary of the change towards him, confused when instead of lashing out, he asked if he needed anything.

“N’no, thank you, Tim.”

“It’s no trouble.” But it was physically painful to watch the gears turn as Jon balanced the possibility of pissing him off with how uncomfortable he was in this situation. “I’ll check back later, yeah?”

“Uh. Y’yeah. Yes. I mean, yes.” Nervously, he shifted between folders. “Of c’course.”

The day dragged and Jon’s fever and groggy exhaustion lingered, kept barely in check by Martin plying him with the painkillers and fever reducers because he refused A&E. It was frustrating, even if he was looking somewhat improved. When they caught him asleep it was often in the throes of a taxing nightmare. He was a shadow in his attempts to avoid them all, to focus on work, and now that Tim was paying attention he didn’t like how Basira was so cold, how Daisy made Jon flinch on purpose, how Melanie went out of her way to collide with him in the narrow hallways. How he was slight enough, unsteady enough that it sent him into the wall.

How he did nothing about it except murmur apologies and move past them as quick as he could.

Jon was back to pushing himself too hard, not bothering to ask for help because he’d never gotten any before so it wasn’t worth bothering with it now. He was alone. Deserted by everyone except for Martin--and oh the way his expression lit up at the sight of him. How soft his voice became when he thanked him for the tea. Tim knew Martin couldn’t see it yet, or wouldn’t let himself realize, but Jon was taken with him. Smitten. And already believed beyond a doubt that he had no worth. As prickly as Jon could be there was so much love in him just vying for a way out.

How could Tim have forgotten that?

Tim paced the length of the archives three times before heading back to check on Jon, alarmed when the office was empty. Worry, both familiar and unfamiliar, twined its way around his heart. He'd watched as the afternoon hours slipped by and Jon became worse and Tim didn’t bother asking anyone he came across; they didn’t care, he wasn’t supposed to care. But there weren’t many places Jon would go and Tim found him in the breakroom stabilizing himself on the sink. He didn’t react, didn’t turn, didn’t seem to know anyone was behind him, and Tim could make out shivery, deliberate breaths. Jon let go, lifting a hand dazedly to his forehead and staggering backwards such that Tim had to steady him.

“Whoa there, Boss.” Softly, quietly, Tim knew his head was still pounding more often than not no matter how adamant his denial. It didn’t stop Jon from flinching like he’d been struck or attempting to whirl around and only making it all that much worse as eyes filled with fear rolled back into his head and Tim had to catch him outright, lowering him to the floor and pillowing his shoulders in his lap. Unconsciously, he laid a palm over his overwarm forehead, dragging fingers back through damp strands rhythmically and wondering how he’d react to waking up with Tim staring down at him. They were dancing around each other, or at least Tim was. Jon couldn’t do much more than sit at his desk in what amounted to pyjamas and pretend to work in an attempt to wedge some normalcy back into his life.

“What happened?” At least now Martin’s inquiry wasn’t accusatory as he knelt beside them and checked over Jon himself. “How long?”

“Minute. Maybe two? He, uh. I surprised him and when he turned…” he trailed off, gesturing with a sigh.

“Ma’tin…” nothing more than a small breath of awareness in recognition of his voice, eyes still closed.

“You should be at your desk.” Lightly scolding.

“Nn...was col’...tea…” Tim met Martin’s eyes with worry at the barely coherent jumble of syllables caught on his sluggish tongue and he held up a hand, signaling him to wait.

“What’re we going to do with you, hm?”

“...Dunno…” He’d failed to understand the gentle ribbing for what it was, instead answering honestly, tearfully, and it tugged on Tim’s heartstrings. Martin chuckled kindly to ease the sting, moving forward to lift his weight off from Tim and standing still to let Jon wind a hand loosely into his jumper, hanging on for dear life with a gasp.

“You sound tired.”

“Mmyeah...tire’...” And that discordant admission alone was enough to cause alarm, doubly so when his body lost all rigidity in Martin’s hold.

“Martin--”

“Shh, Tim. He’s alright.” Protectiveness urged Tim to follow them back to document storage. Concern made him sit down before Martin asked. “Stay with him? I don’t want him to forget and wander off again. I’m gonna get that tea and something for the fever.” Tim supported his chin with a hand, elbow digging sharply into the top of his knee, and watched Jon sleep. With his eyes, he traced invisible constellations over the worm scars dotting his skin and connected their lines to the ink dark splash of lashes twitching as he dreamed. “What’re you thinking about?”

“How much running I’ve been doing.”

“Mm.”

“How much easier it was to ignore all this if I just hated Jon instead. Blamed him for it.” He lifted his fingers in a bitter and general indication of their unreasonably bad situation. “He’s made mistakes. We all have. And his are the only ones I’m not willing to forgive.” Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, stung. “Why is that?” His skin blushed with heat when his voice broke on a sob and before Martin could speak they were interrupted.

“Head’spounding…” He could barely keep his eyes open.

“Ah, I’m sorry, love, I know, here,” he was like a rag doll when Martin lifted him. “This’ll help.” Tim watched the ease with which Martin navigated Jon. All sweet and kind, steadying his hands when they proved too shaky to hold the cup, testing his temperature with the inside of his wrist when Jon was distracted with swallowing down the medicine.

“Shouldn’t do this.” Whispered, lost and undone, as Martin tucked him in, gripping back tightly when Jon grew dizzy with the change. “M’sorry.”

“You say that too often, Boss.”

“Hush, both of you.” To Jon, “we can all talk later, when you’re feeling better. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to rest.” And while he didn’t look convinced, he was helpless against the drag of that heavy, insistent tide of exhaustion.

“Never liked to owe people, our Jon.” Martin sighed, frustrated.

“It’s not a transaction. I wish he’d trust that I only want to help.” Tim snickered ruefully as Martin tucked stray salt and pepper strands behind Jon’s ears.

“He’s always been suspicious of decency.”

“That’s not right.” There was a lot wrong with it, and far too much to solve at this moment.

“You look knackered, Martin. Go home.” He needed caring for after keeping them all together like he’d done. “I’ve got it from here.”

“I don’t want to ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, Marto.”

“Tim--”

“I need to. I. I need to do this.”

Tim was worried that the only reason Martin left him here alone was because he was too tired to spend another night here keeping an eye on the both of them. He only had himself to blame when it came to the loss of trust.

It was no secret his dislike of Jon.

He hadn’t forgotten his treatment of him just the other day. Yanking him up off the ground and shouting at him, blaming him for his confusion and unsteadiness, for worrying Martin while he’d been the one ill and frightened and unmoored on the dusty floor. A mournful cry jolted him out of his musings, and the nightmare didn’t sound kind, wrenching Jon awake and leaving him panting, narrow chest heaving, eyes wide and unfocused in the dim.

“Hey.” Soft and quiet, it didn’t stop Jon from jumping in surprise, nearly swooning when he jerked his head in the direction of his voice. “Back with me?”

“Tim.” Real surprise, he blinked hard, trying to clear his bleary vision. “Yeah. S’sorry.” Jon offered him a sheepish quirk of his lips.

“I’m the one who needs to apologize, Jon.” He swallowed thickly and Tim could hear the click in his throat, somewhere behind the bandage hiding that yawning red grin from sight.

“Wh’what?”

“I’ve treated you unfairly.”

“No, no, Tim. You. You had every right! I was out of line and suspected the worst with no proof and didn’t trust yo--” Jon was trying to get up, ignoring how it had to hurt, and when Tim made to stop him, he flinched in real fear and backed himself into the corner. “S’sorry. I. It’s, it isn’t you, I swear.” Guilt wrapped around Tim’s heart like a thorny vine at his stammering apologies, at the way Jon laughed at himself and scrubbed his face with the back of a bandaged hand, staring up at the ceiling as new tears pooled in his eyes. “A lot’s h’happened.” When he closed them, the damp rolled down his cheeks into the grey at his temple. “I,I,I know you don’t w’want to hear it. But I, I don’t have anything else left t’to offer and I’m so s’sorry.” Jon tucked up his knees and buried his tear-stained face in the blankets he pulled around himself. Scared and small and awaiting derision. Tim edged closer.

"Jon.” He reached out to touch and thought better of it. “I think. I think I'm ready to hear it now." Consumed by constant fear and torment, run ragged for months and months, when Jon risked glancing up at him Tim could finally look past his anger and see him. Flushed with fever, thin and drawn, bruised and beaten and burned.

But still Jon.

Still Jon, terrified of the kind of help he'd been taught by experience not to ask for. Not to accept. Not to trust. Not to need.

“No, n’no, Tim. It’s.” He sniffed, tried to offer Tim a watery smile. “M’not feeling w’well, heh. You know how I, how I am.”

“I know you don’t take care of yourself.” He continued before Jon could interrupt. “I know I’ve left you to deal with this alone.” Indeed, at the very first sign of trouble, Tim abandoned him to his own devices. “I understand why it’s been difficult to trust me.”

“Not just you.” Tim had to strain to hear him, voice tiny, wavering with misery. “It’s so hard to trust, I have to, to think about it, choose it, don’t I. Talk myself out of how a’afraid I am all the t’time. I can’t even trust myself, my words. I. They. It’s easier to not speak at all, if it can be helped. And I try. But. Tim.” Fraught, brown irises nearly swallowed by black pupil bored into him, begged him to listen, to see. “I’m a monster.”

“Jon--” He tugged at messy curls, ignoring the pain it had to cause, the spots of blood, and if Jon would let him, he would need to fix the wrappings after this. He’d folded into himself even tighter, rocking himself just slightly in an attempt at comfort.

“If everyone is saying it, it must be true. But I’m trying. I promise, Tim, I promise. I was hoping it counted for something, anything. I can’t. I.” He broke off, attempting to pull himself together, face contorted and when he noticed Tim’s stricken expression, stumbled on with half-thought out reassurances. “I, I won’t stop! T’trying, that is. I, I, I want to, to be better. I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s not about counting, it’s about doing the right thing. Or something close to--it never seems to work out, I’m not. I keep doing the wrong things so I know--but I p’promise--and besides, D’Daisy’s watching, if you’re worried, heh.” He laughed, a little broken thing, tears glittering in his eyes. “She’ll put me d’down. If that makes you feel any better.”

And god how could he think Tim wanted that? Jon, living with the knowledge that any mistakes he made could lead to--

Hanging over his head. Just awaiting collapse.

“That’s. Jon, I don’t want her to do that.”

“Oh. Did.” Tim realized the pause was an attempt at managing his powers of compulsion. “Did you want to? Instead I mean?” Tim recoiled in horror at the genuine curiosity, the dull acceptance that they all might be waiting for their chance. Numbness flooded his fingers. And even though Tim knew Jon was trying to use the right words, the ones that would make him feel better, he was furious.

“How could you think that?!” Jon held up his raggedly bandaged hands, the blisters from digging his own grave and who knows what else hidden from view.

“I, I’m sorry, I. You’re right, that was stupid of me. I’m sorry, Tim, I’m sorry, I--” Tim cut him off by sweeping him into an embrace, pressing his face into his shoulder. He was little more than bones rattling around in a scarred and ruined skin, shaking in his arms, his own held away, stiff. Dear lord, what had he done? “T’Tim? I, I’m sorry I’ve upset you.”

“Stop it, Jon.” And he collapsed, spent from his outpouring, breath loud in Tim’s ear. “Just stop.” Tentative, Jon wrapped him up in return. “I’m going to do better.”

“You don’t--”

“I do. And I am.” Damp soaked into his sleeve despite the silence with which Jon sobbed, little more than uneven, ardent gasping as they clung to each other.

“B’but.” He pressed closer, starved for it. “I.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been so afraid.” Murmured against his shirt, Tim could feel the shapes of his words, the trembling of his lips.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you. You mean. If, if you--I couldn’t stand it. If it wasn’t real.” Desperately, he whispered, thick with tears. “Don’t think I’d survive losing you again.” Too much loss. Too much all around and not one time had Tim thought about who he still had.

“I’m going to help you.” Tim realized then he’d been crying as well. “Like I should have from the start of this mess.” Gently, he pulled him away, took his damaged hands. “Let me get these fixed up. If Martin sees them, he’ll have both our heads on pikes.” For a moment, Tim was worried it was too soon, that Jon would need to hide this vulnerability from him, and he held his breath, until he nodded, just once.

It would take time, but they’d made a start.

[bluesfortheredj]

Modern Romance - Epilogue.

Smut ahead.

“Gwil, I can’t do this, I can’t cope,” she sighs, her voice on the verge of cracking with tears.

I can hear our son in the background; his cries coming across loud and clear as if it were him on the phone instead.

“It’s as if I’m not good enough, I’m not you. He doesn’t want his mum, he wants his dad.”

“Don’t say that, he doesn’t want me! He wants you, the person who gave birth to him.”

“He always calms down when you soothe him. I’ve tried everything; his nappy is dry, he’s not hungry, he hasn’t got wind… I don’t know what else to do,” she sounds empty, completely drained from a sleepless night and day.

I’ve only been gone 48 hours and she’s been up for most of those with our little one. I should be there, I say this too many times in our relationship, but I’m out in Europe filming and absent for more important moments as usual. I didn’t want to leave but in all honesty we need the money now we’ve got a tiny human to feed and clothe, and with (Y/N) on maternity leave it’s a struggle at times to make ends meet. Our little Leo is only six months old and it was the toughest decision to make but (Y/N) encouraged me to take it being as it’s only four weeks, despite being apprehensive about being left on her own with the bubba.

“Put me on video,” I instruct, needing to see her face.

It feels like Australia all over again and I might as well be the other side of the world with how isolated she must be feeling right now. She does as I say and now I can see the sheer exhaustion on her face in the suddenly harsh light of our lounge; she’s pale, there are deep dark circles underneath her eyes, and she looks completely beaten. Leo is screaming in the rocker next to her, one of her feet still managing to try and soothe him in spite of the fact that her whole body was now weak with tiredness, and I have to force a reassuring smile.

“He will not. Stop. Crying,” she sobs, “the neighbours must think something terrible is going on in here with the way he’s screaming. I’m an awful mother, I can’t cope being alone with my own child, I-”

“Shh,” I hush, “you’re doing a brilliant job under the circumstances. I should be there to help, there’s absolutely no shame in struggling on your own with a new born! Just look at me… look at me a second… just breathe okay? Take some deep breaths. That’s it. In… and out. Now you’re gonna pick up Leo and do the same okay?”

I’m clutching at straws, I have no more of an idea of what to do than she does, and I’m just making this up in the blind hope that it’ll go some way to calm the two of them down.

“Maybe do the skin to skin thing?” I add, knowing that we were told how it can help with bonding in the early months.

She nods slowly, stands the phone up on the coffee table, undoes the top few buttons on her pyjama shirt, takes one last deep breath, then picks up Leo from the rocker and carefully tucks him inside the clothing with his little red face still crying out for something unknown. I nod and smile as she looks to the phone screen for reassurance, then she wipes her tears away and starts to take deep breaths once more while her finger tips massage Leo’s scalp gently while he cries into her neck.

“You know him better than anyone on this planet,” I remind her, “you nurtured him for nine whole months and made sure he came into this world as safely and healthy as he could.”

Her eyes close as she begins to hum a song and she nods along to what I say until finally those screams begin to fade and I watch as his tiny chunky arms reach out to (Y/N)’s skin and rest upon it as if hugging her. The humming stops and I soon realise the two of them are now asleep in front of me, but I stay on video for another twenty minutes just to watch them both and take in the sight of my little family snoozing happily without me there. Leo stirs a little, his eyes opening slightly to look up at his mum, then he nuzzles into her neck with a yawn and he’s soon off to sleep again before I manage to end the video call.

Everything had been quite the rush since I proposed over a year ago; we had a small wedding ceremony at a country house in the middle of nowhere when she was six months gone with only the closest family and friends being invited, and we chose to forgo a honeymoon in favour of going away after the baby arrived which obviously did not go to plan because babies are notoriously good at messing up plans; it’s lucky they’re so bloody cute. And Leo… well, he’s the cutest of them all, not that I’m biased in any way obviously, but he is definitely the most gorgeous baby I’ve ever laid eyes on, and the most perfect mix of (Y/N) and I with his tiny button nose and piercing blue eyes. It’s funny how you imagine having the perfect little family and yet somehow the reality isn’t as easy as you think; sleepless nights, sick down every top you own, explosive poos in almost every colour of the rainbow, pee on your face if you take the nappy away too quickly… it’s really quite fascinating how much a small human can impact on your life. (Y/N) is a born mother but it hasn’t been easy adjusting to this new way of life for either of us, and I know that this is such a huge step to be left on her own with Leo for so long, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do it, I know that for a fact.

“Gwil!” (Y/N) whispers excitedly when I answer her video call a few days later, “look!”

She switches cameras to show me a sleeping Leo in his cot then backs out of the room and turns the camera on herself to show me a relieved smile on her still slightly sleep deprived face, “it only took a week,” she sighs.

I smile, yet still feel sad that I’m not there to help out, “I’m sorry,” I exhale with a shake of my head, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she reassures, “if I can get through the last week without tearing my hair out then I can get through anything, right?”

“Exactly,” I nod, “you’re the strongest woman I know.”

“I’m nothing without you here.”

“Shut up,” I scoff, “don’t be ridiculous. Now remind me, when are your parents getting there?”

She looks down at her watch briefly, “in about an hour.”

“Good, and did the shopping get delivered alright?”

“Yep,” she nods, “got about 20 packs of nappies now which should last at least a couple of days,” she laughs.

“How’s his poo doing?” the conversations we have these days really are quite unexpected.

“It’s looking more human and less glowing alien goop, so it’s going in the right direction!”

“Oh thank god,” I sigh, “I could not cope with the…” I pause as I almost gag at the thought of what I used to find in his nappy, “yeah… that.”

She laughs at my reaction; a laugh that I hadn’t seen since before I left, and I melt into the seat at the desk in my hotel room at the sight and sound of that beautiful response. It was like cool rain after a sweltering summer’s day, having a mug of hot chocolate while underneath a blanket in winter, or the pure, ecstatic relief of coming home after weeks away. She’s home to me; I don’t even need to be in our house as long as I’m with her and now little Leo as well.

“What are you thinking?” she hums, seeing me drift off to a place with her.

“I’m just-”

Leo’s scream comes across loud and clear on the phone and she sticks out her bottom lip as far as it will go before knocking the back of her head on the wall behind as she tries to muster up some energy to deal with the impending situation.

“I love you, bye,” she sighs, ending the video call just as I open my mouth to reply.

“Love you too,” I say to the photo of us dancing at our wedding that makes up the background on my phone.

I spend far too long looking at pictures on my phone these days, although it’s getting increasingly harder to find the ones of us alone through the many rapid shots of Leo doing completely mundane things like giggling, waving his hands about, sleeping, eating, bathing, and most probably pooing in at least fifty percent of them. I have to scroll for a while before something other than our little man appears, and I end up going all the way back to the first photo I ever took of (Y/N). It’s just as magical as the day I took it; the soft glow of the rising sun illuminating the outline of her body in our bed. Because now it is our bed. The bed we’ve made love in countless times, the bed we’ve both cried in, comforted one another in, laughed until we’ve almost wet ourselves in, and the bed our baby was conceived in. The first thing I do when I get home is take her to bed, as long as Leo can give us five minutes that is; I think I’ll have to call in reinforcements, aka grandparents as childcare.

-

I try to squeeze through the crowds at the airport as quickly as possible so I can jump in a cab and get home, but these people will just not move. My frustrations grow with each person that bumps into me, and I’m a grumbling mess when I finally get outside the prison that is Heathrow, especially when I see that there are no taxis in sight thanks to the mass influx of people tonight. It’s a nightmare and the cheerful and relieved mood I was in when we landed has been stripped away bit by bit in the last half an hour. I finally find myself a cab and pop earphones in for the relatively quick journey considering London traffic, then I breathe a sigh of relief as I arrive home and walk up that familiar path. The door flies open before I even get to the mat and I drop my suitcase and bag as (Y/N) comes running out to greet me, flinging her arms around my neck and almost knocking me over with her enthusiasm. Now I’m really home.

“I missed you so much,” she quietly sobs into my shirt.

“I missed you more,” I whisper back, tears rolling over my cheeks, “are you okay? Is Leo alright? Where is he?”

She pulls away and I wipe her tears as she hangs on to my coat, “please don’t hate me but he’s with my parents until tomorrow…”

My face lights up at the thought of having (Y/N) all to myself again if only for 24 hours, and I can’t help but let out a relieved laugh, “how could I ever hate you? I get you alone for a whole day and we can pretend we’ve got no actual responsibilities. I couldn’t love you any more if I tried. Now come on, we’re having sex in every room.”

I take her hand and pull her inside the house to the sweetest sound of her laughing behind me, and I sit her on the stairs before running back out to grab my luggage. I drop it all in a pile in the hallway before I kick the door shut behind me, then she stands up on the step she stood on the first proper weekend we spent together and we recreate that kiss; the kiss that cemented us as a couple despite there being no labels at that point as we stood in our pyjamas ready for a night of nothing in particular.

“I completely and utterly adore our little Leo, but my god I’ve been aching to have you all to myself since he arrived,” I admit breathlessly, barely parting from our kiss as my hands wander her body unsure of where to stop these days.

“I know,” she nods as her lips move along my jaw lazily, “it’s just you and me until tomorrow night my love. Let’s not waste a minute.”

My eyes roll into the back of my head at those words and she pushes against my chest as she steps down from the stairs, then in a flurry of discarded clothes, wet, messy kisses and bumps into walls, doors, and furniture we somehow end up in the living room with me sat on the sofa and my beautiful (Y/N) bouncing up and down on my lap. I’ve missed this, I’ve missed her, I’ve missed the feeling of being so intimate with the one I love, I’ve missed her body and all the beautiful little changes it’s made to carry and nurture our son. I look up at her in both awe and pure pleasure to see her gaze focused on me and we meet for a sloppy, teeth clashing kiss while our bodies move together as one for the first time since our bubba came along. I’m first to orgasm, with her following shortly after, and we lay in a tangled, naked mess along the sofa as we catch our breath once we’ve finished. Our bodies are stuck together with the thin layers of sweat that coat both of us and the only sound is our breathing as it transitions from pants to soft breaths.

“Pasta?” she eventually asks.

“I fucking love you,” I reply.

She gets up with a grin and I study every inch of her body as she looks around for something to cover her, then I realise just how much it had changed during the pregnancy and the last few months and it’s a bewitching sight to see.

“You look incredible,” I admire, leaning up on one arm as she slips my t-shirt over her head.

“Urgh,” she groans, “I’m fatter than ever, my nipples are so painful, the stretch marks have spread, and I can barely get control over my bladder. I look far from incredible.”

I furrow my brow at her and sit up, “I mean it; you’re absolutely stunning. I hadn’t realised just how much your body had adapted to having our little one but it’s amazing to see, and you’re just as beautiful as the day I met you, if not more.”

“How is it you can still make my knees weak with mere words?” she blushes, backing out of the room to sort out some food.

I dress… well, I put on my pants and the jogging bottoms I wore on the journey back, then join her in the kitchen and it’s as if we’re back to those first couple of months again; the silliness, the passion, the carefree nature of us both, and it’s just as intoxicating now as it was back then. I know it’s completely selfish but having her attention on just me again is what I’ve been craving since our little muffin came along, and I’m sure that this will satiate my need for at least another six months. To be honest, I think she needs this just as much as I do; she’s had a tough month being on her own with Leo and playing both mum and dad while I’ve been away, and now she can have a well deserved day off from it all.

Our day is filled with delicious food, laying on the sofa and watching a whole television programme without being disturbed by cries, getting lost in one another with endless kissing and touching, and we make love two more times with one in our bedroom and the other in the kitchen. By night we don’t even want to go to sleep for fear of missing a second of being with each other, but we soon have to give in to the utter exhaustion of being awake for so long, and we huddle up together for a peaceful nights sleep.

“Morning,” (Y/N) whispers softly as I blink into the light of the room.

“Morning,” I reply groggily, trying my best to sit up.

“I have a confession to make…”

“Go on.”

“I phoned my parents this morning and they’re bringing Leo back in an hour. I loved our time together, it was perfect in every way, but my god am I missing that little sleep stealer!”

I let out a chuckle at her confession, “me too. It just wasn’t the same watching almost a whole series without one interruption. I miss cuddling him in one arm and trying to do something else with the other.”

“Well, it’s official… we’re proper parents now.”

“Yep. Undoubtedly so!”

She slips under the covers and cuddles into my side, running her fingers through the hair on my chest softly, and we both close our eyes to savour the moment before begrudgingly getting up and dressed ready for the return of Leo.

“Thank you,” I say as we spot her parent’s car pulling up outside.

“For what?” she frowns.

“Sticking with me, making me a dad, being my rock… the list goes on.”

She places a hand on my cheek and kisses my lips gently, “you big softie. You’re stuck with me anyway,” she winks.

The arrival of Leo at the door is signified by one of his giggles, and (Y/N) runs to open it and take our son in her arms with me following quickly behind. He wriggles against her and soon starts grabbing at her to get as close as humanly possible to his mum as she peppers his head with kisses while she carefully rocks her body soothingly.

“Daddy’s home!” she whispers excitedly as she passes him to me and ushers her parents into the lounge.

He grumbles a little, having to get used to smelling his dad again after such a long time, but he soon settles and overall seems pleased to see me thank goodness. I rock him in my arms as (Y/N) goes to make the tea and I stand in the kitchen doorway looking between the two loves of my life and completely taken aback by how lucky I got to have them in my life.

“Hey, come here,” I nod as (Y/N) turns to look at me.

She steps towards us both and plants a soft kiss on the little one’s nose as I wrap my free arm around her, then press my lips first to (Y/N)’s head, and secondly to Leo’s. As long as I’ve got these two in my life, I’ll be happy.

[chipper9906]

Hello, Stranger

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15 EPISODE 18 ‘DESPAIR’ AND SEASON 15 EPISODE 19 ‘INHERIT THE EARTH’

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 6,201

Status: One Shot - Complete

Summary/Preview

The man above him was panting heavily, wheezing for breath through pained grunts, and usually, Dean would find some comfort in knowing he at least got a few good licks in.

Instead, all he could do was drop his head back into the carpet with gritted teeth. Great. He was Dean Winchester; He had taken on monsters that most believed to be fairy tales, he had taken on Lucifer, he had taken on God. Hell, he had even killed Hitler.

And now he was about to be killed by some goddamn junkie that had broken into his apartment.

Fan-friggen-tastic.

* * *

A post episode/ post season fix it fic because my heart hurts and I needed some happiness.

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                                                            * * *

Dean Winchester is a homeowner.

Well, he signed a contract that lets him rent a shitty, musty, one-bedroom apartment that has questionable stains on the carpet and the lingering smell of weed soaked into the walls, but it’s his. It’s also situated between a few bars and a pizza place that serves the best damn meat lover’s pizza he’s ever tasted in his life, so y’know. Silver linings.

The off-yellow, fluorescent light of the fridge hums obnoxiously at him, lighting the two last bottles of beer he has sat snugly in the corner. Dean pulls one out, grumbling to himself as he pats at the chipped kitchen counter for the bottle opener. He flips the cap off with a flick he has done many times, chucking the cap somewhere to the side (he swears he’ll throw them away later) and flopping down onto his couch with a groan.

His phone shrills at him from within his jean’s pocket and Dean throws his head back with an exasperated sigh. This was what he signed up for, after all. He just didn’t know how Bobby did it. The whole ‘normal job whilst also acting as an information source for the hunter network’ crap. If it were up to him, he’d just do the ‘hunter network’ stuff. You know, what actually matters. But he’s too old to be living out of motels which were paid for with fake credit cards and cash from hustling, so he has to do it the legal way. That’s not to say the apartment is a huge step up from the usual dumps he and Sammy used to stay in when on the road, but still. It’s his place.

Relief floods through him when he finally yanks the phone out of his pocket and sees Sam’s name plastered across the screen. Looks like he was free from hunter duties for a while yet.

“Heya Sammy,” Dean greets him the second he has the phone to his ear, his smile practically audible through the phone. “Is this an ‘another apocalypse’ phone call or…?”

“No, you jerk,” Sam chuckles down the phone. “It’s a regular phone call. You know, that thing normal people do when they check up on family?”

Dean nearly snorted into his beer. “Yeah, well, we’re far from normal, Sammy.”

“Funnily enough, I’m aware of that. But this is as close to ‘normal’ as we’re going to get. It’s the best we’re going to get.”

Dean hummed thoughtfully, swallowing down a mouthful of beer. “Yeah? Tell that to the dumbass newbie at work who decided he didn’t need to put the oil cap back on after changing the oil… oil everywhere Sammy. Everywhere. I can hack off vampire heads all day, but dealing with people? It’s a nightmare, Sam.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Sam assured him. “We’ll get used to it. It’s… Dean, you know how nice it is to hear you complain about work? Hearing ‘my co-workers a pain in the ass’ instead of ‘there’s a Were on my tail, bring the silver’ is something I never thought I’d get to experience.”

“Were on my tail? Wow, great pun there Sam…” Dean mumbled into the phone, getting a half-amused half annoyed snort from his brother. “Maybe one day I’ll go full ‘Bobby’. Get a cabin out in the middle of nowhere, open up my own mechanic shop… though, doubt I could go back to the old way of looking up the lore… Hey, they do satellite internet, right?”

Sam had suddenly gone very quiet. Dean raised his eyebrows as he waited for his brother's response, the white-noise from the other end of the line the only reassurance to Dean that the line hadn’t gone dead.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I think that’s something you could get set up.” Sam finally answered. “But… you know you can do all that without the whole ‘hunting network’ thing, right? That is still an option-,”

“I know, Sam,” Dean cut off his little brother abruptly. “I know that’s an option. And maybe one day I’ll realize just how old and broken down I am and accept that. But-,”

“But you won’t,” Sam sighed subtly.

“Maybe one day,” Dean repeated softly. “I just… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to quit cold turkey, Sam. I just… I need to do something.”

“Have you been on any hunts?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, forgetting that Sam couldn’t see him. “Eh, a few. No solo hunts, before you panic. There was a hunter going through town, uh, Jason White? Hadn’t heard of him before, but-,” Dean huffed quietly in laughter. “-He sure as hell heard of me. Seems the Winchester name still has its rep around the hunter community.”

“I can never tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Dude was giddy to work with me, so I’d say it was a good thing.” Dean took another swig of beer. “And that’s when they don’t even know we kicked God’s ass!”

“Jack kicked God’s ass,” Sam corrected him. “We got our asses kicked by God.”

“Yeah, but… we needed to get Chuck to beat us up for the plan to work, so… I think it’s fair to say we brought down God.”

“Depending on who you tell that to, you might end up being flayed rather than hailed as a hero.”

Dean paused with the bottle of beer to his lips. “Point taken… maybe it would be better to keep it to ourselves.”

“Probably,” Sam agreed with a chuckle.

“How ‘bout you, Sammy? How’s college life treating you? Again?”

“It’s…” Sam was about to do the usual ‘everything’s great’ spiel, but something about Dean’s inquiring tone made him pause. “… it’s more difficult than I’d thought. I don’t know, maybe I should have had some kind of buffering time between, try and adjust a little before going back.”

“I can imagine.”

“Back then, I felt like I belonged in college, you know? I felt… on par with everyone around me, but now? I stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Yeah? Well, you are an old man amongst eighteen to twenty-year old’s.”

“Thirty-seven isn’t old, jerk. Plenty of people go back to college when they’re…”

“…older?” Dean finished his sentence with glee.

“Shut up.”

Dean laughed smugly at his brother’s annoyed grumbles, though he quickly pulled himself back together. “Seriously though Sammy, I… I hope you know I’m proud of you for this. I know it’s not exactly what we – what I imagined, but… I’m glad to see you living out the life you set out for yourself. I know I wasn’t supportive of you when you first left for college, and I know it’s gonna be tough for you. But if you can go up against God and win, I’m sure you can pass your bar exam.”

“Thanks, Dean.” Sam’s voice sounded a little choked. “How are you doing, anyway? I didn’t really ask.”

“Living the dream, Sammy. Living the dream.” Dean answered dryly, staring sombrely at the last dregs of beer in the bottle and wondering whether it’s worth grabbing the last bottle from the fridge. Future Dean will hate him if he does…

“Seriously, Dean.” If Sam’s voice was anything to go by, he had the puppy dog eyes on full effect right now. “How are you? You okay? I know it’s been hard since… since…”

Dean swallowed hard, letting his eyes flutter shut and his head lean back against the couch. “No, Sam. I’m pretty damn far from okay. And I’m not sure if I ever will be, but… I’ll learn to cope.”

“Dean, it’s… don’t be afraid to ask for help with this kind of stuff. I know it’s a bit unconventional when it comes to our lives, but-,”

“A bit unconventional?” Dean spluttered. “Sam, how the hell would I go about explaining any of this to a shrink, huh? ‘Hey, I had the literal Death trying to kill me, and one of the few people I love sacrificed himself to save me by telling me he loves me.’ Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go down a-,”

“What did you just say?” Sam interrupted in a quiet, shocked voice. “Dean, you… did Cas say-,”

“I’m not talking about that, Sammy.” Dean’s tone left no room for argument.

“Cas was my friend too you know, Dean,” Sam argued back, his voice understanding but digging too much for Dean’s liking. “I know you don’t like talking about this, but-,”

“No, Sam. I don’t like talking about it.” Dean snapped curtly.

“But-,”

“Cas was my Eileen, Sam.” Dean could hear Sam’s mouth snap close, the stunned silence on the other end of the phone too loud in Dean’s ear. “And I know you sure as hell don’t like talking about her. I had to… Fuck, do you have any idea, Sam? I never let myself think about it, about what Cas was to me. He could be a stubborn bastard and hard to read at times, and this whole damn time, he loved me and… he never told me. All this time he’d been holding that to himself and he just… I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t say anything. He was just gone, and I…”

“You loved him.”

It wasn’t a question. Dean squeezed his eyes shut at Sam’s words. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. And he never got to know. He never heard me say it.”

Dean ran a tense hand through his hair, pulling at the strands with a pained grimace. “I still see him sometimes, Sammy. I feel like I’m going crazy. I’ll see a flash of him in a crowd, see that stupid tax-accountant get up of his out of the corner of my eye, and… I keep telling myself he’s gone, that I need to move on.”

“You will, Dean. Sometimes, after… after Jess, I’d see her, too. Grief does strange things to the mind.”

“Yeah, I know, but… I can’t help but think about when I lost him in purgatory. When I kept seeing him, back then, and… all that time, he was trying to reach out to me.”

“This isn’t like then, Dean.” Sam’s response was like a punch to the chest. “Cas was in Purgatory. When he was trying to contact you, he was back on Earth, right? Cas is… he’s in the Empty. The only being with enough power to get him out was Jack, but-,”

“But Jack’s not gonna be hands-on,” Dean said miserably.

“Right…” Sam replied with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Dean. I wish it was Cas, you know I do, but… he’s gone.”

“I know. I know that, Sammy. I’m not denying he’s gone, I just… I miss him. Guess I always assumed we’d win this thing together, you know? ‘Paradise on Earth’ and all that.”

“I don’t even know what Cas would have done after all this,” Sam said with a mild tone of amusement. “After meeting Cas, it felt like we had to stop one apocalypse after the other.”

“Poor guy never really got to catch a break,” Dean agreed sadly. “Maybe I could have trained him up to be a proper hunter, just like he wanted. Or… maybe he would have flown home.”

“Home?”

“Yeah, y’know; Heaven. If the other winged dicks let him back in, that is.”

“Dean… I don’t think ‘Heaven’ is Cas’ home. At least, it hasn’t been for a while, anyway. If Cas was still here, well… whatever he decided to do next, I can’t imagine anything that didn’t involve being by your side, Dean.”

 * * *

The later into the night it got, the more tempted Dean was to break out the bottle of whisky he has hidden under his cupboard for ‘emergencies only’.

The only saving grace was that Dean had the day off tomorrow, so it’s not like he had to worry about work. Tonight was just going to be… one of those nights. Getting off the phone with Sammy always left him feeling bittersweet; happy to hear his brother’s voice, but the reminder that he was so far away only worsening the dull ache he felt in his chest that he could only fix by drinking until everything went black and numb.

‘THUMP’

Dean was upright from his bed in seconds, fingers curling around the comforting grip of his pistol under the pillow. The sound hadn’t come from his room, rather somewhere else in the apartment – the living room, perhaps? The kitchen? He slowly peeled off the covers, untangling them from his legs and stepping softly onto the dusty carpet, thankful it would mute his footsteps.

Dean cautiously approached his closed bedroom door, placing his ear up to the door and straining his hearing. Nothing. For a moment, he wondered if he had simply imagined the noise, his emotional and exhausted mind caught between sleep and lucidity, conjuring up a sound to distract him.

Maybe, if Dean were a normal person, he’d have waved it off and headed back to bed. Hunter's instincts are hard to shake off though, and not checking the apartment simply wasn’t an option. Sure, he had thrown up all the usual sigils in the apartment the second he had moved in (and likely ruined any chance of getting his deposit back), but you never know.

Dean clasps his free hand around the rounded doorknob, painstakingly turning it until he hears the ‘click’ of the lock, wincing at how loud the usually quiet sound felt in the silence of the room. Dean swings the door open slowly, peering out of the room and into the pitch-blackness of his apartment. He can barely make out the shadowed outline of his furniture, lit up only by the muted lights of passing traffic peeking in through the partly opened blinds.

Dean takes a single step out into the living room when a hand clasps around his shoulder.

He whirls around in an instant, knocking off the assailant’s arm and lifting his pistol to aim. The gun is wrenched out of his hands in an instant, the unexpectedly strong pull nearly sending him tumbling straight into his attacker. Dean hears his gun clatter to the floor, and he throws a punch out of instinct, feeling his knuckles connect with the strangers’ jaw. There’s a pained grunt from the man, definitely a man by his posture and deep, surprised groan of pain, and Dean jabs out his fist again before the man can counter. His fist lands squarely in the man's gut and Dean knows by the sound the man makes that he had just had the wind knocked out of him.

Dean’s next hit isn’t as successful, the man catching Dean’s fist mid-swing and twisting him away, pushing him forward until his chest hits the wall with a resounding ‘thud’. Dean grimaces at the pressure against his back and arm, kicking out a leg backward and feeling it connect with the guy’s knee. It buckles, the pressure on his back gone and Dean takes the advantage, spinning around and shoving the guy hard. He sees the blurry black figure go sprawling backward, slamming into the wall opposite with another pained grunt. Dean scrambles to the floor in search of his gun, blinking rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the darkness of the room. He just about catches a glint of metal, reaching for the gun before it’s gone again, kicked out of sight by his attacker. Dean growls in frustration, jumping to his feet as fast as his body will let him. It seems he isn’t as fast as he once was, the man grabbing him by the arm and slamming him back down to the ground before he can even blink.

His back hits the floor hard, the air leaving his lungs in one giant ‘whoosh’, dust erupting from the unkempt carpet under him. His attacker had clambered over him, the heavy pressure he felt on his wrists surely the man pinning him down, the weight on top of his legs surely that of the stranger. His head was spinning, vision blurry from the dark, and the hit to the back of his head when he landed. The man above him was panting heavily, wheezing for breath through pained grunts, and usually, Dean would find some comfort in knowing he at least got a few good licks in.

Instead, all he could do was drop his head back into the carpet with gritted teeth. Great. He was Dean Winchester; He had taken on monsters that most believed to be fairy tales, he had taken on Lucifer, he had taken on God. Hell, he had even killed Hitler.

And now he was about to be killed by some goddamn junkie that had broken into his apartment. Fan-friggen-tastic.

“Hello, Dean.”

His heart stops. Pauses, for just a moment. When it kicks back into gear, it's with a hard, resounding thump. The voice was gruff, grated, that of a man who had either smoked ten packs of cigarettes a day or had had his vocal cords shredded apart. It was familiar, like coming home, and he wants to scream to the Universe how fucking cruel it is for him to be losing his mind like this, that it was bad enough to be seeing him, but to be hearing him too?

Unless…

He squirms underneath the man’s grip, his shallow, quick intakes of air a sure sign of an approaching panic attack. To Dean’s surprise, the man's grip slackened, and he let Dean scramble up to his feet. Dean stumbled back into the wall as the man smoothly got to his feet, stood there silently watching Dean panic as he slapped his hand against the wall, searching for the light switch. Dean’s hand passes over the smooth cool plastic of the panel, and he smacks down hard on the switch.

The light bursts to life, bathing the room in that sickening bright white. It’s blinding - as if lightning had struck inside his apartment. Dean still has his hand glued to the light switch; his gaze glued to the stranger stood opposite him.

Except, that was no stranger.

There’s a thin trail of blood slipping down a split lip that’s curved up into a subtle smile, blue eyes glossy with unshed tears that are scanning up and down Dean like he can’t quite believe he’s there. His chest is still heaving with exasperated breaths from their scuffle and he’s holding himself awkwardly, one leg taking more of his weight than the other – likely a result of Dean’s attempt at defending himself.

“Cas? Cas, is this… is that really you?” Dean’s voice is breathy, uncertainty laced in every word.

“I spent the whole drive over here thinking about what to say when I saw you,” Castiel said. “And now all I can think is how I should be scolding you for not checking to see if I’m a shifter or a demon first.”

Dean blinked owlishly at Cas, the shock mixed with the adrenaline sending his brain into overdrive. Cas’s shy smile widened briefly for a moment, barely wincing at the sting of his split lip being pulled.

“Actually, I… I was worried for a moment that I had been told the wrong address and had broken into someone else’s residence. But then you were pulling a gun on me and it seemed a bit too late to ask, so I-,”

Dean rushes forward before Cas can finish his sentence, throwing his arms around Cas’s shoulders and burying his head into his neck. He’s fully aware his hands are shaking, scrunching up the back of Castiel’s trench coat so tightly that he can feel some threads popping loose under his fingers. Castiel’s hands were wrapped around his back in return, squeezing Dean close with all his worth, eyes squeezed shut in content with his head nestled next to Dean’s.

When Dean pulls away, it’s to hold Cas at arm’s length and just… look. Take him all in. To savor the warmth of Cas’s under his hands, to drink in the smile he never thought he’d get to see again. Because there’s a part of him that still doesn’t know if this is real, and he wants to take the time to memorize the feel of Castiel in his arms.

“You, uh…” Dean says somewhat awkwardly. “You need a drink?”

 * * *

Dean’s been staring at Cas for way too long then is socially acceptable now.

He’s perched on what Dean knows from experience is an incredibly uncomfortable bar stool at the end of the kitchen counter, the beer Dean had offered him pressed against his split lip from their, um… reunion. Dean tapped his fingers against the cool glass of whisky he held, watching Cas as his eyes scanned curiously around the apartment, and Dean starts to feel guilty for not keeping on top of the cleaning as much as he should. In his defense, he wasn’t exactly expecting company.

“How… how are you here, Cas?”

“I had to hot-wire a car that had been left parked in a desolate road near a field in Illinois. In my defense, it seemed rather neglected, so I doubt it’ll be missed. It was quite difficult finding you actually, your number no longer worked and I had to visit many, many bars to find some hunters who had some knowledge on your whereabouts-,”

“Cas, that’s… that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean how are you here?”

Castiel pulled the bottle away from his lip, placing it down delicately on the countertop. The signature frown was back on his face, along with the cocked head that Dean found much too endearing. “Dean, have you not noticed?”

Dean followed Castiel’s hands to where he had placed a finger on his split lip, wincing when he pressed down a bit too hard.

“What? That I greeted my best friends return from the dead by giving him a beating? Yeah, I kinda noticed.”

Castiel sighed quietly, and Dean grinned at the exasperation. “Have you not noticed that it hasn't healed?”

Dean frowned at him in confusion. “Oh. Why haven’t you…?”

It finally clicked.

Dean sat up straight as it hit him; looking to the split lip, to the bruise that had already begun forming on the edge of Cas’s jaw, to the way he held out his leg at an odd angle like it was bothering him.

Almost as if…

“You’re human?”

“I believe so, yes. My grace was… warped. It’s been through a lot, through the fall… but… I believe it had been different from the very start. Chuck was right, in a way. I was ‘the angel with a crack in his chassis’. Maybe that’s why I was the only one. Out of all the other me’s that exist… I was the angel that began to feel. The angel to fall in love with the righteous man. Angels aren’t supposed to love, you see. Emotions are seen as distractions. Emotions were thought only possible to humans because of one thing.”

“Souls,” Dean answered for him.

Castiel nodded. “Dean, do you understand what the Empty is? What happens to us? It’s… it seems almost peaceful when you think about it. To spent eternity just… sleeping. But we don’t sleep. We dream. We dream of all that we regret. For most angels and demon’s, they have only one regret; their death. What they did wrong to meet their end, tortured endlessly by that mistake. I didn’t dream of my death though, Dean. My death was no mistake. Instead, I dreamt of you. I dreamt of all the times I let you down, of all the things I should have done or said but never did. Angels aren’t supposed to do that, Dean. Those aren’t the regrets soldiers of God are meant to have.

“The Empty isn’t a complicated being. It’s… it’s nothingness, and it wants to exist as nothingness. Billy made it promises she wouldn’t keep, keeping it awake when all it wanted to do was to return to sleep. So when it had dragged us into that place, when I fell into that sleep… perhaps it assumed it would be able to return to sleep. But my dreams, my regrets… they weren’t of the type that any another being in the Empty had. My grace wasn’t settling, it was… it was like an animal in a cage, it was…”

“It was keeping the Empty awake.”

“The Empty wanted me to suffer. But in doing so, it was suffering itself. It didn’t understand why; I didn’t understand why. Why my grace. What made it different? It wasn’t until I had been spat back out here; when the Empty had figured it out before me that I realized. It wasn’t my grace, Dean. It wasn’t grace at all, not anymore. I’m… I’m still not sure how it happened, whether it had been happening for a while, if it was the reason my grace had been diminishing over the years, or… if maybe Jack had a part to play in it, or… or if it was just myself. If me falling for you, to be the first angel to do that… maybe it’s something that could happen to all angels.”

Dean had never been more confused in his life. “What are you talking about, Cas?”

“My grace was changed, Dean. An angel’s grace, it’s a source of power, a piece of God himself; just like a soul. I’m not just an angel who has lost his grace, Dean. My grace is still here, just changed. Adapted. I’m human in every sense of the word.”

Dean knew what Cas was getting at, but he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “…You have a soul?”

“I have a soul,” Castiel confirmed, giving Dean a watery smile. “Humans were not meant to exist in the Empty. It’s not something the Empty has ever had to deal with - emotions. The Empty is a powerful being. It can tear into your mind, to know all that makes you suffer. But a soul? It doesn’t know how to approach that. It doesn’t know how to make it quiet.”

“So… so what does that mean now for you?”

“It means I’m here,” Castiel answered simply, his wandering gaze returning to their surroundings.

Dean smiled, glancing down to the whisky in his hand to avoid seeing Castiel’s judgment of his shitty apartment. “Yeah? And what do you think of… here?”

Castiel hummed thoughtfully, taking his sweet time to look around the abysmal contents of the room which Dean knows full well only takes about ten seconds to take in.

“It’s rather small,” Castiel finally gives his verdict. Dean ducks his head with embarrassed laughter, scratching awkwardly at the back of his head.

“Yeah, well… a high-school dropout who has barely any prior job experience and next to no references doesn’t exactly get many calls for interviews.”

“I see,” Castiel replied with an understanding yet sad smile. “Why did you and Sam leave the bunker?”

“Well, after Sammy decided he wanted to give college another shot, and after you and Jack, it was… the bunker was too empty. Too quiet. Too many memories, I guess. And it’s not like I was gonna be hunting like I used to without Sammy…”

“You’re not hunting?” Castiel asked, surprise clearly written across his features.

“Sometimes,” Dean replied with a shrug. “It’s… Sammy wanted another shot at the normal life, and after everything… that doesn’t even begin to cover what the kid deserves.”

“And what about you?” Castiel said with a questioning frown. “What about what you deserve?”

Dean laughed one humorless chuckle. “Cas, I always expected to go out in a blaze of glory. Maybe with Sammy by my side, maybe not, but-,” Dean paused, turning his eyes down. “I didn’t… I didn’t picture a scenario where I lived and you didn’t. I didn’t know what life was going to be like after that, after you… I didn’t think it was a pain I’d have to live with, you know?”

Cas’s calloused hand rests over Dean’s, thumb gently sweeping over his wrist. There’s a sadness and regret to Cas’s gaze, but a comforting smile curled onto his lips. “When I took that deal… a part of me never expected for it to be claimed. I thought the Empty had made some colossal mistake on its part, because… I couldn’t envision a scenario where I’d be happy. A scenario where we beat God and we made it out alive. But then I wondered… I wondered how much the Empty knew of me. It had tortured me with it once, with what I feared and… of who I loved. And Dean, it was almost funny when I realized, when I assumed the Empty had surely made that mistake. It knew what I wanted most, and yet, it was something I could never have.”

“What you wanted?”

Cas’s smile turned sad. “You, Dean Winchester. I wanted to know the touch of your lips, of the feel of your skin under my hands… I wanted to know what it would be like to wake up next to you, to be something that brought you some sense of happiness… I wanted to know what it was like to be seen as something more than family, a friend, a brother… I wanted what angels aren’t supposed to want. I wanted your love, Dean Winchester.”

“…Cas-”

“But there was a simplicity to it.” Cas continued before Dean could form the words he wanted to say. “I couldn’t get that happiness because… because I wouldn’t let myself feel it. It was easier to just push it down, to pretend as if this hadn’t been something eating at me ever since I had rebelled. And to just… to just say it. In letting myself feel it, in telling you, in telling myself… that was my own form of happiness. It wasn’t in knowing you felt the same way, it wasn’t that I needed you to say it back… I said it because I needed you to know.”

How did Cas do this? Every time he thought he knew what to say, Cas found a way to rip the words right of his mouth. Dean was thrown through a loop again, his brain brought to a standstill. None of it made sense in his mind. The thought that he was Cas’s happiness, that he had somehow made an angel of the lord love, it was just… why him?

“In a way, the Empty lost,” Cas told him. “It wanted me to suffer. It was cruel, yes, but genius on its part, I must admit. To only take me once I had found happiness on Earth, but… I didn’t suffer as it took me, Dean. To die, knowing you were safe? That I had kept you safe? My mission is and always will be to save Dean Winchester. If my ending was the one where you get to live the life you deserve? Then… that was my happiness.”

Dean huffed, staring down at his whisky, absentmindedly spinning the glass across the counter. “You had found your peace. I get that, Cas, I really do,” Dean stopped spinning the glass, eyes flickering up to meet Cas’s. “But if you think the life I deserve is one that didn’t have you in it, then…”

Dean chuckled dryly, taking a small sip of his drink, welcoming the burning sensation that crawled down his throat.

“Dean, don’t think I wouldn’t have wanted… this,” Castiel insisted, brows furrowing. “I would have been content to carry on the way we are. I would of course wanted to stay with you, and Sam, and Jack, just as we were.”

Dean licks his lips nervously, tasting the lingering leftovers of his whisky. “And what if I’m not content with that?”

Cas frowned at him, a brief look of panic flashing across his face. “I don’t get what you mean?”

Dean laughs. He can’t help it. They’re small hushed snorts of laughter, dropping his chin down into his chest and shaking his head, his shoulders shaking with every chuckle. “Oh, Cas… We’re both idiots, aren’t we? Biggest damn idiots there are.”

Castiel was only getting more and more confused.

“Cas, what the hell did you think that mixtape meant?” Dean asked once he lifted his head back up. “What did you think that prayer back in Purgatory meant, huh? Both times? When I prayed to you every damn night in that hellhole?”

“I… I assumed-,”

“Assumed… yeah, we both kept making assumptions about the other, huh? You know I’m not great with words, Cas. I’m… I speak better with my actions, you know? But this… you… I didn’t know how to handle the way I felt for you. Calling you my brother was easy because that was a love I knew how to process. It was easy. You knew I cared for you, and I thought that was enough.”

“It was enough,” Castiel assured him.

“No, it wasn’t, Cas,” Dean insisted. “I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth.”

“Dean, you don’t have to-,”

Dean grabbed Castiel by the lapels of his trench coat to shut him up, tugging him forward and damn near dragging him over the counter. Castiel had gone wide-eyed, bracing himself by grabbing onto Dean's arms, keeping him suspended over the counter.

“Listen to me,” Dean stresses the words, keeping his eyes locked with Cas. “You’re not just my best friend. You’re not just my brother. You’re all that and more. You’re not just what I want, you’re all that I need. And I’m telling you this now because I should have told you all those years ago. I should have told you when you told me. I love you, too. You got that? I love you.”

And then Dean kisses the shocked look right off of Cas’s face, just to drive the point home.

It’s far from the best kiss Dean’s ever had. The taste of Castiel’s blood is metallic and tangy under his lips, and he went into the kiss a bit too rushed and hard. There’s definitely a clash of teeth at first, and a kiss was apparently the last thing Cas was expecting as his lips remained frozen in disbelief for some good few seconds. And yet, it was perfect.

Because it was Cas.

It’s not until Dean’s hands frame Cas’s face that he gets a response. His lips move under Dean’s, chapped yet addictingly soft. Dean’s thumb brushes down Cas’s cheek, the burn of stubble against his skin something new, but a reminder that this was Cas. It was Cas’s lips on his. It was Cas’s hands brushing through the short strands of hair at the back of his neck.  It was Cas pressing his body into him, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle that never thought the other piece would fit.

When they break away, it’s with a surprised “Oh,” from Cas that has Dean shaking quietly with repressed laughter, his forehead pressed against Cas with matching smiles on both men's faces.

“Like I said-,” Dean said softly. “-Idiots. Both of us.”

“I prefer the term ‘fools in love’,” Cas said with a grin. “Still idiots, but we have an excuse.”

“Yeah... yeah, I like the sound of that.” Dean agreed, returning Cas's gentle smile. “So, back on Earth, grace gone – or, changed into a soul. What’s the plan now?”

“Just... live life, I suppose. Experience humanity, of all there is to offer. Grow old...”

“Hmmm,’ Dean hummed in content. “Can you perhaps picture a little cozy cabin out in the woods? Maybe a yappy dog that won’t shut up and is constantly shedding all over the damn place, but you love anyway?”

“I think I could get on board with that... so long as there’s a cat running around that’ll provide the dog with some company,” Cas paused, squinting suspiciously at Dean. “Is there already a dog?”

“Apartment has a ‘no pets' rule. Miracle’s shacked up with Sammy for the time being, keeping the kid sane through exams.”

“...Miracle?”

“Yeah. Y'know, coz she was a miracle.” Dean swallowed nervously, struggling to get the next words out. “And... in this vision of the future... maybe you see yourself growing older with a grizzled, greying green-eyed hunter?”

“...Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“If you really have to ask that question, then I’m afraid I’m going to use to demote you back to ‘idiot'.”

“Wow,” Dean blanched. “Having a soul has made you a sassy dick.”

“You say that like you don’t love it.”

“I deal with it, but only because I love you. There’s a difference.”

Dean’s word elicited a beaming smile from Cas, that toothy smile he so rarely sees from Cas that he knows he’s going to be spending the rest of his life trying to see as often as possible. And really, what else can he do but smile back, just two idiots smiling at each other in a cramped, barely lit kitchen?

“I never thought I’d hear you say it…” Castiel admitted quietly.

“Well, be prepared to hear it until you get sick of it, coz I’ve got a lot of times I should have said it to make up for.”