#FINALLY HAVE EM ALL WORKED HARD THIS WHOLE MONTH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohsohoney · 2 months ago

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When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Ten

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Later than usual, sorry! But I've been busy with a whole load of shit ngl, it's just been stress:) Let me know if anyone else wants to be added to the taglist though, I realise my updating is a bit sporadic? Maybe? Just a little? Lmao, anyway here's 10, hope you enjoy!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

Jacket potatoes were a fucking delicacy.

Any Brit back home would tell you that. You could top ‘em with all sorts; Chilli, Tuna, Cheese, Chicken, Stuffing, Coleslaw, Bacon, Gravy, Bolognese— some people even liked them plain. But my favourite, as well as the only real and true way to serve a jacket potato, was with an ungodly amount of butter and baked beans.

Being in the States, it was a rather hard dish to come by. But, seeing as Marshall always appeared to go above and beyond, beans (No, none of that shoddy American shit) could be found in the little basket he’d gone and gifted me the day before. A little wicker bowl full of goodies to soothe that little ache of homesickness.

I smacked the can down onto the countertop and levelled Rosie with a long stare.

“You’re serious?” She asked me around a wary glance, extending her arm out cautiously to get a better look at the bright blue tin as though she thought the contents might just reach out to try and grab her back.

“Deadly.” I remarked, attempting to keep my smile hidden when I met her question with a raised brow, “You’ll love it.”

Rosie didn’t look too convinced about that fact and yet, she rolled up her sleeves and took a seat at the counter to watch me work, helping out with the few things that she could.

She had waltzed in through the front door a while earlier, just a second after I’d made it up the stairs, and the grin she’d worn when she had spotted me had had my heart warming and the pair of us wandering into the kitchen, arm in arm and already talking at a mile an hour.

I was sauteing some mushrooms in a pan after having peeled and diced them up, whilst she kept a keen eye on the warming potatoes. “So Dad’s finally found some inspiration then?” Rosie asked me after a while, peering into the oven.

I smiled when I peered over at her, seeing how the orange glow of it washed over the side of her face to softly illuminate her features. “Seems so, we got a lot done but he was on a roll by the end of it.” I told her in reply, shaking the pan again and blinking at the sizzle that sparked up, “What do you mean anyway? Finally.” I dragged out that last word in a small singsong which made her chuckle as she stood to her full height once more and turned.

“He’s been trying to write for a couple weeks now, I think. Or months.” She shrugged, stepping back to watch the mushrooms fry with a slight wrinkle of her nose, “Not sure, but he keeps complaining about it whenever he’s on the phone.”

With a small hum, my eyes flickered back over to her, then to the pan again, “He didn’t mention it.”

Rosie blew out a faint chuckle and leant back against the counter, knuckles wrapping around its edge, “Why would he? He hates jinxing himself.”

It was cute that she noticed things like that about him, something I’d begun to note in the short time I’d been staying with the two, but I didn’t know... A large part of me wished that Marshall would have said something about it before, or at least alluded to it. It made me feel a bit bad for bowing out so early now.

Still, my mind was quickly recaptured by the task at hand and then the story that Z deemed to tell me about, apparently a teacher thought that one of her friends was a shoo in for these auditions that they had coming up soon. The familiarity of the scene made me think back to Lottie, to everything that was happening back home, and I wished, silently and not for the first time, that it could be possible for a person to exist in two places at once.

The spuds took their time baking but soon enough they were ready and piping hot, fluffy on the inside and with a crisp exterior. Rosie gathered up the butter and cheese at my signal, face lighting up at the prospect of being able to drown her own in the latter, whilst I pinched the tops of the spuds with a clean tea towel and plated them up, spattering them with a small amount of herbs.

I was going to keep Marshall’s wrapped up in tinfoil, if only to save it from going all horrible before he had the chance to try such a delicacy, but thankfully he’d worked his way back up the stairs just in time. I wondered how he’d managed it.

“Hey, you’ve got table duty.” Rosie exclaimed as soon as she saw him bustling over the threshold, handing the cutlery she was already holding to him without a second thought, which caused Em to blink down at his hands whilst he struggled not to drop the sudden weight he'd just been shafted with.

“‘Scuse me?” Marshall prompted, brow furrowed as his gaze wandered about the rest of the kitchen. I wondered what he thought of the bubbling pot of red sauce sitting on the hob, as well as the absurd amount of butter both Rosie and I had already lumped onto our steaming plates.

“You can set the table, Dad.” Z explained as she jumped back to help me with the mushrooms, her voice edging the line of a whining lilt, “We cooked! So it’s only fair.”

Marshall stared at her for a second longer before he ultimately snorted, “Right.” He murmured, recapturing his hold on the silver he held and eyes finding mine, before he spun round on his heel and left the room once again with a small smirk. When he returned, his plate was almost ready and just about to be loaded up with– “The hell’s that?”

I withheld my snarky reply in favour of smirking when Rosie answered for me, her eyes widening in the face of her father’s obvious leery expression. “Beans, Dad. El told me it’s one of her favourite meals, she wanted to share it with us.”

It wasn’t hard to hear the undertone there, the kind that told him to keep quiet on how he felt about the bubbling bowl I was currently holding because Z obviously didn’t want me feeling disheartened in any way. It was adorable, as was the stern face she’d paired with it, the same face that her dad found hard to waver against. His shoulders slumped ever so.

“Right.” He repeated for the second time tonight, dragging the first syllable out a tad, “Looks good?” He tried.

I had to laugh then, “That a question or statement, Mathers?”

His eyes flickered over to meet mine, but I motioned for Rosie to get a start on heaping the cheese we’d grated onto her plate, the girl’s responding grin was giant.

“I–” Em appeared stumped for a split second before he eventually just pressed his lips together and decided to jump in on helping us. Although he did complain when he spotted the frying pan sat off to the side, “Mushrooms too?” But with Rosie’s short warning of Dad, Marshall only appeared to raise his hands in mock surrender and then moved over to grab the plates so that he could carry them off into the next room.

I shared a conspiratorial smile with the younger girl before we followed after him, the three of us settling into the same seats as we had occupied the day before. Marshall still looked wary, even with his beans being hidden beneath a thick layer of cheese that I figured he had reasoned to himself would mask whatever taste was under it, but Z, to my utter surprise, looked ready to dig in.

“Changed your tune there, lovely.” I mentioned with a sly smirk, my gaze lingering on her long enough to catch the sheepish reaction she bore before she just shrugged and dipped her head around a grin, fork already in hand.

“Smells good.” Was the excuse she used and so I softened my face into a smile too.

“Well you helped so of course it does,” I quipped easily, picking up my fork as well before nudging Em’s forearm, “Come on, you big baby. Just try it. If you hate it, I’ll order you whatever you want. On me.”

That had him rolling his eyes, but he picked up his knife and fork with a determined expression.

I bit back a round of chuckles I could feel bubbling in my throat and used my chin to getsure for the pair of them to get stuck in. Rosie was quick to tear into hers and I was silently thankful for the way the potato easily broke apart under her knife, its texture fluffy and golden.

“Oh wow, this is so good.” She blew out the second that she could, already moving onto her next bite whilst Marshall was still working his way up to trying his own. “When you first showed me those beans? I was so sure I was gonna puke.”

I snorted quietly at that image, perfectly content with the plate of home I’d gone and conjured up for us, whilst Em’s face wrinkled. “Well if you had hated it, you’d have only had your Dad to blame, he’s the one who bought them.”

“I jus’ looked up British shit, they were top five on every list.” Marshall defended before he finally took a bite, slow in the way he raised his fork to his mouth, his eyebrows raising a little as he let the taste settle in, “Shit.”

My eyes narrowed a tad around the smile that I was chewing on to keep hidden but I watched him cut further into the potato, beans and melted cheese puddling around the sides. “That a good shit or bad shit?”

“Three dollars.” Z acknowledged, voice muffled by the food she still had in her mouth.

I laughed at that and shook my head in fond amusement before I turned to Em for an answer. He took another bite, a big one, something I took to be a good sign, and just nodded. My brow quirked in hope. “So good?”

He hummed, one shoulder shrugging, “Ain’t gone die if I finish it.”

Snorting, I could only shake my head at him, hiding my smile behind my fist. “Idiot. You like it.”

Marshall rolled his eyes, though the gesture was obviously fond as he raised his fork to point at me, “Just grateful you didn’t burn down my damn house.”

Rosie’s giggles filled the room and with them we all settled in to enjoy. Marshall asked after his daughter’s day and the girl was all too happy to ramble and rant to him, face lighting up at the prospect of it. She mentioned her English lesson, the book they had started on and how her teacher had explained this one paragraph to her class, then she went into detail about the play that was set to happen just before the Christmas break. I chimed in here and there, putting in my two cents where it was worth, but in truth, I was perfectly content to simply listen and watch on.

The clean up that followed was mainly made up of me and Z messing around and singing to the music Em had stuck on, never the type to linger in silence. The pair of us did manage to rope the man into joining us once he had loaded up the dishwasher though, something he thoroughly complained about but followed through on all the same. He was just a sucker for his kid's smile, I reckoned, went above and beyond for the girl and it was all too easy to see.

It was a lot later that we all fell into a comfortable silence around the tele, Rosie sat crossed legged on the sofa with her homework whilst I offered help whenever asked. Marshall had joined the two of us a little later, after his phone had rang and he’d stepped out to take the call, he’d padded into the room with only the explanation of ‘Royce’ before he’d fallen into the seat beside me. I’d hummed but was too distracted by Rosie’s newest question to prod him further on it.

By the time she had finished up, handwriting practically perfect, her books had fallen into a heap on the coffee table and she’d slowly but surely scootched her way further up the sofa. I kept my eyes on the tele when I’d outstretched an arm in quiet invitation but hadn’t missed the grin she’d given in turn before she’d settled into my side, head coming to rest on my thigh. I caught Marshall’s watchful stare from out of the corner of my eye but didn’t glance back over, smiling at the scene that played out on the screen whilst my hand smoothed over the girl’s hair.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed between us before Marshall’s quiet cough broke the peace we’d since created, but the sky was more of a hazy cast of dark blue now rather than the ruddy auburn that had lined it much earlier. I stifled a small yawn.

Rosie sniffed softly in my lap, twisting a tad to cast her Dad a quizzical glance. Throughout the duration of the film that Z had picked out for us to watch, the man had gotten close enough that he now only had to drop his shoulders to poke at her cheek.

“Bath and bed, kid.”

The scrunch that overwhelmed Rosie’s face at the order had me grinning and so I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before moving my hand to pat her shoulder. “Up and at ‘em, soldier. Heard what the old man said.”

“Do I have to?” Z huffed, just as a hand came up to rub at her eye. Marshall’s mouth ticked ever so slightly into an amused smirk, his fingers replacing mine in an effort to smooth the front of her hair.

“School tomorrow.” He reminded her all too gently, dropping his hand lower to shuck the underside of her chin which only made the girl smile sleepily. “You know the deal.”

She sighed heavily in retort, but did eventually make the move to push herself up and out of my lap, legs stretching across the couch cushions before her feet found the floor. It was just as she went to stand that she turned to face me though, her expression a little meek but rapidly losing the residual somnolence it had just held. “Will you do my hair again for me tomorrow?”

I was caught by surprise at the question she’d asked. I wouldn’t lie, but I didn’t let the reaction show as I smiled warmly back at her, reaching out to tap a finger on the top side of her hand, “‘Course. Anything you want, lovely.”

Rosie’s little grin had her eyes squinting and forced the corners of her mouth to pinch upwards in a move that only deepened her dimples. She leaned over to give me a hug of thanks, whispering the word into my ear before she pulled away and rounded the sofa, kissing her Dad’s cheek on her way out.

“No messin’ about, Z. An early night, ‘kay?” Em reminded her, leaning against the back of the couch so that he could tilt his head far enough to see her, “I’ll be up soon.” He added, his words met by another charming grin whilst she shook her head in fond exasperation and slipped out of the room, leaving just the pair of us and the tv.

It was a long while before Marshall disturbed the quiet once more, the film we’d been watching had finished some time ago and so now all that was playing on the screen was a couple repeats of South Park and the odd advertisement. “She’s different with you.” I heard him voice.

With a furrowed brow, I let my head turn to find him. He was perched in the same position he had been, but now with an arm stretched along the back of the sofa and a knee bent to fill the small gap that still separated us. “What d’you mean?”

When he replied, it was low and soft, a murmur if not for the sincerity behind it. “She don’t act like that ‘round nobody.” He told me, fingers jumping in a steady rhythm on the back of the cushion, his eyes peering between mine. “Me, sure. She’s a fuckin’ koala when she wants to be, but with other people… it’s something she second guesses.”

His words confused me. Or rather, threw me. “I don’t get it.”

He dropped his gaze, blowing out a small but mirthful huff through his nose, his thumb dragged along the edge of the sofa. “You known her what, three days? And she don’t think about gettin’ close to you. Sure she’ll be coy with it, sly even, but that’s ‘cause she don’t wanna overstep with you. Like that right there–” Em said, getsuring his chin out towards my lap, I followed the gesture, then blinked back up at him, remembering the way she’d approached me, “She don't do that with people.”

My face must have given away to the fact that I was still trying to process the weight of what he meant, because his smile was soft, warm even.

It made me think of Lottie, who was always so open with her affection, who gave it out without thought or focus, her smile always great, always there. Then of myself. I tended to avoid affection where it mattered, a reason as to why I’d never let many people too close to my heart, why I hadn’t had something fulfilling to divulge when Marshall and I had spoken about past exes, I supposed. It baffled me to see some of the same tendencies I’d shown growing up in Rosie, in a girl too sweet, too loving, too happy to be so aware of how to guard herself.

I looked to him again and let him have his fill, allowed him to see how his words, the sentiment behind them, had pierced through the armour I’d long since moulded around myself.

One side of his mouth lifted and he used the hand resting on the back of the sofa to circle my wrist, leaning in a little closer, filling that previous gap. “Ro’s had her mom, her sister. They’ve been there. They love her, and she loves them. I know that. But with Kim, it ain’t always parentin’, it’s fun and games. It’s showin’ off, not showin’ up. It’s messin’ around until she finally grows–”

He paused there, eyes flickering left and then right as his tongue swiped over his lower lip, almost as though he was resentful of the term he wished to use.

He settled for, “Bored. Or maybe jus’ tired, you know? She’s there until it's her time to step up and do the job she’s ‘sposed to, til it's missed recitals and forgetting pick-up, that’s when she reacts. Pulls away.”

He sighed, gaze caught on his fingers, on the easy way they engulfed my wrist. His thumb brushed over the freckle that dotted the bone, and continued on through a slow exhale, “Ayla, she’s a lot older. She does her own thing, she’s got school, work, friends. Z obviously filters into all that, but there's always been a small divide. I like to think it’s just ‘cause of their ages– it’s how me and Nate worked growin’ up, you know? But there’s this whole idea that fuckin’ messes with my head, like maybe it's all down to me. Ayla’s my niece, but she’ll always be one of my own. I love that girl as much as I love Rosie. More than life itself. But I know I hurt her, havin’ her here, watchin’ me fail and fuck up whilst she was growin’ up. And jus’, maybe I can’t help but wonder if I ever let her know that enough, that I loved her, if it’s that that’s impacted her relationship with Z.”

I was quick in my attempt to soothe his doubts, the hand he didn’t hold jumping over to lay across the top of his own. “I’d call you an idiot, but I reckon you already know that.” I chuckled halfheartedly, though my smile was genuine when his eyes snapped up to meet my own, “You’re an amazing father, Em. I honestly believe that with my whole heart. And it doesn’t take much to see it either. I mean, I was here not even a day and was so quick to see the love you held for your daughter. I saw it in your reactions too when we called, when you spoke of them, however brief it was. I haven’t met Ayla but I don’t think I’d have to for me to see that your worries are just that, worries. I’m sure that girl loves you in the very same sense that I am sure that she knows you love her. That you see her as much more than just your niece.”

My thumb trailed over the back of his hand, skimming knuckles, taking in their slight discoloration, the faint white lines that could have only been age old scars. I dipped my head a tad so that my gaze could align with his shadowed blues, prompting him into lifting his eyes from off the floor.

“I’m also honoured that you think Rosie’s comfortable enough around me to mention the gravity behind it, that you’d trust me with her company, let alone her affection.” I said sweetly, gifting him another smile, it was close lipped but one that appled my cheeks. His stare caught onto it, fingers tightening around my wrist by a fraction in a squeeze that showed only his appreciation. So I squeezed back, fingers fastening over the top of his fist. “Z’s hard not to love, she’s all of your best parts and more. Sometimes…”

I took a small breath, fretful over saying what I had intended to until Marshall met my flickering gaze once more, silently prompting me on. I swallowed thickly, feeling the force of it travel through my throat, but did follow through, “Sometimes it’s just hard raising kids, I guess not everyone’s made out for the harsher reality of it all. Of having to be a parent and not a friend. I mean, it was forced on me in a way, I’ve been raising my siblings since Danny the day came along, since before I knew what being a mum meant. What one was.” The weight of that admission had me reeling for a split second, at the truth it held. But I pursed my lips before allowing my eyes to find Marshall’s once more, “Kim, I’m sure she tries, I’m sure it’s more than my mum ever did, ever could do, but it’s okay for you to fear that it’s not enough for Z, too.”

Marshall worked his jaw, blinking for a second before he eventually spoke, voice rasping with the emotion he felt. “Kid deserves the world.”

I found myself grinning at that, the teary kind which glossed over your eyes but was strong enough that you couldn’t prevent the fluid motion of it. It was without thought that my arms came up to wind their way around his neck and I relaxed further in the gesture when I eventually felt his face come to rest against my shoulder.

“She does.” I murmured, hand cupping the back of his neck, fingers resting over the fine hair which lined his nape. “She does.” I heard myself repeat again as my eyes slipped closed.

When we parted, I watched as Em knuckled the corner of his eye, grunting faintly to clear his throat and rid the room of any tension that then clouded us. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, but did look away towards the tele when he started to shift once more, giving him a sense of security that he hadn’t been caught out, that I wouldn’t dig too deeply into his reaction.

“Thanks.” He murmured after a stunted moment and it was only then that I glanced back over to him. I smiled in turn.

“Nothing to thank me for.”

When we parted ways for the night, I chose to head on up to bed, mind so full of thoughts that I found it hard to latch onto a singular one, whilst Marshall stopped at the bottom of the staircase to gift me a quiet goodnight, eyes caught on the reflection of moonlight that crept its way across my cheek, the sight mirrored on his own face.

I didn’t know it then but I would eventually, he’d never felt so inspired.

So as I’d slipped beneath my duvet, my mind stuck on the words we’d shared, Marshall was back down in the studio, writing away once more. But this time, it was for a completely different reason.

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sehtoast · 5 months ago

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Tender Threads ( Homelander x OC )

chapter one: first impressions

chapter directory

summary: holding the heart of a self-proclaimed god is hard work, but someone's gotta do it. who'd have ever thought it would be some nobody, a simple street level hero-branded-vigilante, who would ascend to one of the seven coveted thrones and do just that?

tags: slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

It’s a night like any other in the concrete jungle of New York City. A streak of red swings through the streets by lines of webbing, eyes peeled for anyone disrupting the peace in his friendly neighborhood. Well, not his neighborhood exactly. He was just a vigilante after all. There’s plenty of fun to pick from, but only one instance could be so special to the city’s one and only Spider-Man– to Benjamin.

It’s not the quippy banter with the thugs breaking into the back of a bodega, nor is it the amusement he gets from webbing each of the fools in one big pile on the ground that makes this night memorable. It’s the interruption, the anomaly that appears all too silently from the sky.

“And just what do we have here, hm?”

The bug turns in surprise, steeling himself against the rush of anxiety that shoots through his veins. This is no ordinary supe here to gripe about him stealing their thunder. This is a man– a god, perhaps– in a whole ‘nother league.

Ben would recognize him by voice alone because it was impossible not to hear it at least once a day. Hell, hide the costume and he’d probably still recognize that face– because it’s everywhere. Billboards, magazines, fucking cereal boxes– you name it, he’s probably there.

Before him stands The Homelander, captain of The Seven, pretty much the face of Vought International. World’s most powerful supe.

“Oh, y’know.” He gestures. “Riffraff doing what they do, and me doing what I do.”

“Nicely done,” Homelander says, professional smile etched into his face like he’d rehearsed this. “You know, good work like this is why we’ve been nipping at your heels, kiddo. Really wish you’d stop making us chase you around.”

And there it is. This was no chance meeting– as if one of the big boys from The Seven would ever be caught dead in an alley in Harlem of all places. Spidey cocks a brow behind his mask. Vought must be desperate.

See, he’s been particularly unlucky lately.

Even before he donned the mantle of Spider-Man, it was never about being in the big leagues. Benjamin mused upon the idea of it, but he could never find himself truly taken with the idea of selling himself as a hero. Not only was the mere idea of commercializing his ability to do a unique good revolting, it would strip away one of the only true freedoms he has. Of course, Vought knew nothing of his reasons– not that they’d care either way– and were ardently pursuing him to fill the now vacant seat formerly belonging to Translucent.

And now, as his luck would have it, they’ve sent their biggest dog to fetch their desired toy.

Benjamin’s sixth sense tells him nothing in the moment. No hidden danger, no tickling of warnings to bolt. A goose chase spanning two months finally coming to a titanic head as The fucking Homelander himself holds him not-quite-hostage in an alleyway.

“You’re still their top pick, you know,” Homelander says, nodding over to the webbed pile of crooks. “You play by their rules without even being on the team. A little… sloppy, but effective. Tell me, how is it you’re going to turn down a spot in the biggest of the big leagues, hm? You’ve pretty much skipped the line.” Homelander scuffs the sole of his boot against the ground, kicking a pebble to the side as he meanders closer. “What, is vigilantism more fun? You like having all those warrants? Vought could clear ‘em up. Get you set straight in the eyes of the law, make you official. Pay you for your late night troubles…”

Ben bristles as he comes closer. It’s not the proximity necessarily, it’s…

It’s like he’s looking straight through the mask.

Benjamin releases a tight breath. “My answer isn’t changing.” He says firmly, despite the anxiety cooking in his chest. He is not a confident man by any stretch. The most bravado he’ll ever know in his life comes from being Spidey. Nobody can see him– nobody knows who he is when he’s got the mask on. He can be whoever he wants. But right now he feels see through.

Pick your words carefully, he thinks to himself.

“I’m not a show pony for Vought to extort.”

Don’t cave– do not give him that satisfaction. It’s what he wants.

He wouldn’t work for Vought. He’s chosen years of barely scraping by rather than taking a tech job with them as a regular person, why the fuck would he do it as a supe? What, he’s just supposed to ignore the endless skeletons in their closet? The pain and suffering, all the people he’s seen online talking about how Vought threw money at them to not sue after some accident or another only to up and disappear?

Ben idolized heroes for so long. His powers didn’t manifest until his late teens and he grew up wanting to be just like the superheroes that made the world a better place– until he realized that those types were so few and far between that they might as well not even exist. All of his childhood heroes were NDAs and settlements, pain and suffering, all covered with media stunts and weak, lazy apologies. Posters were torn down, action figures tossed in the trash– he moved on and eventually became the hero he wished his idols would've been.

“Show pony? Pfffft,” Homelander laughs, blowing a raspberry. “Please. Look at yourself. Skin tight red and blue suit, leaving messes of webs everywhere you go. Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you’re already there.”

“They parade you guys around like trophies,” Ben counters, trying to keep the edge off his tone. “I’m not in this to make money for some rich-fuck shareholders, y’know.”

“And? See, you told every single agent before me that you were in ‘this’ to make a difference.”

Fuck.

“You know how much fucking range you’d have in The Seven?” Homelander splays his arms wide as if to show the scale of the world. Agitation is starting to write itself on his face, leaking free in the twitches of his eye and those rapid blinks. He clearly didn’t expect to have to work for this. “You could help anyone anywhere, all you have to do is say yes.”

The worst part? That’s not technically a lie. And it’s not not tempting.

“I’m sure you’ll see reason,” Homelander smirks, sauntering just the slightest bit closer. “Benjamin.”

The bug’s heart drops to his gut, eyes going wide and glancing in the direction of the pile of webbed crooks in the hopes they neither heard nor will a last name be following.

Fuck, fuck–

They have his name.

“Don’t–”

“Don’t what?” Homelander asks innocently, lips curling even sharper. “You really thought we wouldn’t know who you are? Pff– hah! Please.”

Closer and closer, every step feeling like a lifetime.

“I can see through that mask, you know. Can see how scared you are.” Homelander tuts as he comes within arms reach. “I can hear the pitter patter of your little heart…”

Ben gulps, breaths coming heavy.

“And…” Homelander leans forward, voice a whisper. “I’m sure you understand, Mister Colyer, that I could kill you right now…” A hand falls to rest on Ben’s shoulder, gripping tight. “I really don’t like being told no.”

Ben’s voice shakes and his knees quake, totally ready to dart as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“I'm… not– I'm not doing it.”

His sixth sense doesn’t stir.

Homelander’s bluffing. But, really… So is he.

It’s like the world froze. Time stands still as they stare at one another. Benjamin can see the anger dancing in Homelander’s eyes, but nothing comes of it.

Not even when the bug backs away and that leather clad hands falls free from his shoulder.

“Look, uh… this was nice, y’know?”

Smooth, Ben. Smooth.

“But uh, just call me Randy Jackson, because it’s uhm... it's gonna be a no from me, dawg.” Terrible time for humor, but something had to break the tension. “Goodbye, Homelander.”

And with that, Ben bolts, vaulting up and off the side of a building to propel himself into the night.

Homelander remains in the alley, still stunned, a piercing ring deafening the world around him. He lingers, thoughts racing.

Turned down by the bug, huh champ?

Of course, of fucking course there would be some commentary.

“Hey big guy, you gonna let us go?”

And of course there’s some filth bold enough to interrupt him.

Homelander turns, eye twitching as he scans the pile of mud practically cocooned in webbing. They expect him to release them. After all, Spider-Man is a vigilante. None of his catches are technically official, though there’s usually enough evidence for that fact to be ignored.

“C’mon, you know we ain’t done no harm! Me and the boys were just walkin’ by is all.”

The man in question chuckles nervously at him.

Homelander saunters closer, hands behind his back. He stands over the man, inspecting every little detail. The growing fear in his eyes, the way he sweats.

Putrid. Echoes the voice in his mind. Remind them of who they’re talking to. Of the god they disrespect.

He lifts his foot, placing it dead center on the man’s chest.

“No– please, I didn’t–”

He presses down slowly, grin etching onto his face as pleas turn to tight gasps. The others in the webbing try to scramble, but they can’t escape.

They’re at his mercy. As they should be.

A crunching sound precedes his favorite part. Ribs and muscle give way and a loud squelch graces his ears and the ringing– oh the ringing stops. It's serene, knowing what power he holds. What iron fist he truly has wrapped around the neck of this world.

Attaboy.

To think they’d think him so low as to aid them. To think they’d get to live after seeing him rejected so brazenly.

Now for the rest.

As he takes care of the others, he wonders just how persuasive he'll need to be with the little spider. What threads must he pull to get his way?

#homelander #homelander x oc #homelander x omc #the boys fanfiction #homelander fanfiction #homelander x reader #antony starr #the boys

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transforgaytion · 4 months ago

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If you're still doing the "I wish" prompts, what about those really big eggs? I think it's emu eggs I'm thinking of. Plural :)

-always- accepting "I wish" prompts! (these are now accessible on my blog by clicking the "wishing curse" folder, and will be tagged with "wishingcursetf" ! Really? Is the first thought through her mind. Why on earth would someone utter those words in that order??? Who on earth desires emu eggs??

But before she has much time to react, she begins to feel the first subtle signs of the curse reacting. At first it's just a very very slight bloating feeling. Nothing is visible from the outside yet whatsoever. And at the mall of all places, on a busy Saturday afternoon...Nowhere to hide... How big are emu eggs again? She wonders to herself. To her shock, before she has time to leave the food court, the person who'd initially wished -kept talking-. "Yeah, I wish I had at least a dozen of 'em. Emu eggs, I mean. I wish I had some ostrich eggs too I guess, but I do like emus better as a whole, so I'd rather breed them than ostriches-" .... She pauses to process what she's just heard. How likely is it that at this mall she's stumbled across a wishful EMU FARMER. Wait a damn minute, did he say over a dozen???

Oh god. And with the size of them...this was about to get bad. The band of her jeans began to feel a bit tight against her stomach. They weren't loose jeans to begin with, but she knew what this meant.

She stood up from her seat, grabbed the trash from the table, and begun to quickly try to make an escape. If she could at least make it out to her car-...

"hey! What're you doing here?"

Are you -kidding-?

"Oh, sorry if I startled you!" her most recent ex continues as he looks at her, gauging how she's been doing since the breakup.

It was a smooth breakup, almost more of a break than an actual ending point for the relationship. But her ex didn't know about her curse. She wasn't cursed until two months ago, and they broke up around 5 months ago now.

"No, that's okay... I'm so sorry, I really have to go-" she started to try to exit the conversation, making it a point to apologize later, but she felt a very slight tug on her sleeve as her ex carefully got her attention as she moved to leave.

"Sorry, I just...it's been a while...you don't have a couple of minutes? I promise I won't take up too much of your time, I just-..."

The look in his eyes was so....so sad. So pleading. And he wasn't a bad guy, it's just...

"Look, I'm so sorry, I -really- have to go..."

The look on his face almost broke her heart. But she didn't have a lot of time to pay attention to her heart as her loose t-shirt was beginning to brush up against the skin of her stomach as it was slowly starting to protrude now.

"Wait!" he called after her as she tried to run. Her center of balance was already being thrown off, so she was already struggling to run like she would have been able to an hour ago.

She pants as she runs for the exit door, feeling more bloated than ever.

Once the automatic doors finally slide open, she's met with a terrible realization.

It's community day.

The whole town is in this mall parking lot, complete with food trucks from out of town, live music, the WORKS.

She slowly made her way through the crowd, resisting the urge to put a hand on her stomach to help her balance as she moved quickly through the people to the other side of the parking lot.

She'd actually parked on the other side of the mall entirely, but she got so desperate to leave that she'd gone for the first available exit.

She felt the fabric of the t-shirt starting to get tight around her slowly inflating stomach.

It felt so heavy. So hard. After last time, with the real babies, surely these eggs wouldn't be harder to birth, surely....

She clicks her car key fob a few times, listening through the noise from the community festival to try to hear her car's horn.

She can see it lighting up across the parking lot now, now it's just about making it over there.

It's 8 rows over, she counts.

The t-shirt was starting to ride up. If anyone saw her, they'd definitely think she was pregnant. She wasn't pregnant yesterday. Word would get around that something's wrong with her if she wasn't careful.

She passes between cars, avoiding any people she sees, pulling her shirt back down over her still expanding bump.

It wasn't lumpy like she was afraid eggs might make it, so there must've been fluid in there too. It looked almost exactly like a typical human pregnancy, but perhaps shaped slightly differently?

Either way, her shirt is slowly riding up her stomach higher as she continues to navigate the maze of cars, and her bra is beginning to feel tight.

She can feel her nipples getting so hard and rubbing up against it even with how hot it is outside.

She makes it to the car, -finally-, and turns the key in the ignition before pulling the front seat up as far as it'll go, and letting herself into the back seat.

She locks the door, and tries to breathe a sigh of relief. She feels huge now that she's sitting down, and she knows she's still growing.

Emu eggs. God. Why???? This curse was awful. There's no telling how many times she'd have to endure this.

They said ostrich eggs too...how big were those again?

She pulls the t-shirt off as it's now barely a bra functionally, her stomach too large to contain within it anymore.

She breathes in as her chest increases in size, causing her to rather desperately start moving to take her bra off, as the straps are starting to cut into her shoulders.

It has to start soon, right? The actual contractions have to start soon, she feels like she looks very due.

She finally gives in and lets herself run her hands along her stomach, rubbing it for comfort as it continues to grow.

"A dozen...." she says aloud, trying to keep herself calm.

At least this usually doesn't hurt as bad as real pregnancy would. Eggs should hopefully be even less painful than last time this happened.

Suddenly, as she's finally being able to relax a bit, she hears a loud sound against the car.

She looks up to see her ex, gently knocking at the driver's side window to see if she's in the car. He's really not a bad guy at all, something must be really bothering him for him to be this persistent, but damnit...now is SO not the time, she thinks.

It's not long before he notices her in the back seat. He glances from her face down to her stomach and then back.

She winces. He looks shocked. This isn't good.

"Oh my god!" Even though it's muffled, she can still hear him.

"Let me in, I can help!" he says, after watching her continue to rub her own "due-with-twins" sized belly.

She ignores him at first. She doesn't need help. He's not even supposed to know about this.

"I...I just saw you...how did you hide-...? You know what nevermind, I can still help! Please...?"

What on earth was his deal. And why was he being so-....he was willing to help after looking at her like this??

He tries the car handle, but only once.

It's locked.

her stomach is still growing. It's now taking up her entire lap. It's incredibly obvious how pregnant she is.

Physically, her body never 100% got the memo that the pregnancy was egg based, so she does feel her breasts get heavier and heavier, filling with milk no doubt.

her nipples are finally growing too. Preparing for feeding babies that will never drink from her.

Her ex is looking around now, contemplating if he should call for help. That'd be bad. She really doesn't want to be experimented on or something.

She just wants to lay these eggs in peace.

"Please..." he asks again. On any other guy, this level of persistence would NOT be a good look. But she knows he means well. She knows he's worried about her.

He looks around again, and while he's looking like he's about to go running to beg for medical assistance, her stomach finally, after growing to a size so large she can barely reach around it, finally clenches tight with her first contraction.

When it stops, she looks up and finally meets her ex's eyes. He froze when she clearly contracted, looking like he's feeling her pain with her.

She made a split section decision at that moment and reached up and unlocked the car door. She did her damnedest to scoot over to make room for him to sit beside her.

"Get in and close the door, quickly!" she spat at him in a hushed tone.

He moves quickly, getting in beside her and slamming the door and then re-locking it.

"Okay, what can I do? How can I help? Are you in any pain?"

She is baffled. Why'd she break up with him again? She would be able to recall if her entire mid-section wasn't getting tighter and tighter and oh god-, tighter, tight enough that it starts to hurt, and then it goes even further, it's so tight, so hard, it's squeezing her inside out, it's-....it stops.

"I....you weren't pregnant an hour ago, were you." her ex says flatly. She shakes her head slightly 'no'.

"Is it normal babies?" he continues. She nods 'no' again.

"Okay...uhh...."

"Eggs." She interrupts. "it's eggs."

"Oh!" he exclaims "Well, at least eggs aren't that bi-"

"Emu and ostrich eggs...." She clarifies. He freezes.

"Do-...do you have any idea how many?"

She feels the telltale sensation of her cervix slowly beginning to open around something.

She answers through gritted teeth as her stomach contracts again "uhh...at least a dozen, probably more...."

He looks shocked. He looks around the car. The running car.

"There's barely room back here...how are you going to-....uhh...okay, hold on."

He unlocks the door, and she moans as she tries to protest through the contraction but instead it just devolves into a groan.

He gets out of the back seat, climbs into the front seat, adjusts it for his legs, and re-locks the doors.

"I know you probably can't buckle a seatbelt back there, but I know a place close to here where it'll be really quiet....you'll have room to spread out and be safer there. Can I take you there?"

"oh god.....-" she murmurs as her cervix stretches around her first emu egg, "yes, god, it's happening fast, please...." she doesn't even know what she's begging for.

He puts the car in reverse, and she can tell how carefully he's driving already. Precious cargo and all.

He manages to get out onto the highway, and begins heading out of town. She feels fear for a second, before all her attention is back on her stomach. it's clenched down so hard she can't breathe. It doesn't hurt like it -should- if it was a 'real' non-curse related pregnancy, but it's clenched so -hard-.

He pulls off into a large field, off the main road enough that it's got no eyes on it at all.

"Come on, let me help you" he says as he climbs out of the driver's seat and opens the back door. "Can you walk? It won't have to be far at all, there's just nowhere for you to give birth in that backseat."

She barely nods, and then both her hands hold the sides of her massive stomach as it contracts again, pushing the widest part of the first emu egg into her cervix now.

When it subsides, although moving feels -very- odd, she does manage to step outside. The relief is instant.

She falls into a squat as soon as the car doors close. She can't control it, as soon as there was space, she felt herself squat.

But, oh- pants....

"I, I think I'm pushing, but I-" she babbles. he takes the hint, pulling her pants down gently but very effectively.

"I'm going to pull down your underwear too, okay? Then you can push." --------- part 2 soon if you like my work you can support me at https://ko-fi.com/transforgaytion

#transformation kink #tf kink #rapid pregnancy #rapid birth #breast expansion #belly expansion #wishingcursetf

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babymetaldoll · 10 days ago

Text

Are you mine? - Chapter twelve: "People need to know they are important."

Summary: Let's add more trauma to the Reid's life. How will they deal with Mr. Scratch and Hotch leaving the team? Plus! Diana's health is getting worse and Spencer has to deal with the guilt of not having a clue how to help her. Word count: 14.210 Warning: Hurt and angst, Criminal Minds spoilers. Sad Spencer, sad reader, sad chapter. A/N: Yes, this whole fanfiction has been hard to write because to give my babies a happy ending, I have to put them through so much, it's sad and angsty even for me.

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

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(Y/N)’s point of view

In the following months after Morgan’s departure, Spencer kept trying his best to cope with the loss of his best friend. We would often stare at his empty chair in the jet and get lost in his head. Morgan wasn’t far, just a phone call away, and we would try to see him as often as possible. Well, as often as work and our lives let us. Morgan and Savannah were dealing with a newborn, after all. And we kept catching serial killers all over the country.

Meanwhile, I felt the void between JJ and me growing every day. Without Em, it felt like we didn’t share much in common during cases, but work. She would always talk to Spencer. But for some reason or another, we seemed to be falling apart.

The one thing that made me happy those days was planning our trip: Spencer and I were taking Diana and the kids to France for ten days. We needed to get away from work and create some good memories with our family. Spencer told me his mom had always dreamed about making a trip there, and considering she was doing great with her medication, it was the right time to plan a getaway and take a few days off.

Traveling with two kids was as challenging as we imagined. But we made it work. Diana still hated flying, but she hated boats even more. So the thought (most likely the threat) of taking a cruise was enough to help her deal with the nearly eight-hour trip from Washington to the Charles de Gaulle Airport, in Paris.

I lost count of all the museums we visited, and of all the macarons, opera cakes, and pan au chocolate we ate. Spencer had the entire trip scheduled and nearly timed, which didn’t really work with two babies. After only two hours after landing, my dear husband realized all his plans were going down the drain. And yet, he kept his spirits up.

- “The babies are jetlagged, you are jetlagged. Just nap a little!”

- “Ma cherie, we are finally in the right place to call you cherie, I don’t think I can close an eye.”

Spencer was incredibly excited to be in France. We had traveled through Europe for our honeymoon, but we didn’t include France in our itinerary because one day my husband wanted to take his mother.

- “Relax.”- I whispered and kissed his lips sweetly as Raven and Vinny napped on our bed.

On our first day, we visited Le Louvre and between Spencer and Diana, I got a basically private and very exclusive tour of the place, with the history of most pieces. My husband carried Raven most of the time on his shoulders, while Vinny was in his stroller, napping most of the time.

- “I mean, you read about it your entire life, and then suddenly, you are standing right in front of it.”- Diana whispered as we stood in front of The Venus de Milo.

- “Where are her arms?”- Raven asked and turned to me with the most concerned look on her face.

- “Well Birdy, this statue is very old.”- I started explaining- “And when they found her, she had lost her arms already.”

- “So it’s broken.”- she summed up simply.

- “She hasn’t been well preserved, darling.”- Diana added and held her hand as Raven frowned and looked at her grandma.

- “Some of my toys are not well preserved too.”

I had to bite my lips not to start laughing right there.

We visited the Eiffel towel with Diana and the babies, took a million pictures, and had a picnic in a park right in front, with the most amazing view. But by far, one of the most romantic things we did during our trip was having a date there just the two of us. We left the kids with Diana at the hotel and Spencer took me for dinner at a very exclusive restaurant in the Eiffel Towel, called Julio Verne. It felt very appropriate considering how much my husband loves his books.

- “Wow.”- that was the best I could do at the moment, ‘cos I was speechless. It was by far the most expensive place we had ever been at. I felt guilty for even thinking about eating there, I don’t know why. Like I wasn’t worth it or something.

- “Our first time in a Michelin winner restaurant.”- Spencer whispered as we both looked around the room. We sat by the window, with an incredible view of Paris lightened outside.

- “I’m wearing the best dress I’ve got and I still feel underdressed for the occasion.”- my words made my husband chuckle as he shook his head and stared into my eyes.

- “You look lovely, ma cherie.”- Spencer held my hand and kissed my fingers as he kept looking at me. I know I blushed. He could still make me feel nervous when he did those things.

- “Thank you.”- I had to look away because I was feeling like a teenager on her first date. - “So… did you look at the menu?”

- “Yes. Very French.”- he chuckled as I grabbed one menu and stared at it. - “I already booked us the five courses menu for tonight.”- I remember how I stopped breathing when Spencer announced that and the only thing I could ask was:

- “So our kids are not going to college then.”- and he just laughed.

- “Maybe one. I’m rooting for Raven.”

- “Spencer, why are we spending so much money over dinner? I would have been happy with some saint honoré sitting on the grass down there.”

- “Ma cherie, I’ve waited for this date for years. I’ve dreamed of giving you exactly what you deserve. And this is what you deserve, and if I can give you more, I would!”- I opened my mouth to argue, but I couldn’t. Not because I felt like I deserved all that, but because Spencer’s eyes were so honest, so enamored, and so sweet, I just couldn’t argue with him.

- “You deserve the word.”- I managed to answer, feeling tears coming to my eyes as I stared at my husband.

- “You’ve given me the world. You made me a husband. A father. You gave me our babies.”

- “I could give you a hundred more.”- I confessed underneath and he just raised an eyebrow, raising an eyebrow charmingly.

- “Don’t put ideas in my head.”

- “I’m just saying…-” I chuckled and shook my head.- “I just want to make you happy, honey.”

- “Trust me, ma cherie. You are very good at that.”

I wish I could frame that memory and stare at it whenever I feel sad or doubtful of everything. Sometimes I feel I need an anchor to keep me from drifting to dark places. Which I often did. I blame the nature of our jobs, which could show us daily how mean people could be. How much we can hurt each other.

When we came back after our vacations, things at the BAU kept changing nonstop. Luke Alvez joined the team, which was a great addition. We needed help, and he was good at his job. Besides, it added some drama to the team ‘cos, of course, Luke didn’t want to replace Morgan, he had no idea what had happened with our friend, why he had left, and how important he was to us. And yet, Garcia hated him. No. That’s not enough: Garcia loathed the poor guy before he did anything.

Let’s be honest, it was fun. They had a growing sexual tension that entertained us all the way I can only imagine our own slow burn with Spencer entertained the team in the past. And for once, it was fun staring at the whole show from a safe distance.

But. Of course, there was a “but.”

Hotch wasn’t there. They told us he had been called for a special investigation and from one day to the other, he was gone.

The last time we had a case with him was messy. In the worst way possible. It’s always hard for the team when kids are involved, and when one of them dies… let’s say none of us left that case unharmed. We were coming back home from Seattle. It hadn’t been a long case, a spree killer with an assault rifle. We caught him in less than 16 hours. But when we were on our way back home, the plane turned and took us to Los Angeles.

Hoch had been consulting on cases related to missing kids in the area, and the bodies of two children had just appeared in an empty building. There was still no proof, but Hotch had a hunch. And if he trusted it was related, we were not gonna a argue.

I wish I had known that was our last case together. It feels so much personal now that I know what I know. It also makes everything look more clear: life kept throwing us left curves so we could move and leave our work. But we were too blind to see.

Spencer’s point of view

I don’t think I will ever forget the last case we shared with Hotch. God, just thinking about it makes me mad. I am so tired of not getting to say goodbye to people who mean something to me. Of people who changed my life. I could forget about my own father abandoning me and my mother when I was a kid. But not about Gideon turning his back on the team, Alex leaving without even saying goodbye, or Morgan quitting the team. And I don’t think I could ever deal healthily with the whole idea of Hotch leaving the BAU. I could understand why he did it, but at the same time, it hurt me professionally and personally.

It came to a point where I was in deep paranoia everyone I cared for was going to turn their backs on me. My own wife included.

When we reached Los Angeles, me, Alvez, and JJ went straight to the crime scene. We had a suspect, there had been a similar case two years earlier in San Diego. Two kids, same M.O. but their bodies were found months apart. It fitted the profile. At the crime scene, we found the same chains and locks he had used in the previous crime. Same cots, same woods. It was clearly him.

But other than that, we didn’t really have much. (Y/N), Tara, and JJ talked with the family of the victims, trying to gather more info, something that could help us find a path, a pattern, anything. But we were in the dark. Hotch talked with the press, ‘cos we were getting desperate, the fire in the crime scene had destroyed any print or clue we could have gotten. We needed something, and I hate when all the hope we have is based on the unsub committing a crime again. Which he did: after 46 hours, he had caught 16-year-old girl Francesca Morales.

- “We are referring to him as a sadistic pyromaniac, which is a rare and dangerous combination because there's a strong compulsive element to his psychopathy.”- I said as we delivered the profile in front of the police department.

- “It's not just about watching the fires he sets. It's also the mental pain and anguish he inflicts.”- (Y/N) added and turned to Hotch.

- “We believe that he's driving a truck, van, or an RV. He needs space to abduct and transport his victims. We know that he's extremely mobile. We've notified law enforcement in surrounding counties. We just want to make sure he doesn't leave the city limits.”- our unit chief described.

And that was the last time we delivered a profile with Hotch.

Sometimes I hate how good my memory is. It can turn into a curse when I can recall so many details of moments I wish I could forget. But like my wife said on April 16th, 2008: I remember everything.

My wife wasn’t taking the case well at all. As I’ve said several times, whenever there are kids involved, you can’t help but think of your own. Considering this unsub was taking a girl and a boy, it was easy to project our babies in every crime scene and victim we saw. She called her mom at least four times during the afternoon we talked with Mrs. Morales, the kidnapped girl’s mother. JJ was very afflicted as well and came over to talk to me while I made my wife a cup of fresh coffee.

- “How are you holding up?”- she asked and stood next to me as I filled two mugs with coffee.

- “Just tired. You?”

- “Talking with Mrs. Morales gave us some more information about her daughter. Apparently, they were very close, and Francesca was aware she had to take care while alone on the streets. That means if he tried to use a ruse on her, it wouldn't work on her.”

- “So he probably resorted to some kind of blitz attack to get her.”- I thought out loud as I added sugar to my cup. JJ nodded and sighed.

- “It’s the part of our job I hate the most.”

- “It’s always hard when there are kids involved.”- I whispered stirring my coffee.- “Makes you wonder if you are doing enough, or if anything you do is even helping at all.”

Those last words were meant to stay in my mind, but I couldn’t control myself. I was tired, and though we had some clues, I still felt we were going nowhere.

- “What we do makes a difference, Spence.”- JJ placed a hand on mine and smiled.

- “It’s hard to feel that way when your friends keep leaving, and you spend a week away from your kids.”- I just spat the words and my friend stared at me, astonished.

- “Spence, Morgan left for a reason.”

- “I know, and I understand his reasons.”- I shouldn't have said that in front of JJ, I understood that second, she wasn’t going to let my comment go. - “I’m gonna get this to my wife.”

- “Wait, Spence. I know we haven’t talked much lately, things have been crazy at home with Henry and Michael, but… we could have coffee sometime, get to talk.”- JJ stood in front of me with pleading eyes, like she felt sorry for not talking to me. Did she feel I had no one to tell my feelings to? I still wonder if I did right when I shook my head and simply cut her a short smile.

- “Thanks. I know we can talk. I just… things have been crazy back home too, with Raven and Vincent.”

- “You know you can count on me whenever you need anything.”- JJ’s hand caressed my arms and for once, I didn’t really like her touching me. Still, I didn’t say anything. I just nodded and smiled.

- “Thank you. You can count on me too.”

I made my way back to the conference room, where my wife was sitting next to Tara and Hotch. They were going through everything we knew about the case over and over again, in case we had missed anything. I gave her her cup of coffee and watched her smile at me, making me feel things were right for a second.

- “Thank you hon.”- (Y/N) whispered and sipped her mug.

- “Sorry guys, I didn’t know if you had coffee.”- I apologized but Tara just shook her head and smiled.

- “Rossi is getting us some caffeine, he should be on his way back. Thank you, Spencer.”

I nodded and turned to the board in silence. It was hard to focus, but if I wanted to go home soon, I had to find something that could help us catch that killer and bring those kids back home safely as soon as possible.

- “He won't leave the city”- I mumbled staring at the map in front of me

- “You say something?”- Lewis asked me from the table. I kept my eyes on the image in front of me for a second or two, trying to rearrange my thoughts, and then I turned to look at her the second Rossi walked into the room with coffee.

- “I don't think he'll leave the city.”- I explained. - “Look, if you track his activity from the start, his first two victims were found near the Mexican border. But they were discovered 6 months apart and in locations 52 miles apart. Unfortunately, because they were runaways, it's impossible to track when or where they were taken, but his next two victims, Hannah Robertson and Max Wasserman, only lived 14 miles apart, and they were taken within days of each other.”

- “Ok.”- Tara stared at me, waiting for a big revelation, ‘cos so far I was just spitting facts we knew.

- “But he took them both 39 miles all the way here to Los Angeles to finish the job.”- I simply added.

- “We profiled that that could be about availability.”- Rossi commented from the other side of the table.- “A lot of abandoned space here.”

- “And don’t forget about the high police presence around the abduction sites.”- my wife mumbled before taking a long sip of the coffee I made for her.

- “Exactly, it makes sense he'd keep moving to avoid being caught.”- Tara commented as he turned to me and shrugged.

- “But he didn't keep moving, and he didn't go dormant. He stayed right here and accelerated.”- I analyzed and stared at (Y/N), who raised an eyebrow reading my mind.

- “So Los Angeles is where he wants to be.”- she suggested and I nodded, drawing lines on the map.

- “Yes, I think he's been converging on the city.”

- “If that's true, his next victim probably lives in Los Angeles, too.”- Hotch stared at the map, doing his analysis as he dialed the phone and Garcia’s voice filled the whole room.

- “Sir, yes, sir.”

- “Garcia, how many boys live within a 15-mile radius of Francesca Morales?”- Aaron asked her. The answer was impossible.

- “Uh, thousands, Sir, like literally.”

- “All right, narrow your search by hair color. We're only interested in boys with brown hair.”- and we all heard her typing as fast as possible as she hyperventilated.

- “Right. Uh, this is gonna take me a while because kids that age don't usually have photo IDs. They have passports, maybe, but it's all about the parents' social media. I'm gonna handle this. I'll hit you back when I have something.”

- “All right, thanks.”- Hotch hung up and (Y/N) looked at him shaking her head.

- “You love pushing her to the limits, don’t you?”

- “I never ask something unless I know you all can answer.”- Hotch replied and my wife just nodded. And suddenly, something hit her ‘cos she wide opened her eyes and turned to me.

- “Ok, call me crazy ‘cos I might be projecting our babies in this whole case, but Francesca Morales has a brother that age. If the unsub is converging, he could be a target.”

- “Yeah, but Hannah Robertson had an 11-year-old brother and a 9-year-old brother, and Max Wasserman has a 15-year-old sister.”- Tara argued but my wife insisted.

- “I mean he is not just after an older girl and a younger boy…”

- “It’s older sister, younger brother.”- I finished my wife’s sentence and she nodded. Now I was projecting our babies in the case as well. And it made it a thousand times worse.

- “We should bring in this Morales kid just to be safe.”- Rossi suggested. But we were too late. The unsub already had that poor kid. When JJ and Alvez got there, Berto had been taken and Mrs. Morales was unconscious. They called an ambulance and then drove back to the station.

An hour late, we had a suspect: John David Bates. He was from Nevada, currently living in Los Angeles. He had tried to burn the family house with his sister in it twice before his parents relinquished his custody and he ended up in a foster home.

This kill was his endgame. He wanted to kill an older sister with her little brother. Hotch didn’t let me or my wife on the field that night. I think he knew it had gotten too personal for us. But he failed to notice how personal it had turned for JJ as well. She ended up hurt that night, and Francesca sadly died. Only her brother Berto was saved from the fire the unsub had created.

It felt wrong. Like nothing we did was ever enough. We tried our best and yet failed. I refused to even talk about it. I just wanted to be home, at peace, with my babies and my wife, in our own bubble.

On the plane back, I made (Y/N) a cup of tea and covered her with a blanket. She cut me a short smile and rested her head on my shoulder, snuggling closer. A few minutes later, not even half into her cup of tea, she was sound asleep. Hotch looked at us from his seat and the ghost of a smile hunted his face for a fragment of a second. I caught him staring at us when I looked at him from my book and felt my lips twitch into a shy grin.

- “Years might pass, but I will always feel happy to watch you two so in love.”- he murmured from his chair and sipped his whiskey.

- “We would have never gotten here if it wasn’t for you.”

- “I would disagree, but at your pace, you would still be considering confessing your feelings to her.”- Hotch grinned and I nodded.

- “You are right about that. So thank you for pushing us to deal with our feelings.”

- “I regret many decisions from the last ten years. That will never be on that list.”-Aaron assured me and I knew he meant it.

That will always be the last conversation we shared. After that day, I never saw him again.

How can you not resent your work when people you consider your own family disappear from your life like that? At first, they told us he was on a special mission, but after a month or so, the truth was out: he was in the witness protection program after he discovered Mr. Scratch was stalking his son Jack.

Of course, I understand the deep anger and desperation you feel when you even just imagine something - anything bad - happening to your kids. That means I can’t really blame Hotch for leaving. I don’t. I could never. But if you ask me, I blame our work. The nature of what we do. Serial killer, the constant danger.

There was a time when the mere thought of leaving the BAU seemed impossible. But at that time, it started looking real.

But before we could even start thinking about leaving, we had to catch Mr. Scratch.

Right. We haven’t talked in deep of Mr. Scratch just yet. Let me give you the facts: I hate that mother fucker. He has been one of the few unsubs that has gotten under my skin. One of the few I would have killed before even trying to question. Before we knew Hotch was gone for real, Prentiss came back for a few weeks, to cover for him. That was great, and fun and a nice change from missing Emily. Having her around made the transition a little more bearable, I think.

We first met Mr. Scratch back when Kate was still in the BAU over a year earlier. He was drugging people and turning them into murderers. Why? ‘Cos back in the days, one of them had pointed out his father as a pedophile while he was a kid and his parents ran a foster home in Florida, which led to the death of his father in the hands of other prisoners while he was doing his time.

We managed to catch the guy that one time. He tried to get into Hotch’s head, drugged him, and even persuaded him to kill us. I guess that’s why he got obsessed with Aaron. He couldn’t crack his head and make a puppet out of him. So he plotted his revenge.

Right before we went to Paris, Hotch was ambushed and accused of plotting an attack against the BAU. Crazy? Yes. The fact the Department of Justice actually believed the accusations were true made it even worse. And considering Jack, his son, had to witness the moment a SWAT team stormed into their apartment to get him… honestly, why were we still with the FBI?

Scratch’s revenge was a long shot. He helped an anarchist plan a prison break and used an unsub autistic son to frame our Unit Chief. The result was multiple serial killers on the loose. Including Mr. Scratch himself.

Eventually, National Security realized they were being played and released Hotch. I will never forget that case ‘cos - a side from the eidetic memory issue - it all happened less than two months after Vincent was born, and it was one of the first cases I was back for. It was local, and for a split of a second, while I was in that prison, in the middle of a shooting, I thought that was it. That my kids would have to grow up without their father. That I was never gonna leave that place alive. It wasn’t any better when a helicopter exploded right in front of us.

Sure, Rossi planned a nice dinner afterward, and we all got to share a beautiful evening together with the kids, and our loved ones. But… we weren’t even done eating when Hotch’s cell phone rang. Thirteen serial killers, along with Mr. Scratch were on the loose. Years of work, wasted.

- “Why do we even bother?”- (Y/N) asked crossing her arms on her chest as we all stood in Rossi’s library, trying to understand what was happening. - “We fight serial killers, we hunt them down, and mother fuckers get on the loose again! No one will ever actually be safe.”

Back then I told her it was our work to make sure those killers wouldn’t hurt anyone else. But now, I know it was our job. Now we have a bigger task. We have to find our own happiness.

(Y/N)’s point of view

The first few weeks after Prentiss came back were fun. Well, as fun as our job can be. She brought donuts for breakfast and tried to make Luke feel more welcome (making it awkward in the process, as it should be, considering he was, as Garcia liked to call him: the newbie). She also organized a few ladies' nights out to catch up. Maybe she realized JJ and I were not as close as we used to be. Or maybe she was just trying to make up for all the time she had spent away.

Meanwhile, at home, Spencer had been obsessing with getting his mother into a groundbreaking study that, according to all the investigation and papers he had read, could in fact reverse the effects of Alzheimer's.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was too good to be true, and I knew it was something Spencer needed to do for his mother. Diana had been ok, she was incredibly present and healthy during our trip. If we didn’t know she had schizophrenia and Alzheimer's, she would have passed by a very volatile and fun grandmother. She had fully embraced her new title of grandma, or Memaw, as she likes to be called. Memaw read to Raven for hours, all of their favorite stories. And she held baby Vincet and hummed sweet lullabies for him, filling our hearts with love every time we were together.

But Spencer was afraid. He didn’t want to lose his mother and with every passing day, a little piece of her disappeared. So of course I supported him through the entire application process and hoped for the best.

- “It’s been three weeks, they should know by now.”- Spencer whispered in the middle of the dark. We were cuddled on our bed, our kids sound asleep on the very same bed, after feeding Vincent and calming Raven from a bad dream.

- “These things take time, hun. You know it. They told you it could take from three to five weeks.”- I replied and caressed his arm slowly, feeling him roll on the bed, Raven sleeping in between us. I looked at him and cut him a short smile in the dark.

- “I know. It’s just… I’m anxious, I need this to work.”

- “It will work. No matter what, we are never going to stop trying to help your mom feel better. You know that, right?”- I heard him sigh and then, Spencer got quiet. I didn’t want to continue talking, afraid I could push him too hard. I knew Diana was a sensitive subject for Spencer, and no matter how long we had been together, I still felt around eggshells when it came to her health.

- “Thank you, chipmunk.”- that was all Spencer whispered after a few seconds, and held my hand in the dark.

That’s why I understood exactly why he was so excited when he finally got the call from the director of the assisted care home Diana lived at back in Las Vegas. She was in. I was at my desk in the bullpen, trying to finish some of the paperwork I had behind when I saw him spinning on his chair. That could only mean something good had happened.

- “She’s in! She is in!”- Spencer ran to me and lifted me from my chair, nearly jumping.

- “Wh…”- but before I could even ask, Rossi stood next to us, raising an eyebrow.

- “Am I interrupting a private moment?”- and after a short pause, David wide opened his eyes. - “You are not pregnant again, are you?”

- “Wh.. no!”- I chuckled as I replied, thinking it was fun that was the very first thing that came to Rossi’s mind.

- “I was just talking with the director of the assisted care home where my mother lives.”- Spencer explained, still smiling- “We kept quiet because we didn't want to jinx it, but there's a groundbreaking clinical study on Alzheimer's at Johns Hopkins next month, and I just found out that my mom's gonna be one of the participants. She got in.”

Rossi smiled and hugged my husband, tapping his back a few times.

- “That's great news, Spencer.”

- “It's huge. The program's called metabolic enhancement for neuro-degeneration, and results from earlier tests are hopeful, not just to slow the disease but to actually reverse it!”- after that sentence, Spencer actually started jumping, making me and Rossi chuckle at the sight. The last time I saw Spencer that happy had been the day we discovered we were having Vinny.

- “Ok, it's customary that the lottery winner shares that mega-payout with the rest of the office.”- Garcia said, walking toward us, surprised by my husband’s excitement.

- “Well, Reid's news is even better than that.”- Rossi explained, but we didn’t have time to tell her the whole story: we had a case.

- “Told you things were gonna work out”- I whispered as I kissed my husband’s hand, walking hand in hand to the briefing room. And the way he smiled at me, so full of excitement and hope, I can’t believe all the shit that came next.

As far as we knew, Hotch was still on TDY, but available for consultation in case we needed him. Which sadly we didn’t. Maybe that was the sign he needed to simply let go: the team was going to be ok without him. Work would get done, even if he wasn’t there to supervise it. I need to write that down and repeat it as a mantra.

My husband’s excitement lasted exactly six and a half hours. That very same afternoon, while we were in the middle of the investigation on the Appalachian trail, not really far from Quantico. We were outside the abduction site of the latest victim of our unsub. Spencer had commented last case we had there was the time I had gotten lost in the woods, six years ago, and that had been the reason behind my nickname: “Chipmunk.” He was happy, you could tell, even when we were trying to catch a serial killer, my husband was excited.

That, until he got a phone call.

- “The victim's name is Howard Walker.”- JJ announced as she walked from the convenience store the victim had seen last. - “He was picking up pizza and beer for the family dinner.”

- “We're a half mile or more from where Lewis and Alvez apprehended the unsub.”- Spencer commented as I took a look around, trying to picture the whole scene happening in front of me. What weren’t we seeing?

- “The guy must have needed a car or a truck if he was moving the victim away from here. I don’t think Todd has the skills to drive.”- I said and Spencer nodded. But he didn’t say anything ‘cos he got a call and without saying another word, he walked away from us to pick up.

I stared at him and noticed his face changing as Rossi and JJ kept talking about the case. They had lost my entire concentration, I knew there was something wrong by the way Spencer started pacing as he talked.

- “Lab results.”- Rossi announced as he took a look at his phone. He touched my shoulder and forced me to focus on work again.- “DNA in that muzzle we found matches one of the original five victims.”

- “That means the unsub is probably making them wear it for his fantasies.”- I said as Rossi nodded.

- “Dehumanize them.”- he added - “It's easier to kill an animal than a human.”

Spencer ended his call and turned to look at us. He seemed defeated and shocked. I took a few steps closer to him and rubbed his arm carefully. But before I could actually ask my husband what was happening, I heard JJ’s voice.

- “Everything ok, Spence?”- I couldn’t control my own face as I deadpanned her.

- “Yeah…”- he nodded and sighed. Of course, he was lying.

- “What is it?”- I whispered and held his hand.

- “That was the Las Vegas police. I guess they found my mom wandering around a casino near her living facility. She didn't know who she was or how she got there.”

- “How is she?”- I asked right away

- “She is ok. They put her on the phone. She sounded normal, just obviously embarrassed, you know, by all the fuss.”

- “You have to go be with her.”- the words left my lips before I even processed it.

- “I can't do that. We're right in the middle… and the kids are at home. I can’t leave you alone now.”

- “Investigation will be fine.”- Rossi explained to him right away.

- “And I will manage. I can ask Mom for help. Or Frank, or Mikey, or Garcia.”

- “I just… can’t…”- Spencer looked at me and I could see the struggle within him.

- “We'll be fine here. We’ll help with the kids.”- Rossi assured him and I nodded, still holding onto his hand.

- “Your mom is a priority.”- JJ added and I looked at Spencer with a short smile.

- “Go, honey. Please.”

- “Are you sure?”- he whispered and caressed my cheek sweetly. I nodded one more time and let go of his hand.

- “I am sure, you have to do it.”

- “Ok. I'm gonna go to the M.E.'s office and grab something for Prentiss, but I'll leave first thing in the morning and spend a day or two. No more than that.”

- “Take all the time you need.”- Rossi said as my husband waved and walked to the SUV.- “Aren’t you going with him?”- David asked and turned to me. - “Come on! Like I’m the one who is tearing you two apart.”

- “Thank you.”- I whispered and hurried to catch my husband before he got to the car.

Things didn’t get better for him, though. And that very same day, later in the afternoon, Spencer got another phone call. We were ready to go, mom had called to tell me she had taken the babies to our apartment so Spencer got to spend extra time with them before his trip. He had tickets to Las Vegas at 7am, and I knew he didn’t really want to go, but he had to.

- “Yes, this is him”- Spencer said as he picked up the phone on his desk and stayed sat, staring blankly in front of him.

- “What are you still doing here?”- Rossi asked and stood next to me as I stared at Spencer, still on the phone. One more time, it was clear he wasn’t getting good news. - “I thought you were home, packing a bag.”

- “We are almost out”- I said and Spencer hung up.- “What happened?”

- “That was the director of the Johns Hopkins clinical trial. Turns out my mom wasn't chosen.”

- “What? Why? What happened?”- I moved closer to him and rested my hands on his shoulders as he just sat there, in shock.

- “Budget restraints. The study had to randomly reduce the number of participants and my mom's name was drawn.”

- “I’m so sorry honey”- he just shook his head and sighed, defeated.

- “Well, you can still go to Vegas.”- Rossi suggested and I agreed with him.

- “That’s true. Your mom still had that episode this morning, and I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”

- “No. It's important that I stay here and try and find something else.”- Spencer shook his head and turned to me and Rossi, giving all the explanations he thought we needed. - “There's a study coming up with Paul Stanfield at the Anderson Clinic in Houston...

- “Hon… no. She needs you now.”

- “I have to find another way to help her.”- my husband was determined, and I knew it was going to be hard to change his mind.

- “Spencer, I understand you want to help. But don't lose sight of the bigger picture.”- Rossi sat on Reid’s desk as he spoke and my husband looked at him, lost in the conversation.

- “What do you mean?”

- “You have a finite amount of time left with your mother. I know it's a hard thing to say, but I speak from experience. Don't squander the time you have left by being overly focused on fixes.”

That was exactly what I wanted to tell him, but never found the right words. I loved Rossi that minute.

- “But I want her to get better.”- Spencer argued, probably not getting the real concept of “limited time.” He knew his mom was losing her mind every day a little more, but he still thought he had more time than he actually had to help her.

- “Then get on that phone. Buy your ticket to Las Vegas. Being with you, seeing you, hearing your voice, that's the best medicine you could give your mother. That you can give each other.”

- “Papa pasta is right, hon. Your mom needs her son more than anything right now. That’s all that matters right now.”

Spencer nodded and stayed in silence, probably trying to process everything that had just happened. Rossi hugged him as we all stood up and walked out of the bullpen. My husband didn’t want to talk much on the drive back home, and I didn’t push him. I knew he was miserable.

- “Daddy!!!””- Raven ran to his arms as soon as we opened the front door and my mom stared at us from the kitchen, holding baby Vinny in her arms.

- “Someone was eager to see you two.”- she said with a warm smile.

- “We were eager to see you too, birdy. How was your day? Hey Sofia!”- Spencer kissed our daughter’s cheeks many times as he held her in his arms and she started telling him every single detail of her day. I was glad to stare at that scene because it put a smile on Spencer’s face and that was enough to make me feel happy.

- “Today the teacher read us a story, but you had read it to me already, but everybody liked it, so I told them there was a second part, and the teacher said she was gonna read that tomorrow.”- Raven kept rambling as I walked toward mom and held baby Vinny.

- “Thank you for picking them up from daycare”

- “Anytime you need, peanut. Vinny already ate, but Raven wanted to have dinner with you two.”

- “And then my friend said I had to jump, and I did, and they said I had to do it again…”- Raven was on fire talking with Spencer, so I walked to the kitchen with my mom and whispered.

- “Diana didn’t make it to the study after all.”

- “What? Why?”

- “They cut the budget and Diana didn’t make the cut.”

- “That’s so bad, how is he?”

- “I don’t think he wants to go anymore.”- I whispered and turned to look at Spencer laughing at something Raven had told him.

- “Why not? His mother needs him.”

- “That’s what I told him, Mom. But it’s still hard for him to face her episodes and the fact she is forgetting so much. One thing is schizophrenia, another thing is dementia, and I don’t think he can handle both their effects on his mother.”

- “Poor thing.”- my mom whispered and sighed. - “It’s so sad what’s happening to Diana. She is such a nice and sweet woman.”

- “I know… Spencer doesn’t deserve all this pain.”-I murmured and kissed my baby’s cheek several times.

- “Have you considered bringing her here? Keep her close?”- mom muttered

- “I’ve told him that so many times… but he keeps saying it’s too much to deal with considering we have the kids…”- but I couldn’t continue talking, because Spencer walked over and stood next to me. Raven kept her little arms around his neck and smiled at me as I stared at her thinking my daughter was the biggest daddy’s girl I had ever met.

- “ How was your day, Sofia?”

- “I was just telling (Y/N), I had a very nice day today. I had lunch with my friend Rebecca, she is so fun! She just came back from Canada, she was visiting her daughter.”

Remember when I told you I was the best liar in the entire FBI? I got that from my mom.

Later that night, we put the kids to bed. Raven asked Spencer to read her a story while I walked Vinny across his room until he was fast asleep. I sang to him under my breath and watched him asleep for a few minutes, enjoying the entire moment ‘cos I knew how short those moments were. My little baby was going to be running up and down the house in no time.

After I put him down in his crib, I put an eye on Raven, who was sound asleep already. I covered her and tiptoed outside her room, ready to get into my bed and get some decent sleep for once. That was when I heard my husband on the phone.

- “Dr. Stanfield, hi, my name is Spencer Reid, and I was wondering if you were available tomorrow to talk about my mother.”

And that’s when I knew he wasn’t going to Las Vegas the following day. He was gonna focus on getting her into another experimental treatment instead of spending decent time with her while he still could. And it really broke my heart to think how traumatized and helpless he must have felt.

Spencer’s point of view

I knew my wife was worried about me. But all I could think of at that minute was how to help my mother. And hanging out with her was not going to stop the dementia from taking her from me. I had to find a way to treat her, a place where they could actually help her.

So I let the days pass, we got a few more cases, and life continued as it had always been, and that gave me some sort of comfort. I got my mother into another experimental study group in Houston. (Y/N) and I talked about it and we had an agreement. I was going to give that study a chance, but if it didn’t work, we were bringing my mother to Washington so we could take care of her and help her as much as we could.

It didn’t feel right putting my wife under so much pressure, but she kept telling me what happened to my mother wasn’t just my problem, but ours ‘cos we were a family. And if I have to be honest, I loved the sound of that.

And life left a little more in place after that. Until it finally happened. After over a month without Hotch, we arrived at the bullpen and Garcia intercepted us before we could even have our first coffee at the office.

- “Thank God you guys are here. What do you know?”- and we all stared at her not getting what she was talking about.

- “Nothing.”- JJ replied and frowned, as lost as we were. So Garcia started explaining:

- “Ok. Rossi got here crazy early, and then right when Prentiss came in he pulled her in there.”- and we all stared at his office the minute he and Prentiss walked out and stared back at us with the most serious expression.

- “We need to talk.”- David said as he and Emily walked to the briefing room.

- “That never leads to anything good.”- I whispered and didn’t even stop to leave my purse on my desk as I followed the team to the room. Spencer held my hand and looked at me, clearly worried about what was going to happen. Was someone leaving? What other changes could we face as a team?

- “What's going on?”- Garcia asked as soon as we were all together behind a closed door.

- “It's Hotch.”- Rossi announced and our hearts stopped at the idea of anything happening to our Unit Chief.

- “Oh, my God. Is he ok?”- Penelope’s voice was hyperventilated as she spoke.

- “He's ok. But he has not been away on special assignment.”- David started explaining- “That's something we had to say as a cover for the investigation.”

- “I’m sorry, what are you talking about? What investigation?”- (Y/N) shouted the questions, a little exasperated Rossi was taking his sweet time explaining what was happening.

- “Hotch saw Peter Lewis watching one of Jack's soccer games.”- and we all gasped at David’s words, ‘cos it meant Mr. Scratch was stalking our team.

- “By the time Hotch reacted, Lewis had taken off. The Bureau searched the area, but he disappeared.”- Prentiss added, sounding very secure and calmed, knowing she had to give us at least the false sensation of security.

- “When was this?”- JJ asked, her voice and expression as stern as I had ever seen.

- “Days after Mr. Scratch resurfaced in Arizona.”- I nodded at Rossi’s words and Tara commented

- “One of the victims was chanting his name when we found her. She had "Hotch" carved into her forehead. It really got to him.”

- “Why didn't he tell us? We could have focused on finding Mr. Scratch!”- I questioned right away. It was upsetting knowing our Unit Chief had been through that hell on his own when we could have all helped him find that psycho and keep his family safe.

- “He knows we can't drop everything. Also, he didn't want to worry everyone.”- Rossi explained like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was. It meant we had failed to keep each other safe.

- “So now what? They have around-the-clock surveillance?”- Luke asked what we all wanted to know but couldn’t ask, ‘cos I get at a certain level, we were all in shock.

- “Initially, yes.”- Rossi started, and it didn’t sound good.- “Agents were assigned to watch Jack 24/7. But when we were all in L.A, on the John David Bates case, Scratch surfaced again, this time at Jack's school.”

- “Going after Jack takes this to a whole new level.”- JJ mumbled looking scared, and I could absolutely relate to her. When you realize your own kids could be the next ones chased by a serial killer, things start looking very dark.

- “Peter Lewis is not going to stop. Which is why Hotch and Jack have now entered the program.”- Rossi finished explaining, and for a moment it felt unreal. It was also a deja vu. I couldn’t stop thinking it was the same thing that happened with Haley. Hotch must have been going through hell all those weeks alone with Jack.

- “But now that this happened, we can drop everything and focus on catching Mr. Scratch, and then Hotch can come back, right?”- Garcia’s voice was filled with hope, but somehow I knew the answer was going to be a no. (Y/N) held my hand tight and I moved closer to her, feeling her body next to me.

- “He went away believing that could happen. But things have changed. He's now decided that he can't put himself and Jack in danger again.”

It was official. Hotch was gone for good. And it didn’t matter if we caught Mr. Scratch or not. He had made his choice. And it was his family, his real family, not his “work family”.

- “He just sent in his resignation.”- Rossi confirmed. - “I know this is a lot to process.”

- “I mean, yeah, he's a great dad, and this is an impossible job, and we know how much tragedy he's had. He's had enough tragedy. But… does this mean we're never going to be able to talk to him again?”

It was Garcia’s question that left us all speechless. It wasn’t just that Hotch had entered the witness protection program. It was the fact he had left us. Just like that. Like we didn’t matter. Not even saying goodbye. Turning his back to everything we had done together all the years we were at the BAU. It was… shocking to say the least.

- “We don't have a choice.”- Rossi assured us- “It's not ideal, obviously. But as his friends, we have to support his decision.”

- “The only way for Hotch to guarantee Jack's safety is if they both stay off the grid.”- Emily commented with such sorry eyes you could tell she didn’t want to give us that news. No one would. It was heartbreaking for the team.

- “And one more thing.”- Rossi added, but my wife interrupted him.

- “Come on papa! We can’t deal with any more news today. It’s too early to drink, too soon to retire. What do you want from us?”

- “Trust me, ragazza, you are gonna like this”- Rossi cut her a short smile and explained. “Hotch spoke to the director as to who should replace him. Don't worry, it won't be me. You know I'm allergic to paperwork.”

- “Aren’t we all?”- (Y/N) whispered and made me chuckle as David finally announced.

- “But Hotch's final request was that Emily Prentiss becomes the BAU's new bureau chief.”

- “Thank the universe for silver linings.”- Garcia mumbled as we all nearly clapped in excitement. That was actually good news.

- “Ok, I just heard about all of this myself a few minutes ago.”- Prentiss was almost apologizing for her new position.

- “But you are gonna say yes, aren’t you Em?”- (Y/N) asked her immediately, and Prentiss just stared at her not knowing what to answer.- “I mean, we all miss you, you miss us. This place is finally feeling a little like home with you around…”

- “Thank you, Reid.”- Em replied with a silly grin, enjoying calling my wife by her new last name, though it wasn’t new at all at that point.

- “Congratulations, Emily.”- Luke said and smiled at her.

- “This'll be good, right?”- I asked, trying to stay positive at that major change.

- “You kidding me? This'll be great.”- JJ was nearly beaming with the announcement.

- “I am really happy for you.”- Tara added with a warm smile. But Prentiss shook her head as she stared at us.

- “Thank you, guys, but I haven't exactly signed on yet.”

- “What is there to analyze? We are dying without you, we need you, you are our family.”- (Y/N) nearly glared at Em as she excused herself and Rossi continued talking before my wife said anything else.

- “Everyone knows you have a lot to consider, but the brass needs an answer by tomorrow.”

- “Understood.”- Prentiss just nodded as Garcias’s phone beeped.

- “I hate to interrupt the bad news/good news with bad news/bad news, but we've got three missing kids in Delaware.”

And just like that, life continued. I hated it. I needed time to process what was happening. To think about what was Hotch doing, and how it would affect us all. But no, I didn’t have time at all. It was all changing again, and I hate change so much it’s hard to even describe how I felt.

Pointless. That’s the word. It all started feeling pointless.

- “Can we please have a quiet weekend at home?”- (Y/N) whispered as we all gathered our things after briefing the next case. We had to be in the jet in a few minutes.

- “Sure chipmunk. Anything in mind?”

- “Pajamas, our babies, movies and books. Maybe some home-baked cookies.”

- “Sounds like the best plan.”- I kissed the top of her head and she sighed.

- “Can you imagine being Hotch?”- she whispered as I stayed close to her.- “I mean, Jack was being followed by a serial killer. If anything like that happened to Raven or Vinny, I’d…”- I couldn’t let her follow that rabbit hole, so I tried to stop her before she continued spiraling down.

- “They are safe. We are safe.”- I whispered and kissed her forehead.- “And I will never let anything happen to any of you, chipmunk. Never.”

- “I’m sure that’s what Hotch said to himself every day while he worked here.”- (Y/N) seemed lost in her head as she mumbled those words. I held her close to me and sighed knowing what was happening was as hard for me as it was for her.

- “And he stayed true to his word. Nothing will happen to Jack.”- I assured her, trying to make her feel calm.

- “Not after what happened to Hailey.”- my wife whispered and her voice sounded brokenhearted. - “Sometimes I wonder which will be the drop that breaks the camel’s back for us at the BAU.”

I stared at (Y/N) not knowing what to say. So I kept my mouth shut as her eyes begged me for an answer.

- “Come on, Reids.”- Luke interrupted us as he passed by my desk. - “They are waiting for us in the jet.”

- “Yeah, we’ll be right there.”- (Y/N) replied and took a step back from me slowly. I held her hand and looked into her eyes, trying to show her how serious I was.

- “I will never let anything hurt you, or our babies.”

- “I know, hon. Me neither.”

The mood on the plane was weird. (Y/N) sat next to Prentiss and Rossi and kept asking questions about Hotch the first minutes we were there, while I walked to the kitchenette to pour us some coffee.

- “There's a lot to process before my first cup.”- JJ said as we stood there, both of us craving caffeine. She handed me a cup for myself and poured one for herself.

- “Thank you.”- I replied and grabbed another mug for my wife as she just kept talking.

- “I can't believe he's been dealing with this for weeks and we never knew.”

- “That part really doesn't surprise me. He's always kept things to himself. I guess it was just his way of protecting us.”- I said in a lower voice, ‘cos I really didn’t want to talk much more about the subject if we were supposed to be focusing on the case.

- “If anyone targeted my boys, I'd do anything to keep them safe.”- JJ whispered and looked at me wanting to open up about how she felt about the entire situation. But we didn’t have time.

- “I know how you feel”- and before she could continue talking, I grabbed the two mugs and walked back to my wife.

- “Thank you, batsy.”- she smiled and grabbed the cup from my hands as Rossi asked Emily if she was ready to test drive leading the team. No one was ready for that change. But change doesn’t wait for anyone.

(Y/N)’s point of view

I hated everything. Hotch was gone. Out of the blue. My unit chief. My friend. Out of the blue, just gone. Forever. And why? ‘Cos work had gotten too much of a threat for his family. That was my biggest fear and it happened to the strongest man in the BAU. It meant it could happen to any of us. Including my family. I just didn’t know how to deal with that fear at the moment. So I tried to push it aside and focus on work. We had to find three missing kids.

Yeah, kids. ‘Cos life was not going to make things easier for me.

The town was small, the kind of place where everybody knew each other. We were at the police station talking with the chief, Coop. Spencer was trying to find a connection between the three missing kids and the ghost story in town. Apparently, way back, a local mental institution burned down and inmates escaped, town legend has it that those who were never found moved into abandoned houses around town. And considering the kids were into horror movies, they might have tried to get into one of those houses and god knows what was waiting in there.

Sadly, there was a history of missing kids in town. Back in 1993, the Henson twins had disappeared at thirteen and their bodies were never found. We didn’t know if we were trying to find the same unsub or not, but it was the only lead we had. Rossi asked me to stay with him and Tara at the station, talking with the parents, as Spencer, Luke, and JJ went to the area where the Hensen kids were last seen, to try to find any clues.

It wasn’t easy talking with the parents. It never is. But that day was especially hard. There I was, playing my BAU SSA part, all together, when deep down, I was as scared as those poor parents, wondering if my kids were in fact safe. Not just at that minute, but ever. Was I helping make the world a better place or just exposing my family to the rage of any random serial killer?

- “Bella donna…”- Rossi announced his entrance to the room where I stood in front of the board, not really staring at the pictures of the missing kids, but trying to find a sense of everything that happened around us.

- “Coronel Cannelloni.”- I replied with a tiny smile.- “How did it go with Jimmy Ridley?”

- “Penelope got nothing.”- I hummed and kept staring at the board.- “Anything else on the parents?”

- “No, they are just desperate. And I totally understand.”- Rossi walked until he was standing next to me, staring at the same board, and kept quiet for a moment. - “Are you going to ask how I’m holding up?”

- “More like trying to find the right words to ask you how you are doing without sounding condescending”- I nodded and sighed.

- “You just nailed it. I’m…”

- “Mad”- Rossi took the words from my lips as I nodded.

- “Yeah, and terrified.”

- “Your kids are going to be ok, you can trust me on that. I don’t think Spencer would ever leave anything to hurt you or those bambinos.”

- “I know. Or at least, I want to think I do. I just…”- I made a pause and turned to look at him, trying to really find the right words to explain how I felt.- “It’s just pointless, you know? Everyone leaves. Why are we staying? Why am I missing my baby’s first words or first steps to save a world that feels like it doesn't even deserve to be saved?”

David Rossi opened my mouth, but no word came from him. He just stared at me for a moment, and then opened his arms, and just hugged me tight, as I kept fighting the tears back.

- “He was my friend. And now he is gone.”

- “I know.”

- “Like Morgan, like Blake, like Callahan, like Elle…”

- “It’s ok to feel like nothing makes sense.”- Rossi whispered and just kept trying to keep me together.

- “How do I do this job when I am questioning the entire time if it’s actually worthy of everything I am missing?”

- “Just keep in mind everyone we are helping here.”- Rossi kissed the top of my head. - “And that we all love you. You are like my kid, I’ve watched you grow and become an amazing young woman, who is raising the most incredible kids with the man she loves. You are doing everything right. Never doubt that.”

I nodded and sighed as Rossi kept his eyes on me. Tara Lewis walked into the room and stared at us, confused.

- “Just a little pep talk.”- I explained and waved as David chuckled.

- “Seems today is the right day to get or give one of those to the team.”- Tara cut me a smile and added.- “We have footage of the cornfield last night. The rest of the team are on their way back.”

- “Great. Hopefully, there’s something on the kids in it.”- I said and felt my phone humming. It was a text from my husband.

- “Miss you. Be there in ten.”- and those six words automatically made me feel better.

To be completely honest, I was miserable the entire time. Prentiss asked me to stay with the parents, which didn’t help my mood at all. Just being with those couples who felt guilty that anything bad could happen to their kids was too easy for me to relate to. Spencer kept texting me, with updates from the field, info on Jimmy Ridley’s house, and asking if I needed anything.

- “Just come back safe.”- I replied. They had to bring Ridley back for interrogation ‘cos they found some of the kids’ belongings at his house. My guts kept telling me he wasn’t the unsub, but there was something weird happening in that town. All small towns creep me out. There are usually too many secrets for so few people living in them.

Less than fifteen minutes later, my husband stood in front of me and hugged me quickly.

- “How are you, chipmunk?”

- “As tired as I was when you left, honey bunny.”- I replied and felt his lips on my cheek, as Prentiss stood by our side arguing.

- “I’m not even sure I’ll accept this job and you are forcing me to give you a warning for PDA at work.”

- “Sorry”- Spencer and I said at the same time as we moved from each other, but our friend just laughed and kept walking.

- “Shit, I missed making fun of you.”

- “You are lucky I love you.”- I replied and followed her- “How did the interview go?”

- “Luke talked to him. Your guts were right. He is most likely not our guy.” - the team got together and we analyzed what we had, which to be honest, still wasn’t much.

- “His house is a puzzle, but other than the bicycle helmet, we couldn't find any sign of the kids.”- Em explained and Alvez agreed

- “ I think this guy's too simple to be who we're looking for.”

- “The kids were tracing the steps of the Henson’s missing kids. Maybe we should put an eye on that investigation.”- I looked at Prentiss, and she nodded.

- “Who called it in back then?”- JJ asked and my husband replied.

- “Their mom did, but she died a few years ago. Their older brother Deeley was with them that night.”- Spencer added and showed a picture of the three brothers together.

- “Yeah, we met him on the roadside.”- Prentiss explained. - “According to Coop, he lives across town and he went out of his way to find us on Route 7.

- “Sounds like he's trying to insert himself into our investigation.”- Rossi pointed out

- “Except when we asked him to talk, he refused.”- Spencer refuted the theory and looked at me.

- “Maybe he just needs someone who listens. I’m sure it was hard for him, investigation in small towns can turn into hell.”- I was rambling out loud, but by the look on my husband’s face, he was on board.

- “Maybe it's time to give talking to him another try.”- Prentiss suggested.

- “You want to take a ride?”- Alvez asked Spencer

- “Sure.”

- “Don’t flirt with my husband!”- I warned him, joking obviously. Luke chuckled and Spencer frowned confused.- “Watch out, Alvez!”

- “I would never even think about getting in between you two, Mrs Reid.”

- “It’s Doctor Reid, for you.”- I teased Luke and he just chuckled.

- “See you later, chipmunk.”- Spencer held my hand for a moment and squeezed it, sweetly.

- “Take care, honey.”

- “If Jimmy really isn't our unsub, we're back to one.”- JJ said the second Luke and Spencer left the room.

- “Let's go dig up the Henson files.”- Rossi suggested and she agreed. - “I'll buy you a cup of coffee on the way.”

And just like that, it was just Tara, Em, and I in the room. I hadn’t been alone with Prentiss after what had happened that morning. Mostly along with the team. And I didn’t really know what to say or how to ask her what was going on in her head.

- “What are you thinking?”- luckily, Tara did it for me.

- “A lot of circumstantial evidence against Jimmy Ridley, but I wanted to go over…”- Prentiss started ranting about the case, but Lewis quickly corrected her

- “I was actually wondering what you were thinking about staying.”

- “Oh. Right. Well, uh, more pros than cons.”- Emily explained and looked at me with a sweet smile. - “I love this group and the job, but…”

- “But you've got a life back in London”- Tarah finished her sentence nodding

- “And don’t forget she also has a boyfriend on the other side of the pond.”- I added with my worst British accent.

- “Yeah….”- Prentiss was almost holding her breath as she answered, probably ‘cos she didn’t really want to deal with any of that at the moment.

- “Have you told him yet?- but clearly, Tara wasn’t going to let it go.

- “I haven't had the chance. We jumped on the jet.”- I knew it was the logical answer, we really didn’t have much time for any personal problem. But this was a big deal, and it sounded like Em was making up excuses to delay facing the situation.

- “You should call him.”- Tara simply replied and stared at her. Em nodded immediately.

- “I will.”- but neither of us moved. Instead, the two of us just stared at her, waiting for her reaction.- “You mean right this second.”

- “Yeah.”- I chuckled along with Tara as we both started walking out of the room Emily grabbed her cell phone and dialed.- “Hey!”- we heard her saying as we left the room.

- “Thank you for that.”- I whispered and looked at Lewis.- “She needed a boost to start dealing with the facts.

- “I can recognize a fellow woman with issues dealing with hard topics.”

- “If that’s your superpower, I am not jealous.”- I joked and Tara chuckled.

- “It’s more like my natural reaction. I blame all the years I worked as a psychologist. My brain is wired to start treating anyone around me, even when I am not supposed to.”

- “Remind me to never stay alone with you in a room for more than a minute.”

- “Come on, (Y/N). I would never profile a team member… especially one with a profiler husband, who can track me and make me pay.”- I chuckled at the thought of Spencer avenging me, not ‘cos I didn’t think it was possible, but because it was exactly what would happen. And it was one of the reasons why I loved him so much.

A search party was organized to cover the whole area where the kids might have been taken. By nighttime, we were desperate, because we were running out of time to get the kids back safely. Spencer and Luke never came back to the station after talking with Henson, they stayed helping with the search. Emily left to meet them as soon as they found a bag pack that belonged to one of the kids, so I never got the chance to ask her what had happened with her boyfriend.

It wasn’t the right time either, we had to save those kids.

We didn’t have much news until Rossi, Tara and I got a call from Luke and the rest of the team. We finally had a name.

- “This Clements guy used to hunt out here and someone still using his traps.”- Alvez explained to us what they knew about the suspect after finding a trap with fresh bait in the middle of the woods.

- “I'll patch in Garcia.”- Rossi dialed her number and her voice made me smile for a moment.

- “I was feeling forgotten.”

- “Not on my watch.”- I replied immediately- “We need all your intel. What do you have on a local man named Reginald Clements?”

- “Reginald Clements.”- we could all hear her typing as fast as possible and a few seconds later, we heard an avalanche of information.- “Uh... He's lived there all his life. He, uh, appears to be, I think the words for it are "off his rocker." Lot of bats in the belfry. B-a-n-a-n-a-s.”

- “Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a car?”- I recited the lyrics of the Grease song and Tara bit her lips next to me, trying not to laugh.

- “I am going to send you what I find as I find it so you can follow along at home. He's from one of the founding families, but this Reginald has quite the past. He did time at that mental hospital that burned down, but he was there before the fire.

- “For what?”- JJ asked from the other side of the line.

- “Assault with a deadly weapon. But it was the bodily harm he did to himself that put him away. He claimed he needed protection from aliens. His delusions ranged from the world ending to major conspiracies, cag him to live entirely off the grid. And, you know, I'm all for solar panels and making your own kombucha, but this guy took it to the extreme. When he was 18, he got in trouble for abduction of a minor. And get this. His defense was loneliness.”

- “When was he released?”- I heard my husband asking

- “Winter of 1982.”- Pen replied in a second.

- “So if it was him, he was out for a year before the Hensons disappeared. It could have been for a dual purpose… Survival and companionship.”- Emily suggested, and it made all the sense in the world.

- “If he got the Henson’s kids he might have never gotten to abduct anyone else for the rest of his life.”- I commented on that train of thought. - “He already got what he wanted, there was no need to put himself in danger again.”

- “Is Clements dead, Garcia?”- Rossi asked the elemental question

- “I don't have a death certificate, but if he's alive, he'd be 82.”

- “Could he have been strong enough to hold the boys and set hunting traps? ”- Luke asked, though it sounded like he was rambling on his own to settle his own head.

- “Doubtful.”- David answered his question, but I knew there was something more.

- “What’s your theory, homewrecker?”- I asked him

- “I'm thinking the next logical step. If he didn't kill the Hensons, he's had them this whole time.”

- “But how would he maintain control, especially once they were strong enough to escape?”- Tara questioned

- “If you think about it, it wouldn’t be that hard.”- I replied, picturing the whole scene in my head clearly.- “He's already got them isolated, and their home life wasn't great. They were young and naive enough to buy all the conspiracy theories he fed them. It might have worked.”

- “Exactly!”- Luke supported me. - “He believes that the world is coming to an end. He could have convinced them of his own delusions.”

- “So one paranoid survivalist bred two more.”- JJ concluded and I nodded, though no one but Tara and David could see me.

- “And if the Henson twins have taken our 3 boys, who knows what they're gonna do with them.” - Spencer’s words gave me chills. Not of the good kind. They meant those poor kids had been raised by a psychopath who brainwashed them and ruined their future.

- “We need an address, Garcia.”- it was the only thing I could think of at the moment.

- “On your phones.”

The team got there on time and saved the three kids. Plus, the Henson kids, reunite them with their older brother. We don’t usually get happy endings, but that day, we did. I finally had the pleasure of telling the families their kids were coming back home safe. And it was a heartwarming moment when my husband opened the front door of the station and the three kids ran to their parent’s arms. It was hard not to cry as I watched them all hugging and kissing their kid’s cheeks.

Spencer held my hand as he stood by my side, and I leaned onto his shoulder, feeling my heart filled with love and contentment. For the first time in what seemed to be forever.

- “Moments like this make everything worth it.”- Spencer whispered as we kept staring at the emotive family reunion going on in front of us.

- “Yeah…”- I mumbled and rested my head on his shoulder.- “Having Prentiss here is also very nice.”

- “Do you think she might want to stay?”- my husband made sure to whisper those words in my ear, so no one else from the team could hear us. I shrugged and didn’t move my eyes from the kids. One mother took a bag with snacks from her purse and gave it to her son. She probably made it as soon as she heard her son was missing, scared he could be starving. It was one of the sweetest gestures I’ve ever seen. Something only a mother can understand, I guess.

- “We could just ask her. This team will be miserable if she decides to leave. Can you imagine? Getting a new guy for the job? Having to meet a random agent?”-

- “Like Alvez?”- I could almost hear the smile on Spencer’s words.

- “He is fine. Garcia still hates him, though.”

- “Of course, she does…”- my phone dinged and a picture of our babies playing on the carpet, watching Paw Patrol warmed our hearts. Mom had taken them to our place.

- “Ready to go home?”- I asked my husband and he nodded, still holding my hand tight.

The flight back home was very short. But we still found a moment to talk to Emily. We knew it was too soon, but we had to ask her what she was going to do, ‘cos honestly, what had happened had been too hard. We needed some silver lining.

- “You ok?” - JJ asked Em as the three of us walked toward her on the jet. Emily was sitting on her own, lost in thought, looking over the window.

- “Yeah. I'm just glad we found those kids.”

- “Oh, yeah, me, too. But, uh, I was talking about that other thing.”- JJ sat in front of Prentiss as me and Spencer stood by our friend, waiting for her reaction. And what did she do? She asked how we felt about the entire situation, ‘cos of course she was worried about us.

- “I haven't had a chance to talk to you guys. What do you think?”

- “I think we've been through a lot of changes and we always figure it out, you know?”- Spencer started the most rational speech of his life.- “Morgan left, and now Hotch, but if you stay, it'll be ok.”

- “If you ask me, honestly, you being here is the only thing keeping me sane right now”- I said from my guts, not my brain.- “How did it go with your boyfriend?”

- “I talked to Mark, and he is gonna be here next week for a visit.”- Prentiss announced, absolutely not sure if that was good or bad news. So I did the only thing I knew how to do: I started making plans.

- “We could show him around the tourist places, maybe have brunch…”

- “Let’s see how it goes when he gets her first, (Y/N).”- Em smiled at me and stopped my planning in a second.

- “Roger that.”

- “They need an answer in the morning, right?”- JJ’s words came close to a whisper, ‘cos I’m guessing neither of us wanted to push her, but we also needed answers.

- “I know.”- Prentiss sighed and looked outside the window. I turned to Spencer and bit my lips, as he stated the facts, crouching down next to Em’s seat.

- “Here's the truth. If you don't take the position, they're gonna bring in some stranger to be the Unit chief. And I don't know how that'll turn out, but the learning curve could be brutal.”

- “Yeah, I mean, one thing is bringing a new SSA to the team, which is always a curveball. But a new Unit Chief, that’s a completely different thing.”- I pointed out and cut Prentiss a short smile.- “And you know how I act with authorities… I am not good at random people telling me what to do.”

- “It'll probably stink for us, but…”- JJ was trying to be rational. - “Look, we're your friends and we'll support you no matter what you decide.”

There was a silence between the four of us. Prentiss took a deep breath and made eye contact with us all.

- “I'm gonna stay.

- “Oh, thank God!”- JJ nearly yelled, relieved. I opened my arms and hugged Prentiss in a second.

- “Best news ever!!”

- “Are you serious?”- Spencer asked nearly in shock.

- “Yes!”- Em replied as soon as I let her go.- “I love being here, and I've really missed you guys.”

- “We have missed you, too.”- JJ kept smiling as I giggled and my husband stared at Emily, still not believing what she had just said.

- “Honestly, you have no idea how much.”

Spencer’s point of view

Later that night, when we were nearly ready to go back home, Garcia got us all together in the conference room for a toast. We had to celebrate something good had happened after all: Emily was staying. And no matter how much Hotch’s departure was hurting us, there was some silver lining to treasure. We were all holding our glasses when Rossi started a very touching speech.

- “Well, let me just say something to everyone. I've been in and out of here since 1978, but I know this is where I belong. I've seen a lot of great agents pass through those doors, and a lot of them have moved on. Now, most of this team has been together for over a decade. Some of you have actually started a family together. I promise you, that doesn't happen often.”- Rossi smiled at me and winked- “Now, I've heard the rumblings about how lucky we are, and it's true, but the truth is, it's what happens… When we're not on a case that has defined who we are. We stand beside one another, through good, through bad, because we're family. So… To Aaron and Jack, I don't know who's luckier, but it warms my heart to know that they'll be together every day and safe. And to Emily, our friend, and new Unit Chief. Welcome home.”

We toasted and smiled. Yes, we were happy and lucky to be together again. The team was facing two major changes in less than six months. Derek left, Hotch left, and we had a new Unit Chief. It felt like things were changing too much too fast.

That very same night, after putting our babies to sleep, I sat at the kitchen table with my wife and two cups of herbal tea and just held hands as neither of us knew how to start that conversation.

- “So…”- she finally whispered after eleven minutes of silence.- “What are we going to do?”

- “I honestly don’t know.”- that was my best answer because I really didn’t know where to go after what was happening.- “I mean, at least we have Emily back. That’s a good thing.”

- “Yeah… but, I’m scared.”- (Y/N) murmured, probably ashamed of dealing with how she felt. - “If Aaron couldn’t keep Jack safe from serial killers…”

- “We could do it, you know”- I replied knowing where her train of thought was going.- “We are not Unit Chiefs, we are not…”

- “We are dealing with psychopaths daily, Spencer. You know that.”- she paused and looked into my eyes with honest concern.- “Mr. Scratch is still out there…”

- “But he doesn't want us. He wanted Hotch.”

- “Ok, so what if Cat Addams escapes from prison.”- my wife suggested and the mere thought of it gave me chills.- “She swore she wanted to avenge what you did to get. What if she does? What if she hurts you? or your mom, or us? What then?”- her voice trembled and I quickly stood up and wrapped my arms around her. She did the same, holding onto me, nearly shaking.- “I had never been so afraid before, Spencer. Suddenly, I no longer feel like I can keep our family safe.”

- “We can do it, chipmunk.”- I kissed the top of her head and looked at her, holding her face with both hands.- “We will be safe. We are safe. Nothing bad will happen to us.”

- “But…”- tears blurred her eyes and fell down her cheeks.- “Promise me, Spencer. Swear to me if anyone threatens us, we’ll leave. We are not putting our family in danger. If someone is trying to hurt us, we will join the program and vanish. No playing heroes. Not putting anyone on the line. If there is a threat, we leave.”

- “I swear.”- I replied immediately, running my thumbs across her cheeks, and wiping off her tears.

And that was the day I lied to my wife.

I held her in my arms and kissed her cheeks and lips until she calmed down. Then we got into bed and cuddled until she fell asleep. I wasn’t as lucky, and stayed up staring at the ceiling, thinking I had a lot to plan. I needed to make my wife feel secure and keep my babies safe, no matter what. And my mother had to get better. I needed a way to fix everything. Make us happy, and healthy. There had to be a way to do it. I just needed to find it.

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reds-skull · 8 months ago

Text

There’s Something Odd About Sergeant MacTavish

[AO3]

This monster of an oneshot got me in a chokehold the moment I started writing. Had a lot to say about this version of Soap and Ghost, apparently.

Friendship is not on the field manual, he told Johnny a long time ago. No protocols for personal relationships between soldiers, no set procedures for what he asked for, so many months ago.

Despite that, what Ghost and Soap have can’t not be friendship - not with the way they practically spend all their free time glued to each other. Morning, sipping tea and coffee together. Noon, checking in before splitting for their respective duties. Afternoon, lunch and paperwork in Ghost’s office. Evening, relaxing in the 141 common room. Bid each other goodnight, go to sleep, rinse and repeat, ad infinitum.

His routine used to numb him. Same shite, day in, day out, only finding excitement on missions.

Johnny, in his own annoyingly endearing way, ‘blew it all teh high hell’, as he would gleefully shout after shaking the earth to its very core with an explosion.

And Simon, as much as he puts on a front and complains, wouldn’t have it any other way. Or… no.

Better not be greedy.

His schedule was clear for the rest of the day, something that in the past would’ve irritated him to no end (nothing worse than wasting time). Now, however, it just gives him a chance to trail behind Johnny.

His blue eyes flicker over the training recruits, sharp as ever as they search for weaknesses to correct. Ghost can pinpoint the exact moment he zeroed in on a soldier, his jaw working before he shouts, “Rogers! Put yer arms higher, don’t give ‘em easy access teh yer throat!”.

Soap stomps over to the pair, forcing Rogers’ hands to the right position. His Sergeant makes another round, tapping a boot at the back of another recruit’s knees. Ghost narrows his eyes when he sees the man open his mouth to retort, but the soldier thinks better of it. It may not be his lesson to teach, but Ghost wouldn’t pass an opportunity to put an idiot in his rightful place.

The second half of the recruits, who have been watching and learning from their peers’ mistakes, start talking in hushed voiced among themselves. Ghost doesn’t pay them any mind until Soap’s name comes up.

“There’s something… odd about Sergeant MacTavish.”

“Right?? He’s not this annoying usually.”

Ghost’s lips pull back in a sneer.

“Lieutenant Ghost must be rubbin’ off on him, the bloody bastard”

“Oh, you know they’re doing a whole lot more than just ‘rubbing’-”

Ghost places a hand on both the recruits’ shoulders, making them jump. They both turn their head comically slow to stare up at him, “s-sir, we… we just-”

“I don’t think you two are training hard enough, if you’re sitting ‘ere chatting like old ladies.” Ghost squeezes their shoulders, a gesture that would almost be comforting if not for his ice-cold tone, “think two weeks at the latrines will really make you appreciate the Sergeant.”

The recruits don’t dare talk back to the Ghost, so they’re left with gaping mouths. Ghost gives them a shove forward, making the two stumble, “go on then, bathroom’s not gonna clean itself.”

The rest of them are deathly quiet after the interaction. As they should’ve been from the start. Ghost internally sighs, refocusing back on Johnny. Who has noticed the commotion, and is now gazing at the retreating backs of the misbehaving recruits.

Ghost watches the muscles of his neck twitch, and Soap rolling his shoulders with a face of mild discomfort. It goes away quickly enough, and his Sergeant goes back to screaming at the soldiers, but he still makes a mental note to investigate that at a later point in time.

He keeps to the sidelines until the recruits are dismissed. The hungry soldiers practically run to mess, and while Ghost does his best to walk around them towards Johnny, when they finally fuck off Soap is nowhere to be found.

Ghost stands alone on the training mats, uselessly swiveling his head.

Friendship is not on the field manual, and blasted schoolboy crushes on your subordinates most certainly aren’t.

Ghost wishes he could say he knew when it started. Maybe, knowing the root of the cause would’ve allowed him to chop down the entire tree. Somewhere between Chicago, Soap’s life almost slipping between his fingers, and now, he fell in love.

Even thinking about it makes him want to scoff. Those words don’t fit someone like him, someone with enough blood on their hands to fill several swimming pools, someone that keeps everyone at arm’s length, so mistrusting of his surroundings he wears a literal skull mask everywhere he goes.

But how else would he describe it? That warm feeling that spreads through his chest every time Johnny smiles up at him? The urge to let a brief touch linger, the need to stay near him at all times? That desperate part of him, that wishes for more?

Love is a disgustingly soft concept, not made for men like Ghost. But it’s what Johnny means to him. Johnny is love, simple as.

If only it was simple as.

Ghost has been looking for him the entire day, since the incident on the mats. For someone as loud and bright as Soap is, he sure can just fuckin’ disappear with no trace. He’s about to give up for the day, a bitterness weighing heavy on his tongue, when he spots a familiar shadow walking around the edge of the base.

It’s a more wild area, a small bit of thick forest, a place usually reserved for sniping drills. The figure appears between trees, slowly walking deeper.

Ghost quickly catches up, trailing the man. Only when he’s in reach, he notifies Soap of his presence.

“Didn’t know you could physically be this quiet, Johnny.”

Soap doesn’t startle, nor does he turn to acknowledge him. They both stop walking.

Ghost tried to lean over to see his face, but his Sergeant turns away. “Ah know when Ah need to shut it, LT.”

“Never stopped you from going loud anyway.”

Soap huffs, “aye, guess no’”.

Ghost waits for him to elaborate like he usually does, the growing silence unsettling him more and more. Did those recruits really bother him that much?

“I sent those tossers to the latrines, you know.”

Johnny glances at him, before returning to watch over the quiet forest, “I know.”

Soap knows their opinion is worth fuck all, young wankers still wet behind the ears. He should know, he’s worth a hundred of them, on the field and off.

Johnny eventually breaks the silence, “think it will just make things-” he exhales heavily, passing a hand through his hair, “let’s jus’ go back to base, LT. Sorry I disappeared on ye.”

“Don’t worry about that…” Ghost lets his words trail when Soap starts walking without him, head seemingly drowning in thoughts. He follows him, overcast by his shadow.

He thinks the dark is playing tricks on him when he sees the muscles of Johnny’s back convulse weirdly.

Ghost tries to fight it. That all encompassing want, need, to have Soap. And while he’s no stranger to war, this enemy is one tough fucker.

The Ghost, most feared soldier in the SAS, survivor of the worst of the worst. Bested by fucking emotions. He felt like he was winning, for a while there. That no one could tell, just what’s going on behind the mask.

As the days go on, though, it is clear people are catching on.

“I haven’t seen Sergeant MacTavish around Lieutenant Ghost as often anymore…”

And people love to fucking gossip.

“Think they had a fight?”

“A love quarrel, perhaps”

The resounding laughs make him grasp his fork tighter. Couldn’t they at least wait long enough to be out of earshot of the person they’re talking about?

“No wonder the Sergeant has been this pent-up. Just heard Christopher got yelled at again, for being late by two minutes. Two minutes!”

Ghost is about to show them what yelling really is, when another Lieutenant comes by and shuts the bastards right up. He turns his eyes to Johnny, who is sitting in front of him, like every morning.

Unlike every morning, he doesn’t drink his coffee. Or speaks. Just stares at his breakfast.

“Johnny? Alright?”

Soap snaps his eyes to his, the blue in them looking almost… red? No… must be the light.

He blinks rapidly, and they return to their usual blue-grey, “aye, LT.”

“Not hungry?”

Soap smiles, or at least tries to, ending up with more of a grimace than anything, “think I’m catching something, not feeling up to it today.”

Ghost hums. Could explain his demeanor as of late, “get to medical after mess, I’ll take care of your assignments for the day.”

“Ye really don’t have teh do that-”

“Soap.” Ghost uses his commanding voice, “...let me take care of it.” he adds in a softer tone.

Let me take care of you.

Johnny smiles, a small but genuine thing, “...thanks.” he gets up, not before patting his bicep, “next time we’re in a pub, I’ll get ye a drink.”

Ghost basks in the brief contact, “it better not be the shite you like.”

Soap laughs as he walks away, “no promises!”

He can’t help the smile spreading on his lips. Love is a dumb concept, not made for him, but…

But fuck if it doesn’t make him feel elated, to hear that voice happy and laughing.

It used to scare Ghost, how colossal those emotions he felt for Johnny were, at first. Would keep him awake at night, spiraling into haunting himself with lines of thought.

‘What would I do if he died? How would I go on?’

It used to scare him, how at those moments, he knew he’d give anything to make sure Soap lived. Fuck his life, fuck the SAS, fuck the world, if Johnny MacTavish wasn’t a part of it.

Soap is damn lucky he loves him so much, if only because he wouldn’t go train these fucking daft idiots instead of him otherwise. Ghost is starting to understand why Soap is getting more agitated these days.

He ended their exercise early, when one of them managed to break a finger by misplacing it when shooting a rifle. It’s like they never held a damn firearm in their whole life.

Fucking hell. He needs to punch something, before he punches someone.

As he gets closer to the gym, Ghost starts hearing shouts. Sounds more like a damn fight ring than a military workout. The recruits are doing something stupid again, he can already tell.

Looks like he might end up having to punch someone instead today. That’s fine by him. He cracks his knuckles.

At least he’ll get to release all this energy somewhere.

The doors smack loudly into the wall behind them when he opens them, and very quickly his theory is proven right. In the center of the room, a large crowd formed a ring around two fighters, the grunts and cracks of punches thrown drowning in the circle of soldiers.

He starts making his way through, recruits snapping their head to shout at him before closing their mouth with a click when they realize who they’re talking to. The crowd begins dispersing, some attempt to run off before they could feel the wrath of their superiors. All the while, Ghost lets his anger build, ready to crash it all down on the unfortunate bastards that decided today is a good day to re-enact Fight Club on base.

When he reaches the center, that rage comes crashing down, alright.

The view of Soap’s bloody form, nose running red and knuckles redder, makes it all fizzle out. His opponent staggers away, clearly the loser of the match, but Ghost doesn’t give a fuck about him.

“What the fuck are you doing, MacTavish?!”

His Sergeant heaves a breath, spitting out a bit of blood, “what does it look like, LT?” he answers, an edge of sarcasm underlining his words. Ghost is well versed in Soap’s insubordination, but it was never directed towards him. Not like that.

He doesn’t look away from Soap’s eyes when he growls to the group, “out.”

The soldiers falter for a moment, so Ghost turns to them, snarling, “OUT! Before I make you all do ten more laps around base!”

They all practically sprint out, leaving Soap and him alone. Johnny holds himself up shakily, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, searching for another face to punch. Ghost grabs his bicep, and wordlessly drags him to the showers.

Trains of thought rush through his mind, trying to find reason in Soap’s actions. Anger and worry mix, most of all the frustration that comes with being unable to help.

Something’s clearly bothering Johnny, and Ghost doesn’t know where to start fixing it.

He sets the Sergeant down on a bench, and goes to search for a first aid kit, when Soap huffs, “yer overreacting. We were just sparring.”

Ghost slams the kit next to Johnny’s thigh, the man not flinching even a bit, “what was going on out there was not ‘sparring’, and we both know it.”

Soap’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t retort. Ghost takes his bruised hands in his, examining the torn skin on his knuckles.

“Johnny-”

Soap groans, “aye, I know, I fucked up.” he scrubs his free hand over his face, wincing as Ghost sanitized the wounds, “I’m sorry ye had to go and deal with the recruits. Guess it was all fer nothin’-”

“The fuck’s up with you?” the words come out not as gently as Ghost hoped they would.

Johnny glares at him, “oh, don’t you start as well! We all know what’s wrong with me, don’t we? Everyone’s got somethin’ teh say about MacTavish, about how Ah’m too loud, too annoying, too distracted.” he pulls his hands away from Ghost’s, when the muscles under his skin strain against the tension lining his form, “Ah know! Ah’m fuckin’- Ah’m tryin’, alright?! Don’t need ye teh start tellin’ me that as well!”

Ghost leans back, knowing full well shock must be written all over his features, but Johnny’s too far deep in his own head to recognize it.

“Johnny-”

“Ah’ll do better, sir, Ah just- they were talkin’ shit, and Ah had teh-”

“You’re enough, Soap.”

Johnny’s brows fly up, “...huh?”

Ghost sighs, “you’re good enough already. You’re the only one that comes close to beating me in sparring, excluding Gaz. You can make bloody bombs on the go with generic kitchen appliances. Your shots land, even when you’re tired and broken. You keep going, even if everyone else gave up.”

Soap’s eyes soften, and Ghost takes his other hand, starting to treat it as well, “the recruits can’t tell their asses from their mouths, Johnny. They don’t know what it truly means to be a good soldier, a good man.”

He lets his fingers gently graze Soap’s, “you’re… important to all of us.”

You’re important to me.

Johnny looks down at their hands, “I… I could be better, though.”

“You could”, Ghost agrees, and Soap’s eyes gaze up, “we all could. Won’t come from destroying yourself, though, Sergeant.”

Soap nods slowly. He breaks the contact, raising to his feet and rolling his shoulders, “aye. Thanks, LT.”

Ghost follows him when he chucks off his shirt, eyes trailing on the bruises littering his back. The thickly corded muscles (that Ghost will refuse to drool over, even if they are undoubtably impressive) twist as Johnny takes out his towel for the shower.

Ghost is about to turn around, let his Sergeant have his privacy, when those muscles start convulsing, like he thought he saw back in the forest. He hears Johnny hiss, and decides to voice his concern, “you seem tense.”

Soap turns around, a sheepish smile on his lips, “uh, aye, probably all the… ‘sparring’.”

He nods, back straightening in determination. Finally, something Ghost can fix. “Give it ‘ere, then.”

Soap blinks, “huh?”

“Come ‘ere, Johnny. Can help with that.” he guides Soap back on the bench, walking around and settling behind him.

Ghost takes off his gloves. He hasn’t given a massage to someone else in… years, probably. But he’s sure he remembers enough to help Johnny, even a little bit.

The moment he rests his hand on his Sergeant’s shoulders, he has to hold back his surprise. The muscles are so tense, they feel more like rocks than damn flesh and bone. He pushes away the shock, and begins slowly kneading them. By Johnny’s appreciative hum, Ghost reckons he must be doing something right.

He tries digging in a little into the solid muscles, but soon enough his fingers ache from the resistance. “You feel tenser than Price when he runs out of cigars.”

Soap gives him a half-laugh, “can’t say Ah had anyone teh give me back massages, LT.”

“No bird back home?”

That makes Johnny fully laugh, “no, Ah’m not… not the type teh keep someone fer that long.” he groans at a particular twist of Ghost’s hands, “where did ye even learn teh do this? Ye should consider changing jobs.”

He trails his hands down, mildly concerned that the muscles don’t get any less tense, “had a sister-in-law, she had muscle cramps when she was pregnant…”

Johnny turns his head to stare at him, “ye got a sister-in-law??”

“Had.”

He didn’t elaborate, but from Soap’s silence, he knows the other understood it wasn’t divorce that took her away.

“Ah’m sure she appreciated it.” Johnny sighed, “Ah know I am.”

Ghost smiled, patting his Sergeant’s shoulder, “feeling better?” he flexes his sore hands. Soap’s muscles certainly don’t feel any less tense. At least he seems cheerier.

“Aye, now I owe ye two drinks.”

Ghost goes to leave the showers, “just stay out of trouble next time.”

He hears a small, “...yes, sir.” before the door closes.

If someone were to look inside his head, it will very quickly be clear just how much he’s infatuated with his Sergeant. They might ask, ‘why not tell him?’.

Ghost could never. His vocal cords weren’t built for such soft confessions, his fingers not shaped for holding. And even if they were, Ghost is not one to ask more than he can receive. Being around Johnny as much as humanly possible is enough.

It has to be enough.

Still, he can’t help that ache in his heart, deep in his rib cage, that wishes it could hold Johnny, and never let go. It’s one he can ignore, like most of his aches, on the daily, but…

Soap isn’t around now to distract him. They were sent on separate missions, Johnny on an intel run, and himself on lookout duty, over this slimy bastard or another. Ghost doesn’t give a fuck, mounting his aches on the man behind his crosshairs. Can’t even fuckin’ shoot the bloody man, because he’s ‘too valuable’ or some shite.

He returned a couple of days ago. Soap’s squad is still out there, had some delay in their exfil. When he asked Price about it, apparently he didn’t have clearance to know more.

The Captain barely managed to kick him out of his office before Ghost went on a rampage.

Only after a long, painful, empty week later, does he finally hear some good news - Soap’s team will arrive in a few hours.

Ghost’s feet take him to the tarmac, and only once he sees the distant shape of the helo, does that ache subsides. He impatiently walks to the doors before they open, making sure to be the very first to see Johnny.

And when he, at last, sees him - those blue eyes were not all that blue.

Bloodshot, darkened by the shadows of the helo that seemingly wrap around his figure, Johnny didn’t spare him a glance before stomping off. The rest of the squad trickled out of the chopper, and Ghost saw 3 body bags in the back.

“You heard what happened on Soap’s mission?”

“He fucked it, right?”

“Well, it was more of Rogers’ fault, the idiot got caught and cornered. Sergeant just had to save him.”

“‘Had’. Should’ve left him for after the intel. Should’ve known it was rigged to blow. Isn’t he a damn expert at that?”

Ghost barely listens after that. They all filtered into the briefing room, generals looking furious. Soap didn’t even have time to change, still in full gear and absolutely covered in grime and blood. He has his arms crossed, and to Ghost it almost looks like he’s holding himself together.

It takes hours for them to finally leave, Ghost’s team dismissed before Soap’s. He stays behind, listening to the muted screams of the COs, before the doors slam open, his Sergeant walking away with unexpected speed.

Ghost, as he always does, silently follows.

He catches up to Soap while he’s struggling to remove his gear, movements uncoordinated, agitated, tense.

“Johnny.” his Sergeant ignores him. Ghost gently takes his hand, and lifts it off the straps of his vest. “I’ll get it.”

Soap, for his part, turns his head away. Ghost’s heart squeezes horribly when he feels the shakiness of him. It takes every cell in his body to not give in to the urge to wrap his arms around Johnny, a feeble attempt to shield him from it all.

“Ah’m…” Ghost slowly takes the vest off, and starts working on the various tools strapped to his hips, “ye told me Ah’m good enough.” Johnny whispers.

“You are.” the shaking in Soap’s limbs worsens.

He’s still not looking at him. “The… the mission failed. Because of me. Three recruits are dead. Because of me.”

The lights in the armory flicker. Soap crosses his arms again, forcibly.

Ghost risks crouching down, catching Soap’s eyes, “you didn’t know-”

“I SHOULD HAVE!” Soap’s voice quivers, the flickering light casting a shadow over his eyes. Yet, Ghost can still tell how much he’s hurting.

Ghost gives in.

He pulls Johnny into a hug, ignores his thumping fists, “let go- Ghost, let go of me!” Soap growls. He can almost feel Johnny’s heart thump hard against his chest as well, and he presses closer.

“Making a mistake doesn’t erase all the good you’ve done before.” he murmurs to his warhawk. Johnny’s hands stop trying to push him away.

“You’re a good man, Johnny.”

Soap grasps tightly at the back of his hoodie, “stop-”

Ghost softens his tone, “I’m serious. I…”

I love you. I love you as you are. I love you because of what you are. I love you I love you I love you-

Ghost swallows thickly around the words clawing their way up his throat, “let's go back to the common room, hm? I’m sure Garrick and Price will be happy to see you.”

Soap lets his head rest on Ghost’s shoulder, “at least someone is…”

Ghost delicately raises his head, “I’m happy to see you as well, Sergeant.”

Johnny’s answering smile may be only a shadow of its usual brightness, but it eases the ache. They leave the armory behind, the lights instantly stopping their flickering.

It hurts, sometimes, to love someone so wholly, Ghost discovers. Love makes you want, and for Ghost, that never panned out well.

And yet, he wouldn’t see a world where Johnny didn’t mean so much to him.

Soap knocks his knee to his, the action negligible in the eyes of others, but for his heart it means everything.

They haven’t moved an inch away from the other since their talk in the armory. Ghost was about to leave, let his Sergeant catch some well needed rest, when they were called back to action.

Less than 24 hours since the failed mission, Ghost and Soap are on their way back, accompanied by a fresh batch of recruits. He can tell Soap is determined to fix his mistakes, finish the objective, and get everyone out alive.

Johnny’s knee starts bouncing, his fingers dig into the flesh of his forearms, teeth ravaging his lower lip. Leaving dark red behind.

Ghost watches him for a moment, before intervening.

“What’s on your mind, Sergeant?” he lowers his head to privately whisper in Soap’s ear.

Johnny stops his movements for a second, “the mission, sir.”

“What about the mission?” Ghost lets a hand rest on his shaking leg.

Soap sighs, finally letting some tension bleed away, “Ah need… I can’t fuck this up.”

“You won’t.” Soap opens his mouth to argue, but Ghost continues, “you won’t. If something goes bad, it’s on me. I’m your superior, I’ll take the blame.”

Displeasure paint’s Johnny’s features, “ye shouldn’t do that fer my mistakes.”

I would take on each and every sin you committed, if only to lessen your burden a tad, if I could.

“It’s my job, Johnny.” he takes his hand away, “stay focused, now. Landing in 5.”

Soap frowns, the thoughts passing through his mind almost visible through those turbulent eyes, “...aye.”

The compound reminds Ghost of his time working as a butcher. Walls stripped to their foundations, rooms gutted and wiped clean. Dark gunpowder mixes with dried, flaking blood. The carcass of an animal, a bloody maw for them to pass through.

The farther in they walk, the more signs of life appear - makeshift covers, forgotten MREs, recently discarded ammo magazines. Hostiles that need to be dealt with.

In the brief he received on the helo, Ghost learned that the compound splits into two sections here: a research facility, where the intel was supposed to be, and a base for the soldiers protecting the sensitive information the former building contains.

“Soap”, his Sergeant turns to face him, previous anxiousness hidden away behind his professional facade, “take Alpha 1-3, 1-5 and 1-6, go clear the research facility. Might still have intel to salvage from there.”

Johnny recognizes the opportunity Ghost is giving him, “aye sir!”

“The rest of you, on me!”

He can’t waste time watching Soap’s form disappearing behind the corner. As much as he hates separating from him, if they do find intel, Ghost knows it will ease the guilt gnawing at Johnny.

Ghost clears hallway after hallway, finding only a handful of hostiles. The soldiers are obviously unprepared for another attack at this scale, still licking at the wounds Soap left on them. It all goes smoothly, far too smoothly for Ghost’s liking.

He learned to not trust his luck far back, in rooms with smoke-stained, peeling wallpapers, and broken beer bottles.

Static from his comms makes the hair on his nape raise, the crunching unnatural and disturbing. “Soap? Alpha 1-3? How copy?” he attempts to decipher the white noise, straining his ears to hear the almost-there words.

A shrill scream cuts through the buzzing, “-NO! GET AWAY-!!!”

“Johnny?! Answer me, now!” fear, a chilling venom, spreads through his veins.

The other recruits look back at him with a similar terror. Bits and pieces pass through their radios, “I DIDN’T MEAN IT, PLEASE-!”, “-I’M SORRY, I’M SOR-”, “-HELP!!!-”

“S-sir?” 1-4 wobbly asks, “what do we-”

Ghost bursts into a sprint, holding his radio tightly, “Soap! This is 0-7, we’re on our way to back you up!” he addresses the recruits, “keep yourselves sharp, and stay together! This could be a trap!”

A chorus of “yes sir!” sounds behind him, lost in the winding halls of the compound. His boots thump the tile floor with the beat of his heart, his fear carved into the burning in his lungs.

A deep rumbling takes over the static, the recruits wincing and pulling the comms away from their ears. A primal fear, one Ghost hasn’t felt since digging himself out of the grave, spreads through him.

“...LEAVE….. ME………”

Yet, something else rises within him. That voice… the words leave an ache in his heart.

“Sir… whatever the fuck that thing is… We can’t just go there, right?” Alpha 1-2 asks him, the rest nodding in agreement.

Ghost wastes a moment to tower over him, “your teammates are stuck with that thing. Are you going to leave them to die?”

“N-no sir.”

“Louder!”

“NO SIR!” the dread washes away from the recruit’s face, determination replacing it.

Ghost sharply nods, “then let’s move!”

He’s not leaving any man behind today. No matter what’s waiting on the side - a deranged hostile or a damn fairy tale monster. They go out as a team.

Ghost tries to push away the voice he didn’t hear yet, the glaring silence a hole burrowing into his chest. Nothing could distract him enough, the ache growing and growing. But he can’t sink just yet.

Soap still could be out there, incapacitated in some way, or without comms. Possibly having to go dark, in light of the thing that rumbled through their radios.

He’s not optimistic, never tries to be.

But he can’t accept defeat.

Only Johnny’s body would be the final nail in his coffin.

The first recruit their group encounters is alive. Covered in blood, catatonic, and deep in shock, but alive. Ghost attempts to question him, but it becomes clear the man doesn’t even hear him.

He leaves one soldier with him, ordering him to call for a med evac. The rest continue with Ghost, disturbed by the state of their teammate but obedient to his commands. He doesn’t voice the questions that keep rising in his mind. Ghost needs them as sharp as they could be about now.

The winding hallways open wider in the next turn, and the scene in front of them only confuses him further.

The first thing Ghost registers is red. His first instinct is to call it blood, but the webs covering the walls are very much not blood. They’re… unlike anything he has ever seen.

The recruits are the second. Alpha 1-3 and 1-6… the rest of the missing team. Except…

Don’t think about it. There’s no body.

Yet-

“Rogers”, he calls for 1-3, who’s crouching over 1-6’s still form, “give me sitrep, now!”

Rogers’ eyes are wide, akin to a prey animal cornered by its hunter. He looks anywhere but at Ghost, mumbling lowly. In frustration, Ghost twists a fist in his collar, and drags him up, “answer me! Where is Sergeant MacTavish?!”

“He’s not- not him- n-not him-”

Ghost grits his teeth, growling, “speak clearly.”

“There’s something wrong about Sergeant MacTavish!” Rogers finally spits out, tears springing from his frantic eyes, “that’s not- he did this- he did this!” his breath hitches on sobs, arm weakly pointing to the crimson tendrils hanging from the ceiling around them.

Fucking hell. Bastard lost his mind.

Ghost lets go of him, vitriol evident in his voice when he grounds, “stay here. All of you.”

He takes a step towards the red mess, when a hand grasps at his pant leg.

“Y-y-you can’t go there! Don’t go there! It hurts!!!” Rogers cries, the other recruits trying to gently pull him back.

Ghost gives him a cold stare, “stand down.”

Rogers, in the recesses of his mind, understands the threat for what it is, and lets his shaking fingers fall away from his leg.

The recruits look up at him, all expressions lost, and they don’t dare follow when Ghost leaves them behind, steps dead silent.

Whatever this shite is, he’s getting Soap out.

Whether it’s alive or dead, it doesn’t matter. He won’t let him rot in this literal hell.

Johnny deserves so much more than that.

The red webs become thicker, the deeper he traverses. They now cover the walls, the floors, every single inch of the compound’s structure.

Deeper into the beast’s belly Ghost goes.

The rumbling they heard on comms now echoes among these walls, a heavy breathing of a thing he dreads to identify. Every instinct in his body tells him to run, every step a monumental task to reject the need to turn back.

But he can’t. Not without Johnny.

Even the light is covered now, red beams barely peeking among the webs. Ghost attempts ignoring his current reality, if only to try and submerge the fear clawing at his very cells.

What he imagines instead, is him.

“Creeping Jesus, sir. Yer seeing this shite? Right out o’ a horror movie.”

Ghost can almost hear his lilting Scottish accent, the rough way it sounds the words.

“Ye fit right in, already got the outfit an’ all. Guess that makes me the helpless lass runnin’ awa’ from ye.”

His eyelids flutter, at the memory of Soap’s cheery tone, when he’s trying to joke but failing at holding his laughter back.

It sends a stab of pain through his heart, but Ghost would prefer that to the all encompassing terror. A distraction he welcomes, perhaps too openly.

It makes him lose his focus, and his boot crunches loudly on the red floor.

Ghost freezes, breath caught in his lungs.

“....LEAVE….!!!!!!”

The webs pulsate, winding tighter around the concrete walls. It shakes the entire building, threatening to collapse on everyone.

Ghost’s hands shake, even as he strengthens the grip on his rifle.

The world doesn’t matter, things both understood and incomprehensible, if Johnny isn’t by his side.

He rounds the corner, the lights flickering, the world blinking in and out of existence.

In front of him, is a figure.

As red as fresh blood, as twisted as corded muscles, as imposing as a knife to the throat.

The origin of the crimson strings.

His legs refuse to move, and Ghost is left helpless for the first time since he donned on the mask. His eyes drag down the imitation of a man.

Beneath him, a chest cavity is cracked open. The body is laid crumpled on the floor, a dark warhawk popping against the bright reds.

“......WHY….. ARE YOU HERE……..?”

Ghost understands the source of his ache, why his heart twists at every word of the bloodied man.

“...Johnny?”

The red man quivers, veins pulsating.

“......GET OUT……..”

Ghost inhales sharply, using every drop of willpower to make his legs unstick and move.

“I’m not leaving without you.”

The red tries to catch on Ghost’s boots, try to pull him away from the bodies.

“.........I TRIED… TO KEEP IT IN…… BUT THEY HURT ME… THEY HURT THEM…….”

He recognizes the rumbling sounds for what they are now.

Soap is crying.

“Who?”

“.....IT WAS A TRAP…..THEY BLAMED ME…AND THEY WERE RIGHT…I WASN’T ENOUGH…….NEVER ENOUGH……….”

The webs pull strongly at his right leg, and Ghost falls to the ground with a grunt.

“You’re enough, Soap. I told you, this time I take the blame-”

“IT WAS ME, GHOST! IT WAS ALL ME!!!”

The walls shake with the force of his voice, Ghost hastily covering his ears with a wince.

He crawls forward, inch by inch.

“Johnny-”

“I KILLED EVERYONE! LEFT THEM DEAD…. THEY TRUSTED ME! THEY TRUSTED ME!!!”

Ghost strains his muscles against the tendrils, belatedly realizing the contact is burning through his clothes.

“Who? Who did you kill?”

He can almost reach him… Just a little more…

“OUR TEAM, GHOST! I- I KILLED THEM!”

Ghost frowns, “they’re not dead, Johnny.”

The red man halts, his exposed heart thumping. His face is a mangled form of muscles and veins, eyes dark red and glassy.

“....DON’T……..DON’T LIE…………..” the man heaves, heart stuttering, “.....THE AMBUSH……I COULDN’T HOLD IT TOGETHER……….”

Ghost is close enough to see Johnny’s face, red splattering his pale cheeks, face twisted in pure anguish.

Hands around his chest, as if he tried to physically push the man back in and failed.

“I saw them. Alpha 1-3, 1-5, 1-6. They were scared shitless, but they’re fucking alive.”

Red tears drip down the crimson man’s cheeks, some falling on Ghost and burning his palms.

“......DON’T LIE-”

“Johnny.”

The red man closes his mouth, tilting his head and finally looking at him.

“Do you trust me?”

Ghost reaches a hand, but the man flinches away.

“......I TRUST YOU…….”

It hurts. Every touch of that crimson substance shoots pain throughout his system.

But more than that, the tone of his voice, the defeat. Ghost’s heart hurts with his.

“Let me help you, Johnny.”

The man shakes his head minutely, leaning back as far as he can.

“.....I’LL HURT YOU……”

Ghost lays a hand on the crimson man’s hand. It does hurt, it hurts a lot.

“Then we will be in pain together.”

Ghost uses the last of his strength to shoot up, wrapping his arms around the man.

The muscles convulse, red enveloping him. It feels like hugging thorns.

He squeezes harder.

“......WHY…?”

The heart, beating so hard it shakes Ghost to his core, feels so fragile between them. He pulls one hand away to gently cup it.

“I… I kept things from you as well, Johnny.” Ghost confesses, “I was afraid, you’d see the bloody mess inside of me, and run away.”

The heart in his hand beats louder.

“It doesn’t matter how ugly the things you hide from me are.”

He looks at the red eyes.

“I’d love you in any form you take.”

Thump.

The crimson heart melts, taking with it the man, and the webs that twisted around them. Ghost falls to his knees, body curling in on itself in pain. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing harshly.

A hand on his cheek lifts his head carefully. He cracks his eyes open.

Blue greets him.

“Simon…” Johnny whispers, eyes filling with tears, crystalline drops.

Ghost lifts his hand, ignores the aching. It holds nothing compared to the balm over his heart.

He doesn’t know who pulled the other first.

All that mattered at that moment, is the hesitant touch of their lips.

It tasted like a vow.

‘You may hold my heart

If I can hold yours.’

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod soap #cod ghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod fic #cod fanfic #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #you can probably tell by now how i like to write my oneshots #its all one big metaphor baby #and its alllll pain. Up until the very end :)

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therealcocoshady · 7 months ago

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Recovery - Chapter 36

Eminem x Female Reader Fanfiction

Synopsis : Reader and Em celebrate their first Thanksgiving together and she finally meets Kim.

MARSHALL’S POV

-FLASHBACK-

The last thing Marshall expected was to get married again. After his second failed marriage to Kim, he swore he was done with marriage, and that he was done with her. He still loved her very much but he had to admit it eventually : it was never going to work between the two of them. Letting go of her and of their relationship was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do (even getting sober seemed easier than this), but he knew he had to, at least for the sake of his daughters. Every time they got back together after a breakup, the girls got their hopes up and it was heartbreaking. Plus, they were growing up and already smarter than their parents. It wouldn’t take long for them to realize that they were struggling, constantly cheating on each other, abusing substances… They simply couldn’t keep going on like this. When he got out of the courthouse after their second divorce was final, he swore he would never get married ever again, much less get back with her. And yet, more than a decade after, he was standing in a chapel with Kim, a minister and Paul as their witness. It wasn’t your usual wedding. In fact, it could barely qualify as a wedding. There was no service, no white dress, no guests… It was probably the best kept secret in America. Save for Paul and the minister, no one knew they were tying the knot again, not even his daughters. In fact, they were the last people he wanted to find out. They would never understand why their parents were getting married again. The first time, they got married on a whim, right before a tour. Kim had pressured him to propose because she feared he would be unfaithful while on tour (which eventually happened). The second time around, he actually pressured her into accepting when he proposed on the occasion of the fifteenth anniversary of their first date, only to file for divorce after less than ninety days of marriage. This time, though, that had nothing to do with love. He was marrying Kim out of necessity. She had tried to off herself, once again and, this time, she almost succeeded. If paramedics hadn’t been remarkably quick to save her, she would have left four children behind. Marshall was distraught by the thought that his kids could lose their mother. He knew he had to step up and do something. Especially when he was the one to blame in the first place for her substance abuse.

Kim was a bit hard to convince this time, when he suggested they get married, but she ended up agreeing that it might make sense. If he was her husband, he would be able to make medical decisions and if, God forbid, something had to happen to her, it would be his responsibility to take care of her funeral, estate and her son’s upbringing. Otherwise, it would fall onto his daughters to do it all and care for Parker, but they were far too young for this. Kim didn’t love him anymore but she had always relied on him and his support when it came to her health, so she accepted. None of them were especially happy to tie the knot again but, at least, things would be taken care of.

They got married in the utmost secrecy, Paul being the only person they knew who was aware of the wedding. Of course, the manager tried to dissuade him from marrying Kim again, but to no avail. The whole thing was expeditive : it took ten minutes, both of them wearing sweat suits and sneakers, no rings, going their separate ways after. Him leaving for a studio session in California, her going back to her rehab center.

After that, they didn’t see each other for months, though they often spoke on the phone. They didn’t really mention being married again, save for a couple of jokes about how it might actually be their most successful attempt at a marriage. Maybe it was the best kept secret after all : you can be successful in marriage if you don’t love your spouse, don’t live with them and are only in this for practical reasons. They also didn’t really worry about a potential divorce. They had signed a prenup that would make it easy but they highly doubted it would come to that. They were pretty adamant about never getting married ever again (for real this time), to anyone else. They’d been broken up for a while and they didn’t love each other like that anymore, but they were in agreement that it would be unlikely for any of them to fall in love again, with anyone else. She wasn’t in a psychological state to date, and he was unavailable emotionally. As far as he was concerned, music was the only lady he was committed to, and he could make do with one night stands. When your relationships with women have been failures, you start to resign eventually. So he was at peace with his decision. It wasn’t like he wanted to be in a serious relationship with someone ever again anyway.

-END OF FLASHBACK-

He never really expected to regret marrying Kim for the third time. That was until Y/N walked in his life and things became more than serious between the two of them. At the beginning, even though he was head over heels in love with her, he sort of expected things to blow up between the two of them, so he didn’t bother telling her he was married. And sure enough, that’s what happened : they broke up because they were not in agreement when it came to the future, namely the topics of marriage and kids. He was distraught when she left but he didn’t blame her : she deserved to be happy and to have all her dreams come true. He knew he could not marry her and give her kids anyway. Letting her go was hard, but he loved her enough not to stand in the way of her dreams. But, by some divine miracle, she came back to him and their relationship got serious pretty fast. They even moved in together. He knew he probably should tell her, but he could never find the right time. First, they got back together, then some drama ensued when she learned that his assistant almost blew him a few days earlier, then they went on vacation with his family, then they almost broke up because he was a trauma-ridden asshole… He didn’t want to lie to her, but he also didn’t want to lose her. He could have gotten over his guilt by telling himself that no one else knew anyway, but when she mentioned him not being married to Kim anymore, he could barely ignore it. He knew he would have to tell her eventually, and hoped that she would understand. Because there was no way he could live without her. She was the one he wanted to grow old with. She might very well be the love of his life. So much so that, if he hadn’t been married to Kim, he might have considered proposing. That’s how in love he was. But for now, he could only pray everything would go well for their first holiday together.

Y/N’s POV

It was your first Thanksgiving with Marshall and you were happy to spend your first holiday together as a couple, after an eventful week. It was your first time seeing his brother and his family as an official girlfriend and, most of all, you were finally going to meet Kim. You knew you didn’t really have anything to worry about - Marshall had been pretty adamant - but you were starting to feel nervous as she walked through the door and you set your eyes on her for the first time. She was much taller than you, rather charismatic. There was something about the way she carried herself that made her sort of impressive.

Hi ! You must be Y/N ! I’m Kim. It’s so nice to finally meet you, she said in a friendly tone.

You too, you said shyly.

Marshall stroked the back of your hand before greeting her. Their daughters were here, as well as Parker, Kim’s son, which made things less awkward. Nate and his family arrived too and the house was soon filled. It was a laid back atmosphere and Marshall seemed happy to have the people he loved around him. He was joking around with his brother and his nephews, whom he hadn’t seen in a very long time. They also remembered you and seemed happy to see you.

Uncle Marshall ! Is it true that you have a girlfriend now ? Carter asked.

It’s true, Marshall beamed.

Hard to believe, huh ? Nate chimed in. The old man finally found someone to put up with him !

Where is she ? His nephew asked in excitement.

I’m right here, you chuckled.

Wait… I thought you were Hailie’s age, Liam asked with a hint of confusion in his eyes.

This is going to be fun, Nate said with a huge grin.

Everyone was staring at the two of you with smirks on their faces. You blushed a little. You absolutely weren’t ashamed of your age difference, but you knew Marshall was a little more prone to this feeling. Also, there was something a bit unsettling about a child confronting you about it.

Well, uh… I am Hailie’s age, you simply said. But sometimes, grown-ups fall in love with people who are a bit older. Or younger.

Yeah, but Uncle Marshall is like… really old, Carter said.

Why, thanks, buddy, Marshall replied with a grin. So you expected me to end up alone or…?

No ! I figured you’d make friends at the retirement home, Liam shrugged.

Everyone burst into a fit of laughter. Your boyfriend rolled his eyes and you could resist pecking his cheek. « I’m not that old » he muttered grumpily. Everyone hung out together and, once again, you proved bravery was not your strong suit. You methodically avoided standing anywhere near Kim. She was towering around six feet and you were feeling ridiculously small next to her. And she was definitely impressive, with some sort of mysterious aura. She was nice but, at the same time, keeping to herself and, whenever she spoke, she had some sort of sultry voice. For the first time ever, you felt conscious about your own voice and accent. Up until now, you had managed to stay sane and reasonable but you were starting to wonder what Marshall saw in you. You were not like Kim at all. Were you even his type…? Even Tracy had more in common with her. You, you were younger, nowhere near as charismatic either… To add to your misery, Kim even managed to make Marshall laugh. They obviously had their own inside jokes. Hailie, Alaina and Stevie seemed happy to spend the day with the two of them, though, and that was obviously the most important thing.

I have a present for you, Stevie told you. Well, you and Dad, actually.

I didn’t know we were supposed to exchange presents, you said shyly.

We don’t, she giggled. And it’s nothing fancy ! But I hope you like it !

She handed you a small bag and you sat on the couch to open it, Marshall by your side. It was a photo album of gorgeous pictures she had taken with a disposable camera during your family vacations in Europe. There were a lot of candid shots of you and Marshall, that you hadn’t noticed her taking in the moment. One of the pictures was printed out and put in a frame.

I thought you might want to have at least one picture of the two of you on display in the house, she said.

You hugged her, almost emotional. It was a really beautiful shot of the two of you in Capri. It was taken from the back and Marshall was holding you and kissing your temple. You had spent a day on the island while you were in Italy and you absolutely loved it. You looked at the pictures in the album, reminiscing of your time in Europe. Some of them were really cute and sweet : Marshall sleeping on your shoulder on the jet, you, Hailie and Alaina drinking mocktails in Italy… Everyone looked at the photo and the girls provided commentary.

We should really do this again, Alaina said with excitement. Europe was great !

It was, Marshall said with a smile. Maybe we could do that again.

You got this man to travel and actually enjoy it ?! Nate asked you in disbelief.

And she got him to reduce the amount of security, too, Stevie pointed out. We had a great time in Europe !

Who are you and what have you done to my brother-in-law ? Ashley joked.

Is it Thanksgiving or is it “Let’s make fun of Marshall” day ? Marshall asked with an eye roll.

Overall, you had a good day with everyone. You got to watch Marshall win his basketball game against Nate and everyone seemed to enjoy your cooking. Kim complimented you on your dish and joked that Marshall would definitely put on a few if you kept on feeding him french food. They joked around a lot and seemed like friends. In a way, they probably were. After all, Marshall had told you they met when he was fifteen and stuck together through thick and thin. After dinner, the whole family lounged in the living room, playing video games, drinking mocktails, talking… You had a great time with Nate, who made a point to call you his “favorite sister-in-law”, loud and clear right in front of Kim, who just rolled her eyes and pretended not to hear a thing. You didn’t really have the details, but you gathered they didn’t exactly get along. At some point, though, you realized that her and Marshall were nowhere to be seen. You did your best to appear unfazed. Once you were done, you stepped outside for some fresh air. You weren’t exactly big on gatherings and could feel a headache was on its way. You spotted Marshall and Kim talking from afar, seemingly having a serious conversation. At first, you didn’t think too much of it but jealousy poked its ugly head out when you saw her giving him a hug. You scoffed and went back inside, not willing to subject yourself to that. Hailie came to see you, making small talk.

I wonder where Mom and Dad are, she said. Have you seen them ?

I think they’re outside, talking, you replied with feigned ignorance. Do you want to go and get them ?

It’s fine, she said. They’ve been out a long time, though. They’re probably talking about Christmas presents or something like that.

You shrugged and quickly switched to another subject. The two of you went to the kitchen to make some tea and talk about what you could get Marshall for Christmas. She gave you a ton of ideas, which was pretty great. At some point, Kim and Marshall walked in and he chastised you for clearing the table and doing the dishes without him.

You could have let me do it, he groaned.

There it goes, Kim said playfully. Not a holiday unless Marshall gets grumpy.

Not an actual day if he doesn’t get grumpy, you said with a smirk.

Seems like you know him pretty well, she grinned.

I don’t like this, Marshall sighed before pulling you to him and kissing your temple.

They’re ganging up on you, Dad, Hailie warned.

At least my children are nice to me, he said.

Only because I need a favor, she said with a small smile.

I knew it, he said with faux exasperation. What do you want ? Or should I ask how much this is going to cost ?

Do you remember that one jacket that you had in one of your music videos ? I’d like to borrow it. We’re recording a new podcast episode soon and I have an outfit idea in mind, she said.

Don’t you have your own clothes, though ? He asked with a smile.

My followers love it when I pay tribute to you, she said. I’m merely indulging them. Please ? It’s Thanksgiving.

Fine, he shrugged. But I’m going to need more details because “that one jacket from that one video” is a bit vague, Hay.

Let’s just go look !

They went upstairs, leaving you alone with Kim. You were tempted to run away from the kitchen but it was impossible for you to do so without being painfully obvious. You were uneasy but she, on the other hand, seemed pretty comfortable. Why wouldn’t she, though ? She’d lived in that house for a while and she wasn’t new to the family either. She wasn’t the one out of place, here. You were.

It’s, uh… It’s cute that she’s paying tribute to him in the podcast, you commented in an attempt to make small talk.

It is, she replied with a smile. They have such a great relationship. He’s a great Dad.

Yeah, he’s a great person, you said honestly. The best.

You’re all gushing, she teased.

Sorry, you said awkwardly.

No, it’s sweet, she said. He’s really amazing so I’m happy he is with someone who sees it.

I mean, he’s always been incredible to me, since we met, you confessed.

About two years ago, right ? She asked with genuine interest.

That’s right, you said. Our relationship is more recent, though.

This, he told me, she chuckled. I probably shouldn’t tell you but he won’t shut up about you.

Really ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

Oh, absolutely, she said. I think he even told me about you before you started dating. But that stays between us.

Only if you told me what he said, you replied with a smile.

The first time he ever mentioned you was when you had that incident at the bar, she said. He was pissed and worried. I could tell you meant a lot to him, by the way he talked about you.

Oh wow, you said. I wasn’t expecting him to tell you about this.

He doesn’t tell me everything, don’t worry, she chuckled. I happened to catch him on a day when he was pissed about it and he ended up telling me. But I could see he liked you. You know, it’s not often that he falls so hard for someone.

I guess I’m pretty lucky, you said.

I’d say he’s the lucky one, she pointed out. Seems like you gave up a lot to be with him. I mean, you moved to another country.

Yeah, well… He’s worth it, you said. I tried being without him and I didn’t like that.

I saw him when you were broken up and he didn’t like it too much either, she said. You’re good for him.

You think ? You asked with genuine curiosity.

Well, you’re the only woman who got him to do therapy, she pointed out. Tried for years and he never agreed to it.

You were surprised he told her about that, too. It was definitely weird, discussing your relationship with his ex wife, but her attitude put you at ease. It seemed like she genuinely wanted him to be happy.

I’m really happy for you guys, she continued. I also wanted to thank you for having me today. I mean, you could have refused to meet me or have me in the house at all, a lot of people would have, but you didn’t.

You debated telling her you couldn’t have put up much of a fight even if you had wanted to, since Marshall didn’t really give you a say in the matter.

You’re welcome, you said. It’s a family holiday, both of you should be able to enjoy it with your kids.

I’m really glad you see it this way, she said. It looks like we’ll be seeing each other a couple of times a year for a long time, so I’m really glad we get along.

You’re not at all like I imagined, you couldn’t help but say.

Meaning ? She asked with a grin.

I mean… You know. You’re nice.

She let out a hearty laugh and placed a friendly hand on your shoulder.

Did you expect me to be the mean ex-wife full of spite ? She asked with a smirk.

No… I mean… Kind of ? You explained sheepishly. For the record, no one spoke ill of you. But I figured… You know, there’s history. And usually, ex-wives and new girlfriends don’t get along.

Well, there comes a point in life where you just have to accept that things don’t work out, she said. I’ll be honest : I will always love Marshall. He has saved me in more ways than one. But I’m just not in love with him anymore, you know ? Now, we’re just rooting for each other to be happy. And if that’s any comfort, I was a bit anxious to meet you, too.

Were you ? You asked in surprise.

Of course ! He told me you were amazing, and I know the girls like you, but… you know. You’re still the first person he fell in love with after me. It’s the end of an era. I’m not proud of it, but I guess I sort of liked having this bond with him, she explained. But hey, I’m happy for you guys. I really am. I mean, you’re so much nicer than the last one I met anyway…

Who was it ? You asked with curiosity.

Tracy, she said as she rolled her eyes. I hate that woman.

Just like that, the two of you were like old friends. Proof that no one gets people closer than hating on the same person if there was ever a need for one. There was no real depth to it, just Kim feeding you old gossip and hating on Tracy. You were giggling like schoolgirls when Marshall walked back in the kitchen.

Everything alright ? Marshall asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

Yes, you said with a genuine smile.

I’m telling your lovely girlfriend what a terrible man you are. Just so that she knows what to expect, Kim said jokingly.

Marshall glared at her, obviously not amused by the joke and she simply shook her head before going back to the living room, leaving the two of you alone.

She didn’t say anything, you reassured him.

What’s with all the giggling then ?

Secrets, you chuckled. You’re right, she is pretty cool.

Mmmh, he said with a small frown.

He seemed pretty preoccupied, as if he were actually worried that Kim might let something slip. However, you didn’t pay it too much attention. You’d had a few talks about how abusive he’d been in the past, and you figured he just didn’t want you to be reminded of that, especially when you’d gone through a rough patch. You took advantage of no one being in the room to pull him in for a deep kiss.

I’m so in love with you, he said.

I love you too, you said. I’m so glad we’re celebrating our first Thanksgiving together.

Me too, he replied. I can’t even tell you how happy I am that you get along with my family. Nate told me earlier how great he thinks you are. You’re so perfect. I’m so blessed to be with you.

So… Am I on the list of what you’re thankful for ? You mused.

You are the list, he said before kissing your forehead.

The two of you went back to hang out with the others. Everyone was sitting on the couch while Stevie was showing them something on her iPad.

You guys are just in time for my yearly presentation, she said with a smile.

Shit, I thought I managed to miss it, Marshall chortled.

What presentation ? You asked.

Every year on Thanksgiving, Stevie tried to guilt trip us into adopting pets from the shelter she volunteers at, Nate explaied.

They need a home, she pointed out.

As long as it’s not my house, Marshall said with a grin.

We usually get out of it by donating a bunch of money, Alaina said.

You sat on the couch, curling on Marshall’s side as Stevie did her presentation, starting with dogs. Then, she got to cats and, as soon as you saw the first one, you fell in love. It wasn’t a cute kitten you would have expected to swoon over. It was a thirteen year-old cat with feline dwarfism that gave him a grumpy look. He had a few patches of missing hair and wouldn’t qualify as a beautiful cat but there was something about him that drew you in.

Oh my God, he is adorable, you said.

Adorable ? That… thing ? Marshall asked with a grimace.

Have you seen him ? You asked him with love in your eyes.

Have you ?!

He’s old, and he’s grumpy, and I love him already, you said.

Old and grumpy… I think that woman has a type, Kim said, causing everyone to laugh.

Marshall looked at you while you made eyes at him while whispering “please, please, please”. After a few seconds he sighed and agreed.

Alright, he sighed. I guess we’re getting a cat. But please give him a cool name. I can’t have a cat with a stupid name like “Fluffy”.

It should be rap-related, Alaina suggested.

I like that, Marshall said.

How about Mew Tang Clan ? You asked. Or Wiz Catlifa ? He looks like a Wiz !

Ok, Marshall chuckled. Anything you want. Let’s go for Wiz Catlifa.

You jumped at his neck and kissed his cheek, feeling like a kid on Christmas Day. He wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your temple. You’d had a shitty week but you were incredibly happy, with the man you loved by your side, who agreed to go to the shelter with you the following week.

Eventually, after a while, everyone left. Kim was the last one to say her goodbyes. As she went through the door, she turned to Marshall and looked at him with a smile.

Oh, and, Marsh ? You’re off the hook. Happy Thanksgiving.

You had no idea what that meant, and you figured out it was one of their inside jokes or something like this. You were just happy that everything had gone smoothly. Plus, you actually like Kim and were happy to get along with her. Marshall, however, seemed a little puzzled. He nodded silently.

You were all relaxed as you went to bed. The nerves had drained you out from your energy.

Are you alright, babe ? Marshall asked as you rested your head on your pillow.

Tired, but I had a good time. I can’t believe we’re getting a cat ! You said giddily.

Only you could make me agree, he chuckled. When our last cat died, I swore we wouldn’t get another one. But if it makes you happy…

It does, you said with a smile. I love him already. Have you seen him ?

I have. You picked me so I knew you had bad taste but this… This is ultimate proof, babygirl, he chuckled.

Shut up, you said with a pout. I won’t have you speak ill of our cat.

“Our cat”, he said pensively. I like the sound of that. It’s like starting a little family with you.

You giggled and nuzzled his neck, placing a small kiss there and prompting him to pull you closer to him.

You’re all romantic, you said.

You’re worth it, he said. I love you. And the whole family fell in love with you, it seems.

Did they ?

They did, he nodded. Even Kim. I don’t know how you did that, honestly.

Maybe she’s just pretending, you said.

I don’t think she is, he said intently. Whatever. I’m just happy they like you.

You nodded and nuzzled his neck.

Happy Thanksgiving, my love.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #recovery fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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sp0o0kylights · 2 years ago

Text

S4 Starts with the Demobats Attacking the School / Rejected Stobin Time Travel AU Bit

Eddie's hunched over the table, fingers held up in wicked claws. His hair hangs down as he tilts his head, voice pitched to the maniacal tone of the villain he's finally unleashed on his players.

This is it. The big reveal, the prelude to the boss fight. His players have worked hard to get here, and they stare raptly, caught up in the rising horror of betrayal and terror that Eddie's been weaving around them.

This whole campaign took months to reach this point. His glee cannot be contained and so he channels it into his villain instead; cackling madly before throwing himself upwards, one hand covering his face but with his fingers splayed to showcase one wide eye.

"Now you see your fatal flaw!" Eddie crows. "Pick up your weapons and--"

He slams one hand down on the table.

"--fight --"

He slams his other hand down.

"--for--"

A third bang, far louder than Eddie's own echoes through the room.

Hellfire as a whole jumps --Dustin screaming and Jeff shouting--as Steve fucking Harrington bursts through the drama room's door.

"Why the hell don't you have your walkies!?" He thunders as he flies in, face furious.

Fury bolts through Eddie like lightning, so fast it leaves him temporarily light headed.

"Steve!" Dustin yelps at the same time Mike pissily shouts his name. Both leap to their feet, as Harrington, chest heaving, slams the door behind himself.

"We have a code red!" Harrington spits, eyes focused on the younger Hellfire members. He fumbles with the door for a moment, long enough for Eddie to realize he’s trying to lock it, before the ex-jock strides into the room.

It's not until Steve gets closer that Eddie registers the bat with nails in it. There's a dark, tacky liquid leaking down the sides, little bits of something rancid clinging to some of the nails.

A metallic scent that screams 'wrong wrong wrong!' and oh God.

It's blood.

Real blood, not the fake stuff Eddie once bought for his Dracula costume.

"The Party--" Dustin hisses, head flying comically between Steve and the rest of the table (but most noticeably, down at Eddie’s end, where the older Hellfire members reside.)

"I suggest you read them in or whatever Nance calls it, Henderson, because they're involved now." Harrington says, deadly serious.

Sinclair’s face scrunches up in confusion. "What do you--"

Something screeches outside. The noise raises every hair on Eddie's neck, and temporarily stuns the room into silence.

An echoing scream answers, just as inhuman as the first.

Harrington winces. "Give em the cliffnotes version man, there's a bunch of bats outside."

"Bat bats or--demobats?"

"What do you think, Mike?"

"Fuck." Sinclair hisses under his breath.

"Anyone besides me have any weapons?" Harrington asks and he sounds like he's not hopeful for a yes but is asking anyway.

"Yes Steve, we all brought guns to school. Mines in my locker!" Mike snips, and Harrington levels him with that annoyed look mothers everywhere somehow seem to know.

"I've got my slingshot." Lucas chimes in, patting his backpack. "I uh, I don't go anywhere without it anymore."

Harrington nods, once. His faze ticks up, sweeping across the room to the older members.

"Alright. Anyone else?"

"A knife." Jeff admits after a long pause, his own eyes trained on Harrington's nail bat.

Grant shakes his head, and Gareth, usually the loudest of them, is silent.

A static crackle makes everyone jump, before a tinny voice comes through. "Steve, are you there? This is Nancy."

"Hey Nance. We have an Upside Down situation at the school."

A pause then; "it's not just the school."

"Shit." Dustin hisses. Then adds; "Scale of one to ten, how many bats would you say are outside?”

“Too many.” Harrington answers, running his free hand through his hair. It’s a soothing motion, Eddie has watched Steve enough to know that, but this time something’s different.

Less “shit I flunked my chemistry final” and more frantic, “we’re losing the baseball game and also Hargrove’s being weirdly aggressive again.”

Not that Eddie witnessed such events, just that he had….heard about them.

Sure.

He’ll go with that.

xXx

Wheeler Jr yelps, sliding as a demobat swoops down and beats at him with its wings. Teeth snap close to his head, missing his ear by inches.

He twirls, arms waving madly, until Harrington grabs him, keeping Mike's head down with one hand and jamming his nailbat toward the creature with the other.

The two of them manage to make it into Eddie's van, half falling half jumping, Gareth and Grant slamming the door behind them as demobats dive at them.

"Gun it!" Gareth calls and Eddie does so, the lurch sending Henderson and Jeff tumbling to the floor.

Eddie watches in the mirror as Mike, the most antagonist of the freshman when it comes to Harrington, clings to the ex-jocks shirt for a moment.

Steve's hand has left the back of his shirt, though now Eddie can see his grip has changed to more of a tender hold on the kid. Something familiar and comforting.

"I got you." Steve says quietly and it's only because Eddie's got his attention split between him and the road that he catches it, and the way Mike presses his forehead against Steve's shoulder for a moment before finally sitting up.

Which just confirms what Eddie already knew--for all his bluster and guff, Mike was one of Harrington's too.

xxx

--This is where It turned into the “failed time stobin time travel AU- but I like this part and you need the above for it to make sense so TWO IN ONE--

xxx

Speed running the beginning is starting to become the easiest part, if only because Steve finally knows exactly what to say.

"They're not a part of the party." He mimics Dustin's voice before pointing a finger at him. "We have exactly sixteen minutes before the damn demobats attack you can fill them in in Eddie's van."

The very same Eddie who looks positively aghast. "You actually believe this?"

"Oh absolutely." Dustin says, scooping his nerd crap into his backpack. "Trust me, Steve's not creative enough to come up with something like this on his own."

"Hey." Steve says in warning.

"Also he only gets bitchy like this when something’s gone really wrong." Dustin ads with a look that might have been apologetic--if one squinted and looked at his face sideways.

Lucas, Steve's new favorite, slides slowly next to him. "You sure you're okay?" He asks quietly and Steve pats him on the shoulder for being the only one to care.

“Not at all.” He answers because fuck, he really, really, isn’t. “In the meantime, I need you all to listen very carefully.”

Mike already has his mouth open, patented bitchy look on his face and nope, no, Steve is not letting him derail this conversation.

He let that happen by accident once and Steve’s learned his lesson since.

Pointing at Mike, Steve starts firing instructions. “Do not, under any circumstance, try to fight the bats. They can and have lifted you right off your feet and I will not be jumping for you again.”

Steve’s finger ticked right, to Lucas. “Luc, I know you have your slingshot and a handful of shit to fling in it. You need to sprint to Eddie’s van, then get set up to start shooting so the rest of us have cover. Got it?”

Lucas, Steve was pleased to see, had already dropped into ‘shit’s fucked’ mode. He nods, his own nerdy gear long packed away. He digs through his backpack now, looking no doubt for the slingshot.

Steve was baking him a damn cake when all this was over.

“Gareth.” He continues, pointing at the next guy down the line, watching as he jumps out of his skin (and then looks mad about it, as if it was Steve’s fault he’d flinched.) “You’re weirdly good at counting the bats, so I’m gonna ask you to keep doing that man. As well as keep an eye out for anything ground level, we got surprised by a demodog last time.”

“Shit, really?” Mike groans, throwing his hands over his eyes in frustration.

He was ignored.

Steve skips over Eddie entirely, knowing all too well how much of a trap addressing him could be. “Grant, you’re best on the radio. Once we are securely in the van I need you to call for Nancy and give her an update on what’s happening.

Grant at least, comes onboard immediately, nodding his head and standing.

He got an absolute look of betrayal from Eddie and Gareth for it, but hey that was yet another thing to be addressed later.

Here, Steve slings his own backpack down and off his shoulders, taking the first thing he has in it, out. “Jeff,” He calls, before holding up the box he’d pulled out. “This is a medkit. You know how to use it, so you get it.”

Steve doesn’t toss the box to him this time, instead putting the kit on the table and sliding it over.

Hesitantly, Jeff takes it, eyes darting between Steve and Eddie.

“And Dustin--” Steve says with an air of finality, yanking the second item he’s been looking for out of his backpack, “take off that damn Weird Al abomination and put this jacket on. For some reason the bats keep locking onto it.”

“They want my shirt?” Dustin asks, but does as told, seeming far too delighted at having been given Steve’s old swim team jacket.

“Uh.” Eddie starts, rising to a hunch over the table, head partially tilted.

Steve was pretty sure he did that because he thought it was intimidating (or at least, perhaps was a bad habit because he did it way more often then he didn’t, but that was a thought for Not In The Beginning of The Mess Steve.)

“We have five minutes left before they attack.” Steve says, right over the second (and far more aggressive) “Uh.”

“The van isn’t locked, which is just so safe considering all the drugs in it, Munson.” He can’t help himself, throws the pissiest, most disapproving look he has in his arsenal at a now gaping Eddie.

“No matter who gets to it first, one but Eddie or myself drive it, understand?”

“Oh so now you’re fine with Eddie’s driving!?” Dustin doesn’t stomp his feet but Steve has known him for a while now.

The foot stomping behavior wasn’t one he grew out of until just last year.

“Considering what we’re about to face yes, absolutely I am.” Steve counters rapidly. “Eddie drives like a demon and that’s exactly what we need right now.”

And oh. He’s going to have to say things like this more, because the shocked look that overtook Munson’s face is delightful.

“I’m taking the rear, because I have the bat.” He holds his weapon, watches as the older members of Hellfire finally seem to register what it is. “Everyone got the plan down?”

“Harrington.” Eddie finally starts, voice positively frigid in fury, and Steve is prepared to mouth what is no doubt the line Eddie’s about to say (much like Dustin, he too rarely deviates lines in the beginning) “What kind of game do you--”

Right on cue, something inhuman screams outside.

The bats are here.

“Bicker later, Munson.” Steve says, locking eyes with Eddie. “Goal for now is to survive.”

xXx

The run to Eddie’s van consistently remains to be one of the worst parts of the entire day (minus the other various parts where someone inevitably bites it, thus resetting the entire damn time loop.)

The initial plan had gone smoothly. Lucas reaches the van first, then uses it as a shield while he provides cover with his slingshot.

The little group of Jeff-Dustin-Grant and Eddie all manage to reach it at about the same time, with Steve able to pull the bats off them with a couple of well timed whacks of the nailbat.

This is where everything goes to shit.

Once again, Mike tries to take the spot of “first to die” by swinging his fist at a low flying bat. The tail of the thing immediately catches his wrist, using the momentum of the movement to swing its teeth towards the freshmen’s face.

Steve reverses direction, and knows immediately he won’t be there in time to prevent an injury.

Curses hard, and winds up to swing, right as Gareth snarls out; “Hell no!”

He’s closer to Mike, and despite already having one bat swooping madly at his head, manages to grab the one attacking Wheeler right as Mike trips over his own feet and falls backwards.

A stream of yells and ‘fuck you!’’s follow as Steve bends to yank Mike up, then carries on as wings beat frantically around Gareth’s head.

The other bat dives, latching onto his hip right as Steve manages to grab the one Gareth’s holding. Takes it from him as Gareth screams, trying desperately to rip the demobat that’s gotten its teeth into him, off.

Practice makes perfect, and perfect in this case, is slamming the fucking demobat onto the concrete hard enough to stun it before slamming it to bits with two hard strikes of the nailbat.

Steve isn’t sure how long it takes him to do it, but between Gareth’s screaming and the shrieks of more incoming bats, he knows he doesn’t have much time.

He’s not losing someone. Not here, right at the start.

Not when he already knows how to play out this part.

Gareth manages to rip the creature off himself, and Steve takes it from there, snatching it out of the younger man’s hands and repeating the fling-and-smash move he killed its brethren with.

Does it fast enough that he’s back at Gareth’s side before the guy starts to collapse downward, tears streaming down his face.

“I’ve got you, you’re okay.” Steve tells him, pulling him close and forcing Gareth to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “Put hard pressure on it man, hard, then we’re gonna run for it.”

“Can’t--fuck---” Gareth pants between hard breaths. Blood’s soaked soaking into his jeans, and a glance at it shows it’s a bad bite.

“You can.” Steve tells him, already pulling them both forward.

It doesn’t go well.

Gareth almost goes down twice, leg buckling, and Steve grits his teeth. Knows neither of them are going to make it at this rate.

“Gary!” Someone screams. He can’t quite tell if it’s Jeff or Eddie, but either way, Mike and Dustin have leapt out of the car, flinging rocks and whatever else they can find into the air.

“Careful!” Steve yells as one nearly belts him, but at least it causes enough of a distraction that he manages to toss the bat ahead of himself, wincing at the sound it makes as it hits the ground.

It’s close to Dustin though, who thankfully, takes his cue and snatches it up.

“Stay!”

It’s a command, and Steve says it like a command. The last thing he needs is for Henderson to go charging into a hoard of demobats, especially not after Steve’s witnessed Eddie dying to them on at least five separate time loops.

If not here, then later.

He can’t think about that now though, not when Gareth’s hissing in pain, fingers clutching onto his shirt like a lifeline.

(He is, he realizes, Gareth’s lifeline. The younger man won’t make it unless Steve gets them to the van.

The bats would take him as their sacrifice and if there is one thing Steve was sworn to stop, it’s people sacrificing themselves--or others.)

“Take a breath.” Steve instructs, before bodily swinging Gareth in front of him.

Ignores the yelped cry he makes, and stoops down to get a good hold around his knees.

Grunts as Gareth, having figured out what’s happening, circles his other hand around Steve’s neck as he lifts the smaller man up into a bridal carry.

Ignores the choked sobs that escape Gareth as he does it. The fucking bat bites hurt and what they’re doing right now is no doubt jostling the shit out of the wound.

He’d be crying too if it were him, not that anyone can pick him up like this.

(Deliberately forgets to recall the two times he’s died precisely because of that.

The knowledge that if he’s injured, the amount of people who can drag him to safety solo is numbering close to zero isn’t a helpful one right now.

Neither is any other thought beyond pure focus on getting Gareth into the van.)

From there it’s a matter of running and not falling on his fucking face--or on the guy currently bleeding on him.

They make it though, a fact Steve is very grateful for.

Hands reach out, all of them pulling Gareth in while Steve hustles the rest, not slowing down until he slams the van door shut and yells for Eddie to gun it.

“Jeff, medkit!” he says, but Jeff, bless him, is already on it.

Grant’s speaking into the walkie he’d been given, Nancy’s tinny voice a soothing balm on Steve’s nerves as he, Dustin and Jeff get Gareth laid out in the van best they can.

“Where am I going, Harrington?” Eddie calls from the front, having floored the van the second the doors had slammed shut.

“He’ll be okay.” Steve soothed quietly, one hand going to squeeze Mike’s shoulder, the other looping around Lucas.

If there’s one thing he swears he will be, through every loop, it’s supportive of the damn kids.

They deserve to know someone is in their corner, even if they don’t always believe him.

#this was originally part of the stobin time travel au #but I couldn't make it work #also I think I posted the bottom half before about mike #steve harrington #eddie munson #hellfire #mike as one of steves kids #s4 au #0o0 fanfics

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