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nyc-tophile · 1 day ago

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┈┈ the silence after you ✮⋆˙

Pairing — CA:CW!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary — When Bucky returns from Hydra with Steve, something in your heart tells you he’s the one—you’ve found your forever. But forever doesn’t always mean. One day, everything shifts. And the man you thought you’d grow old with walks away, leaving you behind with nothing but memories, silence, and the ache of what could’ve been.

Warnings — Angst, abandonment, emotional neglect, breakup, depression, emotional distress, PTSD, grief/loss, anxiety.

Author's Note: This is kind of based on and inspired by Eternity by Alex Warren. I’ve been listening to it on repeat, and since I’m in my feels, y’all have to be in y’all’s feels with me.

The day Steve brought Bucky home, it was raining.

You remembered the way his soaked clothes clung to his frame, the way his eyes scanned the hallway like he didn’t trust it, like he didn’t trust anything. Steve introduced him softly, cautiously, as if Bucky might shatter if spoken to too loudly.

And maybe he would have.

You said hello. He didn’t say anything back, but you still smiled.

At first, Bucky barely left his room. He only spoke to Steve. You’d pass him in the hallway sometimes, quiet glances, a nod, the occasional mumbled “hey.” It wasn’t much, but it was something. You told yourself not to hope. But you did.

Because something in you whispered, he matters.

And slowly, so slowly, he started to open up.

Shared coffee in the morning. A few words. Then sentences. Then long talks after midnight, when he couldn’t sleep, and neither could you.

Then his fingers brushed yours one night and didn’t pull away, and suddenly, the world felt like it was starting to make sense.

It wasn’t easy. Loving someone who’d been broken into pieces never is.

He had nightmares. He’d disappear for days without a word, get lost in his head, lost in memories that weren’t his fault but still haunted him. You tried, you were patient.

You were steady. You held him through every emotion, reminded him that he wasn’t a weapon, wasn’t what they made him. You told him he was Bucky, and he was yours, and you weren’t going anywhere.

And for a while, he believed you, and you made plans. Talked about places you’d go together. He smiled more. He let you love him.

You thought that meant you’d made it, you thought love was enough.

Then it changed..

You came home one day, and he was gone.

No note. No call. No explanation.

Just the space where his things used to be. The coffee mug he always used was still in the sink. The shirt you always stole was folded neatly on the bed.

And silence. Endless, echoing silence.

Steve didn’t know where he went. Or maybe he did and wouldn’t say.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he left.

And you were left behind, with his ghost in your bed, his voice in your head, and all the memories that meant everything to you and apparently… nothing to him.

You tried to move on, tried to forget him.

But every time it rained, you remembered the day he came. And every night you couldn’t sleep, you remembered the way he used to whisper your name like it meant something sacred.

You still wonder if he thinks of you. If he misses you.

But deep down, you know, he loved you like he was learning how.

You loved him like you’d known him in every lifetime, but even soulmates don’t always stay.

And sometimes, forever is just a word people say when they’re scared to admit that one day… they’ll leave too.

-----

The sky was heavy, gray and swollen, the air felt tense, too still, like the world was bracing itself for something. You barely noticed. You were tired. Exhausted.

It had been months. Long, hollow months filled with aching silences and too much space in your bed. You’d stopped checking the door. Stopped waiting. Or at least, you told yourself you had.

But the day felt different. Unsettled, like the calm before something breaks.

Then you felt it first in your chest, that flutter. A tightness. Like someone was watching you.

You glanced over your shoulder more than once while walking home from work. Heard footsteps that didn’t quite match yours. But when you turned, no one was there.

You’re just paranoid, you told yourself.

It’s nerves. You’re just tired.

You kept your head down, locked the door, and tried to forget the way your stomach wouldn’t settle.

-----

It was almost 2 a.m. when you heard it, a soft shuffle. Like boots against the hardwood floor of your apartment.

Your heart leapt into your throat. You sat up in bed, holding your breath, maybe it’s the wind, your brain offered. A neighbor. The old pipes.

But no, it was closer now. In the hallway. Your hallway.

You reached into the drawer beside your bed and wrapped your fingers around the cold metal of your gun. Your hands were shaking, but your aim wouldn’t be.

You crept toward the door, bare feet silent on the floor. Every shadow looked like it could swallow you whole. Every breath was too loud.

And then you saw him.

Standing in the middle of your apartment like some cruel dream.

Bucky.

His hair was longer. A little messier. His face was thinner, jaw clenched, eyes wide, like he wasn’t sure if he should speak or fall to his knees. He looked like hell.

You nearly dropped the gun.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

Like he hadn’t shattered you, like it hadn’t been months of silence and wondering if he was even still alive.

“Bucky?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked. Nodded.

And that’s when the dam inside you broke.

-----

“You don’t get to just show up, Bucky,” you snapped, gun trembling in your hand, heart pounding louder than the storm outside. “You left. You didn’t say anything. You just—” Your voice cracked. “You just disappeared.”

“I know,” he said softly, eyes never leaving yours. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” you echoed, breath catching. “You disappeared without a word. I thought you were dead! I thought you didn’t love me!”

His shoulders sank at that, like your words hit harder than a punch.

“I never stopped loving you,” he said. “That’s why I left.”

You laughed. Bitter and broken. “That’s the most messed-up thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I thought I was protecting you,” he continued, voice shaking. “I thought if I left, if I stayed away, you’d be safer. You’d heal. But all I did was destroy both of us.”

Tears burned your eyes. “You did.”

The silence was heavy and loud.

“I shouldn’t have come back,” he whispered.

But you couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

Because even after all the pain, all the empty nights and unanswered questions, seeing him again tore through you like lightning.

He was here.

After everything, he was here.

Your grip on the gun loosened as it slipped from your fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud.

You didn’t even flinch.

You just stood there, staring at him. At Bucky. At the man who left without a goodbye, the same man you once swore would be the last person you ever loved.

“You don’t get to walk in here like this,” you said, your voice raw. “You don’t get to show up in the middle of the night and act like we’re just—picking up where we left off.”

He nodded slowly, like he understood. But he didn’t say anything.

You hated that he still looked at you the same. Like you were his whole world. Like you still mattered. It made you want to scream.

“Why now, Bucky? Why, after all this time?”

“I couldn’t stay away anymore,” he said quietly. “I tried. I tried. But every night, I saw you. Every night, I thought about coming back. I just didn’t know if you’d even open the door.”

You laughed, shaky and wet with disbelief. “You didn’t even knock.”

Silence again. He looked down, and you hated how tired he looked. Like the months had dragged over him the same way they had over you.

Your arms crossed over your chest, more to hold yourself together than anything. “I didn’t know if you were alive,” you whispered. “I called Steve. I called Sam. No one would tell me anything. And you... You were just gone.”

Bucky took a step forward.

You flinched.

It broke something in his face.

“I didn’t want you to wait for someone who couldn’t promise you anything,” he said. “I thought leaving was the best thing I could do.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over now. “You were the promise.”

And for a second, just a second, you wanted to run into his arms. To feel him, hold him, sob into his chest, and pretend the last few months never happened. But your body didn’t move.

Because love doesn’t erase abandonment. It doesn’t heal the wound someone chose to give you.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I should hug you or scream at you. Or both. I—God, Bucky—I missed you so much.”

His breath caught, and he looked at you like he was drowning in his guilt.

“I never stopped loving you,” he said again, barely holding himself together. “I came back to fix it, if you’ll let me. I’ll do anything.”

You stared at him through blurred vision.

You both were a mess and maybe love wasn’t enough. Maybe nothing could undo the hurt. But he was here.

You took a shaky breath.

“I’m not saying I forgive you,” you said softly. “But I need to understand why. I need you to talk to me this time. No more disappearing. No more silence. If you’re here to stay… then stay. And be honest.”

“I will,” he said without hesitation. “I swear.”

You nodded slowly. Then, almost against your own will, you stepped toward him.

Just once.

He didn’t move. Didn’t reach for you. Just let you come to him.

You stood there, chest inches from his, fists clenched at your sides, tears streaking your cheeks.

And then, finally, you let go.

You collapsed into his arms.

He caught you instantly, arms wrapping around you like they never forgot how. Like they were always meant to.

You sobbed into his shoulder. And he held you like he would never let go again.

-----

The apartment was quiet.

Just the two of you on the floor of your hallway, tangled in each other like time hadn’t passed… like he hadn’t left. But it had. And he had.

Still, you didn’t pull away. Not yet.

Your sobs had quieted into shaky breaths, and Bucky held you like he was afraid to let go, like if he did, you’d disappear this time.

When you finally leaned back, your hands stayed on his chest, fingers curled into his shirt like you needed the fabric to anchor you.

“I’m still mad at you,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“I don’t trust you yet.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours. “I’ll earn it back. However long it takes.”

You nodded, wiping at your cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Fair.”

You pushed yourself up, legs stiff, emotions worn thin. He followed, slower, as if waiting for you to tell him to leave again. But you didn’t.

Instead, you walked toward the kitchen and flicked the light on. The soft hum of the fridge and the buzz of the overhead bulb filled the silence between you. You grabbed a mug from the cabinet, his favorite one. The chipped blue one you never had the heart to get rid of.

You set it on the counter.

“Still take it black?” you asked.

He nodded once, and something in his throat caught, like the gesture meant more than he could say.

You poured the coffee. Hands still trembling, but steadier than before.

He stood at the edge of the room, unsure.

“Sit,” you said gently. Not cold. Not warm. Just tired. “We need to talk.”

And you did.

You talked until the sky started to lighten and the night lost its grip on the city. He told you where he went, what he felt, how wrong he knew it all was. You didn’t forgive him, not fully, but you listened. Because part of you had always been waiting to.

Eventually, the exhaustion caught up to you.

You were curled up on one end of the couch. He was on the other side. A blanket thrown haphazardly across your legs. The space between you was small, but it still mattered.

You looked at him through heavy eyes, your voice soft.

“Don��t leave again, Bucky. Not without saying goodbye.”

He turned his head, eyes already closing.

“I won’t,” he murmured. “Never again.”

And even though your heart still ached, even though you weren’t whole yet, you believed him. Just a little.

It wasn’t a perfect ending.

But for the first time in months, it felt like maybe, just maybe…It wasn’t the end at all.

join my тαgℓιѕт -

@avgdestitute , @xoxo-moonlight , @spring-soldier , @vyviiennestar

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paninicupcakke · 3 days ago

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Flash fire one shot ⚾️♥️🔥

(Scout POV: My last letter to Spy)

(CW: angst / alcoholism / neglectful parenting implied)

“Don’t act superior dad. Stay in your place, you fuckin coward.

We’re all flawed humans. Please, just come back down to earth with me. Being human sucks but I never expected you to make me feel like an alien freak. You used to love aliens and stuff. I remember.

This is the last time I give you the benefit of the doubt.

That stupid God you all care about so much, gave me this broken and abused alien guy. He brought this guy into my life and it feels like a blessing. Not a burden.

Someone that needs help sometimes. I’ll gladly give it. I’ll step up and help. I’ll do what you couldn’t do. I’ll give it all to him. All of my purest love.

He is a nobody to you, but every nobody is a somebody to somebody else.

I figured you would empathize with him but no.

You geezers can’t even fathom speakin’ your actual truth. Let alone puttin’ your feet into someone else’s shoes for a change. Not everyone has shoes. Y’all are used to steppin’ on anyone to get ahead. Even me and we’re supposed to be on the same team. Same blood or whatever. Seems like all these geezers do is hide behind closed doors. Talkin’ shit but no balls to say it. Hide behind that fake ass mask you crafted all by yourself.

You think that precious paper solves all your problems but it don’t. I see you chug down your wine and pills. You dress and act like you got it together but you don’t. You’re miserable. You don’t gotta say it. Seeing me freedom and happiness makes you uncomfortable and I know why.

Even though this alien guy treats me exactly how I want to be treated. This guy has made more meals for me than you ever have. You couldn’t even do that for me.

A man who can’t clean or cook isn’t a man. That’s a child. You’re still a foolish, kid too dad. In your own ways.

We do things different than you and that’s okay. It’s okay for me anyway. You don’t truly know all the good things he does for me, regardless of the countless times you witness his helpful and caring actions.

For an old, seasoned geezer, you slip up a lot and make a lotta rookie mistakes. At least keep up the act Spy. You’re not as clever as you think. You’re still a pathetic, functional alcoholic like everyone else on that stupid team.

But nah even that mask slips up sometimes and you tell me the truth without even realizing it yourself.

You all infantilize him. You don’t gotta fully say it, because I see it.

You all do it to me too. When it’s convenient to do so anyways. We’re adults when it’s convenient but we’re stupid, naive children when we don’t do what you want us to do with our lives.

If my happiness isn’t enough, I understand. There’s more interesting things out there to collect and do. I get it.

When I offer someone help, I actually mean it. Y’all don’t. You can play pretend and offer help outta pity but I know it’s not genuine. You all are keepin’ score. I don’t do that to the people I love.

I never asked to be brought here. But you chose that for me, so now you suffer more for it. Great. Suffer some more. Suffer the consequences of your actions. “Dad.”

A part of me still hopes one day you’ll come back down to earth. I doubt it though.

I can never stop fully loving you. I’m sorry for being a leech but you chose to bring me here. Your job was to take care of me and provide but you couldn’t even do that right. Ma did all that work raising me. I understand why she needs rest from me. But you? No matter how many chances I gave, you let me down each time. Love isn’t just slapping a wad of cash in my hand. You can’t buy me dad. You can buy ma but not me. Not us. Not me and Py. Your paper means nothin’. I ain’t about that. It won’t make it better but keep thinkin’ it does. I hope your custom, empty smoking room was all worth it. You work for the machine now. If my presence causes you grief then I need to go. For good. For your own sake.

It was nice kinda knowing you.

You never really showed interest in really gettin’ to know me, so fuck off then. For good.

And I still love you after everything you’ve said and done. That time you slipped up and told me how you really feel. I realized right then and there that it was time to leave.

Goodbye dad.

#angst fic #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 pyro #flashfire #pyroscout #tf2 fanfiction #vent writing #pov where spy doesn’t accept pyro as scout’s lover

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t1cg · 18 hours ago

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Art of the end scene from my fic.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67512581/chapters/174478571

#batfam #fanart #my art #dick grayson #ao3 author #angst fanart #angst fic #angst with a sad ending

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rottenspawn · 2 months ago

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POISONING THE “HEART”

—>one sided!1x4 x Reader drabble

(Filler post I’m working on another fic rn)

They loathed you,they hated the way when your face appeared his heart would grow warm.

The way despite all odds you would keep fighting in hopes of freedom

a foolish wish indeed

They hated how when your eyes landed on them the light would cease to exist as you stared.

With those eyes,disgusted afraid and hateful…

Hateful?

wasn’t that her job,to be HATEFUL?

Aren’t they the most inpure version of hatred and agony

Selfishly wishing for you to one day stare at them with the warmth you show others …

a killer could dream

a killer could dream of the disgusting and inpure emotion of love

To be loved.

#roblox forsaken #x reader #1x1x1x1 #1x1x1x1 x reader #forsaken x reader #forsaken x y/n #Drabble #forsaken roblox #forsaken #angst fic #SEND ME REQUESTS PLEASE IM OUT OF THEM ALREADY

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sunny-sourzii · 1 month ago

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I made more sugarlova angst because I apparently love making myself and others suffer 🔥

CW for a lil bit of blood

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cameronsbabydoll · 2 months ago

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──── BEFORE YOU NOTICED ────

a series made by © cameronsbabydoll

you stopped humming in the kitchen weeks ago.

stopped opening the windows.

stopped eating with him.

he didn’t notice.

you wake up aching, bones hollowed out, skin cold no matter how many silk blankets wrap around you. you brush your hair. you make his coffee. you smile when he leaves.

you’ve always been the quiet kind of wife. soft-spoken. gentle. waiting.

so when your body begins to fail you, you do it in silence too. you take your pills in the guest bathroom. you cough into towels. you write letters he’ll read one day with shaking hands and too-late love.

you never wanted him to love you because you were dying.

you just wanted him to love you before you were gone.

but he was busy. he was tired. he was building an empire.

and you, well you were just dying in the house he built for you.

CHAPTERS — ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

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phaelimbs · 1 year ago

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— You look back on all your previous conversations.

Reminiscing the times when he's the first to say he loves you, to say he misses you, to constantly chat you because he likes talking to you all the time as if a few minutes of your absence would kill him immediately.

You know to yourself your relationship has been rocky these past few months, arguments here and there and with you frequently telling him how you feel unloved and asking for reassurance. Maybe that was what drove him away.

Maybe that was what caused him to slowly disconnect from you, the longer you two last, the lesser the efforts become. Until now, when he barely tells you he loves you except when he's going to bed, he only says he misses you too when you say it first, he can't think of what to do on your upcoming monthsary and he doesn't try to think of one because he prefers to be at home.

Maybe it was because of the most recent fight you guys had, the worst one yet. Where he claims you need to lessen your affection because he prefers bickering and joking like friends, when all you want to do is to show him how much you value him and love him each day. Perhaps you were at fault too, because you were overly sweet to him with the reason that you wanted to eliminate any overthinking of his by reassuring him each day.

Afterwards, despite having made up with him expressing that he didn't mean it and you expressing how badly you were hurt, the effect on you stayed, and you detached yourself too, realizing you no longer bothered him with sweet nothings and affections all that much. And it led you to the present, when you slowly realize that maybe it was only you who was doing all those things.

He didn't bother you like you bother him, he didn't send you long messages expressing love like you do almost every single day, he doesn't send "I love you" everytime you were to do something for a while, or ask for calls all that much, or for you to come over because he longs for you. He responded, never initiated.

After all, he only ever says you're the only girl he loves and that he still does love you when you ask him during your nights of overthinking. He only tells you he sees you in his future when you ask. In person, you feel loved, but during the times you are apart, you feel neglected. And you are the only one who notices all these while he continues with his life.

So does he still love you truly?

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aliteralsemicolon · 1 year ago

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We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend

Part 1 of We can't be friends (wait for your love) | See part 2 | See part 3

You and Spencer have convinced yourselves that you’re only meant to be friends despite the strong tension between you two. It only seems to intensify the longer you ignore it, eventually reaching its boiling point and forcing changes in the friendship.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

(but no mentions of pronouns in this so it can be read as gn)

DISCLAIMER I do not consent to my work being used to feed/train AI and/or re-posted anywhere by anybody else This story is SFW but it’s intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING Mentions of: Indirect peer pressure, alcohol/drinking/being drunk, very slight implicated SA (it doesn’t happen), serial killer, kidnapping, torture, murder, stalking, and threats. It’s all barely there and doesn’t really matter to the story tbh. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 9.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Being in love is hard. Being in love with your best friend is harder. It’s a merciless form of torture really, devoting yourself entirely to the person you hold dearest to your heart, but they aren’t yours. It was almost masochistic, standing by to serve him in whatever way you thought he needed. Luckily, you weren’t a masochist.

Not entirely, at least.

You were there for him when he needed, offering whatever you had to give, but there were parts of you that you kept guarded. To protect yourself, but more importantly, to protect Spencer. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hear that you were ‘too much’ from passing lovers in your life. A certain level of detachment was necessary to ensure the safety of Spencer’s friendship. He was the most important person in your life.

Maybe it was the multitude of degrees as a result of his intelligence. He never let you feel stupid or any less intelligent.

Maybe it was the way his whole body lit up when he shared information he’d stored in that beautiful mind.

Maybe it was the charm in how goofily he carried himself. The way his hands would flail around when he spoke to keep up with the speed his brain moved at.

Or maybe it was how he made you feel seen.

How he always knew what to say, what to do. How he remembered little details about you, like how you preferred the window seat on the jet. And how he went out of his way to accommodate the details, like giving up the window seat just so you could sit in it. He was an unusually thoughtful man, with everybody he knew.

That’s something you had to remind yourself of often.

He’s like that with everybody. He has an eidetic memory, of course he remembers the little details.

If only you knew how wrong you were. Spencer was a thoughtful man, there was no doubt about that. Sure he was gifted with an arguably incomparable memory, but unlike all the things he had no choice in remembering, he chose to remember the little details about you. To him you were the closest thing to a real life angel.

It was the way you were the only person he’d ever met, willing to sit there and listen to him talk for hours. You’d go out of your way to show interest in the things he’d share, even if you didn’t actually have any interest in it.

The way he could swear he saw stars in your eyes whenever he stole an opportunity to stare into them. They would burn brighter if accompanied with the sweet sound of your laughter.

He felt compelled to accommodate you. Especially when you light up the way you do from such minuscule actions on his part. Spencer loved being the person to bring out your smile, taking any excuse to try and coax one out of you. Even if he’d slightly inconvenience himself at times. His convenience mattered little to him because he knew how much you did for him too.

Every morning before work you’d make the trip to his favourite coffee shop, getting him scones and coffee exactly to his liking because you knew he had a tendency to skip breakfast. His favourite coffee shop was a fifteen minute drive from your apartment and an extra twenty from Headquarters. You went out of your way to deliver it to him, even reheating the coffee yourself before handing it over.

Spencer wasn’t alone in recognising your generosity. The entire sixth floor had noticed how both of you subconsciously performed acts of service for each other, even if nobody had brought it up to your faces.

“I know that look.” Rossi remarks, turning his head towards his raven haired co-worker, eyes on you and Spencer.

“Yea..I just wonder if they know.” Emily mirrors his actions as she gives her own comment on the sight just a few feet in front of her.

Neither of you realise you have spectators observing your conversation. You’re in your own little bubble at Spencer’s desk, the resident genius seated comfortably with his gaze on you as he speaks. Your focus is entirely on the man across from you, leaning in slightly, perched on the wooden surface.

“Because stomach acid in the human body is typically 1-2 on the PH scale, it’s capable of dissolving metals such as certain types of stainless steels. Razors for example! The Gastrointestinal Endoscopy journal shared that scientists found that the thickened back of a single-edged blade dissolved just two hours of immersion in stomach acid!” His voice went up a pitch as he spoke and you couldn’t help but smile.

“So theoretically, an unsub could use a razor blade as a murder weapon and potentially eat it to dispose of it?” It was a relatively dumb question, but you just wanted to keep him talking.

“Well, it’s possible, but realistically I don’t think a razor blade-”

“Sorry to interrupt my younglings,” A colourful Garcia appears in your bubble and cuts Spencer off, “but I am here to let you know that the team will be going out for drinks, on Rossi, tonight! No exceptions!!”

When your head swivels to Garcia, you also notice the gawking pair not far behind her, shuffling off when they realise they’ve been caught staring.

“I’ll come, but I won’t be drinking.” Spencer says with an awkward smile. They shift their sights on you for your response.

“Sorry guys…I already have plans for tonight.” You purse your lips together apologetically.

“What no! No, no, no! You know how rare these nights can be!” Garcia frowns and grabs your shoulders pleadingly.

“I knowwww…I’m sorry!!”

“Fine, fine, but at least share what’s keeping you busy tonight?” The blonde pokes.

You shift your eyes to Spencer, who’s just staring at you with a curious look and then back to Garcia.

“Well I have a date-” You begin, but are interrupted by a whispered squeal.

Garcia begins a response, but stops herself when she spots a nonchalant Derek Morgan heading towards the elevators. “We will discuss this in detail during Saturday’s girls night. For now I will accept your excuse and remind you to dress your sexiest! Now excuse me while I go and intercept my sweet chocolate thunder.”

She grips you in a tight hug and scurries off after Morgan. The atmosphere shifts slightly, as you meet Spencer’s eyes awkwardly.

“You have a date? Why didn’t you mention that” Spencer titters.

“I’m sorry, it just didn’t occur to me.” You try to lie, but Spencer’s expression gives away that he doesn’t believe you. “Okay, okay, I just didn’t wanna say anything because the last time I talked about one of my dates you got all weird and I didn’t want to upset you again.”

“Upset me? I was not upset.” He protests and folds his arms across his chest.

“Okay what would you call it then?”

“I wouldn’t call it anything.”

“Oh really? So you’re not upset that I’m going on a date?”

“Nope. Not at all. I’m interested actually, tell me about him.”

You eye him carefully, trying to figure out where his head is at. Spencer has a tendency to get sassy when he feels defensive.

“You’re interested? To hear about one of my dates?” You question with playful caution.

“Yes. I’m always interested in things about you.” He spills.

Your reaction to his words is immediate, a surprised jump in your features, but you manage to mask it almost just as fast. Spencer’s just as surprised as you.

“I-I just mean- you know? Because yo-you’re my best friend.” He tries to play it off.

There’s no way.

You think to yourself. Spencer definitely didn’t mean it in that way.

No he definitely didn’t. He just said so himself. You’re his best friend. Spencer Reid does not feel the same way about you.

It stings to admit to yourself, but it’s for the best. Spencer is a smart, handsome, wonderful man with so much to offer. You’re too much work, come with too much baggage, just too much.

“Yea, we’re best friends.” An affirmation more for yourself than him.

A silence looms as you stare at each other stiffly.

“Anyways, my date,” you decide not to linger on it for too long, “it’s with that guy I told you about, Nathan.”

“Nathan? Didn’t you go on a date with him last time?” A casual inquiry.

“Yea!” You squeak enthusiastically, grateful that he had reverted back to his light-hearted self.

This was something you deeply enjoyed about your friendship. The fact the two of you could flow back into casual conversation no matter what.

“So it’s a second date?”

“Yes! The first one went really well, so I thought why not agree to a second when he asked?”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

His approval should feel better than it does. For some reason, it makes you uneasy. Almost as if you don’t want him to approve.

He has approved though, meaning he isn’t against you dating other people. He doesn’t want you the same way.

“Really?” You want to be sure, scared that you might put him off again.

“Yes! Really! If you’re happy then I’m happy for you.” A fib that you were unaware of.

In truth, Spencer would rather crawl on the office bathroom floor than see you with some other guy. Fortunately for him, he isn’t actually going to be there to see you with this ‘Nathan’. So he doesn’t need to submit to such an awful torture. Maybe he’s being dramatic, you aren’t his girlfriend. He has no right to feel such a heavy drop in his gut.

Part of him really is happy for you. He wanted you to feel loved, even if it wasn’t by him. God, how he wished it was by him. If friendship is what he has to settle for to be near you, then so be it. Though at times it feels like it might kill him, you being the closest person in his life, but not close enough to the point where he could call himself yours.

“REID!”

Spencer jumps at the sound of Morgan’s voice, finding it difficult to focus on his current surroundings. He missed half the team scattering around to different parts of the bar, Morgan now his only company.

“What’s up?” His expression shifts to a tight-lipped smile.

“Where’s your head at man?” Derek probes.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I have never seen you this zoned out before. You haven’t checked back in since you sat down.”

It wasn’t intentional, but since you walked out the doors of the BAU all Spencer’s been able to think about was your date. You probably went straight home to get ready, pulling out all the stops to feel as beautiful as you are. For somebody that can never truly appreciate it, not like he can.

“I guess I’m just not feeling well.” A pathetic excuse. One Spencer finds himself making whenever he’s pulled out of his thoughts about you.

Morgan doesn’t believe him. Hell, Spencer doesn’t even believe himself.

“Kid. You know you can always talk to me right? About anything.”

“I know. I’m really just tired. Actually- you know what, c-could- could you just tell the others that I’m just not feeling great, I’m- bye Derek.” Spencer stutters as he rushes out of his seat.

He doesn’t even give the man a chance to respond as he makes his exit out of the bar. He’s lacking the capability to force himself to socialise. The knowledge of you on a date with another man was something he’s been able to handle, but a second date with a man was harder to stomach. You must like him if you’re willing to see him again.

The ride home feels longer than it actually is. How far had the date gotten? Were you enjoying it? Did Nathan make you laugh the way he could? Spencer might lose his mind. He wondered if you had given Nathan the privilege of touching you. Your skin always looked so soft, his heart panged at the thought. He felt sick.

You were his best friend. You trusted him. He shouldn’t think this way about you, feel this way about you. Unreciprocated feelings were something Spencer was entirely used to. He’d perfected being able to put the person at the receiving end of his affections in the back of his mind. To ignore until it went away entirely.

Why was it so much harder this time? There is no universe in which you would ever return his love for you. Which is why he needs to force himself to love you from afar. It was a fact Spencer reminded himself of repeatedly. And he would’ve kept at it, if he wasn’t interrupted by the sight of you standing in front of his door as he stepped up his apartment stairs.

“Hi!” His voice alerts you softly.

“Hi!” You squeak back, turning on your heel to face him.

He can’t help but note how heavenly you look. It almost knocked the air out of his lungs, except he noticed the poorly wiped tears glistening on your face. He didn’t ask about it, immediately. Instead he just pulled you in for a hug, something he rarely did with others, and unlocked his door as he motioned for you to enter first. Another thing to love about Spencer Reid.

You step inside, more than familiar with the deep green walls surrounding you. If the stench of liquor wasn’t enough, then the way you stumbled on your way to his couch was all Spencer needed to deduce that you had been drinking. A lot. He walks past you towards his kitchen, returning with a glass of water and painkillers you would definitely need later.

“Have you eaten?” He asks softly, handing you the glass of water.

“Um..” you take a sip and pause as you sigh, “yeah.”

The two of you just sit there, silently, stealing small glances at each other and averting your gazes before the other can notice. You know he’s waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to speak first. Except you don’t know what to say. You feel so embarrassed. He probably had better plans for tonight, but here you are, pestering him again.

“How long were you waiting?” He speaks up once he realises that you aren’t going to.

“Not long, I had actually just gotten there, your timing was really good.” You mumble, forcing an awkward chuckle.

“Did Nathan drop you off?” Spencer hopes that bringing up your date might give you enough courage to vent.

“No. No, I walked.” A resigned smile creeps on your face, not wanting to talk about your journey here. “How was your night?”

“Walked?? Alone?? Drunk??” The words seep out of him before he can hold his tongue. “Why didn’t you call me?!”

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to bother you!” You defend.

But you are bothering him. You’re bothering him right now.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back tears. Guilt creeps inside him. He knows that he’s not the source of your tears, but he didn’t want to make you cry regardless.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he takes hold of your hand and squeezes ever so gently, “we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Why don’t we play chess? You’re getting better at it, you know?” He adds, thinking of a quick distraction.

Chess was a favourite pastime of yours with Spencer. You pull your hand out of his grip and use it to rub the opposing arm, his touch overwhelming you. He was too soft with you. You suppose it’s why you seek him out so often. Out of all the men you’ve ever known, Spencer was the only one who knew you. It felt so nice to be known.

“Y-yea..yes. Please. Let’s uh- let’s play chess.” You stumble on your words, eager to think about anything else.

Spencer retrieves his mini chess board from his satchel and prepares the board between the two of you. Neither of you utter a word as you play your moves. You appreciate the silence, because you know that you can’t say or do the wrong thing.

“You’re going easy on me.” You break the silence anyway, scared that the silence might bore him.

“You’re holding back.” He argues and you finally meet his eyes for the first time since you started the game.

“No, I’m just drunk.” You counter.

“I was the one at a bar but you’re the one who’s drunk.” It’s a stupid comment, slightly cringy even, but he earns a genuine laugh out of you.

His dorkiness was part of his charm. Your laughter makes him smile. A comfortable silence fills the atmosphere as your eyes meet again. Spencer’s eyes were so beautiful, you could drown in them. Spencer in general was so beautiful, in every way possible.

“It’s your move.” He has to remind you, worried that if he’s allowed to look at you for two long he might do something really stupid.

“I-uhm- I had a shitty date.” You owe him an explanation for ruining his night.

He doesn’t respond, not wanting to say anything that might make you close up again. He wanted to be the person you talked to about your problems. He wanted to be your solace.

“It started really well. I thought I could see something more, but it turns out he just wanted the same thing as all the others. Thought that maybe if he got me drunk enough..but it obviously didn’t work” You try to lighten the weight of your words by laughing with them. “It’s probably for the best, you know? I don’t think it would’ve worked out regardless, I couldn’t stop-”

Stop comparing him to you.

Normally, Spencer is the one with the tendency to ramble, but the alcohol wasn’t making it easy for you to shut up. You just hope he doesn’t realise where you were headed with that statement. You kept comparing your date to Spencer. Everything Nathan did today was a direct reminder of things Spencer would never do.

“Check.” You choose to stop making a fool of yourself there.

Spencer’s breath hitches. Not because he picked up on what you hoped he didn’t, rather because he was concerned by the possible implications of what you said.

“Did he..did he try to-”

“No. Oh my God, no!” You cut him off before he can finish the thought.

His shoulders relax and the silence resumes. For the first time since he met you, Spencer found himself speechless. He didn’t know whether to comfort you or give you advice. Part of him felt selfishly relieved, at least he didn’t have to worry about some other guy anymore. The other part, the part that felt disgusted with himself for even thinking about himself right now, felt a mixed range of hurt for you.

It started with resentment for the negligence Nathan displayed with you and ended with sorrow for how easily you brushed off your hurt. While he ran all the possibilities of the best thing to say, you ran all the possibilities of leaving his apartment in the least inconvenient way for him, interpreting his silence as irritation.

He should be irritated, you’re disrupting his night.

You need to leave before he can tell you to. Just as you’re about to mutter some bull-shit excuse, Spencer gently cups your hand with both of his hands and locks eyes with you. His voice is so painstakingly gentle, your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Nathan and anyone else who has ever allowed themselves to be blinded by their shallow urges is an absolute fool. Idiot. Moron. There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe how stupid they are for missing out on knowing you as you are. I’ve experienced a lot of good things in my life, none have ever brought me as much joy as you do. I can’t even begin to explain how deserving you are of love and it’s heartbreaking to see that you’ve convinced yourself of the opposite.”

It’s your turn to be speechless. Of the list of things you didn’t expect, this wasn’t even on the list. You should have expected it. It was in Spencer’s nature to prove you wrong for underestimating his tenderness. He felt perhaps he went too far. Said too much.

“I-I just mean-”

“Why are you so nice to me?” Your heart feels like it’s lacking space inside your chest, tears threaten to build.

“Because you’re my f-friend.” He struggles to utter the last word.

“Friend..” You nervously laugh.

The meaning behind his words don’t register in your drunken state. All your focus is diverted to the feeling of his calloused skin on yours. The liquor in your veins awakens dazed boldness. One you’d be too wary of displaying otherwise. You allow your fingers to dance against his, an act of intimacy not reserved for friends. He doesn’t stop you either.

“You know…”

it’s almost not even a whisper,

“...if I wasn’t who I am…”

but Spencer was an expert in tuning out everything else to focus solely on your voice,

“...maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

And the world, as Spencer knows it, stops. Your words ring in his ears and he’s sure his heartbeat has become audible.

“Y-you love me?” He repeats, unable to suppress his need to hear those words again.

The validity of your confession doesn’t bear any weight until you hear it from him, your motions against his hand coming to an immediate stop. You shift line of sight to his face faster than you can blink, waiting for his reaction so you can scramble to save your friendship.

Parroting your words wasn’t enough, Spencer couldn’t believe it. He had never considered it feasible for you to love him. He had spent so many sleepless nights tormenting himself over the fact. He wanted so badly to cup your face and tell you about all the thoughts of you that consumed his mind. To say those three words back.

“You can’t love me.” Instead he said four words that strained your hope for salvation. He’d shoot himself if he had any realisation of what he had just done.

“No, of-of c-course, I meant like an- a- amazing fr-friend. You k-know, like the kind of bes-best friend you only mean once in your lif-life.” And you unknowingly shattered that hope in him.

Silence has never been more deafening. Neither of you can look away from each other. There’s so much to say but how can it be said now?

“Right. No, yeah. Of course.” He forces out.

A fake understanding between you two. The expressions canvassing both of your faces display anything but understanding. Though you’re no longer physically touching, you’re still holding each other in your view. A few moments pass and Spencer is the first to look away.

“You must be tired-” He starts.

You were still disrupting his space.

“Right, I’ll go-” You stand, ready to rush out the door.

“No-no.” He sighs. “Stay please. It’s late and you’re drunk-”

“No I’ve alrea-” You try to protest, not wanting him to go out of his way for you any longer.

“Please. I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re safe.” He begs, not just with his words but his eyes.

“Okay.” You murmur. “But I’m taking the couch.”

Under any other circumstances, Spencer would have resisted you taking the couch. Today? He was utterly drained.

“Alright. I’ll get you something comfortable to change into while I set up the couch. You know where the bathroom is.” He sports a weak smile, unable to meet your eyes again.

He watches you disappear into the bathroom after handing you some spare clothes. He sets the couch with the pillows and blankets he’d reserved for you. He bought them after you’d slept over a few times at the start of your friendship, wanting you to sleep as comfortably as possible so you would keep coming back.

You’d just broken his heart into a million pieces, so fine that he’d never be able to put it back together whole, but he still couldn’t not exert the utmost care when it came to you.

In the bathroom, you fight back tears again as you fumble into his clothes. You’d worn this particular sweatshirt before, because you didn’t anticipate staying the night. It was never planned, often you two just lost track of time because you spent too long engaged in conversations. After a while you started leaving things at his place so you had an excuse to keep coming back.

You can handle just being his friend, but you don’t think you can handle not being anything to him. Was there something you could do so you didn’t have to stop coming back?

When you came out and saw your makeshift bed for the night, you felt slightly fuzzy inside. Spencer had already gone to bed but he’d covered the cushions of the couch with a thick blanket and two fluffy pillows. A fresh glass of water was waiting for you on the coffee table with the pills from earlier.

Maybe things were okay after all? Surely he wouldn’t have put as much care into your comfort if they weren’t. So why couldn’t you shake this feeling of dread inside you? Why did the air feel so thick?

You spend most of what’s left of the night awake, curled into yourself on his couch, muffling your sobs. You’ve ruined another good thing. Pushed away probably the most important person in your life. You knew he was too good for you, he could never feel the same way. You got greedy.

Just a few feet away from you, Spencer’s in the exact same position as you on his bed. No rejection has ever hurt as much as when it came from you. He knew you were drunk, he knew you could never actually feel the same way. But aren’t drunk words sober thoughts? Statistics definitely agree they are.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding headache. Then the dry mouth. Spencer had left a glass of water, painkillers and a bagel on the coffee table. You reach for the pill first, hoping that the faster you take it, the faster it kicks in. As you practically pour the water down your throat, you see a little note next to the bagel.

“Paper work day at the office. Make sure to eat and drink lots of water. Will tell Hotch that you’ll be late/taking the day off. - Spencer”

Thoughtful as ever. The bagel was still warm so he must’ve left recently. It was strange that he’d left without waking you up like he normally does. Your first bite of the bread jolts the memories of the night before and it hits you harder than the headache. Your appetite faded and the remorse set in.

Shit.

You and Spencer have always been able to bounce back, but the damage you caused last night might be irreparable. Say Spencer does forget about it, can you? You always knew he couldn’t love you back, but you never imagined that he would forbid you to love him in the first place. As much as you didn’t want to face Spencer right now, work was the best place for you to be if you didn’t want to go mad thinking about last night.

You’d have to change into appropriate work attire first, so a trip back to your place was warranted. The whole uber ride back to your apartment you think of things to say when you see him. Things didn’t need to change. You had to apologise, obviously, but there had to be some way of apologising while maintaining normalcy. The best start was getting him his coffee and scones like you usually did.

Meanwhile at the office, Spencer was stuck on the same page of his file. It had never taken him more than a few seconds to turn a page, but he wasn’t actually reading the words. You took up every thought in his mind again. He wondered if you were awake yet, if you remembered the events of the night before.

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he initially heard you say it, all he heard was that you love him.

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he said it out loud to himself all he wanted to do was tell you how much he does love you, but the chance was ripped away from him just as fast as it was given to him. Did you even care? Or was it just an insignificant event to you? It was a lot easier to accept that you could never love him the same way before he had a taste of what it would be like if you did.

There was this moment, when your fingers were fiddling with his and you said those words, just a second where he experienced what it could be like. He can’t go back to how it was, not now that he knows how it could’ve been. In order to protect himself from unravelling completely he has to let you go. An impossible task, considering you work together.

“I brought coffee.” Your expression is tentative.

Spencer looks up to see you standing above him, holding his daily coffee and scones in hand. There are no traces of the night before to be seen on you. Your makeup is fresh and you’d clearly changed clothes. You looked perfectly angelic, as always. If it were any other day, your gesture would’ve made him feel like the most special person in the world. Today, it felt like the cruellest thing in the world.

“Do you wanna come with me while I heat it up? Or should I just bring it back to you?” You prompt.

“No.” He rises from his seat and pries it out from your hand. “I can do it. Thank you.”

Before you comprehend what’s happened, Spencer’s walked away. You try to follow him to the kitchen, but when you get there he’s nowhere to be seen. This seems to be a trend for the next few days. You find some excuse to try for conversation and he shuts it down after about one sentence. That’s if you’re able to get close enough to him for that sentence. It’s becoming more and more obvious that he’s avoiding you.

You decide to give him space after about a week of it, wishing everyday that you could go back in time and change things. Around the two week mark, he starts giving you the cold shoulder, not even so much as looking at you. He couldn’t look at you. It was taking everything in him to force himself away from you, but it was easier than being near you. You weren’t the only one who could feel this change in your dynamic, the team was just as confused.

They’d all tried to investigate the root of this shift, individually directing casual questions to both of you in conversations. You’d both just brushed it off, not wanting to be the burden of the topic. Spencer had been doing so well in keeping his distance, but eventually, Hotch made the decision that enough is enough.

The BAU was in Chicago this week, hunting down another unsub who thought he was too smart to get caught. This was one of those cases that would stick with you for a while, so tensions were already high amongst everyone. Nobody was more on edge than Spencer and now he was forced in a car with you, driving around the city, chasing leads.

Rarely did he ever get behind the wheel, but he knew he would need any distraction he could get. Driving was supposed to mean he wouldn’t be stuck in the passenger seat, fighting the urge to stare at you. Now he was fighting the urge to stare at you from the driver's seat. He hated being in love. You were trying your best to stay silent and looking out the window at the passing buildings.

“Are you hungry?”

That’s the first time in a month that Spencer’s been the first one to speak. He tried not to. Like he tried not to pay attention to your routine. It wasn’t possible. No matter how hard he tried, there were just some things Spencer couldn’t not do in regards to you. The most important thing was that he couldn’t not care.

He knew you hadn't been eating properly. You had a tendency to forget about your well-being during hard cases. You were probably hungry. Somebody had to take care of you because you most definitely weren’t going to. He was right. The thought of food made your stomach growl. It was wicked timing.

“No, thank you.” You lie anyway, not wanting to inconvenience him further.

“Why won’t you stop lying to me?” He mutters in annoyance.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, turning to look at him.

He doesn’t look away from the road, pretending to not have heard you.

“Seriously?” You sputter. “You’re ignoring me now?”

You huff as you throw yourself back against your seat. He didn’t mean to ignore you, he just didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t understand why you’re being like this.” You mumble.

It was already daunting when he was barely acknowledging you, but refusing to acknowledge all together? When you were the only person next to him? That was just vicious. You knew you’d fucked up, but was this necessary? You had already spent so much of yourself trying to keep it together, being confined in this car with him would waste your efforts.

“Pull over.” You say in the kindest way possible, which was immensely harsh. “Spencer Reid pull this damn car over or I swear to fucking God I am going to jump out of it.”

That definitely caught his attention. In all your time together, you had never spoken to him in that way. You had definitely never addressed him by his full name. He brings the car to a halt on the side of the curb and finally turns to face you. You push the door open and hop out, slamming it behind you.

“What are yo-” Spencer starts, but you’re already walking away. He quickly gets out and follows behind you. It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you and he stops you by the arm when he realises saying your name won’t make you turn back around.

“Don’t touch me!” You yank your arm out of his grip and keep walking.

“Where are you going?!”

“Anywhere you’re not.”

He tries you by your name again, but when it fails again, he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You hadn’t noticed that you’d walked into an alleyway.

“Get back in the car.” He demands.

“I am not getting in a car with you.” You have never been this upset with him before.

“You’re being childish!” He snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Oh I’m being childish?! Spencer, believe me when I say I mean this is the nicest way I possibly can right now – FUCK OFF!” You push his hands off you and take a step back, but he just grabs your wrist.

“Listen to me,” he urges, “there is a serial killer that’s kidnapping women in broad daylight, torturing them and murdering them. And he’s threatened each of us individually during the course of this investigation. You cannot just be walking around alone, in a city you hardly know.”

“Don’t explain the details of this case to me, I’m well aware.” You snarl, your irritation increasing tenfold.

“Then why are you being so difficult?!” He screeches.

“Why are you–fucking hell, I cannot keep doing this. I’m not getting in the car when you won’t talk to me. Hell, you won’t even so much as look at me!”

“Fine! You wanna talk? We’ll talk! Just–get back in the car. Please.” He sighs in defeat. You still don’t budge, so he pleads softer. “Please.”

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, stealing your wrist out of his grasp. Spencer doesn’t move until you do, both of you silently making your way to the car.

You’re both silent initially, not knowing where exactly to go from here. There’s one thing you know for sure, you won’t be the first to speak. Spencer catches on to that fast.

“What do you wanna talk about?” He snarls, shrugging his arms.

“Cut the shit, I won’t get back in this car if I get out for a second time.” You’re not in the mood. The two of you had avoided this conversation for long enough, it was now or never. Some part of you wished for never.

“Fine. Did you mean it?” He shoots, briskly.

“What?” You didn’t know which part he meant.

“That you love me specifically as an ‘amazing friend’, I believe was your wording.” His voice cracks and it causes a shift in his behaviour. He’s no longer hostile, just hurt.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

In your rush to get him talking, you hadn’t actually realised that you weren’t ready to talk about this. You were stalling.

“Answering a question with a question.”

This doesn’t feel like a conversation. More like an interrogation, except you’re the unsub. He scoffs bitterly at your silence.

“Spencer, don’t–”

“No, you’re the one who wanted to talk! You were so insistent, in fact, that you would have rather made yourself a serial killer’s target then get in a car with me if I didn’t talk to you. And all of a sudden you’re speechless?” He snaps at you.

“Yes! I was the one who wanted to talk! I just– I can’t understand what I’ve done to make you hate me so much? Was it because I said I love you? Did it really upset you that much?” You were both shouting from frustration.

“You think I’m upset because you love me?!” Spencer scoffs in disbelief.

“Aren’t you?!” You bitterly laugh.

Spencer rubs his temples and squeezes his eyes shut, mumbling some under his breath. He’s genuinely never been this frustrated in his life.

“Are you being serious?” His voice strains in pitch, as he tries to keep himself a lot calmer than he feels. “Is this some sort of joke to you?”

“Some sort of joke–”

“Do not interrupt me again. You wanna run away from this? Fine. But you will listen because I will not have this conversation again.” His tone is sharp, like a blade being held against your throat. It definitely shuts you up.

“Talk. Okay, let’s talk about how I have spent the last four years watching you allow undeserving men to walk all over you, letting them treat you like you’re worth nothing. I damn near drove myself insane trying to figure out why. Why is it something you accept for yourself? And then I realised– that’s how you see yourself. You actually hate yourself so much that you’ve convinced yourself you deserve it! Do you realise how infuriating that is?!

Especially because it’s the furthest thing from the truth! Still, I watched you throw yourself into this vicious cycle over and over again. You gave yourself away to those idiots, knowing that they didn’t have good intentions, but you still hoped it would be different every time. I mean you’re a fucking profiler for God’s sake! How can you expect others to love you if you can’t even love yourself?

That’s not even the worst part! You’re so desperate for their acceptance that you continuously neglect the acceptance you already have from the people who love you. People like Emily, Penelope, Derek– the team– people like– people like me. I mean I’ve always known that you didn’t love me as anything more than a friend, but your constant reminders feel like a punch to the gut! Is it that embarrassing for you to love me as anything more?

I’ve survived way worse things, but this is the cruellest thing I’ve ever been through. Because it’s coming from you! I just never expected it’d be from you.” He’s practically hyperventilating for air by the time his speech comes to a stop, the vein in his forehead more prominent than usual.

Your jaw is tense and restless, twitching from anger. Some part of you still wants to keep this friendship. The louder part knows that there’s no going back from this. You’re not entirely sure you want to go back. Your entire body is shaking from rage. The first rule of your friendship was no profiling. Not only did he break that rule, he used the profile against you as if you actually were an unsub he was interrogating.

“That’s not fair”

His eye twitches at your response.

“Not? Fair?” Spencer grumbles in pauses.

“No, that's not fair!” You cry out. “It’s your turn to listen.”

It doesn’t feel like there’s any oxygen left to breathe in the car.

“Self loathing? Spencer, that's your projection! You love too hard and nobody’s ever loved you back the same way. But just because you lack things you want in your life doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me! And all this talk about love, but none of it makes any sense. You think I’m embarrassed of loving you? Is that how shallow you think I am?! You’re the one who told me that I can’t love you. God, you are the most duplicitous person I’ve ever met! I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder because I love you as an ‘amazing friend’? Because you love me and you think I’ve been neglecting you?!”

You had never spoken to anyone this way in your life. There was so much truth to Spencer’s words, but he had no right. He’d touched every nerve in your body without ever laying a hand on you. Up until roughly twenty minutes ago, being seen by Spencer was your favourite thing in the entire world. Now? You’d never hated the feeling more in your life.

Spencer squeezes his hand into a fist, knuckles going white and releases his fingers like if he were aggressively squishing a stress ball. If asked about a month ago, he would never in a million years think that your friendship would manage to dissipate in just a few seconds. He didn’t think he could associate the word love with you anymore.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I do not love you. I do not love anything about you. Actually, I hate you. I hate how sweet you pretend to be. I hate the stupid morning coffee you bring me, nothing tastes more bitter. I hate to admit this but you’re right; everything about you is a brutal reminder of all the good things I can never have and I despise you for it.” He spits his words out with extreme tension in his blood vessels.

“I can’t say I’ve known what it feels like to truly loathe someone before I met you.” You fire back, breathlessly, not having it in you to spare any more words for him.

You’re not exactly sure how long the two of you have been sitting there just glaring at each other. Only when Spencer’s phone rings do you two look away.

“Reid.” He answers the call. “Yea, she’s still here. We’re on our way back now.”

The ride back to the precinct was silent. Even as you regrouped with the rest of the team, you acknowledged everybody but each other. The team was instantly alert to the change, but no one mentioned it at the time because of the high stress of the case. You wrapped the case up a few days later and only then did the questions start making their way around.

“Is everything okay between you two?”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“What happened between you and Reid?”

“What’s up with Boy Wonder over there?”

You didn’t entertain any of them, Spencer had taken up enough time in your life. You refused to talk about him, look at him or acknowledge him at all. He shared that same incentive. Another three weeks passed as the team watched what was once the closest duo in the BAU, pretend that their counterpart didn’t exist.

If one of you was in a room and noticed the other enter, you’d walk out without drawing attention to the situation. When leaving the room was not an option, you either went as far in the opposite corner of the room as you could or you’d simply pretend the other wasn’t present just a few metres away. You wouldn’t discuss intel with each other about cases, sharing your findings with anybody else.

Since Chicago, Hotch only assigned you with Spencer once more, but quickly realised that wasn’t going to help when both of you begged to be assigned with someone else privately. If you were in a discussion with someone and they started talking about Spencer, you’d tune out entirely. After a while the hating game got exhausting.

Spencer hated pretending that he hated you. He felt an immense amount of guilt for the things he’d said, but it was too late to take it back. He thought it would be easier to deal with his feelings if he wasn’t around you all the time, but it was just as difficult as before. You still lit up the dull grey rooms of the building. The only difference was that now he had to watch you shine from afar.

In truth, you didn’t hate Spencer either. What you actually hated was that you didn’t hate Spencer. You still caught yourself staring at him for long periods of time. There were days when you’d go to his favourite coffee shop before work and buy his order, only to give it away to somebody on the street because you didn’t want to ruin Spencer’s day with the bitterness of your coffee.

By the fifth week since you had gotten back from Chicago, you and Spencer were no longer ignoring each other as much. You’d gotten into a routine of professionalism for the sake of the team, only talking to each other about cases when necessary. That didn’t stop you from subconsciously showing subtle gestures of love. These were a lot quieter than the gestures you showed when you were friends.

You’d make sure that there was always a fresh pot of coffee in the office kitchen, so Spencer would have it ready to drink whenever he needed. He’d make sure that the snack cupboard was always filled with your favourite snacks because he knew you liked having something to munch on when catching up on paperwork. You’d keep extra painkillers in Garcia’s lair knowing Spencer would retreat there when a migraine hit.

He’d ensure the aircon was always set to room temperature, you get uncomfortable if the room was too cold. Both of you were aware of the little gestures too, no one else knew your truly niche preferences. Neither of you was brave enough to actually go up to the other, though. It was all too much for you. No matter what was said, he was still your thoughtful Spencer deep down and it killed you.

You’d tried to talk to Spencer a few times, building up the courage for days in advance. As soon as he noticed you heading in his direction, he nearly bolted in the other direction. His avoidance didn’t end at the office. You recently became aware that Penelope had been scheduling rosters to invite you and Spencer to outings, trying to ensure you were present for equal amounts of time.

You were chilling at her desk in wait for her, when you noticed a little note with your name next to a date and time. Under that was Spencer’s name with a separate date and time.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” She greets you.

“I needed to talk to you…Penelope what is this?” You hold up the little pink sticky note.

Penelope sets her octopus mug down and takes the note from your hand.

“This? This is nothing.” She fumbles a bit as she speaks.

“Garcia?” You purposefully speak with warning.

“Okay! Okay! But you didn’t hear it from me! We’ve kinda been taking turns hanging out with you and Spencer sometimes. But it’s because we love you and don’t want to make either of you-” She starts a panicked tangent.

“Garcia!” You interrupt her before she sends herself into a spiral. “There’s no need to do all of this. Yes Spencer and I aren’t close anymore, but you guys don’t need to go out of your way for us.”

“Well..” She grits her teeth and tilts her head.

“What?”

“We didn’t really mean to. It’s just we noticed that Spencer would never come if you were going. And both of you just straight up refuse to talk about it, so this was the best we could come up with.”

“Oh. Penny, I’m sorry that you guys have had to do that.” That was all you could say, your head hanging in guilt.

“Can you at least tell me why you won’t talk about it? I mean it makes sense for Boy Wonder, he’s always been stubbornly private, but you’ve never not told me anything!”

You look towards Garcia again, thinking for a minute. You didn’t know exactly why you refused to talk about it.

“I don’t know, honestly. I just don’t want to talk about it, if that makes sense?” You pull your friend in for a hug as an apology.

You felt awful leaving her lair without giving her a proper answer or a resolution. It didn’t matter how professional you acted, this rift would always impact your friends and your work life.

Spencer would always impact everything in your life.

The guilt didn’t spare you that night, creeping its way to the forefront of your mind every few minutes. It had been four months since your last fight. It was the longest you’d gone without Spencer. This had to end for the sake of the team. That was how you found yourself standing at his door once again. After a few minutes you finally knock. You didn’t know what you were going to say, honestly you just wanted to run before he answered. You hear the locks being undone, but it’s not Spencer who answers when that door finally swings open.

“Yes?”

It’s a woman, one you've never seen before. You’re taken aback and look around to make sure you got the right apartment. This was definitely Spencer’s apartment, you’d been here a hundred times before. And some woman was answering his door for him. Some very beautiful woman.

“Can I help you?” She follows up, looking you up and down.

“Hi, yeah, sorry, is–um– is Spencer here?”

“Who’s asking?” She’s definitely not very friendly.

“We work together. Is he here or not?” You didn’t have the patience for this, annoyance seeping through your pores.

“Who’s at the door?” His voice emerges from behind her and he finally shows up. “Oh.”

“Hey.” You glance away as soon as you see him.

“Could you give me a minute?” He turns to the woman. She flashes a sickly sweet smile and kisses his cheek before disappearing inside. Spencer shuffles out to the corridor, closing the door behind him.

“That–uh–that was–” He stops himself, clearing his throat and switching to his professional voice. “What are you doing here?”

Cold.

“I was hoping we could talk.” You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to play off what you just saw.

“What more is there to say?”

“About the team. I came over to, um, apologise and maybe move past things for the sake of the team.” You were looking everywhere but at him.

“Honestly?” His eyes are on you though. “I don’t care. And even if I did, I don’t want to hear it.”

He starts to walk away, but turns back and mentions your name like it’s the most vile word in the dictionary. “Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.”

With that he re-enters his apartment, leaving you standing in the hallway. It’s hard to imagine that this man was once your best friend. If you didn’t know about all the good times, you wouldn’t have believed it. Every tear that your body could ever produce streamed out of you for the rest of the night. Once you had made it back to your apartment, they broke out in sobs. In your line of work, you had survived being shot at, almost blown up and even a kidnapping once.

The man you loved with every fibre of your being looking at you like you were less than filth under a person's shoes was your breaking point. There was no way you were going to face him again. You needed to forget about Spencer Reid, which meant a fresh start. This city was a constant reminder of his essence, you couldn’t stay. You plopped down on your bed with your work bag, reaching into it for your work computer. Hands twitching as you type.

You remember being so proud when David Rossi recommended you for the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit. You were even more ecstatic when Hotch actually requested your transfer there. You had worked your ass off for it. It was there that you met the infamous Doctor Reid. He was much different than how you had imagined him. He was so charming, friendly and so down to earth, not liking him wasn’t an option. The two of you had so much in common, despite being so different, it was the foundation for your friendship. His caring nature pulled you in further, you soon found yourself deeply in love with him.

Tears flooded your keyboard as all your memories with him flash through your brain. His friendship was a beautiful bonus of the job you once loved, you never thought that he would become the reason you’d leave it. Yet here you were, furiously drafting your resignation to Agent Hotchner. There were so many signals in your brain telling you to back off, to open a bottle of wine and drown your sorrows instead, but your heart didn’t feel like that would be enough. Your love for your job didn’t outweigh your desire to run.

Spencer Reid was your best friend and being in love with him is an excruciating torture. One that you can no longer endure. You had never been more sure of anything as you are at this moment and you weren’t going to give yourself time to change your mind. Your time with Spencer and, as a consequence, your time at the BAU had come to an end. Another memory flashes through your mind as you sign the letter off with your name. A case in Boston had gone wrong and you were really hung up on it. Spencer, in an attempt to help you move on, shared a quote with an author he had recently read. You bitterly chuckle to yourself at this recall and press send with no second thought.

“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” - C.S. Lewis.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, friends to enemies, mutual pining, hurt, angst no comfort, whump (maybe idk), Reader & Spencer are both idiots, they should probably consider therapy actually, Spencer is a sassy little shit, but really just needs a hug and a class on communication.

AN - You’ve heard of enemies to lovers/friends, now I present to you the exact same thing in reverse (been done time and time again, I’m not in any way original <3). You can blame Ariana Grande for this one. Sorry that I haven't posted, I've had insane writers block. I might be slightly incapable of shorter word counts, I’ll try to improve that. I apologise for grammar/anything that does not make sense, I am both an idiot and also was dealing with a bad case of the flu when I wrote this. I’d like to thank @reidmotif for curing my writer's block and inspiring me on the second half of this fic. Thank you @starstruckbambi for proof reading this.

Drop thoughts & feelings so I can ponder on them. Always remember that I’m in your walls.

Thank you for reading!

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sangunary · 3 months ago

Text

- Better man.

BatBoys x Reader.

SYPNOSIS: Catching your boyfriend broke your heart, turns out he wasn't the only option in the family.

WARNING: Cheating, angst - happy, shit post.

Character: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd.

- Jason Todd.

It's been day's almost a week and the only thing you have been doing is crying nonstop, every second, every minute nonstop. Your silk pillow was now drench in your salty tears and snot, only your bed was a mess you didn't have the muscle to throw a tantrums it was as your whole muscle were cut into pieces leaving you to merged with your bed.

Your heart was slowly tearing apart into pieces, your body completely gave up on supporting it's need. Ignoring the painful ache of your stomach as you kept of weeping into your pillow, trying to replicate the feeling you felt when he held you dearly in his arms.

Your eyelids were burning hot from all the tears you have let out and your hair were forming a messy nest. Drowing yourself in sorrow and water forgetting about eating anything healthy. For a week you haven't eaten anything, maybe it was because you just wanted to hurt yourself that way to punish yourself for your action.

Dick was Special to you, he was your first in everything. He was charming and flirty but you only assume those traits were just some persona that will leave with times. How wrong you were.

He would hold you under the blanket and whisper nothing but sweet into your ears and you even though of marrying him. You've met Bruce and his while siblings, you two were planning on building a family of your own.

The ring on your bedside table was doing it's best to bring the tear out of you, he purpose two week ago. The happiest day of your life happened two week ago and on monday you saw him in your shared bed with some girls.

You dropped the cake on the floor and silent followed, nobody move it was an awkward stare down. Your fiance arm's were wrapped around her like he was protecting her from you. The same way he used to comfort you during all those traumatic experience.

That day was a nightmare, he didn't try or even tried to salvage what was left. You wanted to beg, to beg for him to apologise... You just wanted the boy you fell inlove with back, the same one who would hold you dearly in his arm's enveloping you in his warmth, shushing the monsters away. That day the boy you loved died.

You started into his eyes before you left your shared apartment, trying your best to cover the silent cry for help. It was stupid of you to want him back after everything but he was your world. It was hard to believe that everything wad fake.

"Say something... please"

You silently plead for him, you just wanted him to say he was sorry and how he would change, be a better man for you and forget this all ... But that was a fairytale wasn't it?

"Do you need any money for your new apartment?"

Your heart sting so much. He was being kind, but kindness was not what you needed you need him not his kindness. You took a big air and left, a feeling of sorrow hanging onto your shoulder ever since.

Just before you could continue crying again a knock on your door interrupted you.

"Dollface are you still crying...? Im coming in"

Before you could argue Jason opened the door of your room the shining ray of the sun hitting you hard, you couldn't face anybody in that situation especially not the brother of your ex.

You just cover yourself in your blanket, your eyes were extremely puffy and red, your nose red and runny, hair is just like a bird nest just alot more unorganised and the ring on the table still mocking you.

His presence was heavy and out of place inside your dingy room, he sat down on your bed with a thump his eyes staring into yours, unlike Grayson his eyes felt like a void ready to suck your soul in... What a way to realise you haven't gotten over your ex-fiance.

"I warned you didn't I? That idiot only destroy heart while protecting his"

Well jason was mad at you and mostly Dick. He warned you about him on how Dick have a problem with settling, you've taken his warning as a light joke. Because during those days Grayson was your sun and you were just some star it seem now.

"Look at you crying... You're a mess. Over him of all people I've known..."

He seem to have noticed the ring on the table and without hesitation he knock it into the trash bin. You watched in horror as your precious ring fell and land amongst the trash.

"He-"

"It's just some stone... It doesn't hold a value as long as it was given without love. You will forget and get past him whether you liked it or not"

Sometimes you forgot how Jason talked just like your mother would, maybe it was because he was spending too much time with her.

Maybe he was right... It's just some stone given to you. What important was the man infront of you, even when you look just like the definition of garbage he wa willing to look at you and help you heal. Unlike when you were with him, living in constant fear that he might left you if you slip up in any way or form.

"Why are you helping me?"

"...Your mother asked me to"

His answer wasn't the most pleasant one... But he was still the one picking you up an building you anew. Maybe just maybe he was the right one? He was indeed the one who started at you with admiration even at your smallest achievement, the one who wouldn't hold you down for wanting something... It was wrong to love him but it could be cancelled out with what your ex-fiance could done.

Christmas dinner would be awkward but who cares?

"Now you're smiling? You're a real emotional rollercoaster no wonder why our boy wonder couldn't handle you"

"Maybe you could?"

"Anything for you doll"

- Dick Grayson.

You've become too tired to even continue your sobbing, it's been almost a week but you were not done blaming yourself and putting his need first as usual. You've known him when he was just a carefree Robin you were his first girlfriend afterall. Helped him countless of timea, supported his decision even tho they weren't the brightest and even talk shit about batman with him.

Yet if you were to be asked how you were as a girlfriend only one word count sum it up... terrible. Maybe it was because you could give him space after his resurrection, couldn't handle his new self... Couldn't comfort him better. He forgive him when he shot you but he couldn't bring himself to forgive you when you sided with batman after his death.

You thought you were Special to him, special enough to stop him from killing anyone but turns out you were special enough that the first person he tried to kill was indeed you.

The bullet wound was still visible, you tolerated his Sudden burst of anger... Everything about him scared terrible yet you couldn't bring yourself to leave him.

Every injury he would kiss them away vowing to protect you even from himself, even when he shot you he regretted it you swore. His words were enough to trap you, he was your boy and you would rather kill everybody else than him.

It was after another stupid argument you ran his older brother Grayson, he took you under his wing whenever you and Jason have problem. Unlike him he was gently with you treating your every wound with care and unspoken love... It was different from Jason who was rought but loving in his way.

The change of space was addictive and sometimes you would catch yourself willingly run in his arm's... Another reason why you are terrible and unfit for Jason, Grayson noticing your horrible behaviour of putting yourself down decided to educate you in his ways. A movie, it was supposed to be a harmless bounding time with your supposed to be in-law.

But that night only changed you for worst. Torn between him and Jason one bringing heaven to your gate and one taking heaven for you.

When you came back home to ask for forgiveness and confess your disgusting feelings only for you to stand infront of another girl. Your towel wrap around her curvy figure and she reek of your own expensive products, she seem unbothered and just blanky staring down at you.

That moment was hell itself, you felt as if your body was shrinking down as gloomy air surrounded you invading your lungs... You felt as if you were drowning from the tension, your heart torn apart by your boyfriend delicate hands.

From the coner of your eyes you saw him standing still, he knew he was caught. He asked for the girl to step aside and talk to you, your tears already spilling pathetically.

You enter your own home with a heavy weight of desperation clutching onto your aching heart, your picture were no where to he seen and the picture of you and him was facing down... You understood that she probably knew about you but you didn't dare to utter any word.

Your feelings were caught in your mouth and opening it would only flood the room with your unwanted feelings.

"You just weren't the same"

He told you truthfully, you just weren't how he remembered. He told you how the girl was just like how he remembered you back than... You didn't treat him kindly because you love him it was because you were scared.

You left the alone, hoping to catch a bus to somewhere else. Your mind was just too clouded. That's when you saw him. Grayson.

His arm's outstretch as you walk into his arms without hesitation. He would run his finger through your hair and wipe your tears listening to you spilling your feelings onto him.

You felt terrible, to burry him with your untasteful love life with his younger brother felt like the biggest sin. But he was willingly listening to you rambling and that was enough for you...

"It's alright... let it out little bird. I'll always listen"

You couldn't tell if you were that desperate for even a drop of love or was it natural instinct, you couldn't help but lean closer absorbing his smell. Was it because Jason word sting so hard you forgot about your dignity but right now all that matter was that... Grayson cared.

That was enough.

"He doesn't understand what he lost... Someone like you deserve to be cherished... preferably by me"

You couldn't distinguish if he was serious or joking to make you feel better. That doesn't matter because you will cling onto any form of love as long as you are important to another.

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hoe4hotchner · 7 months ago

Note

I have an idea for a Hotch story. What about its Hotch x wife!reader where jack is about 6 months old but she’s still constantly checking his breathing at naps and bedtime and waking up all the time she check him and is super conscious. Hotch thought at first it’s just a new mom thing but now you’re losing sleep and worried all the time so he brings it up one night and she just breaks down and says “I never know if you’re coming home to me so I need to make sure jack is ok so I always have a piece of you with me”

Safe and Sound | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x wife!Reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: Could probably be qualified as post partum, anxiety, lack of sleep.

A/N: I tried my hardest to write this with Jack as the baby, but ultimately I had to make it into a new baby unrelated to Jack, cause my brain couldn't wrap around reader having given birth to Jack. Otherwise it follows the prompt…. Hope it's okay <3

The soft glow of the nightlight bathed the nursery in a warm amber hue as you hovered over the crib. The rhythmic sound of the baby monitor buzzed faintly in the background, but it wasn’t enough to ease your mind. Your hand rested lightly on your son’s tiny chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall from his breathing. Six months in, and every nap, every bedtime, still filled you with a quiet kind of dread.

What if the monitor failed? What if something happened while you weren’t watching? The what-ifs buzzed louder than the monitor, it was a relentless echo that kept you tethered to the edge of fear no matter how safe or serene he looked in his sleep.

The creak of the nursery door broke your focus, pulling your gaze away from your son’s chest. Aaron’s silhouette filled the doorway, his broad shoulders casting a shadow into the softly lit room. He was only wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of boxers, the casualness of his attire contrasting with his usual suit and tie. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, and his dark eyes softened as they took you in, concern etching faint lines across his face. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth, not in irritation but in worry.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, careful not to wake the baby. “You need to sleep.”

“I’m fine,” you whispered back, brushing your fingertips over your son’s soft, silky hair. You lingered, reluctant to leave. “I just needed to check.”

Aaron stepped into the room, his feet silent against the carpet. “You’ve checked three times in the past hour,” he said gently, his hand finding the small of your back. “Come back to bed.”

You sighed, looking down at your baby boy one last time before letting Aaron guide you out of the nursery. The two of you walked in silence to your bedroom, his hand never leaving you as if to anchor you to him so you wouldn't run back to the nursery. When you climbed into bed, Aaron slid in beside you, propping himself up on one elbow to face you.

“This isn’t just a new mom thing, is it?” he asked, his voice low and careful, treading lightly as he spoke. “You’ve barely been sleeping. You’re running yourself into the ground.”

You froze, staring at the ceiling as tears burned behind your eyes. He was right — he always was. But admitting it felt like opening a floodgate you weren’t sure you could close.

“I just…” Your voice cracked, and Aaron shifted closer. “I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“He is okay,” Aaron said, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. “He’s perfect. And you’re an amazing mom.”

The dam broke. The tears spilled over as a sob escaped your lips. “I never know if you’re coming home to me,” you choked out, your hands gripping his t-shirt as though he might disappear. “So I need to make sure the baby is okay. I need to know I’ll always have a piece of you with me.”

Aaron’s breath hitched, his face falling as your words sank in. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as he kissed the top of your head. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “I’m so sorry you feel like that.”

You clung to him, his steady heartbeat soothing some of the ache in your chest. “I can’t lose you, Aaron. Or him. I wouldn’t survive it.”

“You won’t lose us,” he promised, his lips brushing your temple. “I’ll do everything I can to come home to you, every time. And I’ll make sure you’re never carrying this alone.”

For a long time, he just held you. As your sobs quieted, he eased you back down onto the pillows, still holding your hand.

“Tomorrow, we’ll figure this out,” Aaron said softly. “We’ll talk to someone and find ways to help you rest. But tonight, let me watch over him so you can sleep. Okay?”

You nodded, your exhaustion finally catching up to you as his words and touch began to pull you under. “Okay,” you whispered.

And as you drifted off in Aaron’s arms, for the first time in months, you felt the weight begin to lift — getting help was not such a bad idea after all.

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diaryofawhoretbh · 21 days ago

Text

the chosen one. | carmen berzatto

| i think i'm just obsessed with writing angst at this point. writer of agony and despair. (sorry for any mistakes. i tried to proof-read and my mind went fuzzy each time.)

| wc: 3k

| in which carmen berzatto fucks up. big time.

it was supposed to be one of those nights. quiet. safe. yours.

you were tangled with carmy in bed, all bare skin and muffled laughter and the quiet kind of love that doesn't need to be spoken aloud anymore. his lips were warm against your shoulder. his hands, familiar. his voice low, rough with want as he kissed down your collarbone, whispering things into your skin you used to write in your journal like secrets. the air smelled like sex and vanilla candle wax. the sheets were kicked down to your ankles, his body covering yours like he was afraid to let you go.

and it had only been a few nights ago.

that moment. the moment.

you standing under a fucking archway of roses in the back garden of a friend's restuarant he'd rented out for the night.

"marry me?" spelled out in lit-up marquee letters behind you. carmen in a suit. a real one. clean-shaven, hair tousled yet neat. his hands shaking. eyes glassy. a velvet box in his palm.

he'd done it all for you.

every rose, every string light, every damn canape passed around by staff he barely knew how to talk to.

because he knew you loved grand gestures. loud declarations of love. and even if it wasn't him, he wanted to give you the kind of proposal you dreamed of.

he didn't make a speech— he just dropped to one knee and whispered your name like it was something holy.

and you said yes.

through tears. through laughter. through a hand over your mouth as you nodded so hard you almost collapsed into him.

you wore the ring to bed that night.

and every night after.

until now.

it wasn't supposed to hurt.

but it sure did.

you didn't even realise your eyes were closed until he said it.

"fuck.. you feel so good claire."

the name didn't even belong in the room. that name hit you like a glass shattering inside your chest.

at first, you thought you were hearing things. maybe it had just come out slurred. maybe he said babe. maybe-

no. no, he didn't.

your whole body froze beneath him. your heart went silent. you opened your eyes.

his were closed. he kept moving — two more thrusts, maybe even three — before he felt the way you went still.

he didn't even know he'd said it.

your stomach twisted violently. not like anger. like sickness. like grief.

"...what did you just say?" your voice came out hollow.

carmen froze. you felt it instantly— his whole body going still above you, like someone had pulled the plug on him. he blinked, eyes wide now, panic starting to crack across his face like ice under pressure.

"wait— no. no, no. i didn't mean— fuck baby— i didn't mean to say that—"

"claire?" you choked. "are you fucking kidding me carm?"

you pushed him off you so hard he stumbled back onto the mattress. "get the fuck away from me."

"baby— please. i swear—" he reached for you.

"don't fucking touch me carmen." you grabbed the sheet, held it to your chest like armour, even though you were already so exposed, it didn't matter. "you said her fucking name."

"it was—" he was stammering, naked and desperate, eyes shining with guilt. "it was a mistake, i wasn't— i didn't mean it—"

"then why the fuck was it in your mouth?"

he didn't have an answer.

"you proposed to me," you said, voice shaking. "you spent weeks planning that night. the roses. the lights. you wore a fucking tie, carmen."

you stood up, legs shaking. you weren't even thinking. just moving. grabbing your clothes off the floor. you could feel your heartbeat in your teeth. your ears. your hands.

"do you still think about her?" you asked, voice sharp but cracking at the edges. "do you imagine it's her when you touch me?"

"no. baby, God—no. never. i don't— i haven't even seen her in forever-"

"but she's still in your head," you pulled on your shirt, backwards, didn't bother fixing it. "she's still the one you think about when you're not thinking. when it's real. when it's fucking instinct. it was honest carmy— carmen."

he stood slowly, chest rising and falling like he couldn't get enough air.

"i'm sorry baby." his voice was small now. fragile. "i don't— i don't know why that happened. i really don't—"

you turned to him, half-dressed, your engagement ring catching the soft bedside light. "you don't know? that's your excuse? you said another woman's name while you were inside me and all you have is i don't know?"

he didn't speak. just stared at you like he wanted to go back in time. like if he said nothing, the moment would rewrite itself.

you stared at him like he wasn't real. like maybe you'd dreamed him up— this entire thing. the proposal. the promises. the soft way he held your hand when you got nervous at work. the way he always kisses your forehead like it meant something.

you blinked, and suddenly all of it felt fake. cheap. performative.

your eyes dropped to your hand.

the ring glinted in the low light— mocking you. still warm from your skin. a symbol of something that was supposed to be real. something that was supposed to mean— i chose you. it's you. only you.

you didn't even think.

you yanked it off your finger so fast it scraped the skin raw. your breath hitched as your chest caved inward, and before he could even open his mouth again—

you threw it at him.

hard.

the ring hit his chest with a sharp, metallic clink, then fell to the floor with a pathetic little bounce and rolled under the edge of the bed.

your vision was swimming with tears now, hot and endless, your shoulders shaking.

"fuck you, bear." you choke, voice splintering, broken open like a wound. "fuck you for making me think i was the one. fuck you for making me believe i was her replacement. fuck you for making me think i wasn't. fuck you for saying her name like i wasn't even here."

carmen didn't move. his arms hung useless at his sides. his face crumpled, eyes wide and full of something like horror— but you didn't care. you couldn't care.

not when every cell in your body was screaming.

you staggered back like you couldn't stand to be near him. like the air around him was toxic now.

“you said her name,” you whispered again, more to yourself than him. “you said her name like it was second nature. like it was still her.”

the tears wouldn’t stop. you wiped your face with the back of your hand, furious at yourself for crying. for feeling. for loving him like you did.

he said your name, stood like he might try to reach for you again.

"don't," you warned, voice low and broken. "don't touch me. don't say my name if you don't even know who the fuck i am."

he stood there, bare, ashamed, wordless.

but you didn’t wait for his apology.

you turned away from him like the door was a finish line, grabbed your phone, and called richie with trembling fingers.

you didn’t look back.

he didn’t stop you.

bare skin. shaking hands. grief turning to rage.

because a man who loved you enough to spell it out in roses still didn't love you right.

and that thought scared the fuck out of you.

your fingers shook as you dialed richie’s number.

one ring.

two.

"yooo princess!" he answered, casual, not knowing you were standing barefoot in a hallway with your soul in pieces.

"rich, can you come get me... please?" your voice cracked. you swallowed the lump in your throat, hard. "i'm at carm's."

a pause.

then his tone changed completely. "... what happened?"

you couldn't say it. your breath hitched. the hallway lights were too bright. the silence behind the door too loud. you leaned against the wall, pressing your fist to your mouth so you wouldn't sob into the phone's speaker.

"please." that's all you could manage.

"i'm on my fuckin' way princess," he said immediately. "five minutes. don't move."

you stayed on the phone.

the seconds stretched into forever. you stayed pressed against the cool drywall like it was the only thing holding you up. you felt sick. your skin still smelled like carmy. your mouth still tasted like his kiss. and all you could hear in your head, over and over, was her name in his voice.

claire.

you slid down the wall until you were crouched on the floor, arms wrapped around yourself, phone in your lap, bare feet cold against the hardwood. somewhere behind that door, carmy carmen was probably still standing in the wreckage of your love story. but he didn't come after you. and that told you everything you needed to know.

a car horn outside made you flinch. then tires screeching as they hit the brakes too hard. then a voice from your phone, "i'm here."

richie.

you stood up on autopilot, wiping your cheeks, smearing your mascara across your face. quickly ending the call. you didn't care how you looked like with your teary face and smudged mascara, you didn't care. you just needed to get out.

when you opened the front door to the building, richie was already halfway out of the car, eyes scanning until he saw you.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered when he did.

his whole expression changed.

you must've looked like hell— barefoot, tears streaked down your face, shirt backwards, hair a mess. you didn't even care.

you didn't say a word. you just slowly walked straight to him, you didn't even have your shoes. your voice was gone. but richie caught on fast.

richie moved fast— like instinct, like muscle memory— and before you could take another step, he was right there.

"c'mere. come here, sweetheart."

you collapsed into his arms without thinking. without hesitation.

he wrapped his arms around you, tight, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other around your waist like he was practically holding you together. you let yourself fall into him, let your whole body press against his, trembling and wet-faced and exhausted.

"i got you now... what did he do?"

you didn't answer.

your chin trembled. your lips parted, but nothing came out.

richie nodded slowly, jaw tight. he didn't press. just stood there, with his hands around you.

"you don't gotta talk now. not if you don't want to."

you let out a whisper, "we... we were having sex and... richie— he said her name."

"motherfucker. oh, baby..." he breathed into your hair, voice thick with emotion. "he fucking said her name? fucking jagoff."

you nodded against his chest, and your whole body shuddered.

richie closed his eyes like the rage was swallowing him whole— but he didn't let go. didn't say anything sharp or loud. just held your tighter.

"i got you," he whispered, over and over. "i got you, i got you. you're okay now. you're out. you're safe."

you clung to him like a lifeline, hands fisting in the back of his hoodie. he smelled like cigarette smoke and cologne and something comfortingly normal. something real.

"i feel so fucking stupid," you whispered, voice cracked, ruined.

"hey, don't say that," he murmured immediately, pulling back just enough to cup your face. "you ain't stupid. you're the smartest fuckin' person i know, and you loved him, and he couldn't carry it right. that's not on you, baby."

tears spilled over again and you choked out, "i don't want to go back in there, richie."

"you're not. you're comin' with me, yeah?" his hand rubbed up and down your arm. "you don't gotta do anything but breathe, alright? i'll take care of the rest."

you just nodded.

he leaned down slightly, looking you in the eye. "you good to walk, or you want me to carry you?"

you gave a watery laugh and shook your head, and he smiled softy at the sound. "okay. come on."

he opened the car door gently, helped you inside like you were made of glass, and buckled you in without a word. when he closed the door, the world felt a little quieter.

when he got in next to you, he didn't start the car right away.

he just looked over at you— really looked, and said,

"i'm proud of you baby. for leavin'. for not stayin' just 'cause it hurt to go."

you looked over at him, eyes red, throat sore, heart bare.

and for the first time that night, you believed you weren't alone.

the car was silent, but not cold.

richie didn't speak. didn't fill the air with noise or questions or well-meaning advice. he just kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting palm-up on the console beside you— close enough that if you needed to hold on, you could.

you didn't.

not yet.

but the gesture sat between you like a promise.

the city blurred past the windows. you didn't see any of it. just the reflection of your face in the glass. puffy eyes. shirt still backwards. skin that still carried his touch. you wanted to crawl out of it. you wanted to be someone else.

but richie kept driving like he knew the road to someplace safer.

when he pulled into his driveway, he parked carefully— no screeching, no slamming. just... quiet. gentle. the opposite of everything burning in your chest.

he got out, came around to your side, and opened the door for you without a word.

you didn't move right away.

you just looked up at him, eyes full of unshed tears, body too heavy.

richie bent down, met you at eye level.

"you wanna fall apart right here? that’s fine. i’ll sit on the fuckin’ curb with you all night,” he said. his voice was low, steady. “but if you’re ready, i’ll get you inside, put you in something soft, give you water, and you can cry until it don’t hurt.”

your bottom lip quivered. “i’m so tired.”

“i know,” he whispered. “i got you.”

you nodded. he reached out a hand.

and this time, you took it.

the moment you stepped inside richie’s house, something in you cracked open.

because it was yours, too. you hadn’t realized just how much until now.

your hoodie was still draped over the back of the kitchen chair. a scrunchie sat forgotten on the doorknob. your shoes were near the couch, half-tucked under it. your half-used lip balm was on the coffee table, next to richie’s keys.

you stood there in the doorway, blinking back more tears—not from pain this time, but something warmer.

“i never moved any of your shit,” richie said, coming up beside you. “didn’t feel right.”

you looked up at him.

“i like when you’re here,” he added, softer. “even if it’s just a hoodie on a chair.”

your breath caught in your throat.

he took your bag, set it down carefully, then walked into the kitchen. “you want tea? i got that dumb sleepy time shit with the bear on it.”

you let out a weak, surprised laugh.

“there she is,” he smiled.

you nodded. “tea would be good.”

while he boiled water, you wandered to the couch and lowered yourself onto it. the cushions dipped the way they always did, familiar and worn in. you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face in your arms.

when richie came back, he handed you the mug like it was something sacred. then, without asking, he threw a soft knit blanket over your shoulders and sat beside you—close, but not crowding.

“thanks,” you murmured, voice rough.

he shrugged. “you’re family. this is what we do.”

you took a sip. the mug warmed your hands, even if your chest still ached.

“i didn’t think i’d feel safe tonight,” you whispered. “not anywhere.”

“you’re safe here,” richie said, without hesitation. “you could burn this whole place down and i’d still hand you the matches.”

that broke you.

a choked sob escaped your lips, and before you could even think about holding it back, richie was there—pulling you into him, arms wrapping around you with a kind of gentleness you didn’t expect from him.

“let it out,” he murmured. “i got you. i’m not goin’ anywhere.”

you buried your face in his chest, sobbing harder now, clinging to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from disappearing.

he didn’t shush you.

he didn’t say it would be okay.

he just held you, swaying gently like you were something fragile and sacred, letting you cry all over him. one hand rubbed slow circles on your back. the other held the back of your head.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” he whispered into your hair. “you loved him. that’s not weakness.”

“he said her name like i didn’t matter,” you gasped out.

“he said her name because he’s still fucked up,” richie said, calm but firm. “not because you’re not enough. you’re more than enough. he just ain’t ready for someone like you.”

you pulled back slightly, eyes red, lip trembling. “you really think so?”

“i know so.”

you looked at him—really looked at him—and he held your gaze, steady and full of a quiet kind of love that didn’t ask anything of you.

then, softer: “you wanna sleep? i can get the guest blanket. or you stay out here and i take the floor. whatever you want.”

“i don’t want to be alone.”

“then i’m right here.”

you nodded.

richie stood up just long enough to grab a pillow and toss it behind you. then he sat down again and opened his arm.

you curled into his side, blanket over you both, and for the first time all night, your breathing slowed.

richie turned off the lamp beside you, and the room dimmed into something soft.

he didn’t say anything else.

just stayed.

warm. steady.

and in the quiet, you finally fell asleep.

but little did you know what tomorrow had in store for you.

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orellazalonia · 1 month ago

Text

Always There, Never Seen

Summary: You're the quiet presence who keeps everything running, always helping but never truly seen or included. You sit on the edges of conversations, offer silent support, and watch others be chosen and loved while you remain in the background. Despite being essential, you're basically invisible and it hurts more than anyone realizes.

Word Count: 1.9k+

A/N: According to the poll, y’all really like angst (and hurt/comfort). So I deliver to you, angst. Also, does it count as Bucky x reader if they’re not pining for each other? Hmmm… Also Disclaimer: Not much dialogue, more descriptive writing than anything. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist | The One You Don’t See Masterlist

You weren’t anyone special. Not in the way the world was used to noticing. You didn’t carry a weapon with confidence, didn’t have a degree that earned you any kind of awe, and you certainly didn’t have a face or charm that pulled people in.

You worked in admin at the Tower. Basically paperwork, scheduling, and making sure the chaos of superhero life ran just a bit smoother. You were the one who emailed team briefings, filed mission reports, and organized therapy appointments like they were just blocks on a calendar, not battles for someone's mind.

And Bucky Barnes… well, Bucky was the kind of person people did notice.

You’d liked him for a while. Quietly. Patiently. In the way someone watches a storm from behind a window. Close enough to feel the pull of it, but far enough not to be noticed.

You liked the way his voice got low when he was trying not to wake anyone in the early mornings. The way he peeled oranges with military precision and always left one for someone else. The way he laughed when Sam or Steve dragged him into something dumb, like water balloon fights or bad TV marathons. You liked him. Not the myth, not the metal arm, not the past filled with ghosts. Just Bucky.

But you were no Natasha. No Sharon. No enhanced warrior woman who could flip a man twice her size or disarm a room with a wink. You weren’t brilliant like Shuri or effortlessly magnetic like Darcy. You were just… the person who knew which printer was working and which one wasn’t. You were the one who remembered who liked what in their coffee. You were the background hum, not the spotlight.

And Bucky liked someone else.

You didn’t blame him. She was kind. Bright. The kind of person who glowed when she smiled. She moved like she’d always belonged on a battlefield, and yet, she somehow made everyone around her feel safe. She was witty, beautiful, strong, and all the things people fell in love with.

You tried not to let it show. You weren’t close enough to him for it to be a betrayal but you were far enough that even your absence would go unnoticed. You smiled when you passed him in the halls, nodded when he grunted a hello, even handed him reports when they were meant for Steve, just for a brief second of acknowledgment. He always said thank you. Always polite. Always… kind.

But never more.

Sometimes you imagined saying something. A small, “Hey, do you wanna grab a coffee sometime?” Nothing big, nothing cinematic. But your voice always caught in your throat before the words could make it to daylight. Because what would be the point? What could you possibly offer him that he didn’t already have?

So you kept your head down. You typed, sorted files, watched him laugh in the kitchen over takeout containers with her. And you reminded yourself that this was enough. And maybe, maybe one day it wouldn’t ache so much. Maybe one day, you’d stop comparing yourself to all the people who stood in the sun while you stayed in the shade. Maybe.

But not today. Today, you’d file mission debriefs, pretend not to glance at him too long, and keep being the kind of person who’s easy to forget. The kind of person no one falls for.

However, even with that reminder in your head, it didn’t make it any more easier to live by. Because you didn’t need super-hearing to know when a room grew quieter once you entered.

It wasn’t tension. No one disliked you. It was more like… when you walked into a space, conversation naturally shifted. Not because anyone was guarding secrets, just because you weren’t the kind of person people thought to include.

You were background.

You were the click of the elevator. The shuffle of papers being filed. The voice that said, “He’s in briefing room three” without ever being asked your name in return.

You sat in meetings and never got asked for your opinion. You brought backup cables, extra notepads, bandages for knuckles bruised in training and when someone needed something, you always had it. You noticed when Natasha’s shoulder was bothering her and quietly adjusted the gym reservation to avoid that day’s sparring. You reminded Steve about appointments he forgot. You updated Sam’s reports so they’d match his fieldwork without making him look careless.

No one noticed.

You weren’t angry about it. Not really. You weren’t owed gratitude. That’s not why you did it. You just… wanted to be part of something. And if you couldn’t be the center of it, you thought maybe you could be its foundation.

But even foundations crack under enough silence.

When they gathered in the common room, you stayed near the doorway, not because you preferred it but because there was never really a space for you on the couch. Not in the way people sat. Not in the way conversations flowed. Sometimes someone would offer a smile in your direction, a wave, a half-hearted “Hey, you’re still here.” But the spotlight never lingered.

Even the interns forgot you were in the room. More than once, you’d heard them gossiping about the others. About Steve’s diet, or Wanda’s mood, or what Bucky might be like behind closed doors. You were there the whole time, filing reports just a few feet away. Not one of them noticed.

Once, someone forgot to list you on a team-wide email thread. You only found out when the others started referencing a meeting you hadn’t heard of. When you brought it up, the sender laughed nervously with a light “Oh, I thought you weren’t on the main team.” You weren’t sure what hurt more: the comment or the fact that no one corrected them.

You ate lunch at your desk. You kept your voice quiet in shared spaces. You never spoke unless there was something directly requiring your words. People liked you best that way.

And Bucky… Bucky was no different.

He was polite, sure. Nodded if you passed him in the hall. Sometimes gave you a distracted “Thanks” if you handed him a revised schedule or a mission detail packet. But it was never more than that. He had others to talk to. Ones who smiled brighter, laughed louder, leaned easily into his space like they belonged there.

But God, some days you just wanted someone to ask you how you were doing. Someone to say your name like they meant it.

You knew what you were. You were safe. Predictable. The person who remembered extra passwords and booked flights without needing thanks. You weren’t charming or brilliant or needed the way others were.

And maybe that was why, even when you were in the same room, you felt so crushingly alone. You were there. You always were. But no one seemed to see it. And worst of all, you weren’t sure anyone ever would. Because you’d grown used to being the person who knew the team without really being part of it.

You knew Bucky’s schedule. When he trained, when he left early to avoid team briefings, which mornings he preferred to drink his coffee in silence. You knew the brand of painkillers Bruce trusted, the way Wanda liked her tea, how Tony hated the buzzing lights in the lower hallway. You knew all these things without anyone ever having told you. Because you watched. You listened.

That was your talent. Not fighting. Not hacking into alien tech or performing heart surgery with a spoon. You were just good at being there. Good at remembering. Good at caring in the background.

Of course, the person you liked had never really noticed. It wasn’t in a cruel way. Not in an “I think I’m better than you” way. Just in the way someone doesn’t notice the soft hum of a computer fan or the way a hallway light always flickers. You were part of the environment. Static. Expected. Invisible.

Because you knew Bucky had eyes only for her.

Honestly, you didn’t know her well. She was new-ish. Sharp and warm, always dressed like she’d stepped out of some other, better life. She smiled with her whole face. She wasn’t arrogant, but she walked like someone who knew she mattered. It was easy to like her, even if it hurt.

She made him softer. You saw it in the way his shoulders relaxed when she walked in the room, in the way his sarcasm eased into gentleness when she was around. He even smiled more, really smiled.

Sometimes you caught yourself watching them. Bucky, leaning on a countertop, looking at her like she was something rare. Her tossing her head back as she laughed at something he said. It was a kind of closeness you knew you’d never be part of. Not just with him, but with anyone. You weren’t made of magnetism or spark.

You were the pause between other people’s sentences.

One afternoon, you found yourself in the hallway outside the training room, flipping through a stack of revised schedules. You were trying to figure out if you could shift Rhodey’s physical therapy without messing up the team’s briefing timeline, and not watching where you were going when you turned a corner right into the one Bucky chose.

“Oh!” She said, catching your arm. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

You stepped back quickly. “No, my fault.”

She smiled kindly, open, not patronizing. “You’re the one who keeps everything running, right? You’re the one who fixed the mess with my mission debrief last week.”

You blinked. “That was… yeah. That was me.”

“Thank you,” She said genuinely. “Seriously. No one tells you that enough, but I noticed. You’re really good at what you do.”

It stung, how warm those words felt. Like you hadn’t realized how cold you’d been until someone brought a match close.

You gave a small smile. “Thanks.”

She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “You work here all the time. Do you ever get a break?”

You laughed once under your breath. “Not really. I think that’s kind of the point of me.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t talk much.”

You shrugged. “Not a lot of people want to hear it.”

She watched you for a beat too long, like she wanted to ask something else. But then Bucky’s voice called from down the hall, her name, not yours. Her face lit up.

“That’s me. Thanks again,” She said, and jogged off without waiting for a response.

You stood there a little too long after she left, the fluorescent light buzzing faintly above you. You imagined what it might be like to have someone call your name like that. To be the reason someone’s expression softened. You wondered what it would feel like to matter that easily.

Bucky passed by you without a glance as he walked with her. You didn't expect otherwise.

You held your papers a little tighter and turned back the way you came.

Some people were made to shine. You’d never been one of them. You weren’t bitter. You weren’t even that jealous, really. You just knew your place. You were the one who knew how to quiet a printer jam in seconds. Who carried extra pens. Who remembered birthdays but never had her own celebrated.

Bucky Barnes didn’t know your favorite coffee order. Didn’t know you stayed late so others could leave early. Didn’t know how often you looked at the closed doors of conversations you’d never be invited into.

But you were okay. You had your quiet. You had your rhythm. You had the small comfort of being needed, even if not wanted. And that would be enough. Eventually.

#bucky barnes #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #unrequited love #unrequited feelings #angst fic #angst #The One You Don’t See

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