#exwife!reader

[kaliforniahigh]

we'll try again, when we're not so different - n.s.

Exhusband!Noah and Exwife!Reader.

Warnings: angst, the end of a marriage, hurtful words, heartbreak, Noah's new "girlfriend", self-deprecating thoughts from both Noah and Reader, curse words, miscommunication, happy ending. Sorry if I forgot something.

I definitely don't want to end their story here. I feel like there's so much potential from this universe, so, feel free to send me asks to talk about their little life. Can be either pre or post divorce :)

WC: 9.6k

You still remember everything as if it happened yesterday.

You remember marrying him. You remember your improptu honeymoon that wasn't really anything fancy, but still held meaning to the two of you. You remember finding you you were pregnant, and even though you felt very scared of becoming a parent, you also felt very excited for the future.

But what you remember the most of all these things, is when everything started to fall apart. If you tried, you feel like you could recite word for word of what was said that day.

You were both in the kitchen. The kitchen island between you and Noah physically showing the rift that has grown between the two of you in the past years, as each one of you stood on one side.

The folder set on the counter was like a giant elephant in the room. It felt like it was staring, and mocking you. You felt like it was looking you in the face and saying "see? You failed. You failed at keeping this marriage together. And I'm the proof of it".

Neither you nor Noah have said anything since you handed him the papers and he looked through them. The silence felt like it was swallowing you two alive. You wanted him to say something, even if it was to get angry at you.

He sighed out loud, and ran a hand through his hair. And in that moment, you couldn't help but think about how your going to miss doing it yourself.

Because divorcing him didn't only mean letting go of your marriage. It meant letting go of him. It meant he was no longer gonna be yours.

You would go to bed alone. You would only cook meals for two people instead of three. And you would have no one to tell about your day. No one to let know when you arrived somewhere, or when you were headed back home.

But then you remember you've been feeling this way for a long time already. What different would it make? He was never home anyway, you felt like you were in a one person marriage.

"Y/N", he said your name, startling you out of your thoughts. "What the fuck is this?", he asked, pointing to the folder in front of you.

He didn't sound angry, he didn't raise his voice. You think he actually sounded betrayed.

"I think you know what it is", you whispered, but the silence was so loud, he could hear you clearly.

"Where is this coming from?", he questions you, and for a second you think he must not be serious right now.

Did he not remember all of the fights you've had? Did he not remember the countless nights you've called him, crying and frustrated because you couldn't put your son to sleep? Did he not remember when you got a call from his school, saying that Ezra fell from the monkey bars and needed to be taken to the hospital? And you couldn't even call him, because he was on stage somewhere halfway across the world.

"I think this is a long time coming, Noah", you point out and you can tell he's getting frustrated with your short answers.

"Long time coming? For how long have you been thinking of divorcing me? How come we never sat down and talked about it?", he was getting agitated now. Pacing back and forth.

The truth is, you knew that if you had sat down and talked to him, he would make you the same promises he's made you before, and then you wouldn't go through with it.

And you needed this. You needed to stop pretending like this is working anymore. And now you need to make him see it too.

"I don't think you want to know for how long I've been thinking about it", you answered, truthfully.

"No, I need to know. I need to know when you started to give up on us"

You whip your head to look at him when he said this.

"Give up on us?", you ask, incredulity seeping into your tone. "How dare you say Im giving up on us when I've been trying to make this work for four years? How dare you say I'm giving up on us when all you've ever given me is nothing but empty promises?", you question him, patience vanishing.

You didn't want this to become a fight. But you guess it was always going to be this way.

"Nothing? You're standing here saying that I give you nothing? I've given you everything for the past five years of my life"

"How can you tell me you've given me everything when I've been telling you tour after tour how fucking lonely I feel everytime you're away?", you question him. Has he forgotten everything?

"And I've told you that I can't change that right now!", he exclaims, frustrated. "Don't you think I'd rather stay here with the two of you instead of going away for months? You think I don't beat myself up for missing so much of Ezra's life because I was away somewhere in fucking Europe?"

"You can't change that and I can't keep living like this", you shrugged, understading where he's coming from, but tired of hearing the same thing you've heard so many times before.

"And you think this is gonna fix it?", he grabbed the folder and slightly slammed it on the counter. "You're running away from the problem instead of trying to fix it"

"I can't run from something that can't be fixed. I can't wait four more years for you to be here for us. I just can't"

"What about Ezra? Are you even thinking about him? How is he gonna take this? How is this gonna change his life?"

This was the breaking point for you, Noah talking about your son as if you're completely disregarding his well-being in this situation. The only person you had in mind was your son.

So, you said something that, to this day, you regret telling him. Because as much as you wished he was home more, that he called more, you couldn't deny that he was an amazing father. He cared for Ezra with his whole life, and you could actually see so much of Noah in him that it surprised you at times.

But, what was said can't be taken back.

"I don't know, Noah. Is it even gonna make much of a difference? You're never here anyway, so I don't even think he'd notice the change"

As soon as you said this, you could see the fight leave his body. His shoulders slumped and his eyes became downcast as the realization of what you just said hit him in the face.

He looked away from you, and you wanted to take it back immediately, but how could you?

"I'll get some of the guys to get my shit tomorrow", he said, turning his back to you and walking to the living room, grabbing the key to his car.

"Noah...", you called out, following after him, even though you have no idea what you could even say to him.

"I think you've said enough", he told you, and you haven't seen his face as cold as it was in that moment in all of the years you've been together. Actually, what brought you the most comfort was the warmth of his eyes.

Leaving the house, he half slammed the door behind him, leaving you standing there with your thoughts.

Sitting on the couch, you absolutely crumbled. Not being able to hold your tears anymore. You laid down in a fetal position, sobs racking through your body and reverberating in the emptiness of the house.

Your family was over. You were on your own now. And for a split second, you questioned if you did the right thing.

All of your friends were looking at you as if you had grown two heads. And you were desperately trying to pretend that you weren't affected by what was said just a few seconds ago.

After separating from Noah, you still kept the same friends. It just happened that your friends were also his friends. Or, they were friends, or significant others of his friends. Hearing about him and what he was up to was unavoidable. But you had to give it to them, they actually did try to keep his name out of most conversations.

It wasn't like you never spoke to him ever again. You did, because you had a kid together, after all. But the conversations were about Ezra 90% of the time. Never straying to personal matters and other topics.

You congratulated him on new music, or a new album when it came out. You told him when something happened at school with Ezra, or when something happened at the studio and you'd be late picking up Ezra from his place.

After being on your own, you went back to pursuing your dreams of being a tattoo artist, which is something you've started doing before getting pregnant. With the baby and the responsabilities you had, you started working less and less, until you stopped altogether.

You were happy to say your studio was thriving for about four years now. It took a while for you to get your footing back. Both emotionally and financially. And obviously, to fit everything into Ezra's schedule.

Today, you were grabbing lunch with a few friends, amongst them, were Matt, Davis and their girlfriends. The band had a final show of their tour here in California, and they were all excited about it.

Apparently, a few people from the industry were invited, and the venue was going to be larger than normal, probably their largest crowd yet.

You felt happy for them. The band deserved it and so did Noah. Especially after how hard they all worked for this.

It was when they were listing all of the people invited, that Matt let slip a very important information.

"Yeah, we're inviting the boys from Erra, and we're thinking of the possibility of Jesse playing guitar on stage", Lilly, Matt's girlfriend said.

"Crimson Halo is also going. I'll love to see how the internet is going to freak out about that", Matt pointed out, laughing at the idea.

"Why would the internet freak out?", you questioned.

Everyone started to look at each other funny. As if they shared a secret, an information you weren't in on. You started to feel uncomfortable.

"Guys?", you questioned again. "Is someone gonna tell me what is going on?"

"I don't know if you're going to like it", Lilly said, looking at Matt. You were now more confused than ever.

"Noah is dating Emery. The lead singer of the band", Davis ripped off the bandaid, and a heavy silence settled over the table.

You, on the other hand, was trying to act unaffected, but it was becoming more difficult as everyone was staring at you, trying to gauge your reaction.

"Oh, okay", you said, honestly not knowing the right way to respond to this.

You knew Noah must have been with other women after your split. You never heard about it, but five years have gone by, he must have been dating around in that time.

But this was the first time it was confirmed to you that he was in a new relationship, and you didn't know what to feel. It must be serious though, since she's attending his concerts.

Not to mention the fact that your son is going to be there. What is Noah going to say? Is he gonna tell him he has a new girlfriend? How is your son going to react? You hated this, since you knew you weren't supposed to know about it. But now that you did, you guess you'll have to talk to him about the situation.

"For how long have they been together?", you ask.

"For a couple of months", Davis answered, and you appreciated his honesty.

"I just wonder when he was planning on telling me this", you said, reaching for a fry and popping it into your mouth, needing something to do while you stewed in this information.

"I don't know. We also found out recently", Matt told you, and you could tell he felt bad about how the situation was unfolding.

"I was probably gonna find out from some fan account on Twitter, right?", you joked, but it didn't land. The show is in a couple of days from now, and if Noah thought this information wasn't important enough to share with you, it means you were going to find out from some blurry picture of them kissing or whatever.

The thought made your heart beat faster with anxiety.

After this, it goes without saying that the vibe wasn't the same. And in less than an hour, everyone was saying their goodbyes, and hugging each other.

Lilly enveloped you in her arms, but before parting completely, she held you at arm's length and leaned a little closer.

"If you're worried about Ezra, just know that Noah would never do anything to jeopardize the relationship with his son", she told you, and you saw sincerity in her eyes.

You knew this. You knew that Noah was a responsible father. But still, the fact that you were in the dark about all of this left a bitter taste in your mouth.

"Thank, Lilly. I appreciate it", you smiled, and everyone went their own way.

Back home, you sat on the couch while Ezra did his homework on the kitchen table. You pondered if you should do anything about this new piece of information. By now, Noah must know that you knew about it, since Matt and Davis most likely told him already.

You should just be quiet, and let this be. It was his relationship. It was his decision to tell you or not.

But, despite knowing this. You still send him a text.

You: If you are serious about her, let me know, so we can think of a way to tell Ezra.

Yeah, you were never good at keeping to yourself when it comes to him.

A few seconds later, your phone buzzes with a reply.

Noah: Can I come over later?

You sighed. If Noah wants to show up at your house, then the talk he wants to have must be important. You texted him back an "ok". Good thing Ezra is spending the night at his grandma's tonight. Your mom has been dying for a sleepover, and since it was a Friday, spending the weekend there would be the perfect opportunity.

You and Noah had joint custody, but a flexible schedule due to his job. Even though Ezra spent the most amount of time with you, you never limited for how long he was with Noah whenever he was not on tour.

After dropping off Ezra at your mom's house, you grabbed take out on the way back home. One rule that you kept even after the divorce, is that Fridays were the days for take out, and not cooking.

Grabbing your meal and thanking the server, you put the car in drive. But before you could start making your way back home, your phone vibrated on the center console. You saw it was a text message from Noah.

Noah: I'm on my way.

You didn't bother to answer, since you were about 5 minutes from your house. You would most likely arrive just in time to meet him there.

As you predicted, as soon as you set the food container on the kitchen counter, you heard a knock on your door. Opening it, you were met with Noah on the other side of the door. He was dressed as he usually was. Dark pants and a Bad Omens hoodie. You kept some of those in your closet as well. You got rid of the ones that belonged to him, and that for some reason, he had left behind when he moved out. The other ones were too comfy to throw in the donation pile.

"Come in", you told him, stepping aside to let him in the house.

There were few times when he actually came into your house, oftentimes, he stayed in the car while Ezra took his backpack and ran along the driveway to meet his dad. Whenever you were running late, he came in, but never went further into the house than the living room and kitchen.

You heard him closing the door behind him, as you made your way back to the kitchen, opening a drawer and grabbing a fork.

"Still doing no cooking Friday, I see", he pointed out, sitting in one of the stools in the kitchen island.

"Yep. You know how it is", you answered, as you sat down yourself. You pointed to the food in front of you, silently asking if he wanted some, but he just shook his head no.

Right now, you weren't too sure if you wanted to have this conversation with him eating. But, oh well.

"Matt told me what happened today at lunch", he started.

"To say it was a little uncomfortable would be an understatement", you pointed out. You really didn't mean to be petty about this, but as soon as he touched on the subject, it just came out of you. You decided to dial it down a little bit. You didn't want this to become a fight.

"I'm sorry. I was going to tell you. I was just waiting for the right time"

"You couldn't find the right time in the couple of months you've been together?", you challenged him. He was talking as if he started dating this girl last week.

"I was never going to introduce her to Ezra without talking to you", Noah said. And it was true. He knew how protective you were of Ezra, and he was never going to take a miscalculated step that could affect his son's life.

"I believe you. It would just be nice to know"

He nodded, showing you he understood where you were coming from.

"But now that I know, we need to talk about how things are going to be from now on"

"I still don't pretend to introduce her as my girlfriend to him, Y/N"

You ignored the way he said "my girlfriend" tugged at your heart in a way you were not ready to admit.

"Ok, but what about when you decide to do it?", you question him.

"We've been separated for a while now. It would be natural for us to start dating other people. He's 9, he'll understand", he said and you sighed. Your son was a very emotionally mature kid, you gotta give him that.

"Just be careful when you do it, ok? I don't want him hurting", you pointed the fork at him when you said it. "And please, only do it if you know for sure that this girl is going to stick around"

You knew that Noah was completely aware of everything you were saying to him. But he let you say it anyway, because he knew it took a weight off your chest to do it.

"You don't have to worry about it", he reassured you, and you nodded in response. "This is not the only thing I came here to talk about"

You stopped chewing the second he said this. You had a feeling that whatever it was, wouldn't make you happy.

"Ezra is coming to the concert next friday, right?", he asked and you hummed in agreement. Every time the band performed here, Ezra would attend the concert. "I need you there with him this time", he said and you almost choked on your food.

"What?", you ask, indignation in your voice. Ever since separating, you never attented one of his concerts again. It was actually something you told him you did not want to do. Whenever Ezra would go, Alana would pick him up and stay with him the whole time, so you didn't have to worry.

"Alana is actually very sick this time, and she can't go. Ezra is really excited and I didn't want him to miss it", Noah explained.

"And you don't have anyone else?"

"Not really", he shrugged his shoulders. "Everyone else is going to be busy, and I can't be with him all the time"

You knew how chaotic it could get while getting ready for a concert. The boys would all be running around, making sure everything goes to plan. And truth be told, you didn't expect any of them to stop what they were doing to take care of a nine year old.

"I already told you I didn't want to go anymore", you said, head low. You suddenly didn't want to look at him anymore. You also lost your appetite, so your hand just stirred the food around with your fork aimlessly.

The thing is, going to these concerts were one of your favorite things to do when you and Noah were still together. You loved to watch him go up on the stage. You loved to watch him sing his heart out, and command the crowd in the way only he knew how to do.

In the last stages of your relationship though, it was such a bittersweet feeling. Because you knew that no matter what you did, nothing could ever compare to the thrill he felt up there. In a way, you resented the stage, but you started to understand why he went away for months and months to perform.

"Listen, you don't have to watch if you don't want to. But he needs you there this time", Noah said. You knew he was right, and you hated the idea of telling your son he wouldn't get to go.

"Ok, I'll be there", you decided. Not too excited about the idea, but there's nothing you could do about it right now. "Can you tell your girlfriend I'm going? Just so it isn't awkward or anything", you add.

"I will. You don't have to worry about that", Noah reassures you, and you nod in appreciation.

You take another bite of your food, as a silence falls over the two of you. It was always like this. Awkaward silences, trying to find something to talk about. It felt like you didn't have anything in common anymore. It felt like you couldn't relate to each other anymore. And you weren't sure of what hurt more, even after five years.

After a few more seconds, he stood up.

"I should get going", he said, grabbing his car keys set on the counter in front of him. You abandon your food in order to open the door for him.

"I'll se you on Friday, I guess", you tell him, as he steps onto your front porch.

"I'll see you. I'll get Matt to text you the details, along with your backstage pass", Noah informs you, you say thanks and then he's back on his car, peeling off the driveway.

Noah waits until he rounds the corner to stop his car. He feels like he needs to catch his breath. Every time he's inside your house, it takes all of the energy out of him. And this time, it's no different.

He replays the interation word by word in his head. When Matt had texted him, saying that he let it slip that Noah has a new girlfriend, he knew he needed to talk to you about it sooner rather than later.

He was just avoiding it, and for many reasons. Emery was a nice girl, but Noah would be lying if he said he saw a future for them. A future further than what they had right now. He didn't even know if he could call her his girlfriend. He never really asked her oficially, but after a couple of weeks of them being together, going out together, going to each other's places, he thinks he doesn't really need to say much. Besides, other people around him just started to refer to them as boyfriend and girlfriend, and he didn't have the heart to correct them.

He knows he should say something. He should say he's not emotionally available right now. He should say he's not looking for something long lasting. But, the truth is, he doesn't want to look like a fool. Because, the moment he says that, he knows he'll need to talk about you. Because you're the reason he hasn't been available for the past five years, and, honestly, how can he say that?

How can he say he hasn't moved on from a relationship that's ended five years ago? How can he say that you're still the only that can get his heart beating faster every time you look at him? How can he say that after everything you've said to him that night, he can still feel like you're the only one for him?

He knows he needs to talk about it. Maybe with a professional, like the boys have hinted at many times. He just feels like if he gets rid of these feelings, if he finally moves on, he'll be losing that last piece of you. That last piece of how you were together, despite the bad times and the fights. And he's not ready for that.

Pulling the car in drive again, he sighs out loud before starting to drive. He's headed to Emery's place. Earlier in the day, she had invited him for dinner, and he had said yes. Right now, he doesn't really feel like it, but he also doesn't feel like cancelling last minute. So he just drives.

When he arrives, Noah turns off his car and hops off, making his way to her front door and ringing the doorbell. When she opens the door, she's wearing this cute apron, and she greets him with a smile on her face and a peck on the lips, ushering him in.

The first thing Noah notices is the smell permeating the house, and his stomach grumbles almost instantly.

"What are you making?", he asks, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down, as he watches Emery carry on what she was doing before he arrived.

"I'm just putting together a lasagna. You like that, right?", she asks, and he could've sworn he froze right there. Before she could catch him though, he schooled his features and told her that yes, he does like lasagna.

The dish just happened to be your specialty, though. Making lasagna used to be your favorite thing to do in the kitchen, and the preparation could take days, since you insisted to make the lasagna sheets from scratch, instead of those you buy at the store and just boil.

Needless to say, it was Noah's favorite dish of yours. Nothing could ever compare to it, and every time there was a get together, the boys always requested you made it, and you always said yes, with the biggest smile on your face.

For a second, Noah wondered if this would ever stop. Would there be a day when he wouldn't compare everything to how things were before? Would you ever stop permeating his every interation? Would there be a day when he wouldn't remember you when something like this happens? If yes, then how long more would he have to wait?

They sit down on the couch and talk, as a movie is playing in the background, and they're waiting for the dish to cool down a bit, since it was just pulled out of the oven.

"How are the preparations for the concert on Friday?", Emery asks. Noah takes a gulp of the beer she offered him.

"It's going well. There's only so much we can prepare for, you know?", he answers. One of the things they bonded over when they met was music, and since Emery also had her own band, she could understand a few things Noah went through with his.

"Yeah, I know", she agrees. "Some stuff are still gonna go wrong, anyways"

Noah thought this was a good time as any to tell her you were attending the concert. He didn't talk about you often when he's with her, and whenever he did, he could notice the girl grow a but uneasy at the topic of conversation.

Part of him wanted to tell her to not worry about it, that you've been split up for five years, and there was no way you would get back together. But the other part of him couldn't lie. If the opportunity ever presented itself, if you could ever talk about things and make the wrongs rights. If in some magic land you decided to try again, he would take that opportunity and never look back.

"By the way, I wanted to tell you something. Just so you're ready for it", he started, and she nodded for him to keep going. "Y/N is going to be there to accompany Ezra. Lana is the one who's usually with him, but since she's sick this time, his mom has to go"

As per usual, at the mention of your name, her smile falters a little and he can see her trying to conceal it.

"Oh, ok", she answers shortly, and he can see her struggling with her words.

"She wanted me to tell you, so things aren't awkward", Noah explained it further, not really knowing why. You're the mother of his kid, he doesn't really have to explain himself when it comes to this.

"You talk to her a lot?", she asks, changing the subject completely. Noah has caught her asking these questions lately, and he's been usually good at answering - or dodging - them. This time though, after everything that's happened today, he doesn't really have the emotional intelligence to answer her without letting some annoyance slip into his voice.

"Of course I do. We have a kid together", he tells her, not leaving much room for debate.

"I know that. I was just wondering if that would ever be a problem in the future, for us", he says, and Noah has to do some mental gymnastics to understand what the hell she is on about. When he doesn't say anything, she keeps going.

"Are you going to introduce me as your girlfriend?"

"She already knows about us"

Noah wanted to tell her that no, he's not introducing her as his girlfriend, because that's not what she is, but decided that's an argument he didn't want to have tonight.

"What about other people?", she asks again, and Noah gets frustrated with her questions.

"If you want to ask me something, just do it. You don't have to dance around the subject", he is upfront with her.

"When are you going to tell your son we're dating?", Emery asks, and for a second, Noah regrets asking for honesty. He rubs his forehead and sighs. Now he remembers more than ever why he's been avoiding relationships all this time.

"For him, you're my friend. And that's it", Noah answers with full honesty. That's one subject he is set on making it clear with Emery. He doesn't play about his son, and he needs her to know that. He's not ready for this, and if she can't understand that, then too bad for her.

"I feel like that's all I am to you as well", she says and he wants to bolt out of this house and end this conversation.

"Listen, Emery. This is what I can give you right now, ok? I told you from the beginning that I have a kid, and that things were going to be very different. You said that was ok, and now you want me to tell my son that we're together? It really doesn't work like that", Noah is losing his patience, and she could tell.

"If this is going nowhere, I just want you to be honest with me about it, because I won't play second to a woman who has been out of your life for five years", Emery says, getting up to set the table.

Suddenly, Noah feels suffocated in this house. He is dreading having to sit at the table with her and eat, pretending that this is ok. It is not ok, and he wantes to scream in her face to never talk about you like that ever again. That she couldn't understand, not in a million years, what you meant to him. She couldn't understand how you made him the happiest man alive. How you gave him the best thing that has ever happened to him. His son.

Instead, he gets up, mutters an "I can't do this", and leaves through the front door.

You're doing your makeup in the bathroom when Ezra comes in, calling out for you.

"Mom, look at my clothes", he stands there, and you turn around to take a look at him. A smile immediately taking over your face.

"You look great, buddy", you compliment him, eyes going up and down his small - but ever growing - frame. "Is that a new shirt?", you ask him, since you don't remember him having this Bad Omens shirt in his closet the last time you checked. You always had to keep an eye on him, especially after he started putting together his own outfits. You never knew what combination could come out of that closet.

"Yes, it is! Uncle Davis gave me one, and he said it's not even released yet, and I'm the only one who has it", his smile is even bigger now, his energy almost overflowing. Something Noah was adamant on doing, ever since having a kid, was create a Bad Omens merch line for kids. It was a total succes and has been for a few years now. Ezra even modeled a few times.

"Well, that sure is nice", you tell him, turning around and going back to your makeup. "I think you're missing something, though", you observe, and you see the lightbulb going off in his head, as he bolts out of the bathroom and back to his bedroom.

A few seconds later, he's back, tugging his fake tattoo sleeves up his arms.

"Thanks for reminding me, mom", he tells you, and you let out a genuine laugh at the way he's so relieved you remembered.

You loved those damn fake tattoo sleeves he always wears so much. It started off with him wanting to look just like Noah. But then, as you went back to working in the studio, he realized both of his parents were tattoo enthusiasts, and the habit had a whole new meaning for him.

You knew Noah would lose it when he sees him wearing them, despite seeing it a hundred times before, it never really gets old.

"I'm just finishing here. Why don't you wait for me on the couch?", you instruct and watch him leave once again.

You take a look at the clock and see that you still have a few minutes until you have to leave the house. You opted for an all-black outfit, with the intent to blend in as much as you could. You actually thought about the possibility of wearing one of your old merch shirts, but ultimately decided against it.

Last night, when you were overthinking and debating on whether to cancel this last minute or not, you found yourself on Instagram. One thing led to another and suddenly, you were deep in Emery's profile.

You couldn't help but notice how gorgeous she was, and how much she fit in with Noah's lifestyle. Probably in a way you never could.

They probably bonded over so many things. Music, tours, albums, production. All of the things Noah came home trying to explain to you after a stressful day in the studio, but noticed you couldn't really grasp the idea of everything they did in there.

Their conversations probably flowed way easier too. She probably helped him during studio sessions, and he probably did the same. Hell, you wouldn't even be surprised of they collabed together.

Before you could go into a way deeper spiral of comparison, you looked in the mirror and decided it was enough effort for today. You were probably wearing the most amount of makeup you've worn in weeks, and that in itself was enough for you. Who were you trying to impress anyway?

Grabbing your purse from the couch, you put on your sneakers, turn off all the lights, and go around the house cheking one more time if everything is locked as it is supposed to be.

Calling out to Ezra, you grab you car keys, but before you could even do anything, the kid has already opened the front door, and is eagerly waiting for you to unlok the car. Once you did, he hopped in the back and strapped himself in.

Being Noah's son, Ezra didn't even need a booster seat around this age anymore, and you were 100% sure he would grow to be as tall, if not even taller, than his dad.

"Let's go, buddy", you tell him, getting in yourself and turning on the car.

"Mom, I'm so happy you're coming tonight. You're going to love it!", you looked in the rearview mirror and saw his smile, and for that moment, you weren't even conflicted about going anymore.

You had texted Noah about thirty minutes ago, telling him that you and Ezra were on your way. He was waiting in the bus area, since that's where he told you to park.

Meanwhile, Noah thought about how Emery was inside. They haven't really spoken after their argument a few days ago. But tonight, she did tell him she wanted to talk after the concert is over. Noah has decided he was going to "break up" with her, even though they weren't together officially in the first place.

Now, he needed to focus on you and Ezra. And if things went well tonight, maybe you'd let him take you guys to dinner after the concert. He was holding his hopes high.

After a couple of minutes, he sees your car parking not too far from where he's standing. The headlights turn off and you step out along with Ezra, who immediately runs to his father.

"Dad! Look at my new merch", he says, grabbing the bottom of his shirt, showing it off. Noah couldn't help but chuckle at the way he never lets go of the fake tattoo sleeves. They're even a little ripped in places, he's even offered to buy him a new one, but he refuses every time.

"You look awesome, buddy", Noah envelops his son in a hug, lifting him off his feet a little. "You ready to rock tonight?", he asks and his kid answers with a very enthusiastic yes.

"I'm sorry it took me a while, there was a little bit of traffic", you tell him, and he can't help but observe how you look tonight. He never fails to get startruck by your beauty.

"It's ok. We should be heading in", he leads you both inside the venue, through the halls and finally, you step inside the green room.

"You guys can stay in here. There's water and catering outside if you need anything", he tells you.

"I know how it works, don't worry about us. Soon, this little one here will want to walk around and explore the place, right?", you ruffle Ezra's head and he agrees with you. The kid can never stay in one place for too long.

"There's security outside if you need anything. I'll have to get ready since the concert is starting soon", you nod in acknowledgement, reassuring Noah that, once again, everything is going to be ok.

He leaves to get ready and in about fifteen minutes, you and Ezra are walking around the halls backstage. You see and talk to people you haven't seen in years, but they look well acquainted with your son, and you feel happy to see him fitting in Noah's life so seamlessly.

Soon enough, you're standing beside Ezra on side stage, the concert about to start shortly.

"I'm gonna grab us some water bottles, ok?", you tell him, signaling for a security guard to keep an eye on him, and he answers you with a smile that tells you that he's used to keeping an eye on the kid when he's watching the concert.

Back in the green room, you go through some notifications on your phone before grabbing the water bottles, knowing you won't have time to do it while the concert is happening.

You're standing there when you hear the door open behind you, and you're ready to tell Ezra he could've stayed where he was, before the words die on your lips when you're met with Emery.

Your mind had kind of scraped her from your thoughts since arriving. You hadn't seen her yet and you actually thought she might not be attending.

"Oh, hi", she greets, and you can clock the fake tone of her voice the minute she speaks. "I think I have the wrong room", she says, but makes no move to get out.

"Can I help you with something?", you ask her, and you can tell that she knows who you are. Suddenly, it doesn't really look like she got in here by mistake.

"I was just looking for some water"

"There are some in here, you can grab one if you want", you tell her, pointing to the mini fridge.

She makes her way over, opening it and grabbing a water bottle. Popping the cap, she takes a few gulps while you watch her.

"I think Noah has mentioned you before", she wonders out loud. "What's your name again?", she asks.

You know what she's doing, and you're 100% sure Noah has mentioned you before and that she knows your name.

"I'm Y/N", you tell her, not bothering to shake hands or anything.

"Oh, you're the ex-wife!", she exclaims, as if she's making a huge point by saying this.

"That's me", you don't bother to hide your annoyance with her. You knew she came in here with the intent to have this conversation, and to probably rile you up and make you feel some kind of jealousy of her relationship.

"So, you're the reason why Noah can't commit to anyone anymore, huh?", she points out and you have to do a double take to make sure you heard her right.

"Excuse me?", you question.

"Yeah, you heard me. Five years later and he still can't get you out of his head"

"Listen, my son is waiting for me, and the concert is about to start. Besides, I really don't want to be having this conversation", you tell her, turning on your back. You really needed to tell Noah his taste in girls has declined drastically over the years.

"You're the reason why he hasn't asked me to be his girlfriend", she half yells after you.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you're not gonna raise your voice at me", you throw back at her.

"Oh, you wanna act so high and mighty as if you haven't ruined Noah's life"

"You know nothing about me, and you know nothing about our relationship. So, I suggest you get you act right before I call security on you", you warn her, and you see her opening her mouth to retort when a voice speaks from the door.

"What the fuck is happening in here?", Noah's standing there, looking between the two of you, before his eyes settle on Emery.

"She was screaming at me, and threatening to call security on me. Can you believer her, Noah?", Emery says, voice calm this time. You sigh out loud at her fakeness.

"She won't have to, I am doing it myself", Noah tells her, and her face falls at his words. In seconds, there is a burly security guard scorting Emery out of the premises, as she's still throwing false accusations at you.

Once she's gone, and you and Noah are alone in the green room, a heavy silence settles over the two of you.

"That's your girlfriend?", you ask him, a hint of teasing in your voice. He only shakes his head.

"I can't explaing everything right now, because if I do, I'll be late to go on stage. But I'd really to talk to you when the concert is over. Is that ok?", he asks.

"Yeah, of course. We'll need to talk about this regardless", you agree with him.

Not too long after, you're back beside Ezra and the concert has started. To say you're focused would be a lie. You're not really absorbing anything that is happening before you. You can feel Ezra's presence beside you, absolutely rocking his little heart out. But you can't help but replay the conversation from earlier.

When Matt let it slip that Noah was dating someone else, you thought that Noah and this girl were official. And now you meet her, and she's blaming you because Noah doesn't want to commit? Why didn't he make it clear to you that they were not actually dating? You actually feel a little like a fool. For texting him about it, for questioning if he pretended to introduce her to Ezra, while they weren't even together.

You zone out for a little longer, until the music goes quiet and Noah is talking to the crowd.

"This is somewhat of a new version of a song you guys already know", he says, grabbing an acoustic guitar one of the techs hand out to him. Making his way back to the mic stand, his eyes meet yours for a second, before he's focused back on the crowd.

"You all will be the first crowd to hear the acoustic version of Just Pretend", he announces, and for a second, the noise from the crowd is so defeaning, you can't even hear the first couple of strums on the guitar.

After a few seconds, the whole crowd is holding up their flashlights, and Noah starts singing.

I'm not afraid

Of the war you've come to wage against my sins

I'm not okay

But I can try my best to just pretend

You've heard this song before. Of course you have. Especially after all of the discourse on social media saying he wrote it about your relationship. In one interview though, he did say it was just to show how easy you can make a radio hit. You decided to run with that excuse as well. It was easiar to cope with the words he wrote, and is now singing in front of you.

I can wait for you at the bottom

I can stay away if you want me to

I can wait for years if I gotta

Heaven knows I ain't getting over you

You couldn't help but connect the words to what Emery told you earlier. You always thought Noah would have an easier time moving on than you. He was always on the road, he had things to distract his mind. He had girls waiting for him at every tour stop. Now, as you look at him, with his eyes closed and so focused on every word from the song, you wonder if he really hasn't gotten over you.

We'll try again

When we're not so different

We will make amends

till then I'll just pretend

You're standing still, not able to take your eyes away from him, when his head slightly turns to the side, and he looks at you. The eyes you used to love so much, now looking at you with so much sincerity and longing, you were sure you could dissolve right then and there. You were always able to communicate with him through looks, with his eyes being so expressive, there were many times when he didn't even have to tell you what he was thinking for you to figure it out.

Now, you realize that ability never really went away. Because you saw begging in his eyes. You saw the tool that being away from you has taken on him.

Weigh down on me, stay till morning

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

Weigh down on me, stay till morning

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

He finishes the song, and before you know it, you're wiping tears from your eyes. It feels like the night has taken a turn, and you're not sure if you want to face what comes next, but, for the first time in a while, you feel like things could be ok again.

You're waiting for Noah in the green room you were in before. You were sat on the couch, fingers unable to stay still, as you pick on your nails, your cuticles, anything to distract your mind and quiet your anxiety for a few seconds.

Ezra is off helping Matt pack up his things, and you just know it's going to take a while, from what you can remember, especially with how meticulous Matt is with his equipment.

The door opens, momentarily letting in the noise from outside, and you turn your head to look at Noah. His hair is wet, and a few strands are clinging to his forehead.

You remember well how it was when he finished concerts, especially when you guys were younger, and couldn't keep your hands off of each other. You always thought he looked his best a little out of breath, voice a little hoarse from singing. Apparently, that hasn't changed.

"I'm sorry for what happened earlier", he started, leaning on the table set on the corner of the room, leaving a little space between you.

"You don't have to apologize for her actions. I just want to know why you didn't tell me you weren't really dating her", you question him, and he lowers his head. You could tell he was bracing himself and trying to be vulnerable to the best of his abilities.

"We started hanging out, and I guess everyone just assumed we were together. I never really asked her to be my girlfriend", he started. You didn't say anything, deciding to wait for him to gather his thoughts. "I haven't dated anyone since the divorce".

The admission shocks you a little bit. You were 100% sure there have been other people since you.

"Why not?", you ask, voice a little hesitant and quiet.

"Isn't it obvious? I mean, she told you why"

"I wanna hear you say it"

"You wanna hear me say that I haven't been able to get over you in the five years we've been divorced? You wanna hear me say that I blame myself for that goddamn divorce every fucking day of my life? Because that's how I feel"

"I don't blame you for the divorce", you tell him, and you really don't. Over the years, you were able to realize if it hadn't happened then, it would've happened later on anyway.

"I blame myself because I should've tried harder. I should've tried harder to make you stay. I should've told you everything that was going on. But no, I just signed the papers like a damn fool"

"What do you mean tell me everything that was going on?", you question him, that part of his speech cathing your attention.

"We were under so much pressure from the label. I asked them to make the tours shorter, so I could spend more time with you and Ezra, that was only just a baby back then. They basically told me that if I wasn't willing to put in the work, we could find another label to release our album", he told you.

This was new information for you, you never knew that Noah talked to the label, and that they denied his requests.

"How could I do that? If I was a solo artist, I would've let them drop me in the blink of an eye so I could be with you two. But I had the guys to think about. So many other people were waiting on the success of the album. And once it was out, everything just got worse. They were scheduling tours after tours, and we couldn't say no, because we had a contract signed"

You didn't know what to say. You had your forehead pressed to your palms. All this new information making your head spin.

"Why didn't you tell me?", you raise your head and look him in the eye. "This is the kind of shit that you tell your wife", you were growing frustrated over the fact that he didn't communicate with you back then.

"I was afraid I would push you away. I was afraid you'd realize this isn't the kind of life you wanted and you'd leave me eventually. Look where that fucking got me, huh?", he motions around him, hands falling on his sides in frustration and resignation.

"I thought you weren't trying. I felt so alone because I thought you weren't putting in the effort because you thought the road was so much more interesting than staying at home, taking care of a baby and cleaning up spit and changing diapers", you get up from the couch, your own frustration showing. "You should've fucking talked to me", you say, once again, as you get closer to him.

"Everything I've ever wanted was to stay at home, taking care of my baby, cleaning spit and changing diapers", he tells you and your eyes start to water from the intensity of the moment.

You don't know what to do with yourself right now. You were angry at him for not saying anything earlier. You were angry at yourself because you just assumed the worst from him.

"I don't know what to do", you confess to him.

"I don't know either", he confesses back to you.

In the second you lock eyes, all of the emotions spill over. You take a step closer and crash into his arms. He envelops his arms around you in an instant, holding you firm and sure as you cry in his chest.

You don't know why you're crying so much. You think it's because you finally get to feel him again after so long without his touch. Maybe because right now, in his arms, things feel like they felt almost ten years ago, and he was your safe haven. He was the one who could make all of the sadness and pain go away. He was the one who could shut your mind off and make you focus only on him.

"Shh, I'm here, ok?", he reassures you, running his fringers through your hair.

"I'm so sorry", you're sobbing as you part from him and look him in the eyes. "I'm so sorry. I feel like I ruined everything".

"You haven't ruined anything", he told you, grasping your face in his hands, and you lean on his touch. "I would never make you stay in a relationship when you didn't feel happy. Your feelings were valid and you made the decision you thought was right", he caressed your cheeks with his thumb, wiping away a few tears that still slipped from your eyes.

"You deserve so much more than what I gave you. You deserve someone who can see you as the amazing person that you are. You deserve....", he shuts off your rambling by pressing his lips on yours. You're stunned, and you don't move for a second. After realizing what is happening, and you register his warm lips on yours, just like they felt so long ago, you completely relax. He doesn't move, doesn't deepen the kiss. You just stay there for a second, feeling each other. And it feels so perfect, that you want to cry all over again.

"I had to stop you there. You weren't making much sense, to be honest", he tells you, parting from your lips, but keeping close.

"I'm sorry", you say, once again. And he nods, telling you that he knows.

You stay wrapped in his arms for a while longer, resting your head on his chest, and Noah revels in the feeling of you against him. He feels like he can finally breath easier for the first time in years.

"The boys and I are leaving Sumerian", he tells you, and you part from him to look him in the face.

"Really?", you ask and he nods. "Why?"

"Our contract is up and we're not re-signing", he explains, like it's the most logical thing ever.

"What label are you signing with?"

"Our own", he says, and you have a puzzled look on your face.

"Your own?"

"The boys and I are opening an independent label"

Your mouth hangs open in shock, and you feel happy for all of them. This is something they've wanted for such a long time now.

"This is so great, Noah", you tell him and he smiles at you.

"Now, we won't have that pressure anymore. Everythig becomes a little easier and we're able to control our schedule much better", he explains, and you know where he's getting at. A flutter of happiness takes over you. You were going to be ok.

"I was thinking that we could go have dinner after everything's packed up. You, Ezra and I", you tell him, deciding to start with baby steps first.

"It's like you read my mind", Noah grasps your face once again, placing his lips on yours for the second time tonight, and this time, you circle your arms around his neck.

You want to stay here forever, and now, you felt like you could.

Tag list: @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @bloody-spades @mysterygirl-srl @lacy1986 @dream-machine-love @theanarchymuse95 @missduffsblog @xmads-omensx @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @w0manof-flesh44 @chey-h @pipidoll @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @kissestomyomens @hedonist-k1l @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @daemontargaryenwife @h0riz0nsiren @astronoids @flowery-mess @renegadebirch

If you haven't been tagged, it's because your blog doesn't mention your age, or it is empty!

[oneforthemunny]

idk if he's included but i'm going to shoot my shot anyways. what's something ex-husband!eddie does for ex-wife!reader, that others would think nothing of, that turns her on & has her second guessing the divorce solely bc of how hot he is? if that makes any sense at all lolll

shoot it bc i love him lmao. he's so hot. and there's honestly nothing hotter than him just being a dad sorry!!!! he's hot at it!!!!!

contains: a little smut but nothing graphic. they're fighting ofc lol.

"Luce, where's your tap shoes?" You frown, looking around the three year old's messy room, cluttered with toys and clothes that you hadn't got a chance to clean, or supervise her cleaning.

"I dunno," Lucy hummed, dragging her stuffed elephant along her sheets towards the other stuffed animals. "I thinks Daddy has them."

"You left them at dad's?" You swallow back a huff of irritation, eyes pinching closed.

You and Eddie weren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. After a few weeks of bliss, of you nearly caving and letting him move back in, agreeing to work it out in therapy and give it another shot, he'd done what he always had- pissed you off. A bickering that turned into a fight, that led you both back to your separate spaces. Over what? You weren't exactly sure you even remembered.

It had been four days exactly that you had managed to avoid Eddie. Not speaking at the exchanging of the kids, you'd flat out ignored his greeting to you, and now, because of a stupid pair of tap shoes, you'd have to give in and speak to him.

"Hello?" He picked up on the third ring.

"Hey, it's me." You quipped, lips rolling around your snippy tone. "Lucy said she left her tap shoes at your house."

"Yeah, she did." Eddie's tone was just as biting, matching your lack of amusement.

You huffed. "Well, she needs them. She has dance in thirty minutes."

"So come get them?" Eddie scoffed.

"Nice. Sure, Ed, I'll just go out of my way to come get them because you couldn't remember to pack them. Way to go." You snapped sarcastically, venom dripping in your tone. You hoped he could feel your glare.

"Oh? This is my- of course, it's my fuckin' fault."

"It is your fuck-" You turned, looking to make sure Lucy was still in front of the television eating her snack. "It is your fuckin' fault, you ass. You want to act like you're dad of the year, and you don't even know her dance schedule?"

"I'm not doin' this with you, alright? I'm gonna hang up if you're just going to be a bitch." Eddie snapped. You could picture him, that tone too familiar. His jaw clenched tight, nostrils flaring the way they did when he was pissed. Maybe his fists clenched, forearm veins popping out.

"Just- Can you just bring them to the dance studio by four please?" You rolled your eyes. "I'm already running late. I have to get gas and get Lucy dressed."

"Fine." Eddie snapped. You didn't get a chance to reply, the other line ending with a harsh click.

Twenty-six minutes later, you were pulling into the dance studio. Between a three year old who refused to get dressed, waiting for pumps, and the unusual traffic in Hawkins, your nerves were shot and you were cutting it close. You were glad Jude was at a sleepover at the Harrington's for the night.

Eddie was there when you pulled in, standing outside his car, smoking a cigarette. You grit your teeth at the sight of him, lips wrapped around the stick, blowing smoke. You hated how your stomach flipped with excitement.

"Do you have them?" You stepped out of the car, moving to the backseat, barely glancing over at him.

"Hello to you too, Sunshine." Eddie huffed sarcastically, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.

You rolled your eyes, trying to soften your face when you opened the back car door to get Lucy out. "Daddy brought your shoes, so let's put them on so you'll be ready to go." You cooed gently, unstrapping her out, hoisting her on your hip.

"Eddie, can you hurry-" You stopped when he emerged, little tiny tap shoes hooked on his pinky, Lucy's pink dance bag slung over his shoulder.

"I got it, Mama." Eddie's tone was light but more of a snarl. You didn't respond, eyes rolling down his frame instead.

Your tongue rolled over your bottom lip, watching him put her little shoes on, fastening the tiny buckles. You lingered behind them when he walked her in, her little hand in his, the pink bag slung over his shoulder. You hated how weak in the knees it made you, seeing him be a dad- be a good dad. And dammit, he might have been a shit husband at times, but he was a good dad.

"Thank you." Your arms stayed folded over your chest but your tone was lighter when he came back out from dropping Lucy off. "That really saved me a lot of time."

"Don't mention it." Eddie's tone was still tight, nerves rattled with built up tension from the past days.

He started towards his car, you followed close behind him. "What are you doing now?"

Eddie turned at your tone, carefully. "What?"

You huffed, eyes rolling big and dramatic. "What are you doing now?" You repeated.

"Nothing." Eddie was cautious, unsure- even if he was sure, he was always a little unsure with you these days.

"Well, I mean, do you want to wait with me? Then maybe we can go get dinner. Me, you, and Luce? It's just us girls tonight." Your eyes rolled over his frame, his tight band tee.

Eddie squinted lightly. "Yeah? Sure. That'd be nice."

"Good." You hummed, opening the back seat. "Could you help me out? I can't get this back seat to lay down again. I think it might be stuck." It was not nearly as smooth as you wanted it to be, you never really were, but Eddie didn't mind. He swallowed back his smirk, scanning the parking lot. Good thing he'd picked the back spot, away from everyone.

He had you pinned against the seats, rutting into you mercilessly while you clawed at him, hands tangling in his hair pulling him closer and close. It was quick then, fulfilling but quick. You both had a giddy glow when you picked up Lucy, hoping the other parents wouldn't notice your tousled hair.

Later that night, after the dinner invitation had turned into an invite over, Eddie got to have you the way he wanted. Face buried between your thighs, his way of apologizing, while you shoved your face into a pillow- his pillow, trying to muffle your moans.

[daydreamabout]

Old Flames, New Patrols (Tim Bradford Imagine x exwife!reader)

Summary: When the precinct runs short on officers, you're transferred to fill the gap. Now, you're back on patrol with your ex-husband, Tim—as you realize how much of your confidence was tied to him, even after all this time. [mentions of domestic disturbance]

It’s your first day back at the precinct after the transfer. The air feels thick as you walk into the building, the smell of stale coffee and the sharp scent of bleach from the cleaning supplies hitting your senses. You’ve been away for two years, but it still looks the same—gray walls, buzzing lights, officers milling around, deep in conversation or focused on their desks.

You make your way toward the briefing room, your footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. Each step feels heavier, the tension in the air creeping up your spine. You haven't seen Tim since the divorce, and the thought of being in the same space with him again, working side by side for three months, is... unsettling.

You push the door open and step inside. The room goes quiet for a moment, eyes flicking toward you. Most of the officers don’t know who you are—just that you're the one here to help out. Your eyes immediately search for the familiar face you used to wake up to every day. There’s Tim, standing by the windows, arms crossed over his chest. He looks exactly the same. Maybe a little more worn down, but it’s him. His eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second, but he quickly looks away. You can’t tell if it’s relief or discomfort on his face.

Sargeant Grey is at the front, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. He clears his throat, and the chatter dies down. You take your seat at the back of the room, feeling all the eyes on you now. Tim doesn’t acknowledge you further, though you can sense him there, just within reach. It's almost suffocating.

"Alright, listen up," Grey’s gravelly voice cuts through the tension in the room. "We’re short-handed today, so we need to make it count. Y/N, welcome back. You’re only here for three months, so let’s make this time worth it. We need all hands on deck. Get familiar with the new assignments, hit the ground running. You’re in with Tim for your shift today. I trust you two can handle it."

You don’t miss the way Tim’s jaw tightens at the mention of your name. He doesn’t look at you, but his body posture shifts, a barely noticeable tension seeping through his rigid stance. Sargeant Grey gives a brief rundown of the cases that need immediate attention, but your mind keeps drifting back to your ex.

It’s strange. Working together again feels... weird. Your whole relationship feels like a lifetime ago, but the remnants of it are still there, sitting between you both. You’ve built your life, your career, apart, but here you are—back together in the same room. The silence between you both says everything that words can’t. He’s still the same —strong, sharp, focused. But there's a distance there now, a wall between you that wasn’t there before.

Grey finishes up with the details. "Any questions? No? Good. Get out there and stay safe."

The briefing wraps up, and officers start filing out, but you linger, just for a second. You grab your bag and head out to the garage where the cars are parked. Tim's footsteps follow behind you, the sound too familiar. You can feel him closing the space between you but neither of you says anything. He grabs his keys, but you don’t meet his gaze. Instead, you focus on the cruiser parked in front of you, doing your best to ignore the sharp pang in your chest.

“Ready?” Tim’s voice is low, controlled. He doesn’t wait for a response, just opens the door and slides in.

You hesitate for a moment, taking in the sight of the passenger seat you once called your own. The silence stretches out, thick and suffocating. Finally, you slip into the seat next to him, and the moment your seatbelt clicks, you feel the tension in the car increase. Neither of you says a word as the engine roars to life.

The drive to your first assignment feels longer than it should. Neither of you speak, both of you caught in that strange limbo of once being partners—both on and off the job—and now, just colleagues, with an unspoken history lingering in every shared glance and every breath you take in the confined space of the cruiser. You’re here to do a job, but underneath it all, it’s so much more than that.

The silence is almost suffocating as the cruiser rolls through the city, its headlights cutting through the darkened streets. You try to focus on the task ahead—on the job—but your thoughts keep drifting. His presence in the car, right next to you, brings back a rush of memories. The good, the bad, and everything in between. You can still picture him in your mind—the way he would always drive with his hand resting on the wheel, his jaw clenched in concentration, his brow furrowed when things got tense. It’s all still there, etched into your memory. But now, it feels like looking at a stranger.

The first call comes through over the radio.

“Domestic disturbance,” Tim says, breaking the silence. His voice is neutral, businesslike. No trace of the warmth that once was between you two. His hands grip the wheel tighter, his knuckles white.

“Right,” you reply, your voice a little more clipped than you intend. You don’t want to sound cold, but you’re finding it hard to slip into the routine of working together like nothing has changed.

You’ve been through hundreds of calls like this, but tonight, the familiar rush of adrenaline feels different. You can’t help but notice how Tim moves through the motions with ease, just like he always did. He’s in his element, despite the tension. He’s a cop, through and through.

He pulls up in front of a small house, the flashing lights of the squad car casting long shadows on the cracked sidewalk. A woman stands on the porch, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes wide and scared.

You both get out, and Tim’s already moving forward, his pace measured, controlled. You follow, but everything feels slow, like you’re wading through water. The distance between you both is tangible, and it’s hard to ignore.

“Ma’am,” he starts, his voice calm, authoritative, but soft enough to not add to the fear in the woman’s eyes. “What’s going on here?”

You stand off to the side, arms crossed over your chest, watching the interaction with practiced eyes. Tim does this so effortlessly—he’s always been the one to take charge in situations like this, his presence reassuring. It makes you realize, once again, how much of your own confidence came from being able to work alongside him.

Flashback

Tim sat next to you in the passenger seat, his presence a force in the small car. You’d learned to appreciate the quiet moments with him, the way he seemed to ground everything in an otherwise chaotic world. The air smelled faintly of stale coffee and something more like... pizza, maybe? But you didn’t ask.

“Do you ever just—” Tim started, his voice cutting through the quiet. “—stop thinking?”

You glanced at him as you maneuvered through the empty streets. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he continued, looking out the window. “You’re always so... together. Even when things are crazy, you handle it like you’ve got everything under control.”

You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped you. “It’s called faking it, Tim. You should try it sometime.”

He glanced at you, raising an eyebrow, but the corner of his lips tugged into that small, familiar smirk. “Right. But that doesn’t explain how you make it look so easy.”

Your heart skipped, but you pushed the fluttering feeling aside. Tim wasn’t one for compliments, so when he said things like this, it threw you off a little. You didn’t even know how to respond.

You had learned to keep a cool head, to act calm and confident on the outside, especially with him around. Working alongside wasn’t just about being a good partner. It was about survival. He had a way of making you feel like you could take on anything. And maybe, somewhere in the back of your mind, you’d begun to believe it.

But his question made you realize something. That confidence you projected? It wasn’t just something you’d built from your own experience. No, it was more than that. It came from the way Tim had made you feel when you worked together, the way he trusted you without hesitation, the way he always made sure you knew you were capable, even when you doubted yourself.

You turned your attention back to the road. “It’s... it’s easier when you know you’ve got someone watching your back.”

“Sounds nice,” Tim repeated softly, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he shifted in his seat. “You always seem like you’ve got it handled. Like you don’t need anyone.”

You didn’t look at him this time. “Well, I don’t need anyone to tell me how to do my job.”

There was a pause, and then he asked, almost like he was still testing the waters, “But you’re okay with me being here, right? With me helping out?”

You were taken aback, your fingers tightening on the wheel. It wasn’t a question you expected, not from him. There had always been a kind of unspoken understanding between you two, a connection that didn’t need words. But something in his tone made you realize maybe he was starting to see you differently, maybe even see through the walls you’d put up.

You had never thought about it like that before, but the truth was, you did rely on him. Not just in a professional sense, but in a way that ran deeper than that. It was something you hadn’t admitted to yourself. You didn’t need him to carry the weight of your confidence, but somehow, working alongside him made everything feel a little bit lighter.

“I never said I didn’t need you,” you finally said, the words coming out more vulnerable than you intended. “But I like to keep it... controlled. Keeps things simple.”

Tim didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his gaze on you, searching, like he was seeing something you weren’t saying. His lips parted, but then he just nodded. “I get it.”

The conversation lingered between you for the rest of the drive, quiet and unspoken. But as you pulled up to the precinct and parked, something about the way Tim looked at you felt different. It wasn’t pity or judgment—nothing like that. It was just... understanding.

That understanding continued through the day as you went through your shifts. You weren’t sure when it happened, but you could feel Tim’s eyes on you in a way that wasn’t just professional. It was like he was seeing you for the first time—really seeing you—not just as his partner, but as someone who had built this unshakable front because of everything you had been through. Because of how much you depended on him, and how much you feared depending on anyone at all.

Later that day, when you were taking a break, Tim leaned against the edge of the car, his usual calm demeanor still present, but with something else in his eyes. “Hey,” he said, his tone lighter than before. “If you ever need to talk, you know... I’m here.”

You looked up, surprised by the softness in his voice. It wasn’t the standard "don’t hesitate" cop speak. It was... genuine. Maybe that’s what hit you hardest—how much he had always been there, even in the background. Always steady. Always reliable.

And maybe, just maybe, you realized that the confidence you carried wasn’t just because you were good at your job. It was because you had someone who believed in you, who was there in the trenches with you, whether you showed it or not. Tim had always been your anchor in the chaos and you allowed yourself to see it.

You smiled, a little more honestly than you expected. “I know, Tim. I know.”

You realized how much of your confidence had come from being able to work alongside him—because with Tim Bradford by your side, you didn’t have to fake anything. You could just be you, and that was enough.

Flashback end

You almost catch yourself looking at him, but you quickly look away, focusing back on the woman’s trembling form. She explains in a shaky voice, detailing a fight with her partner, a mix of shouting and pushing, nothing too serious but enough to scare her. It’s routine. No weapons involved, just tempers flaring.

He nods, taking in the information, his expression unreadable. You both move through the process of taking statements, confirming details, and ensuring the situation doesn’t escalate. Tim handles it like he always does—efficient, calm, with just enough authority to keep things from spinning out of control.

After everything is wrapped up and the woman is safely back inside, his head turns to you, his expression guarded but not unkind.

“You good?” he asks, his voice still holding that professional distance.

“Yeah,” you reply, though you’re not sure you are. The tension between you both is like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap at any second. But for now, you push that feeling aside. “Just... like old times.”

“Yeah.” His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he turns away, heading back to the car.

You both fall back into the cruiser without another word, the quiet between you hanging heavy in the air. The drive to the next call feels just as tense, if not more so. It’s hard to focus on the work when everything else feels like it’s shifting beneath your feet. You’re no longer the partners you once were, but here you are, side by side, forced to navigate the job together again.

Another call comes through, and this one’s more serious. A robbery in progress, shots fired. The words slice through the air, and Tim’s reaction is instant. His body tenses, his focus sharpening. He slams the gas, and you feel the jolt of speed as the city blurs around you. The momentary distraction of adrenaline sweeps the tension between you both aside. There’s no time for personal issues, not with this on the line.

“Stay sharp,” Tim says, his voice a low growl, a tone that makes it clear he’s in full cop mode now.

You nod, your body moving on autopilot as the car skids around corners, sirens blaring. Everything else falls away as the job takes over. The past is shoved to the back of your mind, at least for now. It’s just you and him again—partners in the field.

When you arrive at the scene, chaos unfolds before your eyes. Officers are already moving in, securing the area. The suspect is barricaded inside, and you can hear the distant crackle of gunfire. The tension is palpable, but Tim’s instincts take over. He’s the one you always relied on in these situations.

Without hesitation, he starts directing officers, calling the shots. You move with him, side by side, working in sync, though the connection feels distant now.

You both position yourselves at the entrance, ready for whatever happens next. But this time, there’s a stark difference between you and him. A line you both can’t cross, no matter how much you wish you could. The job demands all of you, and right now, that’s all that matters.

“Cover me,” Tim says, his voice steady but with that sharp edge you know all too well. He doesn’t need to say more—you know what he means. You always did.

As he moves toward the building, you stay behind, your hand resting on your holster, eyes scanning the surroundings. The air is thick with danger, and your heart races, not from the nerves of the situation, but because you’re working with him again.

As the situation continues to unfold, you can’t shake the feeling that something is missing—the warmth, the camaraderie, the bond. It’s all there in the motions, in the way you both know what the other is thinking without words. But it's not enough anymore. It never will be. Not after everything that’s happened.

When the dust settles and the situation is handled, you both stand in the aftermath, silently assessing the damage.

“Good work,” Tim says, his voice colder than before. But there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something you can’t quite place.

You nod. “You too.”

As you head back to the cruiser, the weight of the day presses down on you, and you realize just how much you’ve missed this—being out here, in the field, with Tim.

But you also realize that the things you miss aren’t coming back. Not the way you want the-, wait what?

[iwmflbb]

I can fix him

...Or be the 4th ex wife

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 2

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

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Jon sighed as he watched Kiyana’s car peel off down the street. Kiyana was like a sister to him and to see how much his words hurt her, hurt him. He stomped back into his daughter's party and pulled Josh to the side. 

“You wrong. Why you ain’t telling everybody the truth? Got Yana out here looking like the asshole and she’s not, you are!” Josh sucked his teeth. 

“Mind ya’ fucking business Jonathan. If you wanna be technical about it. You ain’t tell Kiyana the whole truth either. You knew I was sleeping with Shanté and never said anything.” 

“Cause I thought you was gonna handle it Josh!” Jon yelled. “You got this attitude like Kiyana did you wrong and that ain't the case. You the one that ruined your marriage, not her so stop treating her like everything is her fault!” 

“EVERYTHING IS HER FAULT!” Josh boomed back. “She fucked Joe of all people! She wanted to get back at me, cool, fine, whatever. It could have been with anyone else, but she chose Joe so fuck her.” 

“HEY!” Trinity yelled as she came around to the side of the house that Jon had pulled Josh over too. “Everyone can hear you, including your kids.” She said, aiming that last part at Josh. “Today is Jayla’s day and y’all not about to ruin it.” Josh sucked his teeth and brushed past the two of them. When Jon went to follow, Trinity grabbed his arm stopping him. “You knew about Shanté and Josh?” 

Jon sighed. “He told me when-” 

“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything Jonathan!” She cut him off  “You knew he was having an affair and kept it to yourself.” Trinity took a deep breath trying to calm herself down. “We gon talk about this later.” She muttered, giving him a stank look as she walked away from him. 

“No, fuck this.” Kiyana muttered, wiping the tears off her face as she made a U-Turn and made her way back to Jon’s house. She rolled her eyes and ignored the mummers as she stormed back into the party and dragged Josh into the house by the collar of his shirt. 

“Damn, Kiyana wait..” Josh said as he stumbled behind her. 

“No, you fucking wait! I’ve been by your side for twenty-three years and for you to not say anything to Mel is fucking crazy.”  Josh scoffed and folded his arms. 

“You wanted me to defend you?” He chuckled. “We ain’t together anymore Kiyana. Call up Joe, I'm pretty sure his big ass will jump to defend you.” Kiyana stared at him in disbelief. She blinked a couple of time before reaching up and slapping him across his face. 

“Fuck you Joshua.” She glared at him before turning on her heels and storming away from him. She quickly walked over to Kaiden and Kamari and then grabbed Kairo out of Talisua’s arms before leaving the party, not saying a word to anybody else. 

She didn’t care if her taking her kids made her a ‘bitter baby mama’. She wasn't going to allow anybody to disrespect her. She was sick and tired of being looked at like the bad guy, so that's exactly what she was about to become… 

Around 10pm that night there was a knock on her door and she knew exactly who it was. He had been texting her since she left the party with her kids. 

“What?” She asked, rolling her eyes as he tried to push his way past her. “You not coming in my house.” 

“Oh, you mean the house that I paid for. Move out my way Kiyana. I just wanna say goodnight to my kids.” 

“No.” Kiyana folded her arms. “You’re not coming in here. Goodbye Joshua.” She tried to shut the door in his face, but he placed his foot in the doorway. 

“Kiyana.” He gritted out, teeth clenched together as if he was trying to hold himself back from going off on her. “You made your point. I’ll speak up next time.” 

“Next time?” She scoffed, pushing on the door, but he wouldn’t move his foot.  “There should be no next time Joshua. Now go away before I call the cops.” 

“You being childish as hell Key! I just wanna say goodnight to my sons, damn!” He yelled, pushing the door harder so Kiyana could lose her balance. She winced as he back met the wall and Josh’s eyes softened at the pained look on her face.  “Shit, my bad Key.” 

“Just leave please. The boys are already in bed. Ain’t shit else here for you.” Josh sighed and nodded his head. 

“Can you have them call me when they wake up?” 

“I’ll think about it.” She said, rubbing her back. 

“Kiyana - “ 

“I said I'll think about it. Goodnight.” She muttered, closing the door in his face. Josh stood on the front door of his former home, watching through the glass door as Kiyana set the home security system. She looked back at him before shaking her head and turning off the porch light and walking up the stairs leaving him standing in the darkness of the night. 

“Home sweet home.” Josh muttered as he walked into his apartment. This was not the life for him. He needed to be with his boys. He needed to be with Kiyana, but she didn’t want him anymore and Josh still couldn’t fully comprehend that they were divorced. He felt naked without his wedding ring. He felt incomplete without Kiyana by his side and he was going to do anything and everything for them to be a family again.. Starting with his sister Melvania. 

Chapter 2 down.. thank you for all the nice comments and all of the love on chapter 1.

Josh is a little bi-polar when it comes to Kiyana and their relationship.. he blames her for their divorce but he also wants his wife back...

(if you think they're getting back together.. think again)

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

[rainbowdrop]

And another one!

Here we have a healthy relationship- it's very rare U-U

... I just really wanted to draw WW like really buff-

The little idea is from @cheust and the post it's here

Ex-wife! Reader it's also a bit buff, thanks to the attacks of the LoA :3

[paarthurnax59]

"Soul Of Liberty"

Chapter 4

Warning: angst and Swearing 

note: readers dress

      By a miracle or the grace of Chuck, Dean managed to get into the building by showing his fake badge. Yeah, he knew a guy in New York that can forge good fake IDs. He quickly went to one of the custodian closets and changed into a tux and stuffed the rest of his stuff into his duffle bag. He slicked back his hair and looked at the mirror, knowing he looked decent enough to pass as a guest. 

"Now or never, Winchester." He said as he left the closet and checked to see if anyone was around. He walked up the stairs to where party was being held. He found where the large crowd of well-dressed right people walking into one of the largest rooms in the museum. He stood straight and act as if he was part of the rich crowd. It was easy to act like a stuck-up wealthy bastard after all the times that he and Sam had to go undercover for a case. He grabs a glass of champagne when he was offered and shooed away the waiter. He stuck to the shadows as the party was lively. With a classic band playing and laying a lot mix of jazz and blues playing. Finest food being served and bright lights shining the entire ballroom. He scanned the room to try and find his target when a voice appeared behind him.

"Looking for something, tiger?" Said a feminine voice that made him turn around, now seeing a beautiful red-haired woman in a red silk gown that made him think that he was looking at a real-life version of Jessica Rabbit. He took a good look at the woman and realized that this was none other than Natasha Romanoff, Also known as Black Widow. The Avengers' best infiltrator and spy and former assassin. 

'Oh shit.'

'Told you this wasn't a good idea.'

'Shut up! Do you ever stop talking?!'

"No, not really just watching." Dean replied and hoping that she would leave him be. He knows for a fact that Natasha was a spy and could read him like a book given enough time. He doesn't need to have his cover blown and ruin his plans. 

"I see, just enjoying the Perks of being a Wallflower, handsome?" She flirted and Dean smiles back at the woman. If he weren't about to expose one of her teammates to her, He would have enjoyed the attention he was giving Natasha. 

"So far, I am, gorgeous." He flirted back.

"The name is Natasha, Natasha Romanoff." She sticks out her hand and for Dean to grab and shake it. Dean offers her his hand in return.

"Clark Harrison, pleased to meet you." He gave her a fake that he often used for cases shook her hand with a little bit of hesitation. 'Dean, relax don't blow your cover.' Dean then let's go of Natasha's hand and draw his attention back to the dance floor. 

"Well, Clark. You want to dance?" Natasha offered and Dean took her hand as they both walked to the dance floor. The two danced for a while as Dean continued to search the room for (Name). 

"So, Clark. What made you come all the way to New York? Business? Pleasure?" asked the red-haired woman while Dean glanced around the room for (Name). 

"A bit of both, actually." Dean admitted. He saw (Name) and some what they would call in the hunting world, 'unfinished business' and believe him what he's planning on doing would bring him a lot of pleasure.

"Guess you can find a bit of both I suppose?" Dean continued to look around the room in search of his target. He's got to act quick, or his cover is going to be blown. Suddenly, the music stops, and everyone turned to the stage of the event. 

"Excuse me. Excuse me everyone!" Said the familiar voice of Tony Stark everyone focused their eyes on where the ostentatious billionaire was speaking from. He was wearing a classic black and white tuxedo and standing where the band was playing. "First of all, I like to thank everyone for coming tonight to help raise funds to benefit aiding people around the world effective by hungry and poverty. Your donations will help greatly to those effected by war and disaster and we cannot thank you enough. And I speak for all of us when I say this The Avengers thank you for your aid." He raised his glass and the rest of the crowd followed. "However, that's not the reason that I am up here! I know this is charity event, but I honestly just couldn't help myself! It has come to my attention that we have a birthday today and had to take the opportunity to embarrass her for it. I'm her uncle Tony after all." the. They crowd cheered with their wine glasses in the air, for the soon to be revealed birthday boy or girl. "I would like for this said person to come right up and let us sing in celebration of the day that she came out the birth cannel." Tony said and people chuckled at his inappropriate joke and other's just shook their heads. Dean looked around the room, still trying to look for his ex-wife. 

And speaking of the devil and she appears. 

"(Name) (Last name)! Come on down, Game of Thrones! and say a few words!" Tony exclaimed and then the stage shined on Dean's left direction and saw (Name) shining right in the middle of the dance floor with Steve with his arm around his shoulder, trying so hard to hide her face from embarrassment by cover her face in Steve's chest. Dean watches her shake her head probably saying she don't want to go up there. Which is rich considering what an attention whore she really was. She couldn't stand not having Dean's attention for one second and make him drop everything just to spend time with her.

She tried to run away but sudden a large, blonde-haired man, who Dean recognized as Thor picking her up while laughing his ass off throwing her on his shoulders. The Thunder god he carried her to the stage with Steve laughing seeing his girlfriend being carried like a sack of flour as Wanda and Vision stood next him. Dean quickly slicked away from Natasha as her eyes were on (Name) being carried to the stage and smiling. Dean scowled while looking at Black Widow clapping for his ex-wife.

'Let's see how long you'll be clapping when I'm done, Ms. Romanoff.' Dean thought as he slips away into the shadows in order to get to (Name). he just had to stick to the shadows and remain hidden from sight, until he can get (Name) lone and confront her. 

Thor Finally reached the top of the stage with (Name) and plopped her next to Tony as the stoplight shined on the two of them. Tony then gave her the mic and hugged her muttered a happy birthday to her. (Name) took a deep breath and raised the mic closer to her glossed lips and smiled.

"Thanks, Uncle Tony." She chuckled now zoning her eyes onto the audience of the wealthy and power looking at her. "First, again. Thanks so much for your donations and generosity for helping the needy and less fortunate around the world. I can't tell you how much this means to me. Personally, I mean." She said as the crowd listen intently of what the heroin was saying while Dean just zoned out, only waiting for her to get off stage. He doesn't need to be hearing her empty of words of fake empathy. "As someone that had grown up in an orphanage, I didn't have anything. No home, no parents, no family-"

"No heart? No Conscious? Or a human soul?" Dean muttered under his breath as he heard (Name)'s speech. Boy, did he want to gag at her being so fake. Yes, it's true she grew up with nothing, and did not have an easy life by any means. However, Dean and Sam were the ones that took her in and gave her his heart wholeheartedly and she stomped on it. He gave her a home and a family, though it wasn't a literal home. Living in a new motel every week or having to sleep in the Impala wasn't exactly appealing or even stable. At one point, he wanted to stop hunting and just build a life with her. Have a home together and have a family. But she ruined it, no! She demolished it. Now, she was trying to do the same to the Avengers and to her beloved Captain. All because she wanted to live out some insane fantasy of being America's sweetheart and the arm candy of Captain America. Just so that she can be the one on top after their divorce. 

"It was hard. Really hard not knowing who you really were. nothing but a name. I was just dumped on the doorsteps of some orphanage in Kansas. No, I can assure you that I am not Superman or anything. Though, being able to fly would make my job so much easier." She jested as the crowd chuckled and laughed at her reference to pop culture. Dean for some reason thought that last bit was quite funny and smirked. "But the worst part of that was how alone I was and how lost I was. The only real family I had was with my best friend who I grew up with in the orphanage. She had passed on when we were in college at Duke at nineteen and I ended up dropping out. Sense then, my life was a mess, and I didn't think I could ever come back from it. Until I met Steve Rogers and the rest of the Avengers." She continued and Dean could swear he saw Steve blushing at him mention. Dean again felt like he wanted to vomit. "I have usually kept a lot of my past a secret, that is well known. Only my teammates know the full extent of it. I'd like to keep it that way."

"Not all of it, sweetheart." Dean whispered, knowing full well there is no way that she had told them about her life as a hunter (and a terrible one at that) and was also married to him and cheated on him.

"So, at my lowest point, I had met Steve and he basically became my rock and my center for the foundation of my recovery. He was the first to take a chance on me, to train me and has not left my side sense. Many accuse us of being long lost twins at birth. I mean do I look like a hundred-year-old plus woman to these people?" The crowd burst into laughter at another joke. "But, seriously. All I want to say is that even though I love everyone on the team, I would not be here today celebrating another birthday, without that old geezer down there. I wouldn't be who I am today without you. All of you. I love you and I'm proud to call you family." (Name) then ends her speech by hold a flute glass up in the air with the mic still in her hands. "Cheers, to friends, family and second chances." 

"CHEERS!" The crowd hailed as they drink from their glasses. Dean then drinks from his own to not draw attention and blend in. He placed the glass on a nearby table and moved a bit closer to the stage. He noticed that (Name) was about the exit the stage giving Dean a chance to corner her. When suddenly Tony came back up and grabbed the mic from her and spoke once more. He really wished he would be able to punch Tony right now. 

"Lovely speech, Game of Thrones. Really touched my robotic heart. However, before you all go back to dancing, I just want to give one last opportunity to humiliate my girl just a little bit more. Bring it out, Stann!" Tony exclaimed and an old white guy in dark glasses in a waiter's uniform came out with a large delicious looking chocolate cake with the amount of candles that matched (Name)'s age. Dean watches as she hugged the man that delivered the cake and the old man hugged (Name) and muttered a happy birthday to her. "Alright! On my mark! One. Two. Three!" The crowd began to sing "Happy Birthday" to (Name), making Dean think back to the time that he and (Name) celebrated her birthday together as married couple for the first time. 

"Happy Birthday, Sweetheart. As good as this cake looks, it's still not going to be as sweet as you." He said as he held out the cake to her and she gave him the biggest smile.

"Oh, Dean. You didn't have to do that." She muttered softly as her eyes lite up after her husband had took the time to make her a cake.

"Yes, I do, (Name). I love you and I wanted to show that everyday for the rest of my life." He said as (Name) blushed and covered her face.

"That's a big commitment, Dean. Hope you are up for it." She laughed still feeling flushed at her husband's charming gesture.

"I plan on it, Sweetness."

"If only you held up your promise, sweetness. You promised to love me and be faithful to me until death do us part. I'll never forgive you for breaking your vows and for breaking my heart. I loved you with all I had, and you broke it. I won't let you do that to anyone else. Not even to captain heartthrob." Dean pulled out his gun and his demon knife, ready to fight his former love if he had to, maybe even kill. Yes, if it meant exposing (Name) for her fraudulent public persona. He watches (Name) leave the stage after she blow out the candles and unfortunately, she disappeared when the old, white guy in glasses started cutting the cake and distribute it. With the crowd was distracted with their gluttony, Dean hunted for (Name). finding no success, he decided to go outside of the ballroom and to the hallway. He took a deep breath and placed his hands on his head going down a hallway filled with exquisite statues.

"I'm in way over my head, right now. Every time I find her in a crowd, she disappears in the last minute." Dean gasped trying to get away from the crowd of rich snobby pricks that would never experience a day of what Dean lived through. The hunter was about to go in when he noticed on the he sees the white-haired young woman he was hunting down walked out from the ballroom. Before (Name) could notice him, Dean hides behind a pillar, hoping she wouldn't see him. He hears footsteps fade away through the echo of the hallway. Dean looks around and could see that (Name) was gone. He walked away from the pillar that hid his frame. He quietly walked down the hall and to the corner and saw (Name) looking up at some of the artwork hanging on the walls, looking like she was lost in thought. 

Dean got a closer look at her and never really realized on how beautiful (Name) truly was and how much she physically changed since he last saw her. She looked like an eternal, shining star casting her light among unworthy mortal men. The woman's white, starlight hair shone like the full moon on a clear, cloudless night. her (S/c) skin was clear and free of any blemishes or scars, making her look ethereally flawless and don't get him started on her figure. Though she was wearing an A-line gown, Dean could see just how fit she had become. It was slimmer, curvier, and toned than when he last spoke to her, when he called her fat and ugly. Her midnight blue gown made her appearance the ever more radiant and her perfectly even make up made her the ever more immaculate. He finally got close enough to notice that she was wearing what looked like a golden neckless shaped like a star with a diamond in the middle. Her new boyfriend must have given it to her he thought, scrunching his nose up in repulsion at the thought. Even Maria whom he praised and dangled in front of (Name), mocking he that she will one day be his new wife, paled in comparison to what his ex-wife looked like now. He never thought she could look this good, this regal.

The longer Dean kept looking at her, the more he kept thinking of the night of their first date together. He remembered how beautiful she looked that day. In truth, Dean had always thought (Name) was stunning, even when they were dating. However, after what she had done to him that ended their marriage, she became the ugliest person on the planet to him.

It was a crisp fall evening when Dean had come and picked her up from Bobby's when she stayed there. 

"I'll get it, Bobby!" She called from the other side of the screen door as she turned the knob and revealed herself wearing a long-sleeve green sundress with white flowers and holding a denim jacket for the cool air. Her (H/c) hair was braided up and curled in a way that showed off her lovely neck. She wore only little amount of make-up that brought out her own natural beauty. It still made Dean's heart skip a beat when he saw her.

"Wow, you look fantastic sweetheart!" Dean gasped looking at his lovely date for the evening. 

In all honesty, Dean was more nervous about taking (Name) on an official date for the first time. He never had been truly formal with a girl and taking her out like a real man. He had always been the kind of guy that would just spend the night and leave in the morning. That was only because that was the only thing could give the women in his life. Dean didn't believe he was relationship material, due to the life he lived. But after meeting (Name), he felt taking a chance on trying for one. 

"You look pretty great yourself, Dean." She replied back looking at the handsome hunter with that charming devilish smirk of his that made her face turned beet-red, especially when he was wearing that leather jacket. The couple were interrupted by an old man popping out of the door glaring at Dean.

"Remember Dean, no funny business. She's a good girl and doesn't deserve to be a notch in your-"

"Bobby, relax. It's not like that. We're just going to a dinner and a movie and we will back around 12 o'clock." Dean said with a nervous grin. It was almost like his whole cocky demeanor changed when the older hunter emerged from his doorway. 

"Make it 10, son. No later." Bobby retorted with his arms folded to his chest. Ever since (Name) became a hunter, he had taken it upon himself to be a surrogate father to the young new huntress. Though he had known Dean for much longer, since his childhood, he more protective of (Name). Mostly because of how much of a ladies' man he is. To help ease the tension, (Name) stepped between the two men.

"Bobby, give him a break. Tell you what? I will be back by 11 tonight? No later okay?" She suggested and waited for the old man to answer. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Alright, you win, sugar. 11 o'clock, no later. Got it?" He pointed at Dean and the young man comedically and anxiously game the old man an thumbs up. 

"Got it, Bobby." Dean agreed and (Name) walked up to him and grabbed his hand and happily sprinted to Dean's Impala. It was the best date Dean ever had.

As Dean's memories distracted him, he then hears even louder footsteps come out from the ballroom and saw Steve Rogers coming out with two plates of cake. The hunter watched the couple as (Name) grabbed a plate from Steve, smiling at him. Dean's emotions rapidly changed as he saw the pair converse, growing angrier as he watched Steve put his arm around her shoulders. She giggled as he kissed her on the head in an extremely affectionate way. It made Dean realized the reason that he was here. He was here to expose the monster that his ex-wife truly was. A cold heartless, dishonest cheater that no man would love, and he was going to end her little charade tonight, be any means necessary.

As Steve walked away from (Name), Dean then took his opportunity to walk up to, with his gun in hand. She had her back turned as Dean walked closer to her slowly and quietly. He was only a few feet away from (Name) when he finally spoke to her for the very first time in nearly four years. 

"(Name)." He coldly uttered to her loud enough for her to hear. He noticed her flinch as her breath hitched, making Dean smirk watching her squirm as she turned around slowly. He could have sworn that her beautiful (E/C) grew twice their size when she laid eyes on him. Her mouth dropped as she had forgot how to breath.

"Dean?" She whispered in absolute and utter disbelief that her ex-husband was standing right in front of her. Dean did nothing but smirk as (Name) shocked expressing didn't faulter as she gawked at him. 

"Darling, it's seems you and I need to talk."

[aperrywilliams]

Tin Wedding (Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader)

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Author Masterlist | Event Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader.

Summary: You've become friends with Penelope Garcia over the past year, and after much insistence from her, you agreed to visit her at her office one day. What you didn't expect was to run into your ex-husband there. And surely you didn't expect that he - Spencer Reid - is Penelope's coworker.

Word Count: 7.2k (please, stop me!)

Warnings: Yes. I set this one as +16. Mention of Reader being drunk. Curses and some strong words. Mention of sex - oral (m&f). Nothing detailed. IDFK anything about the US marriage and divorce system.

A/N: 2nd Fic for the "We are not gonna make it" writing challenge I was hosting during October with my sis @babymetaldoll. I'm so sorry for the delay, but life has crushed me these past weeks.

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

The ding of the elevator signals you are already on the sixth floor. The doors open, and the first thing you see are people going and coming. It's the bustling of a lively office at noon. But this is not just any office; this is the FBI headquarters in Quantico. You never thought you would be in a place like this in your life, but here you are after your friend Penelope convinced you to visit her at work after insisting for weeks.

BAU - Behavioural Analysis Unit reads the glass doors in front of you. This is the place. Looking at the scattered desks on the open floor, you look for a clue that leads you to Penelope.

People walk past you without paying much attention. Maybe you should ask for help. But before you can decide to do so, a voice behind your back breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Can I help you?"

You know that voice. You're sure of that. But wait. It can't be—not after years of not hearing it.

You slowly turn around just to confirm that your suspicions are correct. Standing in front of you is a curious Spencer Reid, who pales when he sees your face. He remembers you, too.

"Oh God, Spencer?"

A stupid question with an obvious answer, but that doesn't take away the surprise of coming face to face with someone you never thought you'd see again in your life.

"(Y/N)? Wow..."

Time has passed, you tell yourself. Spencer looks more grown up. His hair is a little shorter, and he doesn't look so skinny anymore; it even seems there's some muscle under the white shirt he sports. Some stubble adorns his face, and dark circles can be seen under his eyes. But his beautiful eyes are the same as you remember them from when you first met in Pasadena.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, still shocked. Spencer's expression seems pretty much the same as yours.

"Uh. Well, I work here," he explains after clearing his throat.

A Caltech's genius working with the FBI? You wouldn't have expected it. But then again, you didn't expect to cross paths with him after all this time. "And what are you doing here?"

Good point. Why did you come? Oh, yes. Penelope Garcia.

"I'm here to see a friend," you mumble. Spencer's confused look changes to what? Disappointment? Of course, you're not there for him. It's stupid ever to think that, considering you haven't talked since the day you said goodbye and parted ways in that tiny apartment you shared in Pasadena.

And then an awkward silence. What are the chances that after so long, you were going to meet Spencer? And if you're wondering how long, we're talking about ten years when you were both pursuing your degrees at Caltech. In your case, it was the first one because Spencer was already in his third PhD when you met.

Before you can say something else, the one and only Penelope Garcia burst into the room, looking for you.

"There you are! Why didn't you call me when you got here?"

Totally unbeknown to the tense silence, she steps in front of you and hugs you. You can feel Spencer's confused look on you. "I'm glad you made it! We have so much to talk about."

"Garcia is your friend?" Spencer asks, gaze on you, and it's when you realize how weird the situation is. Penelope turns to him, an eyebrow furrowed.

"Of course, I'm her friend. And she came to see me," Garcia scoffs until she realizes something. "Wait a minute. For what reason would you ask that?"

Spencer clears his throat. He doesn't know what your opinion is about people knowing that fact.

"We know each other," you explain to her before asking. "How do you know Spencer?"

"No way! What a coincidence!" Garcia chirps. The exclamation raises the interest of the people entering the bullpen. Some of them approach to where you all are. "Reid? We work together!"

What were the chances of something like that happening to you, you wondered, as Spencer continued to stare at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"What's happening here, baby girl?" A toned man asks Garcia, who can't contain her excitement.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," she announces as two women join the conversation.

Garcia briefly explains to the audience who you are and that she just found out that you both know Spencer, too. After the first impression, she proceeds to introduce you to those there: Derek, JJ, and Emily. From the corner of your eye, you can see Spencer downcasting his look at their curious glances at him.

"So you guys know each other?" JJ asks.

You both nod at the same time as Spencer mutters, "Caltech."

"Ah, fellow grads," JJ assumes. And in part, she is right. Indeed, you met while you were starting your master's degree and subsequent doctorate in the same area as Spencer.

"Kind of," you admit, seeing Spencer's cheeks flush and feeling yours burn too. The guy who was presented as Derek Morgan has a smirk plastered on his face.

"College sweethearts?" Morgan asks in a teasing tone. And he is kind of right, too. You lock eyes with Spencer, and you can't tell if he did or wants to say to his colleagues what you really were at that time. But before you both can even think of saying anything, Garcia's eyes widen in recognition.

"No! Wait a minute! Did you go to college together? You said the other day that you-" she starts connecting information, and you start to freak out internally. Before you can stop her, Garcia blurts. "Oh! Spencer is your ex-husband? You have to be kidding me!"

Shit. How did she figure it out so quickly? Sure, it might be your fault for sharing details about your college love life with her on a night filled with alcohol, but how could you have known she was already acquainted with him? You were careful not to mention any names or specifics, yet here you are.

"Wait, what?" Morgan's smirk turns to jaw slack in astonishment. There is no difference between JJ's and Emily's reactions. Spencer's face is flushed, and so is yours.

"Someone is going to say anything?" Emily asks, bouncing her eyes between you and Spencer.

"Uh, well—" you start, giving Spencer an apologetic look, who returns you an awkward tight-lip smile.

"Yeah. We were married," he confirms.

"When we were at college," you add.

You can feel the heaviness in the air and the mid-surprised, mid-incredulous looks from the people around you. Morgan is the first to break the silence.

"Damn it, pretty boy. What a story you had hidden from us," he says, patting Spencer's shoulder. JJ - the quietest one until now - senses how uncomfortable you and Spencer are with all the attention.

"Guys, why don't we give them a minute?"

After a moment of consideration, Emily seconds the motion. "Yeah, Morgan, would you help me with something?"

"Su- sure," Morgan agrees, still confused but following Emily nonetheless.

"But—" Penelope is still trying to understand the whole situation and has many questions she wants to ask.

"Come on, Garcia. I'm sure (Y/N) will find you when she is ready," JJ encourages, looking at you. That's when you get out of your daze and nod.

"Yes. Yeah. I'll text you, Penelope."

And just like that, the same way people surrounded you just seconds ago, now it's just you, Spencer, and an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you worked here. I didn't know you were Penelope's coworker, and—" you start to apologize.

"No. Don't. It's not your fault," Spencer rushes to speak.

"I shouldn't have told her about - about," you trail off.

"About you having an ex-husband?" Spencer supplies, and you shyly nod.

"Believe me, it's not a thing I tell everyone I meet, but Penelope, well, she-" you try to find the right words. Spencer nods in understanding.

"Yeah, she can be pretty convincing when she wants to know something."

Another halo of silence passes between you until it's Spencer who breaks it this time.

"So, how have you been? I mean, it's been a while." You nod, still uncomfortable with the situation but just as curious as you assume Spencer is.

"Yeah, it's been a while," you confirm. "Good, all good on my end. Working and living. What about you?"

"Me? Good. Working here at the BAU."

"Cool."

Cool? What does that mean?

A sharp 'Reid' is heard from behind you both, making you turn to the source. A well-dressed man with a serious gaze is looking at Spencer from an office threshold. "Can you come, please?" the man adds. Spencer nods quickly. "Sure. I'll be there in a second, Hotch." The answer seems to satisfy the man, so he nods and returns inside.

Spencer turns to you again. "Uh. I - uh-" he stutters, motioning where the man called Hotch was a second ago.

"Yeah. I have to go, too." You have to, actually, but you don't think you can face Penelope or anyone else right now, for that matter. "It was nice to see you." As you are about to run away subtly, Spencer calls your name. Stopping in your tracks, you turn, and your eyes make contact with his again.

"Would you - uh. Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?"

It catches you off guard, but you only assume he's being polite. You think you should return the gesture.

"Sure. Why not," you say, giving him a little smile. "Now I have to go. Bye, Spencer."

And with that, you resume your escape to the elevator.

----------

From the moment he saw you at the BAU, Spencer has never been the same. He never imagined he would see you again, especially under those circumstances. Spencer was so astonished he wasn't even able to start a decent conversation or even ask for your number after inviting you to a coffee.

Also distressed about the interrogation he knew his colleagues would subject to him, Spencer wanders through the BAU halls as if he were not in the present. And, in fact, he is not. After seeing you, he has only been able to think about you and the years you both spent in Pasadena.

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth every time one of those memories comes to him.

"Okay, pretty boy, spill," Derek prompts when he sees Spencer in the kitchen two days after your encounter.

"Uh? What are you talking about?" he turns, confused, to see Derek looking at him with a frown and arms over his chest.

"Come on! You know what I'm talking about. About the pretty lady, Garcia's friend, who happens to be your ex-wife?"

Spencer huffs through his nostrils.

"I already told you. We met in college, and we were together until we graduated," Spencer says nonchalantly as if it's normal. He tries, at least. Morgan scoffs at his attempt.

"Reid. You married her. You just can't tell me you 'were together' as you're talking about any other relationship. She was important; what happened?"

Morgan remembers well a few years ago when Spencer told him about a great love he had while at Caltech and how, from time to time, those memories would come to plague his head. It wasn't hard for Morgan to connect the dots and assume you were the person Spencer was referring to.

Spencer sighs thoughtfully. "We ended it by mutual agreement. We both knew our career paths were going to be incompatible, and we both had so many dreams to fulfill. Our greatest act of love was letting each other go. At least that's how I saw it for a long time."

"But you regretted it at some point," Morgan adds, and Spencer nods. "Why didn't you try to find her then?"

"I didn't want to be selfish. What if she already had her life going perfectly, and I was just going to show like a kicked puppy? It wasn't fair for her."

"Man, I get it, but what about now? You found each other again. Can it be a kind of sign or something." Spencer glances at Derek with an incredulous look.

"Are you listening to yourself? You sound like Garcia," Spencer grumbles, making Derek laugh.

"Yeah. Definitely, it's something my baby girl would say. But, truly speaking, Reid, why not take a chance?"

Spencer huffs in frustration. "I - I don't know anything about her in these years! I didn't even ask for her number that day. I was frozen on the spot!"

"And that will stop you?"

A satisfactory smirk appears on Derek's face when Spencer stays silent, contemplating his options.

---------

Not wanting to talk about the encounter with anyone, you write to Penelope, apologizing for having to leave suddenly that day. She responds everything is fine and doesn't even ask you why, to which you are tremendously grateful.

But as the days pass by, you know you have to talk to her at some point, so you invite her to come over one afternoon.

You have been thinking a lot and rationalizing everything that happened. Of course, there was always a possibility of crossing paths with Spencer someday, but turning it into reality is different. So you conclude all your nerves were out of the shock of something unprovable happening, not because seeing Spencer after ten years made you fall off your balance.

With that in mind, you were ready to talk to Penelope.

Once she gets to your apartment, you first apologize for leaving that day and explain how you got frozen after the unexpected encounter. Garcia tells you not to worry and even says she is sorry for telling everyone about her discovery without any filter.

"It's just- I was so impressed. I couldn't help it!" she explains, and you nod in understanding.

"It's okay. I guess no one expected something like that."

"Right? But I have to ask. How did Spencer Reid become your husband? I mean, you told me about your ex-husband and all, but I'm sorry, I can't picture Spencer even talking to a girl without stuttering, less asking for marriage, and then divorcing? It's beyond me."

It catches your attention how she talks about him. Although you met Spencer when you both were very young, knowing how shy he was, over time, you managed to beat his barrier and meet a wonderful man full of charisma and not so sheepish after all. Has he never shown that side to anyone else in all these years?

"Why so much interest in my marriage? It's been a decade," you ask Penelope, and her scoff sounds a mix of obvious and disbelief.

"Honey, it's unbelievable Doctor Loving Reid has kept THAT information to himself for so long. So now that it is out, it does pick my full interest. Spill. What happened?"

You shrug your shoulder. "It's like I said the first time I told you. We were young, a whole life ahead. Neither he nor I wanted to cut each other's wings."

"But you loved each other!" Penelope complains with an adorable pout. You have known this woman for what? Less than a year? And she seems brokenhearted about something that happened to you and Spencer ten years ago. She's right, though. You and Spencer were mad in love. Unlike what people have believed for years, your marriage was not a result of a wild night of alcohol and passion in Pasadena. You were both quite sober when you went to court that day. Both even had written down the vows you professed in front of the judge- yours on a piece of paper and Spencer in his brain, of course.

"If it's any consolation, the year we were married, we were very happy," you tell her, fondly remembering that time. Garcia rolls her eyes.

"Well, exactly that's what I mean, miss. If you were so happy, why end it like that?"

The only answer you can think of is 'it's complicated,' but that will surely increase her curiosity.

"We wanted the best for each other, even if it meant being apart. As good rational beings, we weighed our options, and the sensible thing to do was to end it."

Putting it in that way, Penelope can believe it. Having known Spencer for years, she knows for a fact his big brain is capable of analyzing every probability of every possible outcome. What seems incredible to her is how feelings - how love - can be rationalized like this.

A ding from your phone pauses your talk with Penelope. You glance at the device and see a text from an unknown caller.

'Hi. I'm Spencer. I stupidly didn't ask you for your number, so after cursing myself for the past few days, I had to find it out. Don't get mad, please. I would really like to grab a coffee with you if you are up to it. If you don't want to, I understand. And if you don't want me to contact you again, just say the words, and I'll stop. But I really hope you say yes. SR.'

Okay. This is unexpected. Indeed, you remember not having exchanged numbers with Spencer, and you didn't give it much thought either, assuming his invitation had been out of pure kindness. But here you are, reading the message and feeling an emotion you can't describe. Nostalgia, maybe?

You narrow your eyes to Garcia, who immediately suspects who sent you a text.

"Before you ask, I didn't give him your number!" she defends as you breathe a deep sigh.

"He's asking me out for coffee," you tell Garcia, and she can't help but squeal.

"Will you say yes?"

"I don't know. Is it a good idea to get back in touch after all these years?" you muse more for yourself than her.

"Honey, only you know what's best for you, but if you ask me, I remember you telling me after you both split up, you were left with a lot of 'what ifs' in your head, and some of them are still floating around. Maybe this could help clear them up once and for all."

Penelope has a point. But now, you have a dilemma in the form of a coffee invitation.

---------

It's just a coffee. Don't overthink it.

You have been telling yourself that for a while as you walk to the coffee shop where you agreed to meet Spencer today.

He is just being nice.

Sure, after ten years of no contact, this sudden encounter in the FBI - with all his colleagues there - maybe pressured him to invite you to grab a coffee.

Still lost in your thoughts, you don't realize you are already there. After taking a deep breath, you step inside and look around. You spot him in a booth in the corner, back to you. A smile tugs at your lips, remembering all the coffee dates you both had back then. It was your thing. Hours and hours talking about everything and anything until the owner asked you to leave because they needed to close.

"Hey," you greet, making Spencer look up to you.

"Hi," he returns, a smile plastered on his face. "Thanks for accepting my invitation," he gestures for you to sit.

"Sure. Why I wouldn't?" After taking off your coat, you sit in front of him in the booth.

"Yeah. I mean, we haven't talked in ten years. And then we see each other at my work, and- well, it's kind of weird, I guess?"

Weird is an understatement, you think.

"You are right. Kind of it is."

You notice there are two coffee cups on the table. Spencer follows your line of sight.

"Uh- I had ordered already," he points to the coffee in front of you. "I don't know if you have changed your order, though."

"Thanks," you mumble appreciatively. "I haven't changed it, actually."

"Great!"

You try to gauge his expression. Is he nervous? Anxious? Because you are.

"Spencer, if you are uncomfortable, we can just go home. There is no—" You can't finish the sentence before Spencer cuts you off.

"No. No, I'm not. Please, don't think that."

"Okay," you concede. "I won't. But you need to be honest with me, okay?"

"Of course," Spencer agrees.

"You felt obligated to invite me here after what happened?" You bluntly ask, and Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No, of course not," Spencer immediately denies. "I really wanted to see you. It's just that-" he hesitates. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. "I just didn't know if it was right, you know? I mean, we never reach out, and then it happens. We never agreed-" he trails off. And you know exactly what he's talking about.

Back then, when you decided to go separate ways, Spencer asked you what would happen if you met again in the future, and you shook your head, saying it probably wouldn't happen. So yes, you never talked about the possibility, and Spencer understood he should never contact you, and so did you.

"I know. We didn't," you recognize, regret slipping in your voice. "I guess I didn't want to think about the possibility back then."

You two know there are things you left out and left unsaid the last night you were together in Pasadena, but you don't think it's a good idea to say them now—not when this is supposed to be a friendly reunion between exes.

"So, since when have you been working in DC?" Spencer asks after you tell him about your work career on the west side.

"Almost two years," you admit.

Two years living in the same city. Spencer wonders if Garcia hadn't met you, he would have ever seen you again.

Your professional career has certainly been prolific; Spencer can tell after the stories you have been recounting. Years of experience and important jobs, just as you had dreamed when you were in college. These are the same dreams you shared with Spencer during the nights of studying and those where there was everything else but studying.

"I thought you were going to pursue academics. When did the FBI happen?" you ask after saying it's enough of talking about yourself.

"I thought that too. And I did it for a while. Then I met Gideon. He - uh, he showed me what the BAU had been doing, and I knew it was my place to be."

Spencer fondly tells you about his early years working as a profiler and how much he has learned. It seems that, like you, he has found his professional calling.

Two hours and three coffees later, you are both laughing about the weird and funny things you have seen in the past years. It feels good, and much of the initial nervousness has dissipated. But there is one topic you both have actively avoided: romantic relationships.

You are curious about it, and Spencer is, too, but neither of you wants to be the one to mention it first. Spencer is who breaks first.

"Are we going to talk about - about that? I feel we have been dancing about the topic, but I don't know if you want to."

You can't help but snort out of being caught and for the subject itself. You are sure your almost nonexistent love life is enough to make anyone cry or laugh.

"I'm still that obvious?"

"You have your tells," Spencer shrugs. You raise an eyebrow.

"I have my tells? What about you, doctor? You have been bouncing your leg the same way you did the day you defended your engineering PhD dissertation."

Spencer's eyes widen. "You still remember that?"

The insinuation of you forgetting that day makes you scoff.

"Of course I do! I tried everything to try to calm your nerves. Do you remember what I did, and actually, it worked?" Spencer's cheeks redden because he remembers.

You won't tell the details, but you recall, as clear as the day, how you helped him to 'decompress.'

"Okay, okay. Guilty as charged."

"So, what do you want to know?" You ask, still not fully ready but resigned, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Are you with someone?" Spencer asks, and you gasp, feigning surprise.

"No beating around the bushes, uh?"

Spencer's cheeks flush, and he can't help it. "If it's out the line, you don't need to answer."

Seeing him flustered and biting his lower lip makes your heart do flip-flops. It's something you haven't felt in a long time—ten years, to be exact.

"If you had asked me a month ago, I should have said yes."

Indeed, you had a boyfriend until a month ago when his insistence on moving in with you was too much to handle, and his frustrated self decided to say a lot of awful things when you said no to him.

Some people would say you have commitment issues, and maybe you have. But in all honesty, until this day, there is no one you have felt secure enough to take that step.

It's ironic, considering you already have a marriage under your belt.

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles.

"No. Don't be. It wasn't meant to be."

'Like I used to think about us,' you want to add, but you refrain. Instead, you explain in not much detail every failed relationship you have had. Spencer listens intently, his heart aching to think of how a part of you might have been broken with each failed relationship. He hasn't done any better, though.

"And that's all. As you can see, there is nothing too exciting to remark," you chuckle to lighten the mood. "Tell me about you. There is a Mrs. Reid waiting at home?"

Spencer snorts, shaking his head. "No. There's no Mrs. Reid. The only one who has held the title has been you," he says with a look that makes your breath hitch in your throat. What is it? Longing?

"Wow. I feel honored," you tease, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

Spencer tells you about the few relationships he's had over the years. In his own opinion, none of them are very meaningful. When you ask him why, he doesn't hesitate to answer. "This job not only consumes my time, but also a lot of me as a person. Not everyone understands that."

He would like to say no one has ever been so important as to make him doubt continuing to work in what he does. The only person who ever made him doubt was you. But instead of saying it, he prefers to end with a "I guess that's why no one has stayed."

Listening to him talk is like listening to yourself, trying to minimize the fact that professional success is possibly one of the main reasons why other parts of your personal life have never flourished.

It was your choice. You both decided to make it that way. But sometimes you wonder if...

"Do you think we made a mistake?"

Spencer's question gets you out of your thoughts.

You look at him, baffled. "What?"

"Do you think we shouldn't have broken up? That I shouldn't have left?"

You pondered his question for a second. It has to do with how you felt at that time? Or does it have to do with how you felt after or even now?

"Honestly? I don't know, Spencer." A resigned sigh leaves your lips. "I always wanted to think it was the right thing to do."

"You never regretted it?" He asks you, and you shrug, not knowing much to say. Instead, you opt to ask him the question back.

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I did," he admits. "Sometimes I still do."

A heavy silence settles between you. The admission that you both had doubts about the drastic decision you made almost ten years ago is difficult to take. It unfurls a whole new set of questions whose answers you are not sure you are ready to hear or say. But it's only fair he knows your truth as you know his now.

"For what is worth, me too. I regret it. More often than I would like to admit."

Spencer's heart starts to beat faster; breath hitches in his throat for a second.

He tentatively reaches out to rest his hand on yours. You watch the action and think you know what it means. His eyes are hopeful. Something you'd like to mirror in your own, but the uncertainty is there, and you can't help it.

"Spencer, no. Please, don't." You try to articulate but not take your hand away from his. "I wish I could tell you I'm willing to try- to try to make up for lost time, but I can't. Even though it may not seem like it, we're strangers to each other, and I'm not in a place to even think about- you know."

Spencer gives a little squeeze to your hand, nodding.

"I know. And I'm not asking you for us to redo our story and start from where we ended. No. But I would love to get to know you again and be your friend."

"Friends?" You ask, brows furrowed. He smiles.

"Yeah. First and foremost, you were always my best friend. My person. Even if we never get back together as a couple, and we don't have to, I don't want to lose you again."

You take a moment to think about his words. What would be the harm? You're at a stage in your life where you don't want to live thinking about those things you wish you had done and didn't. The things you might have done differently. Why not put reason aside for a moment and just be?

You squeeze his hand back, a sign of yes; you're willing to get to know the Spencer in front of you.

---------

Three months have passed since your conversation with Spencer at the coffee shop. You both agreed to reconnect as friends, which has led to many coffee meetings, lunches, dinners, movie nights, and walks in the park. And to say your heart feels full and happy would be an understatement. You've realized how much of the Spencer you met in Pasadena still exists, and the connection that once brought you together has revitalized and is stronger than ever.

Neither of you has wanted to rush things, and so far, you're both happy to be able to spend time together.

Spencer has also opened the door for you to the BAU team, which has been his family for eight years now. In addition to the bond you already had with Penelope, you now regularly attend the girls' night she hosts with JJ and Emily. You've also gotten to know Derek and Hotch better and understand why Spencer considers them like his older brother and father figure, respectively. You've also become a favorite of David Rossi, who doesn't take no for an answer every time he invites you to one of his dinners.

Like tonight, where you find yourself vividly chatting with the girls in a corner of Rossi's backyard.

"No way I could have passed Dynamics and Mechanics without Spencer," you acknowledge when you're talking about the most challenging subjects you had in college.

"It seems a very interesting topic," Emily jokes, not knowing what the hell you were talking about.

You giggle at the memory, cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"I still remember those afternoons Spencer spent trying to help me memorize the Euler–Lagrange equations and the Hamilton's principle. He made it interesting, if you know what I mean," you wink at them.

"I don't think I want to know," JJ muses. Emily snorts at the suggestion.

"Oh, I definitely want to know what that means," Penelope pipes. You chuckle.

"One night, he made me recite the whole equations with his head buried between my thighs," you confess with a mischievous look.

"Oh my God!" Garcia's jaw goes slack, and Emily's eyes widen in disbelief.

"You fucking kidding me!"

"Definitely, I didn't want to know that," JJ shakes her head.

"Well, I helped him with Applied Computer Science. He had to produce a code to operate a string of relational databases while I was on my knees su-"

"Okay! I get it!" Garcia cuts you off, with her hands in the air, as Emily laughs and JJ groans.

"You asked," you shrug, a smirk on your lips.

"Okay, okay. But hear me out. Since we are talking about college time, and honestly speaking, we all have had someone in college, more or less important, with whom to study or do other things," Emily prefaces, making you giggle. "But from that, to marry, and one year later to divorce? How do you get over something so intense like that?"

You have questioned yourself the same for years.

Looking past JJ's shoulder, you see Spencer talking with Morgan, beer in hand, and you can't help but feel the smile creeping on your face when he looks back and winks at you.

If anything, the past months have made you realize what you had back then with him was unique. But what you're having now? It is as unique as before and better.

"I don't think you get over it. And it's okay; you learn to appreciate it and value the chances life gives you after."

The girls follow your line of sight and share a knowing look. When they see Spencer approaching the group, they collectively decide to go inside the house for a new drink.

"All yours," Garcia whispers to Spencer before going in a bee-line with Emily and JJ.

"What was that?" Spencer asks you with a quirked eyebrow when the girls are out of sight.

You look at him, pretending not to understand.

"I assume they wanted a refill," you say with a shrug. Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And you don't? Do you want me to get you something?"

"No. I'm fine," you respond to his offer. "Besides, I think I've got my alcohol ration filled for the night."

"If you're done for the night, I can take you home if you want."

That's the Spencer you know, always concerned about your well-being and comfort. You shake your head.

"Not yet. Walk with me, though?" You ask, extending your hand for him to take. Without questioning reasons, Spencer nods and takes your hand. The two of you begin to walk towards the pool area, where the sound of the music coming from the house is less audible.

It's not unusual for you to hold hands now. You trust each other, and it's been an innocent way of showing affection. And while the tension of something more has been building, neither of you has wanted to take the next step yet.

When you stop in the pool deck, Spencer moves to stand in front of you, his free hand reaching to tilt your chin with his index so he can inspect your face for some kind of clue.

"Are you okay?"

You nod as your fingers, from your joined hands, absently play with his. A thorough smile tugs the corners of your mouth. Your eyes admiring Spencer's honey ones in the moonlight.

"More than okay," you admit. But Spencer knows there is more in your mind you're not saying.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." You're stretching this on purpose. A smirk plays on your face. Spencer knows what you are doing.

"Good." His voice is amused. This game was one you both used to play back then, testing each other's curiosity and seeing how long it took the other to demand an answer about what the other was thinking. Usually, you were the one who won since Spencer couldn't stand not knowing.

"Have you grown patient over the years, Dr. Reid?" You ask, entertained. Spencer's laughter fills you with a feeling you thought was dormant inside you, but he has managed to refloat.

Not wanting to prolong his torture, and because you don't have it in you to hold back any longer, you decide to speak.

"I know you remember, but can you tell me the first thing I said to you the day I met you?"

Spencer's eyes narrow in search of the moment you're referring to.

-

You were in the library, busily searching through the shelves for a book you couldn't find. Spencer could see the stress radiating off of you. After watching you for a few seconds, he decided to walk over to the shelf, and leaning down, he pulled a book from the top shelf before presenting it to you. "Maybe this is the one you're looking for?" And he was right. Your first thought was, 'How did I not see it before?' and then you realized the weirdest thing of all, 'how did he know which was the book you were looking for?' You didn't know the guy, and as far as you knew, he didn't know you either.

Seeing your confusion, he proceeded to explain. "It was an educated guess, seeing as you have Fuller's, Richmond's, and Helbert's there. I assumed you were in Thermodynamics 301 and didn't have Priest's."

-

Spencer laughs before trying to imitate your voice. "Can I buy you a coffee in appreciation and keep you in my purse for future reference?" You nod, smiling.

"Bold of me for asking that to a stranger, uh?"

"Bold of you for thinking I would ever refuse," Spencer says in a mocking tone to match your joke. You both share a fit of laughter. Once it subsides, your eyes fix on him.

"Bold of me to think I wouldn't fall in love with you after all these years." Your words hit Spencer, whose expression changes from light to serious in a second.

"What?"

"It's like they say. At some point, something has to give. And this is my moment." You pause before continuing. "I can't say I'm sure what's coming, because I'm not. I also don't know if what you've seen of me these past few months is worth enough for you to love me again. But there's one thing I do know. I love you. I loved you, I missed you, and now I've loved you again."

Spencer is speechless. His brain tries to piece together each word you say. You take both his hands in yours, and you can feel them tremble.

"If you'll have me, I want to be the one that stays," you add, hoping your words are good enough to convey your emotions.

You don't know when tears start running down your cheeks. It might be when you see Spencer's glassy eyes.

"I do love you. And I want you to be the one who stays," he rasps before releasing your hands to cup your cheeks with his own, leaning down to whisper, "Let me be the person you want to stay for."

"You already are," you whisper back before closing the distance between you, allowing your lips to meet in a tender, sweet kiss. A new promise and a new beginning for two souls that were meant to be. Thanks to fate, or maybe not. That doesn't matter anymore.

-

As you kiss, part, whisper sweet nothings to each other, and kiss again, not so far away, are two people watching the scene with satisfied looks on their faces.

"Do you see that, Hot Stuff?" Garcia asks Morgan. A smirk appears on his face.

"Yeah, mama. I see it, clear as the day."

"We did it!" Penelope cheers, whisper-yelling, making Morgan chuckle.

"I should never have doubted you, baby girl," the man says, kissing her cheek.

"Of course not. But I forgive you only because I'm so happy our plan worked wonderfully."

-----------

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

Penelope Garcia's curiosity always gets the best of her. She has gotten to know you better in the past months since the IA convention where you met. She sees you as a beautiful person and a good friend. So when you told her on a night full of alcohol about your ex-husband and how important your relationship was for you, Penelope couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to know more, so maybe she could do something to help. Do what? She didn't know, but maybe more information about it would give her an idea.

Quickly typing on her keyboard, she finds a Pasadena Marriage License with your name on it. Checking the date, Garcia notes you had married in the summer before your senior year. It was expected. You already told her that.

What was unexpected, though, was finding out who the person you had married was. Garcia had to read the name twice before realizing the huge discovery she had just made: Spencer Walter Reid.

'No way! It has to be a mistake,' she squealed, fast-reading the information on the papers. No, there wasn't any mistake. You married Spencer Reid almost ten years ago. The same Spencer Reid she has known for so long and works with her every day.

But wait. You had said, ex-husband. Where are the divorce papers?

Typing again, she finds a divorce request signed by you and Spencer a year after you married. So that is true, too.

Overwhelmed by everything she has just discovered, Garcia is about to close the web tabs with all this data when something pops up: it's a court resolution dated six months after the divorce request. The resolution reads that the request has been denied because one of the parts couldn't be notified for comparison to the Pasadena tribunal. Garcia narrows her eyes and types again, looking for an updated legal document granting the divorce request. She finds none.

'Double holy fucking shit! They are still married!'

Without knowing what to do with this new information, she starts pacing frantically in the office. Garcia knows that the information she found wasn't for her to know, but at the same time, how does it not you or Spencer know this? She can't tell you, but she should, or maybe not. Grabbing her phone, she dials the only person she knows will help her with the dilemma.

"Derek Morgan. I need your delicious ass in my office right now!"

And just like that, a plan emerged. A plan to give a little push to destiny. A little push to you and Spencer cross paths again. Maybe this time, for good.

-----------

"And when are you going to tell them about their failed divorce?" Morgan asks Garcia, who is still looking at the couple giggling and kissing.

"Oh, shush. Let them enjoy tonight. There will be time for that."

Derek Morgan shakes his head, laughing. "Okay. You're the boss, mama. You're the boss."

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[nevereclipse]

Daddy

Pairing: Tim Bradford x exwife!fbi!reader

Word count: 1k

Genre: angst

Requested: yes, here

Summary: After being called in to help on a manhunt, Tim's ex-wife has to drop off their son Oliver to Tim.

Warnings: mentions of separation & divorce, allusions to serial killers.

A/N: I hope this is kind of what you wanted? I struggled with this a bit!

---

Tim was well and truly ready to go home. It’d been a colossal day – a serial killer had crossed over from Nevada and, for some reason, had thought it LA would be the best place to hide. Meaning Tim had spent his entire day manhunting for a man who had yet to be found. The FBI had mobilized, and was set to be arriving any minute, and Tim really, really wanted to go home. There was a game on he didn’t want to miss, and honestly, his joints weren’t what they used to be, so he was ready to spend some well-deserved time on a sofa, alone, preferably with an ice-cold beer. He’d even shut his phone off completely, a rare occurrence, so that no one could disturb his piece. Not even Lopez or Chen.

Your day, on the other hand, was only just beginning. You’d been called into Mid-Wilshire to help with the manhunt for Seamus Connery at midday, but you hadn’t managed to arrive until almost five. Your six year old, Oliver, had been stubbornly refusing to leave the house, and you were admittedly hesitant to bring him into a room full of cops without confirmation that your husband would be able to take him for a night that wasn’t scheduled.

You’d tried to avoid going to Tim, of course. After your divorce was finalised things had been… messy. Not hateful, but messy. You’d fallen apart the same way you’d fallen in love: quickly and all-consumingly. You weren’t even divorced properly yet, but you’d moved away from Mid-Wilshire to Hollywood, and the thought of seeing Tim… ow. But your regular sitter hadn’t been available, and frankly, you didn’t know how long you’d been in Mid-Wilshire tracking Connery for.

So here you were.

You walked into the station, Oliver on your hip, searching for Tim before you had to brief the night shift about how they were proceeding. You scanned the room, but Tim was nowhere to be seen.

“Am I gonna... to stay with Daddy?” Oliver asked, looking up at you with the blue eyes that where entirely his fathers.

“Yeah, baby, you’re going to stay with your Daddy for tonight.” You replied, brushing a hand over his head. You still couldn’t find Tim.

“Excuse me,” you said, catching a dark-haired brunette woman by the arm. You smiled to yourself slightly at the graphicness of her tee. Clearly a detective. “Do you know where I can find Tim Bradford?”

The woman glanced at you appraisingly. “Depends, who are you?”

You considered telling her the truth for a moment, but you didn’t know how much Tim had told his coworkers about you, and… well, he wasn’t exactly the type to mix his personal and work life. So you settled on, “Agent L/N, FBI. I need to speak with him.”

The detective squinted briefly, but nodded, before turning and yelling across the open room, “Oi, Bradford! There’s an FBI agent here for you!”

Tim turned around, and your eyes found each other immediately. Even six months after the divorce, you were still stunned by him every time you saw him. As was your son, it seemed, because he immediately pushed his way out of your arms and ran towards his father.

“Daddy!” he yelled, stumbling over his tiny feet as he ran to Tim. He reached Tim quickly, and despite the pain, your heart fluttered slightly at the sight of Tim hugging his son.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, picking Oliver up and walking warily towards you. You weren’t supposed to drop Oliver off for another three days. “What’re you doing here?”

“Mummy… uh… Mummy…” Your son frowned and looked at you, evidently unsure what the reason for your impromptu trip was.

You smiled softly and addressed your answer more to Oliver than Tim. “Mommy has to help out with finding a really important person.”

Recognition flared in Tim’s eyes, “You’re here for Connery?”

You nodded, “I’m your FBI liaison.”

Tim laughed slightly. Not in a judgemental way, but in a way that screamed ‘what are the chances I’ll be working directly with my ex-but-not-really-ex-wife for the immediate future.’ You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Can you take Oliver tonight? I know it’s not your day, but I don’t… know how long I’ll be needed here for.” You gnawed at the flesh inside your mouth, hating having to ask Tim for anything anymore.

But of course, he just nodded. “Of course.” Tim’s eyes lingered on your face for a moment, but he quickly broke away to address Oliver, “What do you say, bud? You want to stay with Daddy tonight?”

Words couldn’t express your son’s joy, nor the look of pure shock on the detective’s face as she stared between you and Tim. There was another girl, younger, in a patrol uniform next to her. Both had dropped jaw and wide eyes. Tim ushered you away from them, and the feel of his hand on your shoulder seemed to burn through your clothes.

“Listen.” Tim paused, visibly hesitant. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

You shook your head, “I’ll find a motel somewhere. I’ll probably be spending most of my time at the station.”

Tim frowned, “You should stay with me. I know it’s…” He fumbled for a word, settling on, “awkward, but…”

You actually scoffed. “No, Tim. I… no. That’s not going to happen.” You knew he meant well, but you could barely fight the urge to laugh in his face. Sure, a big part of you that you tried your best to ignore still loved him, but you were also bitter. Bitter at how quickly the softness between you two had faded, how quickly everything had fallen apart. You’d been so good together, and now… you could barely look him in the eye.

Still, for your son’s sake, you put on a slight smile and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tim,” before focusing on your child.

You didn’t wait to hear Tim’s reply.

[kaliforniahigh]

I want you laying me down, 'till we dead and buried - n.s.

How Noah asked exwife!reader to marry him when they were young.

This is another installment to the exhusband!Noah and exwife!reader fic I posted recently. I'm not really good with timelines, but they're around 20 here.

Warnings: no warnings on this one, just pure fluff and a proposal.

WC: 1.1k.

It was a cold Sunday night, you and Noah were laying in bed, the cozy and heavy blankets over the two of you. You had just eaten dinner a couple of hours ago, and were now watching a movie on the television.

The bedroom wasn't big, neither was the apartment, but it was enough for the two of you. When you and Noah moved in together, you already knew it wasn't gonna be anything too fancy. Having just turned twenty, with you working as an apprentice at a studio downtown, and Noah making money from the gigs with his band, there was only so much you both could afford.

But it didn't stop you from feeling like you were living the life you've always wanted.

No amount of money could pay for the feeling of coming home from a stressful day and feeling Noah's arms enveloping you in his embrace. Or, when you felt like the whole world was against you, and he reassured you that everything was going to be fine.

"When we finally buy our big and fancy house, we're definely going to have a heating system for the winter", Noah says beside you. You let out a little laugh and snuggled closer to him.

"Why do we need a heating system? We can just share body heat", you say as he wraps his arms around you a little tighter, pulling you impossibly closer.

"And I love sharing body heat. I just don't like sleeping with this many blankets", he points out, grumbly. You think he's the cutest when he whines about simple things, like having to use too many blankets.

"Well, when we buy our big, fancy house, I want heated floors on the bathroom. I hate stepping on the cold floor when I just had a hot shower", you tell him, making you own request known, and it's his turn to smile.

You and Noah dreamed about the future a lot. How things are going to be in eight, or ten years. You don't know how to explain it, but you just had a feeling inside of you that was certain he would make it.

More often than not, Noah would tell you that his faith in this music thing he was trying was wavering. And he told you how uncertain he was about the path he has chosen in life. You just told him that it takes time. He has the talent and dedication - so much dedication - he just had to wait until the good things started happening.

What you always told him though, is that he should start singing too. You knew he wasn't as confident in his voice yet, but whenever you caught him muttering a song under his breath, or singing something when he tought you couldn't hear, you couldn't stop thinking of how much potential he had to create something incredible.

"Anything for the lady. You ask and it shall be delivered", he salutes in odedience and you laugh at his exaggeration, even though you knew he would keep this in his head for when the time came.

"Do you really think we're gonna have a big, fancy house?", you ask him, honestly. He thinks for a moment before answering.

"I really do", he affirms, leaving out the part where he knows you two will be married by then as well. Truthfully, he hasn't asked you yet solely because he didn't have the money to buy you the ring he thinks you deserve. But he has all of the intention in the world to marry you.

"Do you think we'll be married by then?", you ask and it catches him off-guard. Have you been reading his mind? Have you also been thinking about this as much as he has? You must've been, to ask him this question, so unprompted.

Marriage has been a topic of conversation a few times during your relationship, and both of you agreed that it would happen at the right time. You just didn't know when that would be.

"Do you want us to be married by then?", he throws back the question at you, trying to go off of your answer.

"Sure, but we don't know when that will be. What if it's in ten years? Do we want to wait that much?", you say, and he sure as hell knows he does not want to wait that much to marry you.

"I'd marry you next week if I could", he says, nonchalantly, as if that was the most normal thing to say.

You get up into a half sitting position, your elbow supporting you on the bed, as you look at him.

"Noah, please. Marriage takes a lot of planning and money", you observe.

"I know that, and I know that you'd love to plan everything to the last detail. I'm just saying that, if it was up to me, we'd have a marriage license by next week", he shrugs his shoulders, and you're still looking a him. He can't really tell what you're thinking, and he doesn't know if it scares him or not.

"Bold of you to say that when you haven't even proposed yet", you point out, a smirk on your lips, knowing that you got him there.

"Well, do you?", he asks.

"Do I what?"

"Do you want to marry me?"

"You know I want to marry you", you tell him. Does he really need to ask?

"I'm asking officially. Will you marry me?"

It takes you a second to register what he's actually asking you, but when it does, you can't believe it. You're inside your little apartment, laying in bed, hair disheveled and there's a weird stain on your pajama. But, somehow, you also think that it couldn't have been more perfect.

You gauge the way he's looking at you, and even though he wants to ask like he's not nervous, you can tell. His eyes are so expressive that has given him away more times than you could count. And, right now, he's looking at you like you're holding his entire world in your hands.

"Of course I'll marry you", you said, and throw yourself in his arms. In seconds, your lips are on his, and he's gripping the back of your head firmly, not wanting you to pull away. He's relieved, you can tell, and wonder if there's a world where he thought you would say no.

Because the prospect of getting to do this forever makes you the happiest you've ever been.

"We need rings now", Noah says against your lips, smiling.

"I have an idea if you don't mind", you suggest, and he tells you to go ahead.

You get up from the bed and grab your tattoo kit, and in an hour or so, both of you have two crisp lines tattooed on your ring fingers. Yours a little more wobbly than Noah's, since he doesn't have the experience you have with tattoo machines. But you don't really care. This is perfect.

"There we go", Noah says, putting his hand on top of yours, observing your handy works. "Forever".

"Forever".

Tag list: @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @bloody-spades @mysterygirl-srl @lacy1986 @dream-machine-love @theanarchymuse95 @missduffsblog @xmads-omensx @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @pipidoll @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @kissestomyomens @hedonist-k1l @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @daemontargaryenwife @h0riz0nsiren @astronoids @flowery-mess @renegadebirch

If you haven't been tagged, it's because your blog doesn't mention your age, or it is empty!

[oneforthemunny]

Hellurrrrr, could I request ex husband Eddie / smut / morning after

this is gonna send the masses into a tizzy, i fear lol. minors dni smut.

"Mm, good mornin', sweetheart." The low gravel of Eddie's voice rumbled against your back, skin to skin, his long arms still wrapped around you from the night before.

It felt strangely normal, despite how un-normal this entire thing was. Getting back together after the divorce. After the papers were signed and lives were separated but never untethered entirely. Now, Eddie was staying over more and more, longer with each counseling session you two went to.

"Morning," Your voice was hoarse with sleep, rolling to face him, the blue tinged light from the snowy morning peeking through your blinds, falling over Eddie's features.

"How'd you sleep, beautiful?" Eddie muttered, his nose brushing over your cheek, skin still warm from sleep.

"Good," You hummed, melting back into the covers, his lips moving to press warm, full lipped kisses down your cheek, your jaw.

"Yeah?" You could hear Eddie's grin though his words. "Told you I'd put you to sleep." The playful rasp in his voice was still there from the night before.

"You just gotta let me take care of you. I always take care of you, don't I?" His hands moved up your frame, sliding over your hips, over your bare skin towards your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and pointer.

"Hm," Eddie's lips buzzed against your neck, body sliding over yours. "Let me hear you, baby. I always take care of you don't I?"

"Yes," You mewled, voice shaking as you tried to keep quiet. The kids were still asleep, somehow. You'd blame the snow day from the day before as the reason they stayed asleep so late.

"Don't tease, Ed. We don't have a lot of time." You turned, lips moving into his skin, teeth grazing over his collarbone.

Eddie swallowed back his own groan, free hand slipping between the two of you, fingers sliding teasingly over your folds, circling your clit.

"I won't, I gotcha, sweetheart. Just relax f'me. Let me make you feel good for a second." A final kiss to your lips, swallowing down a moan, as his fingers worked over you again, feeling you buck and move under the covers and under him.

[msfantasy-anime]

My Ex-Wife

Monkey D. Luffy x ExWife!Reader

Summary: Luffy runs into his ex wife at the docks

A/n: after the marine wife request, it got me thinking about alternative timelines. Like what if Luffy ‘married’ Y/n in their childhood and Y/n actually believes it and went along with it— but declared divorce when Luffy left the island to pursue his dreams of becoming the king of the pirates…. Btw the original can be read here

“Y/n!”

That voice.

That loud, grating, boisterous, voice that rattles your brain, and it’s unmistakably his.

You freeze mid-step, your heart pounding at the unexpected encounter, you’d almost believe the world stopped if it weren’t for the commotion of the docks and the seagulls screeching above.

You didn’t dare to turn around, only hoping that if you don’t respond, he’ll assume he mistook your figure and go back to whatever the hell he’s doing.

But then again, this is Luffy we are talking about… you can already picture the wide, toothy grin stretched across his stupid face.

Before you can even consider running away, his rubber arms slingshot out and yank you straight into a bone-crushing embrace.

“Oft—! Luffy! Let me go!” You squirm, but it’s useless. His grip is unrelenting, strong in a way that reminds you —

God— shut up brain!

You scold yourself.

“I missed you!” he says, laughing as if you weren’t actively trying to peel yourself out of his grasp.

“Yeah? Well I sure as hell didn’t miss you!” You lie, wriggling harder to escape his grasp and avoiding those warm welcoming eyes you use to look into so fondly.

Luffy pulls back just enough to grin at you, but his arms remain locked around your shoulders, as if letting go would make you disappear.

“Still mad huh?” He begins to chuckle in that dismissive way that send your blood boiling. He finally releases you from his hold, the loss of his tight grip has your heart twisting.

“Um Luffy, aren’t you going to introduce us to this beauty?” Sanji questions, taking your hand and begins to pucker his lips as he lean into your knuckles for a royal smooch.

Before Sanji had the pleasure to kiss your knuckles, Luffy’s thick hand smacks centre into Sanji’s face, pushing him away from your form.

“Don’t kiss my wife!” Luffy announces making his crew drop their jaws at the sudden proclamation.

His crew watches with wide, confused eyes, their curiosity practically radiating off them.

“Your WHAT?!” They all scream in unison.

“I’m not your wife damn it! And you know it!” You wave, folding your arms into your chest with a huff.

“Aw, come-on, you’re not seriously still mad about it are ya?” Luffy asks, his puppy dog eyes glistening up at you.

“Huh? So… who are you?” Nami finally asks.

“Are you deaf Nami?! I just said Y/n is my wife!” A vein pops straight from Nami’s head.

“I can hear perfectly fine moron!” Luffy begins to whine in pain as Nami pinches harshly at her captains cheeks. “And what I heard was her denying you’re married!”

You slap a hand over your face with a groan.

“Oh, for the love of—Luffy, we are NOT married!”

“Yes, we are,” he argues, completely serious. “We had a wedding and everything.”

“And you left me on the bloody island to go off and become a pirate king all by yourself!”

Luffy shrugs. “But you said you didn’t want to become a pirate so—.”

“So you left me without saying goodbye?! I would’ve become one for you Luffy!” You feel a headache coming on. A very familiar one.

“No.” Luffy says firmly, all smiles gone. His serious attitude coming out. “I want you to follow your own dream — even if it’s without me.”

“You were my dream damn it!” You yell, suddenly the crew felt like they were somewhere they shouldn’t be. “But whatever— it’s done now anyway.” You say— a bit more defeated. “If you’re going to introduce me — you better do it correctly. Because Im your ‘ex’ wife.”

Luffy stares at you blankly. “Nope— you’re my wife.”

There was no use talking to this baffoon, he just doesn’t get it.

Sanji, ever the hopeless romantic, takes a long drag from his cigarette. “So this is why you turned down Boa Hancock…”

Luffy beams, completely unbothered. “Of course! Y/n’s my only wife.”

Your eye twitches. “For the last time, I AM NOT—” But there was not use. You glare at Luffy, who’s just standing there, grinning like an idiot.

Same as always.

You want to be mad. Really, you do.

But looking at him now, standing so confidently, so sure of himself… it’s hard to ignore the way your heart stumbles just a little.

Damn it.

After all this time you thought your heart followed your demand… but Luffy still has it beating to the sound of his drum.

Tag (this is not technically part of the My Wife Series- but an alternative time line— I’m just tagging you in case)

@sriish @laws-wife-things @withthistreaserisummon @kazuubaby @matronofthevoid @shondlenoodle @azndance98-blog @coffiviv @200th-piece-of-glass @princess-vibes25 @jetblackw1ngs @tellynojelly @twistedcece @anyaswlrd

[g1rlken]

Last golden thoughts

Bucky Barnes x fem!exwife reader

*follows the original thunderbolts plot line and thunderbolts!Bucky

Warnings: minor spoilers, mild swearing, angst?

Word count: 4.7k+

summary: Congressman Barnes’ marriage did not end for the better only for his paths to cross again with his ‘wife’ in the most unpleasant fashion where he last expected her to be

an: you guys went crazy over this so I had to finish this in two days we are sooooooo back

—

​As red guardian’s fancy, gaudy and however bulletproof-ish limousine made a flip at Bucky’s detonator. The relieved group of delinquents inside were overcome with shock, bracing themselves for the fall, gripping handles tightly as the surprisingly present airbags opened in their faces. Ghost was the first one out evidently being more equipped to exit in the blink of an eye. Others fell with a thud a collective ache in everyone’s joints, groaning trying to find their way out ever so impatiently. Ghost broke the door open as Bucky was getting closer. In the front seat red guardian needed most strength to be extracted out of the vehicle.

By then Bucky had reached with a task at hand, Ava and Yelena focused more on trying to get red guardian out, “Not cool man” Alexei said in his heavy accent to the long haired who they’d assumed was here to help them.

With a swift tug with his metal arm Bucky pulled the backseat door right off its hinges, before he could lean John was already on his way out, the person following John out made his eyes widen. “You?!” He exclaimed putting his hands on her shoulders instinctively but she brushed him off and got out herself. “Have you lost your mind?! Don’t tell me you were in the goddamn vault with these-“

Standing up on her feet instantly, trying to regain balance given her vision was a bit dizzy after going through a flipping car. “You lunatic-“ she lunged at him but she was still evidently dizzy and had weak steps, he easily dodged. “You could have gotten us all killed!”

“Stop, stop!” Bucky’s hands were surprisingly of a gentle grip on her shoulders yet again, wanting her to find her footing again. “Are you alright?” He asked scanning for major injuries, if he had known she was in the car he would approached in a way less reckless way.

“Get off of me-!” Taken aback by his might to just downplay the weight of the situation, falling into old habits like they were getting reunited or something.

“Husband mode eh?” Alexei commented with a snicker, Bucky took it well, someone else didn’t.

“He’s not my husband!” She barked almost instantly and pushed Bucky even further, even after he’d let go off her shoulders.

Another truck circled around them, “With me” Bucky told them expecting them to follow without much resistance was really some heavy wishful thinking.

The red guardian was already walking, a lot of faith in the metal armed man when Yelana stoped him by his arm, “And why should we just follow you after you crashed us?”

“Bucky you do realise you could get years for attempted murder on captain America-“ Jon was stopped mid sentence by the others taking an offence at him calling himself captain America and less bothered by the attempted murder.

“You were all being chased by trucks with machine guns and I’m sure more are on the way. This is the middle of nowhere if you have better options than getting in the truck you’re all very welcome to do so” Bucky said crossing his arms, the truck driver probably one of bucky’s favour agents got on his bike and left the truck for him.

Red guardian was the first to pitch in to agree with him, Yelena and Ava had their suspicions. “It’s the worse of two I suppose” Ava said with a sigh.

“It’s not like you have anything on us and we outnumber you so there’s that.” Yelana started walking as the rest followed, no obvious threat so far.

“If it’s our help you need Bucky you know you can just ask.” Walker said with his ever high confidence in himself, it never fails to be less staggering.

“Are you people actually considering this?!” Y/n was the only one who stayed put in her place not trusting everyone’s and especially bucky’s instincts to follow him into god knows where, “We can’t trust this man-“

“‘This man’ honey? Really?” Bucky quoted her absolute disregard for their history like he was some stranger she detested so much. He wasn’t walking back to the truck either, well aware of stubborn she was he was ready to let this play out for a while and eventually take matters, her, quite literally into his own hands.

“Don’t call me that!” The disgust on her face was as though he had committed at atrocity, the others had already started accommodating themselves in the truck for her to get her point across.

“You know all this anger really isn’t good for your health.” He told her, leaning a bit forward and she stiffened.

“You know what would be good for you? Letting me be” she told him uncrossing her arms and the last of her ‘loser’fest team were already walking into the truck.

“Why would you get yourself into this mess? You know you are better than this and please don’t tell me you were in the vault” it felt so natural to fall back into old habits for Bucky. The soft scolding with an undertone of concern and frustration. He didn’t miss this feeling of dread that he was yet again so close to losing her but he was grasping at straws into conversations with her, after the divorce she had blocked his number, locked their old apartment just recently because he kept finding reasons to visit her over and over. Even stopped all streaming subscriptions he couldn’t even work through without her so if this was the conversation he could make he’d take what he can get.

“You are the last person I’m answerable to.” She clarified him losing his keeping tabs privileges on her as their marriage fell. It was the least pleasant feeling to be harsh against anyone, even him, despite of what he did. But if it she acted even a bit less colder it would give him hope to no end. So she kept it up and walked across him, he stayed unmoving from her way and her shoulder brushed his somewhat rudely she didn’t even account it. He felt good about her casually striding against him as if his touch didn’t repel her anymore. Idiot.

Before she could climb into the back of the truck with the rest of them he stopped her getting inside himself first and swiftly started cuffing everyone, “hey what the hell” Yelena said struggling against him but those high tech binds were so swift she couldn’t retaliate in enough time.

“Come on Bucky you know me is this really necessary?” John scoffed trying to break free of the cuffs but or was no use.

“She was right” Ava said nodding at the woman standing outside the truck unfazed Bucky would pull this, trying to make the run for it into ghost mode but the cuffs kept her hands in place so she couldn’t even move forward in her projecting form.

“You, in the front” Bucky said looking back at her and she obviously defied it.

“Why?” She scoffed not wanting to walk into his plan after he literally cuffed all her acquaintances. “We are not your little evidential gifts against Valentina”

“She did try to kill you all” Red guardian chimed in as Yelena nodded about the fact.

“It doesn’t align with our principles if he is the one who turns us in, we could do it ourselves” the fact that ‘Congressman Barnes’ would get all credit for brining Valentina’s assets in after they risked their lives to get out really didn’t sit right with her.

“Why would we turn ourselves in at all?” Ava questioned not really into the idea of getting under oath whatsoever.

“Exactly. It is up to us what we decide not him” So glad the others saw her point at least now, despite of walking into getting themselves tied up.

“It really isn’t” he shrugged and pointed to another one of automobiles from vault’s base at a far distance. “Say no and I’d leave you all here to fend for yourself.” No one but her would be ready to call his bluff. He knew that she knew that too well that he would rather fight off nearly everyone in that truck than put her in harm’s way but he had to convince the others somehow and it seemed to work well enough as he got out of the back container to get into the driver’s seat.

“Why doesn’t she get tied up?” John questioned as she had to walk to the passenger seat on Bucky’s uncalled for demand.

“She is the missus!” Red guardian said stating the obvious and a shrug, already under the cool influence of Bucky to question it.

“They’re divorced” John pointed out

“Doesn’t seem like it was mutual” Yelena commented gaining a snicker from Alexei.

-

In the front, looking out the window as Bucky pushed it on the accelerator, “Where are we going?”

“New York” he answered her without much debate or resistance, if he were to recall there was never a time he could lie to her. He would never want to.

She didn’t have much questions to ask because she didn’t want to give answers to the ones he would ask back, not without consulting the rest anyways. Besides she would rather turn herself in than to afford another conversation with him. With a heavy sigh she looked out the window crossing her arms.

He looked in her direction, eyes softening despite the gravity of the situation they were in. The exhaust on her face was evident, “There are some pain killers in the cabinet.” He told her.

No response for her equated to her disinterest in taking them, he knew she hated any sort of antibiotics or meds just to push through her pain but it was worth the shot, as stubborn as she was he hates her open wounds. He opened the cabinet and got out the patching kit, whilst his other hand was still on the steering wheel. He opened the pack between his teeth and applied antiseptic on the patches, without asking he put it on her forehead where she’s seemed to have taken a bad hit. “Ow” she grumbled in pain but needless to say it was a required patchwork for the bleeding. “I’ve got it” she said taking it from his hand on her forehead into her own.

Her palms against his arm…he hadn’t felt it in so long. His hand was much larger in her comparison he’d always noted that. Being reminded of that again made him want to intertwine his fingers in hers and hope she could undo every moment he had to be away from her.

Eventually he took his hand away and put it on the driving clutch, even though it wasn’t a manual drive, he just couldn’t contain the life coursing through him after her hands touched him against. It’s these minuscule of interactions with her that gave him so much purpose. At first when he saw her in the flipped car he felt awful she was here in the first place but now he has her right next to him on the road to New York and he feels bad for wishing the miles are longer than they usually are.

“Hey this is not a manual drive” she was quick to pick that up when he didn’t take his hand off the clutch for a while being lost in thought, unrecovered from her touch.

“Oh” he nodded taking his hand off and back to the steering, “I know” he had to shift the conversation “You practised on our old manual when you were renewing your license right?”

“Your old manual was a good car” she said emphasising on ‘your’ given the fall out.

“I wonder why we let it go.” He was left bemused trying to remember what was the reason to let it go given it wasn’t a bad car.

“You wanted to let it go because it was taking up too much space in the garage after the engine got way too old to be repaired” She reminded him thinking back to it now, it had become an old junk but the two of them held onto it for quite a while. Working on it on the weekends, basically he’d work on it and she would keep the conversation. She had a joke that Bucky was pursuing his abandoned mechanic dream every weekend on that car, that black sleeveless vest top laying his biceps all bare and as hot as he was working on the engine she hated the grime and the smell of automobile oil, he would purposely encage her between his arms and kiss her all over, then shower together later. Snap out of it.

“Had a good run with it, it even had a cassette player system” Bucky looked at her but she wasn’t looking back at him. Clearing her throat she shifted in her seat, they got rid of that car before they had a conversation of getting rid of their marriage but maybe the forthcoming was evident.

“It didn’t have that you modified it that way because we had a lot of cassettes between us” she corrected him as her lips curled into a small smile.

“Oh right” he nodded mirroring her smile, it just happened with him involuntarily every time she smiled and this was his first time in a while. “I think I lost some from my set, I maybe have 10-12 tapes left which is crazy given my set had about a 100”

“How would you lose them you never took them out of the house?” She asked with a faux confused look on her face.

“Exactly! It’s like they just vanished” he told her shaking his head, “I think the house needs a bit going over for me to find them”

Just humming in response she leaned back in the seat as the two fell into silence again, it wasn’t comfortable but it wasn’t awkward either. Nostalgia was often ugly. Their minds were going through ugly sweet things, Bucky’s mind wasn’t going through nostalgia it was in its usual state: consistent reminiscing of their marriage. In his life he didn’t have much things to lose in the first place except for her, she was the last golden thoughts he could have before he’d sleep and the first before he’d wake up all day, everyday. He didn’t have much to think back to fondly but it changed when she walked out of his life.

As he drove through the terrains, glancing through both the side view mirrors then back at her, she had fallen asleep. Leaning against the window, her eyes closed with a completely serene expression on her face he hadn’t seen in so long. She had actually fallen asleep around him. The scene had a strange intimacy to him, the fact that her mind still considered him safe enough to fall asleep around. Even after all dodged calls and messages, all the get-outs, changing her ways to not come across him in the city, telling everyone her mistrust in ‘this man’ yet she could fall asleep with him at the wheel just like the old times.

When they reached the abandoned safe house Bucky didn’t deem it proper to wake her up when she was already so exhausted. The others tied up and over explaining the Bob situation did not let her absence go unnoticed “What did you do with her?!” Ava asked, high suspicions it wasn’t good.

“We should have listened when she told us to be careful about you, he probably left her back there” Yelena said with a scoff, such a decorated man stooping so low.

“Woah woah” Bucky was crazed at the fact that these people assumed that he would hurt her, of all people. “She is still in the truck, she was sleeping very soundly so I didn’t want to wake her up.”

The red guardian snickered, “A real lover!” He commented in a positive way.

“Grow a pair, Bucky” John scoffed leaning against his binds, the man was on the phone for a while and would’ve happily disregarded Walked’s comments anyways.

“Are you like the podcast men?” Alexei asked facing Walker.

“—What does that mean?”

“Toxic masculinity, not good, insecure—bad just bad, are you them?” Alexei listed off his

very accurate descriptions of men who run podcasts.

“Men who run podcasts aren’t all that” Walker said rolling his eyes at the man’s poor judgement of those guys. “Besides Bucky is not a real lover, he’s freshly divorced”

“Do you not see the wedding ring?” Alexei asked nudging in bucky’s direction, the thick gold band was hard to miss: by anyone.

“Probably just wears it because it’s real gold or something” which was a bit ironic because even as a separated husband he didn’t have one on.

“On his wedding finger?” Ava asked raising a brow as she indulged in the divorce too, tied up they had nothing better to talk about.

Before Yelena could pitch in her two cents too, Bucky got off the phone and started freeing the set of ‘thunderbolts’ out of their ties. Giving them a brief explanation of wanting to help Bob they were all on board, as they headed back down to the truck, it was empty. The back and the front, the highly trained ex assassin went full into visible panic mode with her out of sight. A specific drop of his heart only her absence could cause him to feel.

It was difficult trying to explain to the bunch of all-of-a-sudden-ride-or-dies god knows where she picked up from, that her husband of three years and counting with a small bump of divorce of four months would be the last person in this world to hurt her. However difficult it was he managed to get his point across and decided they were off to a detour before getting to Valentina’s HQs.

Once they loaded back in the truck he drove with determination to get where he had deduced he would find her. Their old apartment, she kept her original gear there. If there was one thing he knew about her she was to never back down from a fight, however big and impossible. That had been his biggest fright throughout their marriage, not a single bone in his body had moved on from.

Bucky thought he could fetch her back down himself but he thought wrong, apparently they did not trust him with her so all or thunderbolts went up the six story building. As expected the door was open, “How many times have I told you to keep this locked?” It really wasn’t difficult to fall back into old habits. Always leaving in a hurry, always forgetting to lock doors. He thought to himself but it wasn’t just about locking the door when he hoped the door was open.

“Again?!” She exclaimed walking out of the bedroom into the living fixing the belts around her gear, her old gear. The most trusted one. It was a superstition of hers really, Bucky knew it affected nothing no combat flexibility or space…it was just old. “How did you all not manage to lose him?”

“We didn’t know if you left or he did something” Ava filled her in about her doubting their capabilities to lose Bucky by choice.

“He wouldn’t.”

“—I wouldn’t!”

Both of them said at the same time.

To avert the sync she refocused on strapping her knives into her suit, in all places and possible belt gaps. “Hey, is that mine?” Bucky’s attention went to the set of two in her hands she was about to fixate.

“No it’s not.” Caught, she hurriedly tried to wrap it in her suit.

“Yes it is, those are mine!” He huffed; it had been a long while since he had to be in a position where he would need all his knives but he remembers and counts all the ones he’s had and he knew exactly which ones were missing, surprisingly right after the divorce. “That set is a wedding gift from Sam if I remember correctly!”

“Exactly! It was my wedding too I can keep them!” She stood her ground, well aware it was a set of two, one for him&her type but it was too beautiful to break the set and she wanted both those knives. He hadn’t noticed it this entire time.

“You don’t get to keep them both I get to keep one.” He argued, validly so. “I can’t believe you just took these both with you letting me know once”

“You never asked! All this time you kept coming at my place for the pillow covers, cushions-literally last month you knocked on my door because you thought I took the tv remote with me! You never asked about these” she pointed at the knives and somewhere along the lines both of them knew Bucky was just finding reasons to see her again and she was allowing it too.

“Wow” Yelena commented at the desperate measure. Given the time they were short on this bickering was too intresting to be stopped abruptly.

In the haste to keep the knives to herself in her suit dropped it, giving Bucky the leverage to pick it up and examine it. He bent down to get it and found stored cassettes in the coffee table. “You have got to be kidding me!” He exclaimed frustrated as he got out all the cassettes, he thought were missing. “You had these the whole time?!”

“—I must have packed them by mistake when I moved out” she shrugged trying to downplay how purposeful it was but he saw through it.

“These are all my classics, you didn’t even ask me before taking them in the settlement?!” Bucky huffed going through the tapes.

Cursing under her breath she face palmed herself, for some reason this day was getting way too long. “Look I know the divorce agreement never said-“

“I didn’t even read that” Bucky scoffed shuffling through the tapes he thought he had ‘lost.’

“You signed it without reading?” Surprised she raised her brows.

He put the box down on the coffee table and nodded with a shrug, making a mental note that he will come by at her place over and over for all the tapes and not just take them altogether. There were around 93 tapes in there which belonged to him. 93 excuses to see her. “It was you, I just trust you.”

“See!” Alexei cackled giving Walker a big pat on his back for being right about the lovers fact. “Very silver springs”

“Silver springs?” Yelena asked raising her brows at the refrence.

“Like the song.” Alexei spoke with his thick accent ‘Like zhe songh’ “Never get away from the sound of a woman that loved you” he even relayed the lyrics from the group, Ava nodding at the obvious relation.

“He still wears the wedding ring though” Yelena pointed out trying to frame the dynamics of who’s who for the song reference.

“He would be Stevie Nicks.” Ava clarified stating the obvious as Alexei smiled wide at her, nothing like someone getting the perfect reference.

“What the hell?” The ex wife in question did not take that insult lightly, she didn’t point it out all these months why he still kept wearing the wedding ring. “Real good manipulation tactics, Congressman Barnes.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Bucky exclaimed unsure how he got under the bus even though the Silver Springs refrence say very right with him. Eire how that refrence came up when no one knew he’s been having sessions of that song in his car ever since she left.

“You need to take off that wedding ring and the whole oh-she-left-me boo hoo theatrics like it wasn’t a mutual decision!” She let out unable to keep it in after these months of heartbroken yet preserving congressman Barnes, all the press issues.

“You know it wasn’t.” Bucky shot back, “I just didn’t want to you to work for Valentina and look what you’re gearing up for! The woman who tried to incinerate you!”

“It was a miscalculation of the job I took up and I got myself alive out of that” it was so frustrating trying to debate this again.

“You chose working for her over me! Over our marriage!” Bucky’s voice grew a bit louder than when he said before and the others just witnessed this break out awkwardly.

“Shouldn’t we let them have this conversation privately?” John muttered looking for the cue to exit this scene.

“No.” Alexei, regardless of his fanboy tendencies towards Barnes, he was somewhat interested in witnessing this, he was the least tensed person in the room. Ava and Yelena didn’t want to exit for the sake of interjecting just in case.

“No I chose a life you couldn’t dictate!” She cried out just as intensely as his voice. “And do not put this on me as if you don’t know what you did.”

“I saved your life that day. Just like today.” Bucky said in a lower voice flatly. Very unbothered and cold to the notion of saving her life, it was such a given to him. She would put herself in such situations and he would just have to make do. Reckless with not much thought but he could always rely on himself to keep that head over her shoulder.

“You put me in danger that day!” The agony in her voice was so evident, “You let me work on that assignment for months and on the final day—you leaked my coordinates on purpose so that Congressmen Barnes can have the best packet, you wanted to Valentina dragged to court and you got that at my expense.”

Putting his arms on his hips; taking in a deep breath. It was planned yes, he gave the feds her location for the OXE group mission she was put on, he could have told her to never take up the job but it had already led to so many countless fights. She had helped him through his electoral campaigns, supported him through it all but it just wasn’t the right fit for her. Combat was all she had known life to be so far, so her let her have her gigs. However he didn’t realise she could also work for Valentina without much thought and by the time he could pitch in she had already accepted the joke. He could have stopped it then too, but he didn’t. There was a bigger gig for him in it, exposing his wife’s secret assignment is how he got Valentina into impeachment proceedings.

Bucky wasn’t proud of keeping it a secret from her the entire time she was working on that assignment but it didn’t prove to be non fruitful, “I am the one who had to bear the expense of you leaving because you didn’t have it in yourself to stay, you just ran. Like a coward. Like always.”

That was a poke at a really old wound, she wasn’t a habitual leaver but at times when stuff got emotionally thick her fight or flight response was not fight. The first time, before they were even together…she always stayed away and distant and after their job was done, Sam upholding the shield. She just left. Leaving everything between Bucky and herself to be unsaid and be lost in fragments of season he just went after her, got the girl and the resr was history. Wretched, domestic, sad, far, a marriage in their history. However she couldn’t stomach that, “You piece of shit-!” She lunged at him full force and he barely held up his defence. More than happy for her to have at it.

“Woah woah woah” Walker spoke as chaos erupted in the small living room itself, not even out in the field yet.

Yelena got a hold of her however Ava wasn’t into the idea of not letting her get her frustration out, Alexei pulled back away, “We are the thunderbolts. Thunderbolts don’t fight ourselves. Not like this.” He said as the fight seemed to break.

“I am no teammates with any of you, especially that man!“ anger still coursing through her she pointed at Bucky as Yelena kept swaying her farther.

“Yeah yeah I think he gets it” Yelena tried to soothe her anger down so he could move on from this outburst.

“Can we just move on with the task at hand?” Before John could even finish that sentence Bucky was walking out the apartment broodingly, slamming the door open out of his way.

She stayed in her place taking in a few deep breaths in order to process it fast enough as everyone left, Yelena stayed with her, nodding off to red guardian in a small look that said ‘I’ve got her.’ “You okay?”

“-Yeah…let’s just get going.”

-

Please let me know if this story is a drag…for some reason it seemed better in my head than this! Regardless tune in for final two if you liked it! ;)

tags: @blowingbarnes @pattiemac1 @scrumptiousloser @suffragette-cities @toaster-fork @accoochtrement @forthelovelyheart @western-nightss @itsmeamysworld @taniamunson @dakota-rain666 @seventeen-x @bvckys-doll

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 3

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Series Masterlist

Melvania furrowed her eyebrows as there was a knock on her front door. She looked at the clock that hung on the wall just above the entryway to her kitchen and set her coffee mug down on the counter as she saw it was just after 7 am. 

“Josh?” She asked her baby brother as she opened the door, shocked to see him at her house so early. “What are you doing here?” 

“We need to talk.” He said gruffly. “Can I come in?” Mel nodded and opened the door wider for him to enter her home. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked as she followed him into the living room and sat down on the couch across from the chair he had sat in. 

“No, not really. It’s about yesterday. With Kiyana.” Mel scoffed and rolled her eyes. 

“I should have known.” She muttered, sitting back and folding her arms. “Lemme guess, princess couldn’t handle hearing the truth so she sent you here to set me straight?” She scoffed again. “She is a whore and I'm not apologizing for saying it Joshua.” 

“That’s the mother of my kids Mel, whether you like it or not, you will not say no shit like that again while my kids are around.Yes, Kiyana fucked Joe.” Josh paused and clenched his fist together, he was still having a hard time dealing with that. “But I had an affair first, aight. I fucked up my marriage not Kiyana.” Mel rolled her eyes at his little speech. 

“To be completely honest baby bro, I could care less. She hurt you and that’s all I care about.” 

“You don’t have to like her, I mean you never did. But what you will do is respect the mother of your nephews.” Josh said as he stood up from her couch and walked out of his sister's house without saying another word to her. 

Next stop, Kiyana’s house..

“Boys!” Kiyana yelled from the bottom of the steps. “What's taking so long!” She rolled her eyes as all she got back were giggles in response. She playfully glared over at Kairo when he started to giggle in his pack’n’play. “And what so funny?” She teased picking him up just as there was a knock on her front door.  

“Dada!” Kairo squealed, reaching his arms out for Joshua as Kiyana opened the door. 

“What are you doing here?” He handed her the flowers in his hand and took Kairo from here. “Who are these for?” She rolled her eyes at the look he gave her. 

“Who else would they be for? Open it.” She eyed the box warily and opened it, shocked to see it was red roses with the letter K in  white roses. “You like it?” 

Kiyana nodded, “Yes, thank you.” 

“You welcome ba-” He paused and stopped himself. “You’re welcome Kiyana. I’m sorry for letting Mel run her mouth yesterday and not stopping her.”  Kiyana said nothing and set the flowers down on the console table. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked again and Josh sighed. 

“I wanted to take my family to breakfast.” Kiyana nodded and bit her lip.

“Ok, The boys are already dressed. We were going out with my mom, but I guess they can go with you.” She walked into the living room and Josh followed her, shutting the front door behind him. 

“No, Key. Not just me and the boys, you too.”  Kiyana arched an eyebrow and shook her head. 

“No, that’s not a good idea. We’re div-” 

“Divorced, I know.” He cut her off. “You don’t gotta say that shit every time we see each other.” 

“We’re not family anymore Joshua. You and your family made that perfectly clear yesterday.” Josh set Kairo down in his pack n play and walked closer to Kiyana, who stepped back.  

“I’m sorry Key. I was in my feelings yesterday and I apologize. So please, can we take our sons to breakfast?” 

 To Samara 👯‍♀️: Need to get this nigga head checked out… From Samara 👯‍♀️: Who? Lol what happened To Samara 👯‍♀️: Joshua, he showed up this morning w/ flowers and apologizing for Mel.  From Samara 👯‍♀️: …. Girl  To Samara 👯‍♀️: And now we’re at breakfast bc he wanted to take his ‘family’ out.  To Samara 👯‍♀️: Oh and he played our song on the way to breakfast and kept looking at me out the corner of his eyes  From Samara 👯‍♀️: not beauty by dru hill, lmao too little to late josh smh

“Who you texting?” Josh asked and Kiyana furrowed her eyebrows. 

“Samara.” He nodded, surprised that she actually answered him. He took a sip of his orange juice and watched as she cut up Kaiden’s waffle for him. 

“Joe’s back in Pensacola.” He blurted out and Kiyana paused her cutting and looked up at him. 

“Okay..” She trailed off with a shrug. “Why are you telling me.?” Why in the hell is he bringing up Joe? She thought and then swallowed hard as she remembered the text message she received last night. 

“Cause we had a deal, Kiyana.” Kiyana tilted her head at Josh. She then looked at he kids and noticed that they were busy on their I-PADS (yes, they’re I-PAD kids… don’t judge her) 

“Josh, we're divorced. I can talk to whoever I want to.”  Josh scoffed and shook his head, 

“I don’t want him around my sons, Kiyana.” She sighed and rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. 

“I do not and will not talk to him. Joshua. Me and Joe have nothing to talk about, okay?” She said, just to get him to shut the hell up. Pleased with her answer, Josh let out a sigh of relief and sent a smile her way. 

“Thank you” Kiyana didn’t say anything back to him, she just sighed and looked out the window, wishing she was anywhere but at that diner. 

A.N/ Kiyana will forever love Joshua, he was her first everything. She did file for divorce first but no matter what she will always be inlove with him.

🏷️ : @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @bemybabiibish

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[drabbles-mc]

Different Now

Bucky Barnes x ExWife!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst

For Week 5 of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer 2024: exes

Word Count: 6k

A/N: something about Bucky and an ex-wife really got me Thinking Thoughts. hope y'all enjoy!!! xo

The apartment wasn’t something that you had asked for when it was all said and done. Really, you hadn’t asked for anything. The only things that you wanted weren’t things that could be divvied up by overpriced divorce lawyers.

When you had tried to tell Bucky that you weren’t interested in keeping the apartment, he wasn’t having it. You tried to argue that it had been his to begin with, that you were the one that moved in with him. It only made sense for you to be the one to move right back out again. But he was adamant—he always was. His argument then had been that he had another place to stay in the meantime until he found something else. It felt like half of his life was at the tower anyway, so it wouldn’t be a problem to treat it like a long-term stay at a hotel until he found a new apartment.

You were so sick of arguing by then that you just gave in. If he didn’t want to have it, it wasn’t the hill you were preparing to die on. You slapped your signature and initials where the lawyers told you to and just like that, the apartment was yours and Bucky wasn’t.

He did you the courtesy of letting you know when he would be stopping by to move all of his things out. When the day came, he knew that it was no stroke of luck that you happened to be out of town for a few days. The realization stung but he supposed that he couldn’t really blame you for it either.

The first few weeks after he’d moved all of his things out, the apartment felt almost painfully empty. There was a sliver of time during which you were thinking about moving out anyway, Bucky’s final parting gift be damned. It didn’t feel quite like home without him, without Alpine and all of the chaos and mess that came with the two of them.

Eventually you started to fill in the gaps that he’d left behind. New books for the shelves to fill the space where his used to be. Art and trinkets to fill in the empty spaces where his small pockets of clutter used to reside. It was the largest the apartment had ever felt and it was strange to have no one to share it with. Slowly, though, you started to adapt. It slowly started to feel like home.

Redecorating the apartment was one thing. Adjusting to your daily routine without Bucky being part of it was another. It wasn’t as though either of you had been blindsided by the divorce—it’d been coming for some time. Still, even as the distance had grown between you, there were still those tendrils of connection that hadn’t been severed yet. Attachments that only form after years spent with someone day in and day out through all of the things that the two of you had gone through together.

There were times when you were lounging on the couch in the living room and for a moment you’d find yourself wondering when he was going to come home only to realize that he wasn’t going to. Or you’d be heading home after work and you’d almost go to find his name in your phone to call and see if he needed you to pick anything up on your way. Habits you hadn’t even realized formed until you no longer needed them.

Weeks turned into months. New habits formed to replace the old ones that no longer suited you and your life. If you didn’t think too hard about it, you didn’t feel the dull ache that still existed down in your chest. You stayed busy with work, with friends. The times when you thought about reaching out to Bucky, you made every effort to reach out to just about anyone else instead. The last time you’d had any sort of conversation with him was when he moved his things out. And even then, it had been a simple text exchange. Him saying, “All set. Let me know if I missed anything.” Followed by your brief response of, “Will do”. Something short that made you glad he couldn’t see the tears that were welled up in your eyes.

Not reaching out to him was difficult. It was hard not to sit and wonder if he was having just as hard of a time with it as you were, but it wasn’t like you could reach out and ask him about it. The closest you got to any kind of communication with Bucky was the rare text from Steve. He never asked about Bucky or anything having to do with the two of you. He kept it cordial, the way that you’d expect from any acquaintance, you supposed. Because that’s what he was to you now. You got the apartment in the divorce. Bucky got all of his friends. Painful but fair.

You were halfway to falling asleep on the couch when your phone buzzed on top of the coffee table. The groan of annoyance you let out was involuntary, arm still slung across your forehead as you contemplated whether or not you wanted to see what anyone had to say. It wasn’t terribly late—not what you considered emergency late, anyway. But it was still getting close to past the time most people would be reaching out to chat.

Your arm that wasn’t covering your face reached out from underneath your throw blanket. Blindly groping around, your fingertips finally grazed over your phone. You were forcing your eyes to open back up all the way as you carefully held the phone over your face. There had been enough instances of you dropping it directly onto your nose and forehead to dissuade you, but it never stuck.

Skimming the notifications on your screen, at first you thought that your eyes were playing tricks on you. Maybe you were just exhausted. Or maybe you were stuck in a very realistic if not boring dream. Or nightmare, depending on how you wanted to look at it. There just didn’t seem to be any other reasons that there would be a text message from Bucky waiting to be opened.

It got you to sit upright, at least. The blanket fell from where it’d been pulled up to your shoulders, piling in your lap as you leaned back against the arm of the sofa. There was no universe in which you would leave the message unopened, or delete it without reading it. Even though you knew that about yourself, though, you still sat there for a few seconds and entertained the thought of it.

You typed in the passcode to your phone with the second nature ease you always did, the only difference now was that your heart was in your throat as you waited to see what the message was going to be. It’d been months, and it was late, and you had no idea what you should be expecting from him.

“Feel free to say no but I need a favor” Your heart dropped to your stomach and then another message came through. “Not an emergency”

His messages didn’t leave you feeling like you had anything in the way of answers. If anything, now you just had more questions. “You okay?” Part of you knew that if things had really been bad, he would’ve called. Or he wouldn’t have reached out at all. One of the two.

“Need a place to stay” You couldn’t help the deep sigh that you let out as you read his message. Then, as if he heard you, he sent a follow-up message. “Just one night. Promise”

If you said no, he’d drop the topic. You knew that about him beyond a shadow of a doubt. He’d let it go and realistically it would probably be the last time you heard from him. But you also knew that he wouldn’t be reaching out and asking you if he had somewhere else he felt like he could go. He had people he could lean on, places he could be. If he was reaching out to you there must’ve been something going on. It wasn’t your business to ask about anymore, though.

“Still have the address?” It was a lame pass at a joke, but you hoped it would at least convey that he could come over.

“Yeah, think I might have it somewhere. Thank you”

You didn’t reply, didn’t really feel like there was anything else that needed to be said. instead, you looked around your apartment and wondered if there was something that you were supposed to be doing. It felt strange, the idea of him being back in the apartment again. It was his first, sure. And then you shared it. But now it was yours and he was going to be a guest. However long it would take him to get there, you were sure it wasn’t enough time to unpack all of those feelings.

Bucky gripped onto the strap of the backpack he was wearing as he stood outside the door of your apartment. The halls leading to your apartment had been empty, which he should’ve expected with how late it was. He stared at the door, the same dark, mock-wood paneling staring him in the face that had each night for so many years. It felt familiar and strange to be standing in front of it again.

He adjusted his grip on his backpack, a brief distraction so he didn’t have to contemplate knocking or taking out his keys. It was later now than it had been when he first reached out. The amount of time that had passed had nothing to do with how long it took him to get from the tower to your apartment—that hadn’t taken very long at all. What made him so late was the amount of time he’d spent sitting in his car debating whether or not he was actually going to do this. The engine had been off, everything silent, and he just sat there staring at the symbol in the middle of his steering wheel as he weighed out every possible scenario, all of the pros and cons that he could think of.

But now he was here and he almost turned around and walked away again anyway. Before he could completely chicken out, he fished his keys back out of his pocket. It took him longer than he wanted to admit to realize that he still had the apartment key—it was just such a fixture on his keyring by that point. But he didn’t have it in him to bring it back. It wasn’t like he ever used it, or even thought about using it. There was something about it that he just couldn’t throw away.

He had about three seconds of thinking this was the one singular time that his sentimental streak was going to come in handy. But then when he tried to slip the key into the lock, he found that he couldn’t. He double-checked to make sure that he’d gone to the right apartment on the right floor, although he couldn’t imagine messing that up.

Then it hit him. Whether you had asked the landlord to swap out the locks after he left or if the man had done it on his own because he didn’t trust any split to be as cordial as any couple tried to make it out to be, Bucky no longer could let himself in. Pulling in a deep breath, he shoved his keys back into his pocket and reached to knock on the door.

The speed at which you leapt off the couch at the sound to get to the door would’ve been embarrassing if he had been able to see it. Luckily your shame was just for you. Stopping in front of the door, you took a couple breaths as you smoothed out the oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts that you were wearing. Maybe you should’ve thought to change but it was too late now. Besides, it wasn’t anything that Bucky hadn’t seen a million times before.

You undid all the locks. When you had first gone over to Bucky’s apartment you’d thought that he was a little paranoid. You didn’t blame him for it, but it still crossed your mind. After he’d moved out, though, you found that you had no interest in getting rid of the deadbolt or slider-chain that he’d had put onto the door.

His face was all exhaustion and worry until he found himself looking at you. Then the worry lines on his forehead eased a little, his frown didn’t stretch quite so deep. Even so, you could still see the stress on his face and in the way that he was holding himself. You were sure that the current circumstances didn’t help, but whatever had happened that resulted in him reaching out to you was just as much of a culprit.

“Hi,” he finally said when he realized that it’d just been the two of you silently staring at each other.

The sound of his voice was enough to get you to smile despite the knot in your stomach. “Hey.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, adjusting his backpack as he did. “Thank you for this. I know I shouldn’t have asked…”

You shook your head as you opened the door and gestured for him to come in. “It’s fine.” Once he was inside you turned around and redid all the locks. You ignored the endearing expression on his face when you faced him again for the sake of your own sanity. “Everything alright?”

He started off nodding but then it dissolved into a shrug as his chin tucked down towards his chest. “Didn’t want to stay at the tower. Everyone’s been at each other’s throats lately so when we got back this afternoon I just…I didn’t want to stay there.”

“Your place far away now?” you asked as you took his backpack from him and set it by the couch. You started to walk towards the kitchen, hoping he would take the hint and follow suit.

“What?” he asked, toeing off his boots before he started to trail behind you.

“Your apartment. Or house. Is it far?” You were still trying to figure out why he had decided to come here of all places.

“Um,” he stumbled on his words as he stayed by the stretch of counter kitty-corner to where you stood at the coffee pot, “n-no. Not…really.” He kicked himself immediately. He was never able to lie very well to you at all, let alone so quickly on his feet. It said plenty about him, about how he felt about you, but there was no time to get into all of that.

You looked over at him, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Want a cup of coffee to hold onto while you tell me about whatever that means?” You kept your tone light and joking enough, but you knew that years of experience with you meant that Bucky knew he wasn’t going to be able to get out of explaining himself.

He let out a small sigh of defeat as he nodded. “Please.”

Neither of you said anything as you made a cup of coffee for each of you. You could see him out of the corner of your eye. Any other circumstance would’ve made it seem strange that he was staring at you so blatantly, but there weren’t very many other things to hold his attention at the moment. Something told you he wasn’t really in the mood to try and count all the things you’d changed after he moved out.

You brought the coffee mugs over to the small table that was tucked off to the side in your kitchen. You sat down and waited for him to do the same, which he did after a moment of hesitation. He pulled his mug closer to him, cupping it between both his hands even though only one could really feel the warmth radiating off of it.

“So?” you asked before taking a sip from your cup.

He didn’t look at you, eyes fixed on the drink in front of him. “I’ve been staying at the tower.”

You nodded, leaning back in your chair. “Okay?”

He sighed, shaking his head. He still couldn’t make himself look up. “Since I m—” he tripped on the words, still not accustomed to saying them out loud, “Since I moved out.”

Your eyes widened. “Bucky.”

He had no other choice but to look at you now. “I know.”

Gesturing briefly to the apartment, you said, “I told you to just keep th—”

“I know you did,” he cut you off. “I wanted you to have it. Still do.”

“You can’t just stay at the tower forever. It’s basically, like, a glorified frathouse.”

You both had a laugh at that before Bucky’s face sobered up. “I wasn’t planning on staying there. Just,” he took a sip of his coffee, enjoying it more than anything he’d concocted at the tower in the last few months “didn’t get to it.”

“Tony mention starting to charge you rent, then?” you asked, a joking lilt to your tone to hide the ache in your chest.

Bucky huffed out a laugh, a slight upward curl to his lips, but you could tell that he was trying to stuff down some of the same feelings that you were. “I’m sure he will once he figures out how much hot water I use.”

You let a beat pass before saying, “If you need help finding a place, I can—”

“No, no.” There was a hint of frustration in his voice but it wasn’t really directed at you. “Finding a spot isn’t the issue. I can do that.”

“Then why the fuck have you been crashing at the tower this long?”

“I wasn’t ready to get my own place!” he snapped, not meaning to. The answer came out quickly and much more honestly than he intended. He’d wanted to some up with something snarky to evade the discussion, but it was too late and he was too tired. Sitting across the table from you always left him feeling so vulnerable. He tried to ignore the sad frown on your face, the tears welling in your eyes. “I wasn’t ready to start over. Getting my own place? I just…yeah, no.”

“Sorry,” the word came out meek and mumbled. You hadn’t meant to pry open that particular can of worms, especially not on a night that he was just looking for a place to unwind and rest. Maybe it would’ve done the two of you some good to have some form of contact over the last few months, but it was too late to go back and fix that now.

“You still like it here?” he asked.

You could hear the hopefulness in the question. There was only one right answer to the question. Bucky needed to know that the one thing that he could really leave you with was something that had done you some good, something you could still enjoy even if he wasn’t around to enjoy it with you anymore.

You nodded. “I like it. It’s…you know…it’s different now. But I like it.”

He tried not to sound too relieved. “Good.”

Minutes ticked by with nothing but silence between you. Everything that either of you wanted to say, you felt like you couldn’t. every time you glanced over at Bucky, he was already looking at you. His face never really gave away much, but you could still see the sadness in his eyes. You couldn’t help but to think that this wasn’t exactly what he thought he was singing on for when he reached out needing a place to crash for the night.

Like he could read your thoughts, he spoke up. “Figured I’d just take the couch.”

“You sure?” you asked, like you had any real backup plan to offer.

He nodded as he stood up out of his seat. He picked his mug up off the table, and then yours before walking them over to the sink. You watched him as he quickly rinsed them out before setting them down in the sink basin. “It’s fine. I’ll be gone before you’re up in the morning.”

You frowned at that without meaning to. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s fine. Like I said—I just needed a break.”

There was no use in trying to turn it into an argument, so you nodded. “Okay. I’ll grab you a blanket and a pillow.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

When you came back out to the living room, Bucky had already changed. He was in his usual sleepwear—an told tank top and loose shorts. When the two of you were together, he’d always just foregone the shirt half of the equation, but you assumed that he was trying his best to be courteous.

You offered him the folded-up blanket and the pillow resting on top of it with a weak smile. “Here you go.”

His smile wasn’t much more convincing than yours, but at least you were trying together. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” You raked your fingers back over your scalp as you tried to figure out if there was something else you should be saying or doing. “If you need anything else, let me know. Or, you know,” the nervous laugh you let out let him know you were no more certain about this joke than he was going to be, “help yourself. Whatever it is, is probably right where you left it.”

Surprisingly enough you both chuckled quietly. “Thank you.”

There was nothing more to say or do but it still felt wrong to turn and head off to your room. Your standing there wasn’t doing either of you any good, so you crossed your arms over your chest. “Okay. Goodnight, then.”

He nodded as he tossed the pillow onto the couch and started to unfold the blanket you’d given him. “Night.”

You took a small step backwards. “If I don’t see you in the morning, good luck. With…you know, everything.”

He gave a small smile as he draped the blanket onto the couch cushions. “Thanks, doll.”

The sharp silence that followed those two words permeated the entire room. Bucky froze, unable to look over at you. You froze, unable to look anywhere but at him. The tension in his muscles came back tenfold as he tried to figure out how to walk himself out of the minefield he’d just stepped into. He took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before over at you.

“Sorry,” he said, although he wasn’t sure how much he meant it. “Force of habit. It’s been a while.”

You wished that you’d felt nothing when he said it, but there was still the flutter in your stomach at the sweetness, the familiarity of the pet name that he hadn’t been around to call you in far too long.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. You pulled your arms a little tighter around yourself, like that would stop you from reaching out and doing something stupid that you’d be kicking yourself for later. “I get it.”

He could see the tension in your body, could practically feel the waves of it rolling off you. “You sure it’s alright that I’m here?”

You laughed, the sound tired but still a little amused at the question. Your arms dropped back to your sides. “Yes. God. Please, it’s fine. Don’t, don’t worry about it. I’d be more upset knowing you were going back to the tower.”

He laughed, muscles in his shoulders loosening. “Okay.”

You reached out, fingertips just barely grazing against his forearm. “Goodnight.”

The touch barely lasted for a second but he could’ve sworn that he felt the warmth from your fingertips spread throughout his whole body in that moment. You were already turned away from him and making your way to the bedroom. Off to be alone in a place the two of you spent so many nights sharing.

His body was moving faster than his brain as he stepped to go after you. He knew as he was doing it that it was a terrible idea from every angle but he couldn’t stop himself. You’d heard his footsteps, and you were turning around to see what he was that he needed. Your pause caused him to have to stop short, hardly a hair’s breadth between you. You were holding your breath in anticipation, waiting for whatever was coming next, Bucky’s eyes desperately searching yours.

He brought his hand up to your cheek, his palm rough but warm against your face. You sunk into his touch the same way one sinks into their bed at home after a long trip away. Your eyes fluttered shut but it didn’t stop the tears from welling and escaping onto your cheeks.

“Bucky…” even at a whisper your voice cracked with emotion as you said his name.

He waited for you to open your eyes, to look at him again. Your eyes were glassy, the tears that weren’t staining your cheeks clinging to your lashes. But you were beautiful. In that moment he couldn’t understand how or when it had all turned into such a mess. It seemed impossible that it had all fallen apart.

He was waiting for you to pull away as he leaned in, but you didn’t. You didn’t backpedal, didn’t try to push him away from you, didn’t ask him to stop or say it was a bad idea, even though he should’ve and it was. His lips caught yours for the first time in…he didn’t want to think about how long. When you kissed him back it felt like it erased all the months of distance and silence between you. Your hands rested on his chest and suddenly the mess disappeared.

Even when you came back up for air, your lips were still practically touching. Your nose brushed against his as you shook your head. “Bucky.”

He shut his eyes tight for a moment, knowing where this was going. “Don’t.”

A knot formed in the back of your throat. “But—”

“Please.” He brought his other hand up so that they were both cupping your face. It’d been a long time since the chill of the metal made you flinch. It still felt familiar, welcoming despite the circumstances. “Please.”

Another half-hearted protest was on the tip of your tongue but he kissed you again before you could get it out. It made your knees weak, the amount of desire that he was able to pack into one gesture, a gesture that didn’t last nearly long enough.

“I know,” he said with a tiny nod. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “But I’m askin’ anyway.”

You knew that you were going to give in from the start, but at least now you could lie to yourself if you had to—you could tell yourself that you at least tried to put up a little bit of a fight. Satisfied with that, you nodded as you leaned in and kissed him.

Relief coursed through him as he wrapped his arms around you. With no hesitation he turned and started to walk you back towards the couch, not taking his lips off yours as he did. His hands slipped up underneath the fabric of your shirt dragging and mapping out your skin like he was trying to feel for anything that had changed since he last had you like this. Your hands slid up his chest and neck, briefly running over the stubble that was coming in along his jaw, before they wound themselves into his hair. He leaned into you, deepening your kiss further at the sensation of your nails carding through his hair and raking along the top of his head.

He pulled out of the kiss, only doing so long enough to get your shirt off, and to allow you to do the same to him. They landed haphazardly on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. They no sooner hit the floor and Bucky had you lying flat on your back on the couch. Not even a second passed before he was on top of you, settled over you and in between your legs like he was always meant to be there. He kissed you with conviction as his hands ran over your stomach and chest. You moaned into his mouth at the sensation, missing the way that it felt when he touched you like this.

You felt the smooth metal of his Vibranium hand cupping the side of your face while his other hand trailed teasingly down your stomach towards the waistband of your shorts. You felt the whine building in the base of your throat before he even reached your core. The way you felt him smile into your kiss let you know that he knew it, too. You missed him too much and wanted him too badly to care about that.

The second you felt his fingers give a teasing graze over your center, you were bucking into his touch. You felt the shaky breath he took in, like there was still some part of him that was trying to exercise some self-control. It was too late for that now as far as you were concerned. He dragged his fingers along your folds, feeling how wet you already were for him. The thought of you still wanting him so badly had him pulling his lips off of yours so that he could litter your neck and chest in love-bites and marks that would be there long after this was over.

You arched into his touch, the feeling of his teeth along your skin. His hand that had been cupping your face now had a firm grip on your jaw, keeping your chin angled in a way that gave him the most access to the sensitive skin of your neck. You didn’t fight it, helpless to do anything but whine and pant, hands tugging at his hair so that you could feel the vibrations of his moans along the column of your throat.

If things had been different, you could’ve spent hours doing just this—just the touching and teasing. The game and the chase of it all. But the invisible clock that hung over the two of you was ticking, and reality was going to set back in sooner than you wanted. You wanted him one more time in earnest before you lost him again.

“Bucky,” you whimpered.

Then he was over you, looking down into your eyes. His expression was half-arousal, half-worry, like he thought this was going to be the moment when the other shoe dropped, when you decided that this was too bad of an idea to continue.

You pulled lightly down on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

Your words, the desperation in your voice, it nearly rendered Bucky a puddle on the floor. He couldn’t conjure up a single word to say, but he didn’t have to. Instead, he quickly pulled your shorts down your legs and tossed them off to the side. He felt the way you were pushing down on the waistband of his and the breathy laugh he let out only lasted for a moment before he realized you got them halfway down his thighs. You were too needy to wait any longer, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him into you.

Bucky lined himself up at your entrance, sliding in as you wound your legs tighter around him. Your lips crashed against his in a bruising kiss as you reveled in the sensation of him pushing into you. Your moaned and gasped into his mouth at the return of the familiar sensation, your nails clawing at his back because you had to get it out of you somehow.

He left a trail of kisses along your jaw up to your ear. His voice was low as he egged you on, coaxing more out of you as he started to thrust into you. He missed this, the way you felt, the way you sounded. He missed your moans and the way you said his name, the way you asked for more, harder, don’t stop, like he was a man who would ever tell you no. He missed telling you how good you feel, like you were made for him. He missed telling you how pretty you look when he’s fucking you.

He missed everything else, too, but for now this was what he could have. And he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

Your legs were trembling around his waist and he knew that you were close. He wasn’t far behind you. He didn’t stand a chance from the start. Then your teeth sunk into the skin where his neck met his shoulder and the last of his resolve went out the window. His thrusts became harder, faster. His face was buried in the crook of your neck when you came, and he etched the way you cried out his name into his memory.

Even in your blissful daze, you could still feel that he was getting close. You felt the way his hips began to tense and stutter. You could also feel the way that has was trying to pull out. You were a pliant mess beneath him but you still had enough strength in you to grip onto his hips and pull him towards you.

He shook his head. “I—”

“Please,” you begged, words slurred with lust, “Jus’ wanna feel you again.”

The neediness in your tone and the pout of your lips did him in. He spilled into you, continuing to thrust until after he was spent. He collapsed on top of you, still buried inside you as he rested his head on your chest. Your heart was thumping at a rabbit’s pace against his cheek, and all he had it in him to do was close his eyes and soak it in.

Neither of you said anything as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky slid his arms underneath you, hands on your back as he kept himself pulled tight to you. You had one hand flat on Bucky’s back between his shoulder blades, the other toying idly with the messy locks of hair that you could reach.

This would usually be the time when one of you started the, “You okay?” conversation, but it felt like there was too much to unpack for that question now. Instead, Bucky tilted his head and looked up at you, giving a slight raise to his eyebrows. You got the hint giving a tiny nod to let him know that, given the circumstances of it all, right now you were fine if he was fine.

He relaxed then, letting his head drop back to your chest again. You settled back into the pillow that you’d originally brought out for him to use. Eventually, when you caught your breath, you’d head back to your own bedroom. But for now, there was comfort in the cramped quarters of the couch.

When you woke up the next morning, it was to the light coming through your living room windows. You let out a tiny groan, wiping at your eyes as you tried to register your surroundings. You were on the couch, blanket draped over you. Alone. And that’s when the night before rushed back over you all at once.

Sitting up, you looked around the apartment. Your clothes were folded and left neatly on the coffee table, but Bucky’s were nowhere to be found. Glancing over to the kitchen, you saw the two coffee mugs from the night before washed and left to dry in the drainboard. Then you looked down at the floor beside you and noticed that Bucky’s backpack was gone. Just like him.

(divider by @silkholland 💞)

MCU Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added to any of my taglists!): @garbinge @artemiseamoon @late-to-the-party-81 @beardburnsupersoldiers @blackhawkfanatic

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Parent Trapping Pt.1

Pair: Dad!Joe Burrow x ExWife!Reader

Imagine you and Joe’s daughter, Paris, scheming to get you back together after being divorced for almost 10 years.

Main Masterlist

A/n: Sounds fun right? Who doesn’t love a nice parent trap😅

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A/n: so would you read more?