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the-winter-spider · 3 days ago

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Invisible | Part 11

Pairings: Bucky x Reader (eventually lololol)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Angst, stupid people, dramaaaaa

A/N: I aint ready for peace yet 😇🫶🏻

Masterpost

NYU 4th Year

The late afternoon sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon as you exited your lecture hall, your bag slung over your shoulder and your mind already racing with thoughts of your looming paper. The quad was buzzing with students heading off to their weekend plans, and you were lost in your thoughts when you spotted Natasha leaning casually against a lamppost, her red hair catching the golden light.

“There she is,” Nat called, waving you over with a grin. “What took you so long? I’ve been standing here for ages.”

“Class ran late,” you said, rolling your eyes as you walked up to her. “Professor decided to drop a surprise reading quiz on us.”

Natasha scoffed, falling into step beside you. “Reading quizzes on a Friday should be illegal. Anyway, there’s a party tonight at Walker’s place. You coming?”

You hesitated, already feeling the weight of your weekend workload. “I don’t know, Nat. I’ve got that big paper due next week, and I’m kind of behind. I was planning to get a head start tonight.”

Natasha groaned, clasping her hands together in an exaggerated plea. “Come on, please? Wanda already bailed on me, and I really want to see this guy who’s going to be there. I can’t get stuck with the boys by myself—they’ll ruin my whole vibe.”

You sighed, torn between responsibility and the infectious energy of your best friend. “Fine,” you said reluctantly. “But I’m starting my introduction before we leave. No arguments.”

“Scout’s honor,” Natasha said, raising three fingers in a mock salute.

You gave her a pointed look. “You weren’t even a Girl Scout.”

She grinned, undeterred. “True, but I can feel it. In another life, I was definitely a spy.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you parted ways. “Yeah, sure, Nat.”

By the time you got back to your dorm, Natasha was already busy texting, her phone lighting up with each rapid-fire message. You could tell by the sly smile on her face that she was talking to her crush. The thing about Natasha was that she always knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. She was a spitfire, sharp-tongued and unapologetically confident, but underneath all that fire, she was a hopeless romantic. Most guys your age weren’t ready for someone like her, but that never stopped her from trying.

You sat at your desk and opened your laptop, determined to at least get your introduction done before the night derailed into party chaos. The words flowed easily, and by the time you finished your intro and even managed to start your first paragraph, you felt a small sense of accomplishment.

Alright you texted Natasha, I’m done for now. Let’s get ready.

Within seconds, your phone buzzed with her reply: Finally!!! Be there in 5.

True to her word, Natasha burst into your room moments later, her arms loaded with a makeup bag and a pair of heels. You both commandeered Wanda’s bed, laying out a mess of possible outfits, debating the merits of each one as you tried to find the perfect look.

You finally settled on a sleek black mini-dress that hugged your figure in all the right places, paired with short heels and of course your signature neckless: your locket. Natasha went for a bold red jumpsuit with a plunging neckline and sky-high heels.

Standing side by side in front of the mirror, Natasha let out a low whistle. “Damn, we’re hot.”

You giggled, adjusting the strap of your dress. “We clean up nice.”

Natasha’s eyes drifted to the delicate gold locket resting against your collarbone, and she smiled. “That locket… you’ve been wearing it forever. I’ve never seen you without it.”

You glanced down, your fingers lightly brushing over the familiar weight of the locket. “Yeah, it’s kind of a family thing, my mom gave it to be before she passed"

Natasha, smiled sadly her curiosity piqued. “You never did tell me what’s inside.”

You held the locket, fidgeting it between your fingers. “On one side, there’s a quote about love that my great-great-great-grandmother supposedly wrote. My grandma told me everyone who’s had this locket would place a photo of the man they loved on the other side—so they’d always be close to their heart."

Natasha’s eyes softened. “Your whole family sounds like a bunch of hopeless romantics.”

You laughed. “Apparently. Guess it runs in the blood.”

Natasha smirked, leaning in. “So… who’s in yours?”

You hesitated, your fingers lingering on the locket before closing it. “No one,” you said, offering a small smile. “I don’t really have anyone to put in there right now.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Mhm, sure. No one at all?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not everyone is as quick to fall head over heels as you, Nat.”

“Hey,” she said, placing a hand over her heart dramatically, “I just know what I want.”

“And what you deserve,” you added with a grin.

Natasha nodded approvingly. “Exactly.”

With that, you both grabbed your bags and made your way out of the dorm, ready to take on the night. Natasha’s phone buzzed again, and she couldn’t hide the excitement on her face as she typed back.

You glanced at her, smiling softly. “Texting your mystery man?”

“Maybe,” she said with a wink. “Tonight’s going to be fun—you’ll see.”

The crisp night air buzzed with the energy of the weekend as you and Natasha made your way down the crowded street, laughter and music spilling out from houses along the way. The distant thump of bass grew louder with every step, and soon you were standing in front of John Walker’s house, its windows glowing and the porch already packed with students.

Natasha looped her arm through yours as you approached the door, her heels clicking against the pavement. “You know,” she said, her voice light but teasing, “I always thought you might have Bucky’s picture in that locket.”

You stumbled slightly, your eyes snapping to hers. “What?”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, don’t act so surprised. You two have been inseparable since kindergarten. Best friends, sure, but there’s always been… something.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she didn’t give you the chance. “I mean, hey, no judgment. I’m just saying I’m a little surprised he’s not in there.”

You were about to respond, to come up with some half-hearted deflection, but before you could, Natasha grinned and yanked you toward the door. “No time for heart-to-hearts now. Let’s find the boys.”

The moment you stepped inside, the heat and noise hit you like a wave. The living room was packed, bodies swaying to the beat of the music as red solo cups were passed around. You caught a glimpse of a makeshift beer pong table in the corner, surrounded by a cheering crowd. The scent of cheap alcohol and sweat mingled in the air, and someone had already spilled something sticky on the floor.

Natasha scanned the room with a practiced eye, her grip still firm on your arm. “There they are,” she said, nodding toward the far side of the room where Steve and Bucky were leaning against a wall, talking. Steve had his usual easy smile, but Bucky’s eyes flicked across the room, as if he was keeping tabs on everything and everyone.

Natasha released your arm and nudged you forward with a sly grin. “Go on. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” Before you could protest, she disappeared into the crowd, already hunting down her mystery man.

You took a deep breath and weaved your way through the throng of people, your heart picking up speed as you got closer to them. Bucky’s head turned slightly, and when his eyes landed on you, a slow smile spread across his face. He nudged Steve, who looked up and gave you a warm wave.

Here’s a revised version with smoother transitions and more natural dialogue flow:

“Well, well,” Bucky’s voice cut through the noise as you and Natasha finally reached him and Steve. He leaned casually against the wall, a lopsided grin on his face. “Look who decided to show up.”

Steve chuckled, raising his cup in a mock toast. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight. Thought you had some big paper to write?”

“I did,” you replied, crossing your arms with a smirk. “But Natasha here wouldn’t take no for an answer. Said it was a life-or-death situation.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Natasha, relentless? Shocking.”

“She’s practically a force of nature,” you said, glancing around. “So, drinks?”

Steve drained the last of his beer and set his cup down with a satisfied sigh. “You two go ahead. I’m gonna head over to the keg and see if I can beat my personal record tonight.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Best of luck, Stevie.”

Steve winked as he stepped away. “Now that you’re here, I don’t need it.”

As he disappeared into the crowd, you and Bucky stood there in a comfortable silence for a moment, the bass of the music thumping around you. Then, Bucky gave you one of his signature half-smiles, the kind that always made your heart skip a beat. “Come on,” he said, reaching for your hand and pulling you toward the drink table.

His touch was brief but enough to send a spark up your arm. You followed without protest, a small smile tugging at your lips. When you reached the table, he handed you a drink, his fingers brushing against yours—a fleeting, seemingly innocent moment that left your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze as you lifted the cup to your lips.

Bucky leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. But before you could think of a response, Natasha appeared from behind you, clapping her hands together, cutting through the moment.

“Alright, people,” she announced, her tone playful. “What’s the plan? Beer pong? Dancing? Or do we just stand here and look devastatingly cool?”

Bucky smirked, his eyes still on you. “I think we’ve already nailed the last one.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “How about we find Steve before he gets himself into trouble?”

Bucky raised his cup in agreement. “Solid plan.”

With that, the three of you moved back into the crowd, weaving through the crush of people and the haze of music. Even as the party buzzed around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Bucky’s lingering gaze—or the way your locket, pressed against your chest, seemed to grow heavier with every step.

"There he is!" Natasha beamed, stopping "Buck you go watch him, me and my girl are gonna dance for a bit!" Before either of you could respond, Natasha was already pulling you away, you turned around glancing over your shoulder briefly to see Bucky's blue eyes smiling at you as he gave you a single wave.

The music thumped loudly in your ears, the bass vibrating through the floor as you swayed with Natasha in the middle of the crowded living room. The alcohol buzzed warmly in your veins, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about everything—about the paper, about the tension that always seemed to linger whenever Bucky was around.

You and Nat were giggling, holding onto each other as you moved to the beat. It was freeing, exhilarating even, until your gaze drifted across the room and landed on him.

Bucky was leaning casually against the wall, his signature smirk firmly in place as he talked to a blonde. She was laughing at something he said, her hand lightly resting on his arm. They were close—too close. Her hair glinted under the dim party lights, and the way she leaned in, hanging on his every word, made your stomach drop.

Your world stopped for a second. The music faded into the background, replaced by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You blinked, trying to shake it off, telling yourself it didn’t matter, but the familiar ache settled in your chest anyway.

You tore your eyes away, grabbing your red solo cup and downing the rest of its contents in one go. The burn of the cheap liquor didn’t help, but it gave you something to focus on. You crushed the cup in your hand and let it drop to the floor, the plastic crumpling beneath your heel as you forced yourself to keep dancing.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath, plastering a fake smile on your face.

Natasha laughed beside you, her movements loose and carefree. She slurred slightly, her words barely audible over the music. “Hey! You… you took your necklace off!”

You frowned, reaching up to touch your neck instinctively. “No, I didn’t.”

“Then where is it?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she swayed in place.

Your hand moved frantically over your collarbone, panic setting in as your fingers found only bare skin. Your locket was gone. “Shit,” you whispered, your eyes wide as you started scanning the floor beneath your feet. “Nat, it’s gone!”

Her hands immediately went to your shoulders, steadying you. “Don’t panic,” she said, her voice slurring but her tone trying to stay calm. “It… it can’t be far.”

But it was too late. The panic clawed its way up your throat, and tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. The music was too loud, the crowd too thick. You dropped to your knees, your hands scrambling over the sticky floor as you searched desperately for the locket.

“Excuse me! Sorry!” you mumbled, trying to push past people, but it was no use. The sea of feet around you made it impossible to see anything.

You backed up, bumping into someone behind you. A pair of hands immediately settled on your waist, steadying you. “Hey, you okay?” the guy asked, but you shoved him off without even looking, your vision blurring with tears.

Natasha was back at your side in an instant, her hands on your shoulders again, her mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear her. The world felt like it was spinning too fast, and all you could think about was the locket—your family heirloom. The one your mother had given you before she passed away. The one that had been passed down for generations. And now it was gone, lost in the chaos of some stupid party.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you stumbled backward, your breathing coming in short, panicked gasps. You didn’t even realize someone was pulling you out of the house until the cool night air hit your skin.

“Hey, hey,” that same guy's voice said, low and urgent. You blinked through the haze of your tears, and your heart twisted painfully when you saw who it was.

Bucky.

He had his hands on your arms, guiding you away from the crowd, his eyes filled with concern. “Come on, you’re okay,” he murmured, leading you to a quieter spot on the porch. “Breathe, alright? Just breathe.”

You tried to speak, but the words got caught in your throat. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, your vision still blurry from the tears.

“Look at me,” Bucky said softly, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His words, his presence, grounded you just enough to pull in a shaky breath. “It’s gone, Buck,” you finally managed, your voice breaking. “The locket… my mom’s locket. It’s gone.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he glanced back toward the house. “Okay,” he said, his voice calm but determined. “We’re gonna find it.”

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “There’s too many people. It’s probably already stepped on or—or lost for good.”

“Hey,” Bucky said firmly, his hands tightening slightly on your arms. “We’ll find it. I promise.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was unwavering determination. His eyes softened, and he gently wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Wait here,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m going back in.”

“No, Buck—”

“I’ll find it,” he interrupted, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “Just stay here.”

Before you could protest, he turned and disappeared back into the house, leaving you alone on the porch, the night air chilling your skin. You sank onto the steps, your hands trembling as you clutched at your knees, praying silently that he was right.

The minutes felt like hours as you sat on the porch, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every time the door opened, you looked up, hoping to see Bucky stepping out with your locket in hand. But each time, it was just another person stumbling out into the night, oblivious to your panic.

Finally, the door opened again, and Bucky emerged. His expression was serious, his steps purposeful, but his hands were empty.

Your heart sank, the last bit of hope slipping away. He walked over and crouched in front of you, his eyes meeting yours with a steady calm.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice firm but laced with regret. “I checked everywhere I could. Asked everyone. It’s just… not there.”

You nodded slowly, your throat tightening as you tried to process his words. The locket—your mother’s locket—was gone. A family heirloom, passed down through generations, lost in the chaos of a party. You tried to speak, but all that came out was a shaky breath.

“It’s gone,” you finally whispered, the words feeling heavy and final.

Bucky’s hand rested lightly on your knee, grounding you. “I know how much it meant to you,” he said, his voice steady. “And I’m sorry we couldn’t find it tonight. But we’ll figure something out. I’m not giving up.”

You shook your head, blinking back the tears that blurred your vision. “It was the only thing I had left of her,” you said, your voice breaking. “And now it’s just… gone.”

Bucky’s fingers gently squeezed your knee. “I get it,” he said quietly. “It’s not just a thing. It’s her.”

You nodded, wiping at your cheeks, but the tears kept coming. “It feels like I let her down,” you whispered, your hands trembling in your lap. “I should’ve been more careful.”

Bucky shifted, sitting beside you on the step. His shoulder brushed yours, and he looked out at the street, his voice calm and certain. “Hey, your okay, its gonna be okay”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to absorb his words. “How can you say that? Its gone,” .

“I know,” he said, his tone understanding. “But your mom wouldn’t want you to carry that weight. That locket—it was important, sure, but it doesn’t change the connection you had with her. You’ve got all those memories, all those stories. She’s still with you.”

His words settled over you, comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. You leaned into his shoulder, letting out a quiet sigh. “Thanks, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice still thick with emotion. “For always being there.”

His arm came around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Always,” he said simply.

For a while, you just sat there, the distant hum of the party fading into the background. The ache of losing the locket still lingered, but Bucky’s steady presence eased it, bit by bit. He didn’t try to fix everything, didn’t offer hollow reassurances. He just stayed—solid, dependable, exactly what you needed.

You broke the silence, your voice soft and hesitant. “What about that girl…?”

Bucky didn’t let you finish. “Forget about her,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I have my best girl right here” his eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something unspoken between you, something heavy and meaningful.

Eventually, you sat up, brushing the last of the tears from your cheeks. You gave him a small, wry smile. “Guess I owe you one,” you said quietly.

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You don’t owe me anything,” he replied. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he added, “Except maybe a rematch at beer pong.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound a little shaky but genuine. “Deal,” you said, the weight on your chest feeling just a little lighter.

Now

Sam takes a deep breath as he reaches the door to your shared apartment, bracing himself. He isn’t entirely sure what he’s walking into, but he knows Bucky isn’t handling things well. He knocks firmly and waits, listening for any movement inside.

After a long pause, the door creaks open. Bucky stands there, looking like absolute hell. His hair’s a mess, his eyes bloodshot, and he’s still in yesterday’s clothes, rumpled and wrinkled.

“Sam?” Bucky’s voice is hoarse, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah, man,” Sam says, leaning against the doorframe. “I came to check on you. Can I come in?”

Bucky steps aside, muttering, “Yeah… sure. Guess you uh probably know everything already.”

Sam walks in, his eyes immediately catching the shattered lamp on the floor, pieces scattered across the living room. “I know her side, but there's two sides to every coin” The air feels heavy, tense. He turns to Bucky, his voice steady. “She’s at Steve and my place. She’s safe if you're wondering.”

Bucky winces, looking away as his shoulders slump. “Good… that’s good.” He lets out a bitter chuckle, running a hand over his face. “Guess you’re here to tell me what a screw-up I am, huh?”

Sam shakes his head, exasperated. “Bucky, I’m not here to kick you when you’re down. I’m here because we’re friends. And friends don’t abandon each other, even when one of them is making dumbass choices.”

Bucky scoffs, dropping onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. “Yeah, well… I deserve it.”

Sam takes the chair across from him, studying Bucky’s hunched figure. “You look like hell, man. Want to tell me what happened, your version?”

Bucky hesitates, his voice low and broken. “I don’t know. She was just standing there, looking at me like… like she was just disgusted at being in my presence ...and it hurt, i said sorry for the bar comment, but then we started to hash things out, I got so damn scared. So I did the only thing I know how to do—I pushed her away. Told her to leave.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, his tone sharp. “So you let her walk out? Alone? At night?”

Bucky’s face twists with guilt, and he nods. “Yeah, I know, i went after her but she was gone, that's no excuse i know, i put her in danger Sam, i can't believe it….And now she probably hates me.” He chuckles bitterly. “Hell, maybe she should, i do.”

“Don’t give me that self-pity crap,” Sam snaps. “She’s hurt, sure. But you know damn well she doesn’t hate you.”

Bucky exhales shakily. “Maybe she should. All I ever do is screw things up. I push her away because… because I’m too scared to admit how I feel. And now? I don’t even know if I can fix it.”

Sam leans forward, his voice firm. “You’ve got two choices, Buck. Sit here and wallow, or get off your ass and do something about it.”

Bucky finally meets his gaze, his voice barely a whisper. “What do I even say?”

Sam nods toward the shattered lamp. “Start by picking up the pieces. Then tell her the truth.”

Bucky swallows hard. “What if… what if it’s too late?”

Sam’s voice softens. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take, you cant just throw away the friendship you two have, i dont even know my friends from kindergarten, i couldnt tell you the slightest thing about em now….but you’ll never know unless you try.”

Bucky hesitates, then leans back, his gaze distant. “I’ve tried, Sam. More times than I can count.”

Sam frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky’s voice grows quieter, tinged with frustration. “I’ve been trying to tell her for years—little things here and there. Dropping hints, pushing the boundaries, trying to get her to see me the way I see her. But every damn time, she pulls back, like she’s scared of what’s on the other side of those walls she’s built.”

Sam watches him, his expression thoughtful. “And you think she doesn’t feel the same?”

Bucky lets out a hollow laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. But how the hell am I supposed to keep putting myself out there when she won’t meet me halfway? Why does it always have to be me to make the first move? Why can’t she give me a sign? Something, anything that lets me know I’m not imagining this?” Bucky’s voice cracks, and he rakes a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling out. “It’s like every time I try to get closer, she pulls back. And then I’m stuck wondering if I’m just some idiot chasing after something that was never there.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re scared, she’s scared—it’s a mess, man. But sitting here, letting the fear eat away at you, isn’t gonna solve anything. You want her to meet you halfway? Maybe she’s been waiting for you to show her it’s safe to.”

Bucky shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “I’ve shown her, Sam. Hell, I’ve been there for her through everything. I’ve tried to coax her out of those walls, but every time I think I’m making progress, she shuts me down. And now? Now she’s out there, going on dates with other guys. What am I supposed to think?”

Sam tilts his head, his gaze steady. “You ever think maybe she’s just as scared as you are? That she’s waiting for you to stop hinting and just say it outright?”

Bucky’s fists clench, his frustration boiling over. “Why does it have to be me? Why can’t she take the damn risk for once? I’m not the only one in this.”

Sam exhales, leaning back. “You’re right, it’s a two-way street. But you’ve got to ask yourself—if she’s scared, just like you, who’s gonna be brave enough to break the cycle?”

Bucky stands, pacing the room. His voice drops, low and pained. “What if I put everything out there, and she doesn’t feel the same? I don’t think I could handle that.”

Sam’s gaze follows him, his tone firm but empathetic. “Or what if she’s been feeling the same this whole time, but she’s been too scared to lose you? What if she’s been waiting for you to say what she can’t?”

Bucky stops, his hands on his hips, his head bowed. “I can’t lose her, Sam. Not as a friend, not as… whatever this is. She’s everything. And if I’m wrong—if I tell her how I feel and she walks away—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Sam stands, crossing the room to face Bucky. “Buck, you’re already losing her by doing nothing. This limbo you’re both stuck in? It’s tearing you apart. You’ve got to take the leap, man. Because if you don’t, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Bucky swallows hard, his eyes clouded with doubt. “And if I crash and burn?”

Sam gives him a small, encouraging smile. “Then you’ll get back up. And you’ll know you tried. But if you don’t take that chance, you’ll always wonder what could’ve been.”

Bucky lets out a shaky breath, his hands still clenched at his sides. “I’ve never been good at this—at saying what I feel. And now, with everything so screwed up…”

“Then stop overthinking it,” Sam says. “Tell her the truth. Not hints, not half-measures. The whole thing.”

Bucky looks at him, his expression caught between fear and hope. “What if she’s already made up her mind? What if she’s moving on?”

Sam shakes his head. “You don’t know that. And you won’t unless you ask. But hiding behind ‘what ifs’ isn’t gonna get you anywhere.”

Bucky stares at the shattered lamp, his mind racing. Finally, he lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Alright,” he says quietly. “I’ll talk to her. But if this blows up in my face, you’re buying me drinks for the next decade.”

Sam smirks, clapping him on the shoulder. “Deal. Now get yourself together, man. You’ve got work to do.”

Bucky nods, though the weight of what lies ahead presses heavily on him. As Sam heads for the door, he glances back. “Just remember, Buck—she’s not the only one with walls. You’ve got a few of your own.”

Wanda clapped her hands together, her tone light. “Okay, enough brooding. How about some brunch? I’m starving.”

Natasha perked up at that, crossing her arms. “I could go for some pancakes. What about the farmers market?”

You sighed, your head falling back against the couch. “I’m down for food, but we can’t go to the farmers market.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her tone edging toward irritation. “Why not?”

“Because we can’t go there without Bucky,” you said simply, your voice flat but firm.

Natasha groaned, throwing her hands up. “God, why does everything have to come back to Bucky? He’s not exactly the Farmers Market King. We can survive one trip without him.”

You sat up, your eyes flashing. “Stop it, Nat. Just stop. Look, we’ve all messed up before. Bucky’s not some random guy who screwed up—he’s Bucky, its him. He’s been there for me through everything. We can’t just hate on him because we got in a fight.”

Natasha scoffed, her voice sharp. “I can hate on him just fine. He’s an asshole, and I’m tired of watching him drag you through this endless cycle of misery.”

Your hands clenched at your sides as you stood up, your voice snapping like a whip. “And I’m tired of you acting like it’s so black and white! He’s not perfect, but none of us are. You think I haven’t made mistakes? You think I haven’t hurt him too?”

Natasha stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “You’re always defending him! No matter what he does, you jump in to shield him, like he’s some wounded puppy. When are you gonna wake up and realize he’s not worth it?”

“He’s not worth it?” you said, your voice trembling with anger. “You don’t get it, Nat. He’s not just some guy who broke my heart. He’s my best friend! You don’t throw someone like that away because they messed up once, or twice, or even a hundred times. He’s Bucky, for god’s sake!”

The room went silent, the weight of your words hanging between you. Natasha stared at you, her jaw tightening before she shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Fine,” she said coldly. “Do whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart again.”

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed off into Steve’s room. Natasha grabbed her bag as she headed for the door. Before she left, she glanced at Wanda and Steve, her voice sharp. “All I do is try to help, but if she wants to keep sticking up for his dumb ass, that’s on her, leave me out of it next time.”

The door slammed behind her, leaving an uncomfortable silence in her wake.

Wanda and Steve exchanged glances, both looking a little shell-shocked. Finally, Wanda sighed, brushing her hair back. “I’ll go after Nat,” she said quietly. She turned to Steve, her brow raised. “You got her?”

Steve nodded, giving Wanda a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’ve got her.”

Once Wanda left, Steve turned to. Steve hesitated for a moment before following. He knocked gently on the door. “Hey… you okay?”

There was no answer at first, just the sound of you pacing. Finally, your voice came through, quieter but still tense. “I’m fine, Steve. Just… need a minute.”

Steve leaned against the doorframe, his voice soft. “Take all the time you need. I’m here, I’ll always be right here…”

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ruewrote · 20 hours ago

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𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒.

PAIRING: josh washington x gn!reader WARNINGS: josh breaks down to you, no use of y/n GENRE: angst but more fluff SONG INSPIRATION: lay it all on me by rudimental WORD COUNT: 2k REQUESTED: yes

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it was well past midnight when your phone rang, disturbing the silence of your apartment. you groggily fumbled for it on your nightstand, squinting at the screen. josh. your heart dropped into your stomach.

he never called this late unless something was wrong. the sound of his name, even in the dead of night, was enough to pull you out of sleep.

“josh?” you answered, sitting up, suddenly wide awake.

he didn’t respond immediately. you could hear his breathing, ragged and uneven, like he was struggling to catch his breath. it was enough to send a spike of worry straight through you.

“josh, hey, what’s going on? are you okay?”

“i–” his voice cracked, and the sound broke something inside of you.

“i need you. please… can you come over?”

you were already moving, tossing off your blanket and grabbing your coat from where it hung on the back of your chair. “i’m on my way,” you promised, your voice firm despite the fear creeping into your nerves. “hang tight, okay? i’m on my way right now.”

the drive to his apartment felt like it took hours instead of minutes, the city lights blurring past as you pressed harder on the gas. your mind raced, a thousand scenarios playing out, each one worse than the last. you knew josh had been struggling lately.

old memories resurfacing, the weight of the past dragging him down. but he rarely asked for help, let alone called you in the middle of the night sounding so... broken.

when you finally reached his building, you sprinted up the stairs two at a time, barely pausing to knock before pushing open the door to his apartment. it wasn’t locked, and that only made your chest tighten with worry.

“josh?” you called out into the darkened space. the only light came from the city’s glow through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. you found him in the living room, curled up on the couch, clutching his head in his hands.

he didn’t look up as you approached, but you heard the sharp intake of breath as he realised you were there.

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” you murmured, dropping to your knees in front of him. your hands hovered over his, not wanting to overwhelm him but aching to touch, to comfort. “i’m here now. what happened?”

josh’s head snapped up then, his eyes wild and glassy. “i saw them,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “they were right here. i swear i could hear them screaming... i can’t–” his words dissolved into a choked sob, he squeezed his eyes shut as if that could block out the images.

your heart clenched painfully at the sight of him like this, so raw and vulnerable. you’d seen josh put on his bravado before, cracking jokes and averting how he was feeling by making sure everyone else was okay. but this was different. this was the real him, laid bare and hurting, and it killed you to see the man you loved like this.

without thinking, you reached out, cupping his cheek in your hand. he flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“they’re not here, josh,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “it’s just us. you’re safe.”

he shook his head violently, his breath coming in shuddering gasps. “no, i can still see them. it’s like they’re… they’re blaming me. i can feel it.”

“look at me,” you pleaded, moving closer until you were almost nose to nose, your other hand finding it’s way to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “it’s not real. it feels real, i know, but you’re here with me now. you made it through, josh. you survived.”

“i shouldn’t have,” he rasped, his eyes welling with fresh tears. “they didn’t, and i did. why do i get to be here when they don’t?”

“because you deserve to be,” you said sternly, letting the words hang in the space between you. you swallowed thickly, the love you held for him swelling in your chest, making your voice tremble. “i know you don’t believe that right now, but i do. and i’m not leaving you to fight this alone.”

his eyes searched yours desperately, looking for something to hold on to. “why are you here?” he asked, the question slipping out so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “why do you keep coming back?”

you exhaled shakily, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue. you’d been hiding it for so long, burying your feelings under layers of friendship and concern, but now, looking at him like this, it felt right to tell him the truth.

“because i love you, josh,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “because i can’t stand to see you like this and not do anything about it. i love you, even when you’re hurting like this, especially when you’re hurting like this.”

for a moment, everything went still. you could hear the rain pounding against the windows, the distant murmur of the city outside. but between the two of you, there was only silence, a tense, fragile thing that felt like it might shatter with the next breath.

something in his expression softened, and his hands reached out, grasping your wrists like he was afraid you might slip away. “you love me?” he whispered.

“i do,” you nodded, feeling tears stinging your own eyes now. “and i’m not going anywhere. not tonight, not ever. i’m here, josh. i’ve got you.”

he let out a strangled sound, something between a sob and a laugh, and before you knew it, he was pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. you clung to him just as tightly, feeling the way his body shook against yours, the way his breath hitched as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“you’re too good to me,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.

“no,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple, lingering there as you stroked his hair. “i’m just what you need.”

for the first time that night, you felt him relax, the tension slowly draining from his body as he melted into your embrace. you held him there, rocking gently, whispering soothing words until his breathing evened out, his grip on you loosening but not letting go.

“i’m here,” you repeated, the promise sinking into the silence of the room. “i’m not letting go.”

and you meant it, more than anything you’d ever said before.

the tension in josh’s body slowly faded away in your arms, replaced by a heavy, exhausted weight as the last of his sobs quieted. he clung to you as though you were the only thing keeping him anchored to the present, to reality.

his breathing was still ragged, but it had started to even out, the frantic edge fading into something softer.

you shifted a little, your fingers still tracing up and down his back, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “let’s get you to bed,” you murmured, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

josh tensed for a moment, he wasn’t ready to let go, but when you started to pull back. he released you reluctantly. he wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand, sniffling. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice small and raw. “i didn’t mean to–”

“hey,” you cut him off, cupping his cheek and guiding his gaze back to yours. “you don’t have to apologise, not for this. you needed me, and i came. that’s all.”

he nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes glistening in the dim light of the room. you took his hand, squeezing it gently as you helped him to his feet. he swayed a little, unsteady, and you tightened your grip, steadying him. his fingers intertwined with yours almost as if he was afraid to let go, and it made your heart ache.

“c’mon,” you said softly, guiding him toward his bedroom. you led him to the bed, pulling back the covers before easing him down. he sank into the mattress, looking up at you with a vulnerability that made you want to wrap him up and shield him from everything that had ever hurt him.

you tucked the blanket around him, smoothing your hand over his chest as if you could soothe away the remnants of his panic. his eyes fluttered shut at the touch, a shiver running through him.

you slipped off your shoes and climbed into bed beside him, the mattress dipping under your weight. he rolled onto his side, facing you, and without thinking, you reached out, your fingers threading through his hair again. you combed through the soft, messy strands, gentle and rhythmic, he let out a deep sigh, finally letting himself start to relax.

you began to hum quietly, the familiar tune of a lullaby you knew he loved. a song you’d sung together on countless road trips, or played during quiet moments when the world outside didn’t matter. you felt the tension melt away from his body bit by bit, his sniffles becoming further apart, until they were just occasional, quiet sounds.

josh’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing slowing, you thought he might be asleep. you kept stroking his hair, even as your own eyes grew heavy. the love you felt for him was a tangible thing, filling up the space between you, wrapping around him like a blanket.

you pressed one last, lingering kiss to his forehead, lingering just a moment longer than you probably should have.

“goodnight, josh,” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with a tenderness you could no longer hide.

you waited a beat, your heart squeezing in your chest, before slowly beginning to pull back. you slipped out from under the covers, careful not to wake him as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. you had just managed to stand up when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“don’t go,” josh mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. his grip on your wrist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you there, to keep you from leaving. “please stay.”

you turned back to him, your eyes meeting his. he looked up at you, his face half buried in the pillow, his eyes glassy and pleading. “i… i don’t want to be alone.”

your resolve crumbled in an instant. how could you possibly leave him when he needed you like this?

you squeezed his hand in return, you nodded.

the way he looked at you, the raw plea in his voice... you couldn’t say no.

“of course,” you whispered, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. “i’ll stay as long as you need.”

you crawled back into bed, settling beside him, and this time when you wrapped your arms around him, he pressed closer, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. his breath was warm against your skin, a soft, steady rhythm that matched the beating of your heart.

he let out a contented sigh, his entire body relaxing against yours. “thank you,” he breathed, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

you kissed the top of his head, your fingers resuming their soothing pattern through his hair. “you don’t have to thank me,” you replied. “i’m right where i want to be.”

he didn’t say anything after that, just nuzzled closer, the last of his sniffles fading into silence. you felt his breathing slow, becoming deep and even, and it wasn’t long before you could tell he was asleep.

you kept combing your fingers through his hair, even as your own eyes grew heavy, the sound of his steady breaths lulling you into a peaceful drowsiness.

you’d meant to stay awake, to make sure he was okay, but the warmth of his body against yours, the comfort of having him so close, made it impossible. you pressed one last kiss to his forehead, a silent promise that you weren’t going anywhere, before letting your eyes flutter shut.

and for the first time in a long time, you both fell asleep easily.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ @joshwashingtonmybeloved

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trixy812 · 24 hours ago

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⋆｡‧˚ʚ You have all my support ɞ˚‧｡⋆ pt 2

{Nanami Kento x reader}

ִֶָ࣪☾. Content: kento nanami x reader, just fluff, comfort, friends to lovers, nightmare, digimon mentioned!, i really think nanami looks at memes like parents look at memes xdxd (don't forget we are in year 2007ish)

ִֶָ࣪☾. Summary: It was inevitable. Kento Nanami and you became friends.

ִֶָ࣪☾. AN: Hello! I bring you guys part two, I took longer than I expected. Yesterday, I had a very calm nightshift and decided to finally write this second part, i really liked how it turn out. I really want to encourage you all to leave comments because that would help me a lot now that I'm just starting to write! extra: i really want to thank my twiniieee @totallygyomeiswife because she helped to organize my thought and how i want this fic to keep going.

pt. 1 - pt. 2

It’s been several months since Haibara’s death, and while Nanami remains the serious, reserved man everyone knows, something has subtly changed in him. In these past months, he’s allowed himself to trust you, finding quiet comfort in your friendship. You've always been there for him, offering support without demands or expectations. Yet Haibara’s memory still casts a long shadow, and sometimes his dreams dredge up painful scenes, reminding him of everything he's lost.

One night, after an especially vivid nightmare where he relives those haunting images of Haibara, Nanami wakes up, gasping for air. Without thinking, he picks up his phone and sends you a message:

Are you awake?

Your response comes almost immediately.

Of course! I’m always awake. You couldn’t sleep again, could you?

Despite the lingering weight of his nightmare, Nanami can’t help but smile slightly.

Do you ever actually sleep?

It’s my superpower! you reply, adding a sunglasses emoji.

Just as he’s about to put his phone down, he sees a notification from you—an image attachment. Curious, he opens it to see a meme of a concerned-looking dog, accompanied by the huge caption: “Your life is as worrisome as my face!” Nanami frowns, confused by the image.

Whose dog is that? he asks.

That doesn’t matter! Just laugh! It’s funny, right?

It seems we have different definitions of funny, he replies, teasing you. But he’s unable to stop himself from smiling, finding a strange comfort in your lightheartedness, and grateful for the brief escape from his thoughts.

Later that day, the two of you meet up at an arcade. You've set your sights on a claw machine with a Palmon plush, and after several failed attempts, you’re determined to get it. The lights and sounds around you barely register; all your attention is on the machine and on winning that Palmon.

Nanami watches from behind, arms crossed, his expression showing his skepticism. “Are you seriously going to keep going? You’ve already spent 4,500 yen. This is ridiculous.”

Without looking away from the machine, you throw him a quick glance. “Yes! I need it. Palmon is beautiful, and I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t win it.”

Nanami raises an eyebrow, doubtful. “Is it really that important?”

“Obviously!” You pout, looking at him with that mix of determination and stubbornness he’s come to recognize. That blend of energy and defiance stirs something in him, and he blurts out a suggestion he hadn’t even thought through

“Come study with me at Jujutsu High.”

The proposal surprises both of you, and you stop playing for a moment, though you keep your hand firmly on the joystick to hold your spot. Smiling, you look at him with a mix of affection and amusement.

“That’s not going to happen. I’ll never be a sorcerer. Not even you could change my mind, Nanami.”

A faint blush rises to your cheeks as you say his name, wondering if you’ve let slip too much. You seem about to say something more, but he interrupts, his voice soft and sorrowful.

“I’m alone now. I was left alone”

His words strike you, and though you want to tell him how much he means to you, how you've had a crush on him for months now but you know it’s not the right moment. He’s still too vulnerable, and you wouldn’t want to take advantage of that. Instead, you try to lighten the mood.

“My dad always used to say, ‘You go to school to study, not to make friends,’” you say, imitating your father’s voice and holding a finger under your nose as if you had a mustache. Nanami watches, but the sadness doesn’t leave his gaze.

Finally, you look him in the eyes, speaking with quiet sincerity. “You have all my support, Nanami. You know that, right?”

Nanami meets your eyes, and for a moment, his expression softens, the sadness easing a little. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and you notice a hint of peace behind his smile.

“After school, you probably have homework, just like me,” you suggest, taking a breath. “How about I come to your house every day after classes, and we do it together? Studying will be easier if we have each other’s company.”

Nanami looks at you, a bit taken aback by the suggestion, but he finds himself surprisingly comforted by the idea. Even though he knows your schoolwork might be very different from his own, the thought reassures him.

“And what about your hospital volunteering? Don’t you have to go?” he asks, concern creeping into his voice.

You wave his concern off. “I’ll do it on weekends. There are fewer people, and I can hide what I’m doing more easily. Don’t worry.”

Nanami nods, and without another word, he steps toward the claw machine, nudging you aside gently. Reaching into his pocket, he inserts 1,000 yen. And as the good sorcerer he is, it looks like magic, the claw captures the Palmon on the first try.

As soon as you see the plush descending, you let out a shout of pure joy, bouncing with excitement. Nanami pulls it from the machine and hands it to you.

“Thank you so much, Kento!” you exclaim, hugging the plush tightly, and realizing, as your face flushes, that you’ve called him by his first name.

Nanami blinks, surprised, but then he smiles, seeing you so happy. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of Haibara in your lively expression, just like that day when you met, and the thought fills him with an unexpected peace.

“So, what time will you be coming to my house to keep up with your ‘plan’?” he asks, his tone faintly teasing.

Unable to help it, your smile grew even wider, thrilled to have the Palmon in your hands, happy that Nanami won it for you, ecstatic because you know you'll see him more often, just as you've dreamed awake before going to sleep, you respond, “Let’s meet at Akihabara station after school, and then we can go together. Does that sound good?”

Nanami nods, satisfied with the plan. “Perfect.” With a slight blush, he murmurs almost to himself, but just loud enough for you to hear, “Keep calling me Kento.”

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till-the-end-official · 3 days ago

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Ivan paces around his room as his sister stares at him in lesbian judgement. He really doesn't want to hear it from her, but she speaks anyway.

"Ivan. Till is not going to care what you wear on this date. Till already dresses like Adam Sandler on a regular basis. His idea of 'dressing nice' is probably being fully punked out. I think you'll be fine."

Ivan groans into his hands. His sister was right, but he'll never say that out loud. He sighs and goes back into the closet (lmao) and just picks his favorite outfit. He even got a matching cap and sunglasses for the outfit to hide himself in public.

"Noona, do you think he'd kill me if I took him somewhere too nice?"

"Yes."

Her speaking without hesitation definitely meant that she was 100% sure and also correct.

Ivan pouts and grumbles under his breath. He then gets a brilliant idea and gasps out loud.

"Oh my god, karaoke! It's literally that easy. Both of us are good at it... or well good at singing- and we can also order drinks and book a private room."

Sua regards him with vague amusement. She huffs fondly before standing up, making her way out of the house.

"Yeah. That works, just don't start making out in the booth. Unfortunately, there are cameras. Me and Mizi found out the hard way."

Ivan's face lights up in flames at the idea of making out with Till before the rest of the comment registers in his head.

"Wait you and Mizi-?!?"

Sua's already booked it out his apartment. Ivan has half the mind to chase her, but he has a date to get ready for.

Till, on the other hand, was freaking out. He was on call with Mizi, practically hyperventilating, as he dismantled his entire closet.

"Till, calm down. You're overthinking this. Ivan finds you so attractive as is- he would find you attractive in a potato sack. Calm down."

These words did not assure Till at all, his mind was set into panic mode. He threw outfit after outfit onto his bed, making his bedroom seem like a clothing store was blown up. He had NEVER put this much effort into how he looks, and it was reminding him just how simple his outfits were. He wasn't one to care about what he wore on dates, he usually just threw on whatever he felt like, but this time it was different. Everything about this date felt different.

"I-I still want to look somewhat presentable! Just because he may like whatever I wear doesn't mean I shouldn't put any effort into it!"

Till has never sounded more distressed in his life, and Mizi only ended up giggling as she watched her senior freak out over what to wear. She knew that deep down, whatever Till chose Ivan would drool over him in, but it was very sweet seeing Till put this much thought into his outfit.

"How about the outfit you wore to the Beat Rider event? The one with your black ripped jeans and leather jacket?"

Till had no energy to think of anything different, so he decided to go with that. While he was grabbing his clothes, he also grabbed some silver rings and earrings to go along with it. He threw on a simple blue crewneck, quickly putting a silver chain and another necklace with a lock around his neck before throwing on his hooded leather jacket. He put on his pair of black ripped jeans before quickly lacing up his Doc Martins.

"Do you think this looks good?"

Till asked, turning his camera on and showing Mizi the outfit. Mizi gasped, despite it being the outfit she suggested, and nodded excitedly.

"You look great! I'm sure Ivan is going to love it."

Right as the pink-hair actress said that, the sound of Till's doorbell going off could be heard.

"Speak of the devil... Thank you, Mizi."

"No problem at all! Just remember to be safe!"

Before Till could ask what she meant by that, Mizi hung up. He groaned quietly to himself before quickly grabbing a facemask and a pair of sunglasses just incase he needed them. He quickly ran out of his room, shoving his phone in his pocket before opening the door.

As soon as Till registered Ivan, he slammed the door on his face, his cheeks flushing up as he had a mini gay panic.

'Oh my god- we're going out and he looks like THAT?! I might have to wear my mask the entire time oh my god. He can't just SURPRISE me like that- I knew he was attractive but like I've never slammed the door before- wait! Oh shit!'

Till hurriedly opened the door again, cursing under his breath as he looked at Ivan. His face was even hotter than before he slammed the door, so he must look like a fucking apple right now. God... he felt so embarrassed. He would be surprised if Ivan didn't mistake him for a sundried tomato right now.

#actor till is literate #alien stage #alnst #alien stage rp #alnst rp

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16mistypaw · 3 days ago

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I borrowed the lovely @skyloftian-nutcase Healthcare boys for a short thing I wrote while feeling miserable from a flu shot reaction. Featuring a feverish Sky, a concerned Legend, and father figure Time.

The song in this fic is There Will Be a Day by Jeremy Camp. I had that song stuck in my head while writing this

---

Legend walked into the staff break room, heading to his locker to grab a new handful of pens to stuff in his pocket. He still didn’t know how he could start the shift with a full pocket, and have none left when he was barely halfway through.

Someone sat at the table, resting their head face down on their crossed arms. All he could make out was the fluffy, dirty blonde hair and rumpled uniform. A white cloth with blue highlights poked out from where it rested between arms and face, and Legend recognised it at Sky’s beloved scarf.

“Sky.” A muffled grunt was the only acknowledgement he received. “There’s better places to take a nap. Like home, didn’t your shift end a while ago?”

“Yea. Jus’ needed a minute.” Sky replied, lifting his head. The pilot’s face was flushed and damp with sweat, his expression more tired than usual. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on Legend.

“Are you sick?” Legend asked, straight to the point. “You look feverish.”

“Not sick, yes I have a fever. Flu shots suck.”

“Ah. The traveling cart found you huh?”

“Yeah, this morning. They asked if I got it, I said no, so they did it. Kinda hard to refuse at that point.” Sky plopped his face back into his scarf, energy seemingly spent. “I should head home.”

“Yeah, you should. Go sleep it off.” Sky sighed, then heaved himself to his feet. He wobbled for a moment, grabbing the back of the chair to steady himself. Then he straightened up, brushing past Legend to grab his clothes from his locker before heading to the changing room.

Deciding to keep an eye on Sky for a little longer, Legend busied himself straightening up the breakroom as he waited for Sky to return. He returned a few minutes later, grabbing his bag and then just… stopped, staring blankly at it for a moment before snapping out of it and gathering his stuff.

Legend didn’t like that.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t think you’re okay to drive, spacing out like that. Can anyone give you a ride?”

“Ah, the rest of my team went home a while ago… and the rest of you guys are either still working or at home sleeping.”

“When does Time finish today?” Legend knew Time had a soft spot for Sky, and had on more than one occasion taken the young man home with him when he was unwell.

“In like,” Sky checked the clock on the wall, brain stalling on trying to read the hands before checking his phone instead. “An hour?”

“Come on.” Legend took Sky’s bag, prompting him to follow as they left the break room. He pulled his phone out with his other hand while they walked, sending a message to Time. Sky didn’t question where they were going, until Legend led him down a hallway he wasn’t familiar with.

“You’re going to rest in one of the empty on-call rooms until Time is done. Then you’re going with him and sleeping this off.” Legend nudged him inside, placing Sky’s bag beside one of the beds. Sky sat on the mattress without protest, still holding his scarf in his arms as he lay down. He was out almost instantly.

Legend turned the main light out, leaving just the small lamp on the nightstand. He paused in the doorway for a moment, looking Sky over once more, before closing the door and hurrying back to his unit.

~~~

The knock on the door didn’t wake Sky, nor the light being turned on. Time gently shook Sky’s shoulder, and after a few moments the younger man blinked blurry eyes open.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” Time asked.

Sky stared at him, processing, then, “Like crap. ‘Not exempt because it’s not an allergy’ my ass. Not all reactions are from allergies.”

“Yeah, that’s frustrating.” Time agreed. “Let’s get you home. You’re off tomorrow, right?” Sky only nodded in response, picking up his things and following Time out the door. The walk to the parking garage was short but tiring, and Sky gratefully slipped into the passenger seat, resting his head against the cool window. The rumbling of the engine nearly lulled him back to sleep, but random thoughts kept drifting in, keeping him awake.

“Have you ever thought about why our jobs exist?” Sky suddenly asked. Time glanced over, surprised at the unexpected question.

“Because people get sick and hurt?”

“Yeah, but like. Why?” At this point Time decided to just let the boy ramble, curious as to where his fever-addled mind was wandering.

“I mean, why do people get sick? Why do bad things happen? Because people made it that way. Those things weren't supposed to happen. The world was made perfectly. And then humans went and ruined it. We live in a fallen world of our own making. If that didn't happen, there would be no reason for what we do.”

“And yet here we are, making the best of what we've got in this fallen world.” Time replied. Sky didn't respond, and for a moment Time wandered if he'd fallen asleep. After a few minutes, he was surprised to hear Sky start singing softly.

“There will be a day, with no more tears,

no more pain, no more fears

There will be a day,

when the burdens of this place,

will be no more

Troubled soul don't lose your heart

‘Cause the joy and peace He brings,

and the beauty that's in store,

outweighs the hurt of life's sting.

But I hold onto this hope,

and the promise that He brings,

that there will be a place with no more suffering”

Sky trailed off as the car came to a stop, realizing Time had brought him to his place instead of taking him home.

“Come on, let's get you to bed.” Time steadied him as he stepped out of the car, leading him inside and to the guest room that was unofficially his. Everything was just as he had left it, making it easy to settle in for the night. Time left briefly, returning with a bottle of water, medicine, and something wrapped in a small towel.

Sky accepted the water and fever medicine, before laying down in bed. The towel wrapped object turned out to be an ice pack, which felt amazing on his hot skin. Something small and soft was tucked against him, and he was mildly embarrassed to see it was the worn red bird plush Sun had made for him many years ago.

“I don't need a plushy.” Sky protested. “I'm not a kid.” Despite his words, he held the treasured toy against his chest.

“There's nothing wrong with you having a stuffed animal. Just because you're an adult, that doesn't mean you can't have things like this, especially if it's something that brings you comfort.” Time shook out Sky's oversized scarf, draping it over him like a blanket. “Get some rest. I'll be down the hall, so just call if you need anything.”

Time flicked the lights out as he left, leaving the door cracked in case Sky called for him. He didn't think that would be necessary though. He could already hear soft snoring as Sky slept the fever away.

#legend of zelda #lu in healthcare #linked universe #lu sky #lu time #lu legend #christianity #christian song #mistys writing

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babymetaldoll · 1 day ago

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

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

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter (post date: November 20th)

(Y/N)’s point of view

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “Maybe one. I’m rooting for Raven.”

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

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

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

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

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

- “Don’t put ideas in my head.”

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

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

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

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

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

But. Of course, there was a “but.”

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

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

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

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

Spencer’s point of view

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “Just tired. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “Spence, Morgan left for a reason.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “Sir, yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Y/N)’s point of view

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “That's great news, Spencer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

That, until he got a phone call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “How is she?”- I asked right away

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “Go, honey. Please.”

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

- “I am sure, you have to do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “Hon… no. She needs you now.”

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

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

- “What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “Thank you for picking them up from daycare”

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

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

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

- “What? Why?”

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

- “That’s so bad, how is he?”

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

- “Why not? His mother needs him.”

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

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

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

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

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

- “ How was your day, Sofia?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer’s point of view

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “Sure chipmunk. Anything in mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “I know, hon. Me neither.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Y/N)’s point of view

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “You just nailed it. I’m…”

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

- “Yeah, and terrified.”

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

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

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

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

- “I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “How are you, chipmunk?”

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

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

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

- “Shit, I missed making fun of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

- “Take care, honey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “I was feeling forgotten.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “On your phones.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “Roger that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

- “I'm gonna stay.

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

- “Best news ever!!”

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

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

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

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

Spencer’s point of view

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was the day I lied to my wife.

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

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another-supernova-girl · 1 day ago

Text

The New Normal ( Part 2 ) - Compartmentalize : - Cooper Adams/Abbott x Fem Reader *NSFW*

Based on the following request from @callsign-fangirl : "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you" with cooper? 👉🏽👈🏽 I obviously decided to turn it into a continuation of my first posted Cooper request, The New Normal (it just fit so well), I hope you like it girlie 🔪 As a reminder, this is canon divergent, where Cooper and Rachel got a divorce instead of her discovering he is The Butcher. Gif is mine. MY JOSH HARTNETT CHARACTER MASTERLIST CAN BE FOUND HERE. This is NSFW, and contains consensual sexual content ( NO Daddy Kink, NO Breeding Kink, and NO Degradation Kink ) and some mentions of violence. One aspect of it was also definitely inspired by something interesting I noticed regarding a certain 5-ish seconds of the movie...if you've seen my gif set, you'll probably be able to pick out which portion ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(( word count : ~ 3,800 ))

“It's okay, really...I'm not going anywhere, take as long as you...okay, I just don't want you rushing on my account,” The Butcher's girlfriend spoke into the receiving end of her cellphone, standing outside the front entrance of the bar they had agreed to meet up at. The night was chillier than expected, and she regretted not bringing a jacket, but the music was too loud inside the establishment, and she didn't want to risk any miscommunication. “She thinks you cheated on her mother with me, of course she isn't going to like me. Just...Cooper, she's never going to like me if she thinks I'm driving a wedge between her and her dad...Okay, just text me when you're on your way...I love you, too,” she mumbled into the phone before she ended the call, still getting used to saying those words out loud. It hadn't been her intention to cut into daddy-daughter time, but Cooper had let slip his evening plans while Riley was on the phone with her mother, and suddenly Rachel had some extra errands to run that had clearly been an effort to throw off his night. Admittedly, it was frustrating, but the young woman standing in the frigid air, pocketing her phone, knew it couldn't be helped by anything but time, and she glanced once more at her phone before slipping back inside.

🔪

Nearly an hour had passed between the call, and Cooper's emergence into the establishment, his umber eyes darting around immediately, in search of his young lover, his vision landing on a stool toward the furthest end of the bar. His kind, public-facing smile immediately appeared across his lips as he strode her way, peeling off his sturdy coat as he moved, dropping it on the stool beside the one he sat down upon, directly by her side. He began to apologize for his tardiness, but she shook her head, staring up at him with almost none of the shyness that she so often displayed around the firehouse. Clearly, she had started without him, he observed, her cheeks warm to the touch as he grazed a callous-roughened thumb over one side of her face, his fingertips caressing her throat and jaw. When she leaned into his touch, he took the opportunity to capture her lips in a kiss, and he tasted her sugary drink on her tongue. “How many have you had,” he whispered when he pulled away, both his hands on her face now, his thumbs running back and forth over her soft skin. Any anxiety he might have felt about changing their plans so last minute, and her possible negative reaction, was abated by the dreamy look in her eyes as she stared back at him with such transparent affection.

“This is my second,” she confirmed, glancing at the half-full vessel of a liquid whose vivid pigment was definitely not present in nature. “I'm kind of a lightweight,” she admitted with a half-smile and a shrug.

“I can see that,” he answered, a genuine smile taking over his features as she leaned in to claim more of his physical affection, her lips seeking out his own. Cooper's large hands drifted along the sides of her throat, over her shoulders, gripping lightly at the neckline of the dress she wore, sliding his thumbs between the fabric and her heated skin, nearly forgetting where he was until the sound of a clearing throat brought them both back to the reality of their surroundings. The fireman glanced toward the stone-faced bartender, clearly unfazed by the sight of couples trying to unwrap each other at the bar, and he ordered a bourbon, abandoning the edges of his date's dress to take her hand instead. They had the whole night to themselves. There was plenty of time for however they decided to spend it.

Time passed without much notice as The Butcher and his girl spent the next round of sipped drinks sharing the details of their day, Cooper doing most of the talking as he gushed about his daughter, the young woman beside him listening intently. She wasn't particularly interested in having any children of her own, but absorbing the words of the proud girl-dad beside her gave her a modicum of comfort. For all his violent tendencies against strangers, the secrets of his that she kept, she felt as she listened to him enthuse about his children, that he couldn't possibly be all monster beneath. Or maybe she was just getting better at compartmentalizing.

“So, how was your day? I feel like I'm doing all the talking,” he finally inquired when he realized how long it had been since she'd uttered more than just a reaction to his stories.

“Um...uneventful,” she shrugged, her eyes glancing away for a moment at nothing in particular before they began searching for her nearly fluorescent drink. When he didn't respond after several seconds, she glanced back up to him as she drew her glass to her lips. “What?”

“What happened,” he asked directly, all levity in his features dropping away.

“N-nothing,” she mumbled, gulping down a swallow of the vibrant liquid. When Cooper sat up straighter on his stool, his gaze trained studiously on her, unyielding, she let out a sigh. “It was really nothing,” she repeated, tilting her head to look elsewhere, a large hand reaching out to gently guide her back to share his gaze.

“It doesn't sound like nothing,” The Butcher retorted, and it might have unsettled her how long he managed to stare at her without blinking, if she hadn't been so tipsy from the alcohol.

“Some...gross guy at the bar-”

“This bar?”

“What other bar could it possibly...Yes, this bar,” she confirmed, letting out a breath, glancing away for the briefest moment before he grazed his thumb over her cheek, silently encouraging her attention.

“Did he touch you-”

“No, he didn't touch me, he just...didn't wanna take 'go away' for an answer,” she mumbled. “But obviously, he eventually did,” she noted, indicating with her hands in both directions of the bar the empty stools on either side of them.

“You didn't leave your drink-”

“No, Cooper, he didn't drug me, I'm not stup-”

“Smart girls end up in dangerous situations, too,” he interrupted, the irony of his words not lost on either of them, considering all the blood that had soaked his hands over the years. “Is he still here?” When her words dried up, her lips pursed, he had his answer. “Who?”

“Cooper, it's not-”

Both of his large hands cupped her jaw as he watched her eyes, the young woman before him beginning to sober up a bit as the stream of alcohol slowed. “Sweetheart, this isn't...none of this is going to work if you don't trust me,” he rasped, his hands lowering to her shoulders as they had earlier in the evening, though he found it much easier to keep them from wandering in his frustrated state. “I hope you realize there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you.” She stared into his eyes until the intensity of them became too much, her smaller hands reaching up for his larger ones and dragging them away from her shoulders, his digits weaving between her own. “Now...which one?”

After a few seconds of staring at his large hands, the way they engulfed and overwhelmed hers, she glanced over her shoulder toward the furthest corner, and Cooper realizing how obvious it should have been. He'd been so wrapped up in his girl that he'd missed the more age-appropriate man leering at her from across the room. “Cooper...” she uttered as he suddenly stood up, letting go of her hands to push his silky hair out of his face. “What are you gonna-”

“Don't worry about me, baby...We're just gonna go have a talk,” he lied, standing up and leaning in to press an insistent kiss against her mouth, one of his hands weaving into her hair to pull her closer, his tongue darting out to meet hers when she parted her lips for air. When he finally pulled away, she wants sure if it was the alcohol or his kiss that had her feeling especially dizzy. “I'll be right back,” he breathed against her ear before finally parting from her, heading directly for the man she had indicated, whom Cooper had obviously put on a show for.

🔪

Nearly twenty minutes had passed before she finally breathed a sigh of defeat, standing up from the bar stool she'd been left alone at, digging for her wallet within her purse to pay for the drinks she and her older boyfriend had partaken of. She didn't want the bartender following her outside, thinking he'd been stiffed, especially considering the real possibility that she'd find The Butcher doing a lot more than just talking. Satisfying their accumulated tab, the young woman picked up Cooper's glass and swallowed down the rest of the liquid inside, making a pained face as the burn of it hit her throat. If she was paying, it wasn't going to waste, no matter how wretched it tasted.

With a glance around the room, she strode across the bar and stepped through the front doors, glancing in both directions and wincing as the brisk air whipped at her exposed skin. There was no sign of the two men in either direction, no sounds of talking or...she hesitated to think what other sounds she might encounter. Knowing what he spent a selection of his free time doing was one thing, seeing it was quite another. With a swallow that was more akin to a gulp, she glanced again at her surroundings, and chose the side with the shorter wall, stepping as quietly as she could manage in her heeled boots along the concrete and circling the corner. Still no sight of either man, the faint snapping of twigs and thicker branches caught her attention, and she walked with increased vigor toward what she assumed must be the back of the bar, finding...still, no one.

“Cooper,” she meant to call out, but her throat barely managed a whisper as she looked around desperately for signs of life. With more clicking of her boots, she dug into her purse for the pepper spray Cooper had insisted she start carrying, looking in all directions until a sound not of her own creation reached her ears. She called out his name again, this time with more success, and she paused in her steps as a form emerged from the furthest edge of the parking lot, lined in unruly trees. Tall, broad-shouldered, silky chestnut hair in need of a trim falling in his face, she let out a sigh of relief as she began trekking in his direction, though her feet lost momentum when she noticed the shades of rusty burgundy that stood out against the black and white plaid of his flannel. His gate was sweeping as he crossed the empty, concrete-laden distance toward her, his facade almost expressionless. She mumbled his name once more as he neared her enough to reach out.

“Don't worry, sweetheart, it's not mine,” he whispered as he wiped blood from his hands down the sides of his shirt. He'd have to burn it in the fireplace when he got home anyway, so there wasn't much point in preventing further stains.

“I...figured,” she managed as she stared up at him, flinching reflexively when his large hands reached out for her, crimson staining his cuticles. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes almost appearing as nothing but shadows beneath his brow, reaching out once more and cupping her shoulders in his palms.

“I asked you to wait,” he spoke up suddenly, and her brows knit together as she stared up at his barely-lit features.

“You were gone so long, I...I started to worry,” she admitted, swallowing down the dryness in her throat as she stared up into the emptiness of his gaze. “I, um...I paid our tab...so...” She wasn't quite sure what to say as she gazed up at the man looming over her. She hadn't exactly been ignorant of his extra curricular activities when they'd started dating, but to be faced with it in person...and she knew this was far from the worst of it, whatever he'd done with the-

“Where is the...the body...I'm guessing,” she mumbled, glancing around, seeing no more signs of sentient life.

“Hidden away,” he answered vaguely. “All in one piece...they won't think it's one of mine,” he murmured, his hands starting to make passes up and down her arms, the warmth of them meeting the chill of her skin. “You're cold,” he mumbled.

“I...it's freezing out here,” she whispered, her feet beginning to take backward steps as she felt Cooper crowding her.

“I can warm you up,” he offered, the creep of a smile tugging at his lips. Something about his tone didn't seem to convey the obvious options for warmth, like the heated seats and toasty blast of the vents in his car. Managing to tear her gaze away from his hypnotic eyes, she glanced back at the building they were slowly edging toward, her eyes darting around in search of cameras, finding only one, the wires sprawling out of the wall and seemingly attaching to nothing relevant. “They're disabled,” Cooper answered her unasked question. “Doubt they've worked in years...we're safe,” he continued.

Safe. She repeated the word in her mind. She didn't feel anything close to safe as her back finally met chilled, jagged brick. “Cooper,” she breathed as his large hands found her waist, the fabric of her dress suddenly feeling quite thin and insignificant. She flinched again, though not from his touch, as her shoulder-blade scraped the rough, red stone.

“Stay,” he commanded, and she moved not an inch from where he left her, eyes following him as he stepped away just long enough to gather his jacket he'd discarded on the cracked concrete, an article he wasn't nearly as ready to part with as a simple flannel. Cooper was pleased to find her still where he'd left her as he closed the distance between them again, noticed her focus drifting along his body.

“Does that...usually happen, when you...,” her voice faded away to nothing as he joined her, guiding her arms into his retrieved jacket, her limbs disappearing inside it, the uncomfortable scrape of the brick being replaced by the slick feel of the satin-mimicking lining. Cooper raised a brow, following the focus of her gaze to the bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans.

“Sometimes,” he answered, another non-committal response.

“So...what do you usually do about it,” she breathed, her hands reaching through the minute distance between them, finding his belt buckle, plucking at the leather strip, her vision trained on the sheer mass of him through the denim. Contrary to the rumors that circulated around the firehouse, the murderer and his morally reluctant accessory had not actually found many opportunities for intimacy. Between a highly unpredictable work schedule on his end, and of course, his efforts to spend time with his children, there hadn't been as many chances for proper 'alone time' as either of them had wished for.

“I usually handle it myself,” Cooper spoke up, placing his flannel-covered forearms against the wall, his gaze fixed upon her fingers as he watched her loosen his belt, work at the snaps and zipper of his jeans, his cock barely held at bay by the stretch of his boxer-briefs. “You wanna help me take care of it?” Her hand sliding of its own accord beneath the elastic waistband was his answer, and his eyes eased closed as she palmed the weeping tip, swiping her thumb over the tiny slit and bringing the smear of pre-cum to her mouth to taste it.

“You're sure you really got that vasectomy,” she asked, and he smirked, eyes still closed as she wrapped her fingers around him and pumped frustratingly lightly.

“It's not really something-ahh...it's not something a man just forgets,” he groaned when her fingers slipped lower to grasp his balls lightly, still shielded from the crisp air by clingy fabric.

“Because you aren't exactly above lying to me-”

“When have I-”

“Not thirty fucking minutes a-” Cooper's mouth was on hers before she could snap out another word, his large hand grasping her smaller one and lifting it above her head, against the brick.

“You taste like my bourbon,” he whispered as his lips began to trail a line of kisses along her jaw, and she let out a frustrated sigh as he ignored her concerns in the moment, his free hand finding her waist once more, drifting lower to gather up the hem of her dress, the frigid autumn air meeting her thighs. “Yes, I really got it taken care of. After Logan, Rachel and I...,” his words ceased when he felt her hand go slack in his. “Hey...Baby, we've talked about this,” his voice softened as his fingers abandoned her thigh, the other hand that held hers to the wall dropping away, both reaching to cup her cheeks, warm from the flush of her arousal despite the chilled air, and the unfortunate topic they'd stumbled into. “My marriage was over, long before she came to the wrong conclusion...I miss coming home to my kids, but I don't miss coming home to her. I get...excited, when I know I'm gonna get to see you,” Cooper explained, running his thumbs over her cheeks, his fingers stroking gently at her throat. “I don't remember the last time I felt like that, before...before us,” he concluded, watching her eyes until they finally glanced back up at his.

“Really?” she finally mumbled, and a smile erupted across his face, the glaze of calm from his spontaneous kill little more than a memory.

“Really,” he declared, dipping down to taste her lips again, faint at first, almost chaste. “Do you wanna get out of here,” he whispered, his hands finding her shoulders again, confined in the thick layer of his jacket. He was a bit surprised when he felt the end of her nose ghost back and forth against his, shaking her head slightly. “You still wanna play?” She nodded silently, her hands taking hold of his, guiding them slowly down the short length of her dress – flowy, thin, and definitely not suited for such brisk weather. “I think you might still be a little drunk, baby,” he rasped, but his fingers continued to travel where she led them, nudging the strip of lace at the junction of her thighs out of his way, so slick that it felt like she was melting around him as his fingers slipped inside her.

“I might be...uhh...a little-mmph...” her words were staggered, her feet unsteady as he filled her up with his fingers, stroking at the spongy walls that made her tremble against the brick surface behind her.

“Drunk?” he offered, his digits drawing out from within her clinging walls, both hands reaching for her hips to drag the useless scrap of modesty down her thighs, dropping it to the concrete below, his own boot holding it in place as she stepped out of it.

“Buzzed,” she mumbled, her arms winding reflexively around his neck as his hands grasped either side of her ass, lifting her suddenly until her legs wrapped around his waist, his cock still bobbing above his elastic waistband, unfazed by the cool air that surrounded them. “But I know what I want,” she continued, her back wrapped in his coat that rubbed against the brick wall, taking in an audible breath as she felt the head of his cock against her folds, slick with her nectar, Cooper eager, but apprehensive. “Cooper, please,” she whispered, gripping the hair at the scruff of his neck and pulling him into a kiss, The Butcher swallowing her voice as he finally plunged inside.

Cooper's grip was firm against the flesh of her ass as he worked his hips against her, filling her so deeply from the elevated angle, the draw of gravity on them both, and the sheer size of him. Proportional, she'd called it the first time she saw it, clearly a little apprehensive, herself. Much as she had enjoyed herself as he'd laid claim to her body, she'd denied him when he tried to touch her after, uncomfortably tender from his attention.

“You okay?” the hulking man breathed against the shell of her ear as he sheathed himself inside her molten core, gasps pouring out of her with every thrust of his hips. She articulated no words, but nodded against him, her smooth cheek against his slightly rougher skin, a day's worth of unshaved growth between them. “I need you to tell me if I'm hurting y-”

“Cooper,” she whimpered out, one hand reaching around him to grasp at him through the denim that barely clung to his ass, the other pushing his sweat-slick hair out of his face, her eyes focused squarely on his as her whole body bobbed from the force of his thrusts. “I wouldn't let you fuck me if it hurt...you feel so...fuck, you feel so fucking good...you make me feel so-mmph...”

Cooper drank in her moans as his mouth worked against hers, his tongue as welcome inside as his cock clearly was, his hips growing more insistent as she pulsed around him, her flesh so welcoming. “Tell me,” he rasped as their lips parted, a sheen of sweat across his features, glistening in the singular electric light above them, “Tell me how I make you feel.”

“Full,” she mumbled against his ear, her arms around his neck as the brick wall scraped at the borrowed jacket. “You make me feel so full...like I've spent all this time empty,” she continued, her hot breath against his neck as her body melted into him, her grip tightening on the blood-stained flannel as his hips began to jerk more erratically.

Neither managed any more actual words as Cooper pumped inside her until his fluids merged with hers, dribbling out onto their already slick skin as he finally let her boots touch concrete again. Dragging his uncomfortably wet underwear back into place and refastening his jeans, The Butcher offered his hand to her to grip for support as he squatted before her, surveying her swollen flesh, and she whimpered a weak protest. “You're gonna be sore tomorrow, aren't you,” he mumbled, leaning in to place a kiss against one naked thigh, then the other, helping her back into her panties.

“If you take me home...I'll let you kiss it better in the morning,” she answered, her throat uncomfortably dry, eager for just about anything but his vile bourbon.

“Promise?”

🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪

tagging : @one-of-thewalkingdead , @gissellec1 , @pinkflowerwombat , @sashimeep , @strangererotica , @the-butchers-baby , @callsign-fangirl , @hibiskooks , @jessy02 , @charliehoennam , @pinastrihaven , @amethystblackkchaos , @bleeding-heartz , @gt-rxn , @simplymurdock , @lucy-sky

If I forgot anyone, I apologize, and please let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND TAGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED.💙

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dearstvckyx · 4 hours ago

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───────────────────────

Bucky Barnes x Clumsy!Roommate

───────────────────────

Imagine moving in with Bucky Barnes, and he quickly realizes you might just be the clumsiest person he’s ever met…

───────────────────────

It all started the day Bucky moved in with his new roommate, you. At first, he’d thought you were just a little absent-minded, but after the fifth (maybe sixth?) time he watched you trip over your own two feet while carrying a bowl of cereal, he started to catch on. You were the clumsiest person he’d ever met. And for Bucky Barnes, who’s lived nearly a century, that’s saying something.

You’re reading a recipe on your phone in the kitchen, brow furrowed, when Bucky feels that familiar prickle at the back of his neck. He doesn’t even have to look up from his book to know what’s about to happen.

“Hey, don’t turn around too fast,” he says without looking up.

“What do you mean—” And before you can finish, you knock your elbow into the spice rack, sending an avalanche of glass bottles toward the floor.

Somehow, Bucky is already there, catching the bottles before they shatter everywhere. You blink at him, wide-eyed. “How…?”

Bucky smirks. “Spider-sense.”

It becomes a bit of a running joke. Every time you drop a knife, trip over a cable, or nearly knock a pan off the stove, Bucky’s there. Like magic, he’s always just in the right spot to keep you from taking yourself out. He even starts calling you “Disaster Darling” under his breath.

One morning, you’re reaching for the top shelf, and he calls from the other room, “Don’t even think about it.” Sure enough, you wobble on tiptoes, but before you tip over, he’s there with a hand on your waist, steadying you.

“You always know, don’t you?” you ask, half-laughing, half-amazed.

“Darlin’, at this point, I’ve got your schedule memorized. 8 AM: trip over your own feet. Noon: almost set something on fire in the kitchen. 3 PM: stub your toe on the coffee table.”

You give him a playful shove. “That’s ridiculous!”

He shrugs, grinning. “Hey, don’t blame me if I know my roommate a little too well.”

He tries to act cool, but secretly? He loves being there to catch you every time. It makes him feel like he’s part of something normal, something real. And maybe one day, when he catches you for the hundredth time, his hand steady on your waist, he’ll let his fingers linger just a little longer. Maybe he’ll pull you close, just close enough for you to feel his heartbeat racing.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll realize that being your safety net was the best fall he ever took.

───────────────────────

Incident 1

You: reaches for something on the top shelf

Bucky: without even looking up “Careful.”

You: pauses mid-reach “I’m fine, Bucky. I’ve totally got this!”

Bucky: gets up and walks behind you, steadying you “You said that last time, and then I had to catch you and the spices before they seasoned our floor.”

───────────────────────

Incident 2

You’re in the kitchen, trying to make pancakes.

Bucky: walking in with a sigh “Alright, what’s burning?”

You: quickly turns “Nothing! I swear!”

Bucky: smirks, watching you almost drop the spatula from the freight of him coming into the kitchen “Sure, sure. Disaster Darling strikes again.”

You: “I am not that clumsy!”

Bucky: “Right, last week you didn’t trip over your own feet getting off the couch?”

You: mumbling “…that was different.”

Bucky: crosses his arms, laughing softly “Uh-huh.”

───────────────────────

Incident 3

One day, you’re reaching for something in the cabinet again.

Bucky: from the other room “Don’t even think about it!”

You: “How did you…?”

Bucky: appears in the doorway with that knowing smirk “I just know.”

It goes on like this. Every time you trip, stumble, or knock something over, he’s there. Sometimes he doesn’t even need to look. It’s like he has his own personal “you’re about to do something clumsy” radar. Sort of like a spider sense but a Bucky sense.

───────────────────────

Bonus

There’s this one time you almost fall off a ladder trying to hang up a picture.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, Bucky’s caught you by the waist, holding you steady. And maybe he’s holding you a little longer than he should, but you don’t seem to mind, leaning back with that flustered little smile.

Bucky: clears his throat, looking away “Try not to fall so much, alright?”

You: softly laugh “Guess I’m lucky I have you.”

And in that moment Bucky realizes he loves your clumsiness, he loves protecting you…

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #clumsy reader #fluff #Bucky being soft #roommate fic #protective Bucky Barnes #marvel #mcu

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bonyfish · 1 year ago

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delivery app made me drive to spencer again

#i used rni's aerochrome filter for this #as much as it sounds like a thing i might do i do not take my infrared camera with me everywhere #i took these one handed with my phone without looking #anyway #livali's delivery service #my photography #me posts #the signs may be hard to read so i have transcribed them in the image descriptions

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the---hermit · 4 months ago

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Not me adding annotations to a book to make it more accessible for my mom when she will read it

#i am once again complaining about italian translators not adding enough context and explainations in queer non fiction books #90% of non queer people or people who do not speak english don't have enough fucking context to get certain things #i need tranlators to add the necessary context to make these books accessible for everyone #olay surely mainly queer people will read a book about going outside the binary but if we want more people to understand us #we need to add the necessary context to make these things comprehensible to everyone #both those who do not have a queer background and therefore have never see certain words and those who do not speak any english #why the fuck are we assuminng everyone reading this knows english and the linguistic and cultural context between certain words #most people i know do not know one word on english and since it's an italian translation you should make it completly accessible for anyone #i don't want people to read this with their phone in their hands to look for meaninga here and there #i have had this complaint before and i will keep complaining #it's frustrating because this book makes the concept of going outside the binary very easy and accessible and the translation is not as good #also the translation of this particular chapter did a terrible job language wise too so i can't expect much #the concept is there but oh boy do a few sentences look like they have been translated with google #so yep i resorted to making my own notes because i want my mom to read this and understand it without here needing to ask me for context #i mean i want conversations to start but not because of translation reasons if you know what i mean #and it would be very unmotivating to read a book that has too many words you don't know bc the translator took things for grated #cris speaks #i am done complaining for now #the og book is super good tho i am happy i am reading it again after so many years #the---hermit

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cumikering · 6 months ago

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Ghost x plus-sized reader

2.1k | fluff, drink spiking Did you just call Simon weak? The rest of the 141 didn’t like that

“Can I carry you?”

At the pub table, you almost spat the last gulp of your drink at the question. You turned to the source of the gruff voice, meeting the man’s chest before craning your neck up to his eyes. He had to be over 6 ft tall.

You set your glass down. “I’m sorry?”

“My mates are betting I can’t get anyone to piggyback.”

“And you picked me?”

He nodded at your top. “Skulls are sort of my lucky charm.”

You scoffed, looking past him at the other ladies in the room. “Are you serious? There are plenty who weigh far less.”

His brow rose. “Are you calling me weak?”

You took in the width of his shoulders, how his loose black shirt couldn’t hide the thickness of his biceps – the left one inked. He was handsome, rugged with the scar across his cheek, his short blond hair and light scruff, but his stare and bluntness made him beyond intimidating.

How could you get out of this situation with the least fuss?

“N- no.”

His eyes softened a touch. “May I? Please?”

Playing along and getting it over with should be the safest bet. “Okay... But-”

He turned his back and squatted slightly. “Hop on.”

“Wait- are you sure you can?”

“Hop on,” he repeated.

At that point, it was not your fault anymore if he ended up embarrassing himself. So you gripped his hard shoulders and did as told before he swiftly hooked his large hands under your jean-clad thighs. He didn’t grunt or strain when he bounced you to position and straightened up. As if you weighed nothing, which was a feeling you never thought you’d experience.

You had to give it to him - his strength was impressive. You chuckled to yourself, seeing the top of everyone’s head amused you. Across the pub, the table of three men grinned at the massive stranger. The one with the mohawk was very much entertained as he gave him thumbs up.

It was then that Simon groaned, because his team was embarrassing the hell out of him. That, and he finally got to feel how soft and warm you were pressed up against him. A little creepy, but a man was allowed to fantasise about a birdie he’d been eyeing, right?

“That’s all, yeah? You just have to carry-”

He stepped towards the bar, making you latch onto him.

“Oh! Where are you going?

“I’m getting you a drink.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Please, I insist.” When he flagged the barman down, you held on tighter. “It’s the least I can offer for getting you involved.”

You laughed, your breath warm against his ear. “Are you going to set me down or am I having my drink on your back?”

“Don’t give me ideas.” He chuckled as he lowered you to your feet.

He leaned against the bar, arm folded as he stared at you on the stool, downing your shot before looking at yourself on your selfie cam.

“Would you… like something as well?” you asked after you tucked your phone back in your pocket.

He shook his head.

“Okay. Well, thanks for he drink. You could get back to your mates if you want.”

“I’m Simon,” he mustered instead.

“Hi.” You shifted in your seat. “Is something the matter?”

“No.” He frowned. “Why are you asking?”

“It’s just you’ve been staring, and there’s nothing on my face. I checked.”

Bloody hell, could he be any more awkward? He just wanted to ask why you were alone without being weird about it.

He looked away. “I didn’t mean to.” You make me stupid. It didn’t help that your previous drink had tinted your lips, looking even more kissable up close.

“I think your mates want you back though.” You chuckled, nodding at his table.

When he turned to them, they immediately busied themselves with their drinks, averting their gazes.

“They’re a nosy bunch, they are.” He inched closer to you. “The one in the beanie, that’s our captain. The other two are my sergeants.”

“You’re the lieutenant?”

He hummed. “The one with the mohawk is the prankster. He’s a bad influence. He’ll talk you into doing anything.”

“He put you up to this then?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips.

As if on cue, Soap looked up with an uncontained grin, only to look back down when he realised eyes were on him.

”Seems like he can’t wait to say hi.” He swiftly picked you up off your seat, bridal-style. “Is this enough to show you weigh nothin’?” he asked, fighting the urge to grab a handful of your soft thigh and waist.

“Oh- oh dear!” You laughed, arm wrapping around his neck, pretty fingers grasping his bicep. “Wait, wait, put me down!”

When you were back on your feet, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. “Sorry, I’m actually meeting someone. He’s almost here.”

So that was why you were alone. You were waiting for someone. Disappointment anchored at the bottom of his chest.

“Right. Okay.”

You smiled. “Thanks for the drink, Simon. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He grunted and you headed to the end of the bar. He stood umoving for another second before retreating to his table like a kicked puppy.

“L.T., wha’ happened? She was havin’ so much fun!” Soap shot as soon as Simon took his seat next to him.

“She’s meetin’ someone,” he said quietly.

“Aww… Sorry, Ghost,” Gaz said. “But hey, she let you carry her!”

With your back to him, you looked at your phone whenever a man walked in.

Huh, first date?

You flagged down some other blond man who walked over to you with a smile. The barman took your order before you chatted with him with a polite smile, keeping a respectable distance between the two of you.

Simon was in no place to watch and invade your privacy – he really should look away. But what was it that simmered in him when the bloke scooted closer, his arm along the back of your chair?

He laughed, pointing at something on the TV. You looked up, and your hand deftly covered your drink, like an instinct.

He smirked. Smart girl.

“I know she’s with someone, but I can tell she likes you more,” Price said, and Simon finally tore his gaze away from you.

“Ye should fight ‘im, L.T. He dinnae stand a fuckin’ chance.”

“You can knock him out with a slap,” Gaz quipped.

He chuckled, blatantly looking over Price to you again. “Rather just look.” While it wasn’t for him, at least he could watch your pretty smile from here and quench his thirst a bit.

With the bloke’s drink in hand, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his other hand inching to your covered drink now. He tipped his glass over you, causing you to jump and grab serviettes to dab yourself with. Just as fast, his fisted hand opened over your drink before helping you.

“No fucking way,” Simon said out loud.

“What?” Gaz followed his line of sight.

He marched over, yanking the man around by the shoulder. “What the bloody hell did you just do?”

He stumbled off his seat from the force, making the lieutenant tower over him even more. “What? Who- Do you know him?” He turned to you.

His finger jabbed the man’s chest. “What. The. Fuck. Did you put in her drink?”

“Nothing! What are you accusing me of?”

Simon didn’t miss the crack in the man’s voice. He raised your drink to the man’s face, a tiny white tablet swaying at the bottom of the glass. “Empty your pockets.”

“Simon, what’s…”

“I’m not repeating myself.”

The man fished out his phone, wallet and keys with trembling hands.

“That’s not all.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing else, mate!” he said exasperatedly.

Simon’s patience ran dry. He patted his front pocket, hand bumping over something. “You need to see this,” he said quietly to you.

You hesitantly stuck your hand in the man’s left pocket, coming up with a bag of white tablets.

The man smacked the bag out of your hand. “You planted that, you slag!”

“If you didn’t do anything, drink it.” He spat, holding out your drink to him, now cloudy and fizzing.

He stared at the glass. “Fuck you,” he said, pushing it onto Simon’s chest before dashing out of the pub.

“Did he…”

“The fuck was that, Simon?” Price questioned from behind him.

“Fucking piece of shit spiked her drink.”

Price turned to you, a hand on your shoulder. “You got his name and number, love?”

“Yes.” You blinked. ”Yes, his number and dating profile.”

“I’m sending the coppas his way.” He picked up the evidence on the ground with a serviette. “Simon, get the details and make sure she gets home safe,” he said before approaching the barman.

You dried his ruined shirt with a wad of serviette. “I can’t even begin to thank you for your help, Simon. Really, thank you so much. I wouldn’t have-”

“You did good.” He squeezed your hand over his chest. “You covered your glass when you weren’t looking, but spilling his drink on you was something else.”

When you looked up at him with wide eyes, he dropped your hand.

“Would you like me to send you home?”

“I don’t want to trouble you. I don’t even live nearby.”

“Would you let me, if I want to?”

There was a pause before you smiled. “I think I’d like that, actually.”

When he grabbed his jacket from the table, Soap patted him on the back.

“Good catch, L.T. What a fuckin’ disgrace, the lad.”

“Have fun, Ghost,” Gaz teased.

Outside the pub where the streets were quieter, you forwarded the profile and chat screenshots of the man from your group chat to Simon.

“Can’t be too cautious. I’m not surprised if that’s not even his name honestly.” You shrugged, stuffing your phone back in your pocket. “I knew it was dodgy he insisted on meeting here when I said I’d rather somewhere in the middle, in broad daylight. That, and he was half an hour late too!”

It was disheartening to know this was the reality of dating, that all sorts of people lurked online, sometimes not with the best intentions. He’d show you his ID just to prove he wasn’t a creep, just someone smitten with a staring problem if any.

“If it was me, I’d have taken you anywhere you wanted.”

You chuckled.

“On my back too, if you prefer. I think you quite enjoyed that.”

“I did, actually,” you teased. “Is it a bad time to tell you I’m starving?”

“Yeah? That’s good news, because I’m always hungry. A kebab sounds about right at this hour.”

“Extra chips?”

“Extra chips,” he affirmed.

“You know what, I think this is my sign.” You pulled out your phone again, deleting an app. “Don’t think online dating was ever my thing.”

Is a stranger at a pub who shamelessly stares at you more your thing?

“Going out with someone who offers to carry me around is more like it.”

He bit back a smile. “So? Another ride on my back?”

You chuckled. “Next time,” you said, taking his arm instead.

As much as he enjoyed your touch, he couldn’t do with your fingers over his jacket. He needed to feel you. When he held your hand in his, you smiled up at him.

Simon had to thank his team for painstakingly convincing the stubborn lieutenant to approach the lady he’d been staring at. You didn’t have to know there was no bet, that asking to carry you was his own idea, an outrageous excuse to talk to you. But he wouldn’t complain if he ended up helping you, taking you for a little supper and even got to send you home.

“When’s next time?” he asked at your door, squeezing your hand.

You really shouldn’t have said it, because he was going to make sure there would be one. It had become a goal to show you how you deserved to be treated on a date.

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“Right now isn’t even too soon.”

You laughed, pulling him down by the shoulder to meet your lips.

For @glitterypirateduck ‘s Ghost Challenge :D check out her page for fic recs!

Neighbour Ghost AU if he still had his family

Ghost's online fantasies came true Masterlist

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navybrat817 · 2 months ago

Text

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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