#or guilting him into taking my medication for a month so he can get his own again?

[babymetaldoll]

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. 

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

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

[the2amrevolution]

If you have gotten stuck in a bubble that only consists of your home and work or school or even just your home because of your anxiety, you can forget that there are positive things outside of that bubble. Every aspect of being in public takes practice - driving, taking public transit, generally knowing your away around town, going places on your own, appointments, everything. It doesn't matter how old you are, if you haven't done something much or at all before it can be intimating, and it can feel embarrassing or shameful to admit that you are new to something. The more you avoid those things, the easier it is for your brain to come up with more reasons to avoid it, and the anxiety and avoidance will get worse and worse. You may have a hard time convincing your brain that going out can provide more serotonin or dopamine than it uses up, and you may not have enough small positive experiences of doing things on your own to convince yourself that it's worth it.

If that's the case, then you need to find a way to supplement those endorphins while you gain practice at living until it's no longer quite so intimidating.

You could try geocaching. You could get an iNaturalist account and try to find things to log and ID. You could paint rocks and leave them places for others to find and trade out ones you find in public spaces with your own. There's often local facebook groups or instagram hashtags for those sorts of things. You can redownload Pokemon Go and look for new places to suggest for stops or gyms, discover local art you didn't know about by exploring stops, or just spend some time sitting in you car at a local park and enjoying the scenery and watching some birds in a pond. Just going out or going on a walk (especially if you are disabled) may not provide enough dopamine to reinforce the behavior, but maybe catching a new shiny or adding to your pokedex will. Stop for boba or an italian ice or an iced coffee or whatever little treat interests your taste buds first (go somewhere that has an app and use mobile order pick up if ordering at a menu board is an anxiety trigger) and then have it at the park or in your car while you listen to some music and enjoy the breeze and the sunset.

You basically provide yourself with positive reinforcement and train yourself to be more confident through practice. When the app goes down for your tasty treat stop, you now know the menu or at least what you like well enough that you can go in or through the drive through and place your order. You know that doctor's office is near that park that had the community garden you logged pollinators in iNaturalist at, so you aren't adding the mental load of navigating to a brand new place on top of the load of going to a new doctor. You have more practice driving or taking public transit so you don't feel intimidated just by the process of going out, so now you can go shop for some new clothes to make sure they fit you rather than ordering and hoping and having to return things. You can go to the grocery store where you may discover a new product or flavor of something that you would have never known about if you just stuck to your recurring delivery of staple items. You actually see the kids with a lemonade stand or peruse the local craft fair that you never would have gotten to experience if you weren't in the rec center parking lot for a pokemon raid. Maybe you spot a flyer for a class that interests you and now you have the confidence to at least write your name on the information request sheet or ask at the desk how you sign up for classes there.

If you have ADHD (like me and my brother, who is stuck in his bubble) it can be very easy to unconsciously engage in unhealthy anxious-avoidant behaviors, which just build on themselves until you realize that you haven't left your house in a year or that you almost or do have a panic attack because you feel like everyone is judging you for everything you do from how you park to how long you take to look at cereals (just fyi, if you are in the lines and not in the road, no one cares about if you are crooked, and there's like 100 different cereals, it's okay to look, just don't block the aisle and apologize if you accidentally do, it's all fine).

ADHD brains are so desperate for dopamine that they will basically try to erase any task or activity or experience that causes a dopamine deficit from your active memory. You can recall them when prompted, but without outside stimulus they do not enter our stream of consciousness. If there isn't an immediate reward either in the form of an addition of a positive stimulus (endless scrolling of tumblr hahas) or removal of a negative stimulus (ugh I stink it's time to shower) then thinking about a thing we need to or even want to do and then actually doing it often just doesn't happen or it happens last minute under fear of consequences or late.

The tumblr chuckles and pretty kpop men and video games and whatever various media tickles your fancy can be enough to keep you alive when you feel like there's not much point. None of those things are guaranteed to stay things that you enjoy or that you have access to or that you can ethically continue to support though. Websites get bought by egotistical man-children, musicians retire or disband, game series end or go through studio turmoil and nearly a decade passes while waiting on real news of the next installment, authors turn out to be horrible bigots, or, maybe, your interest just wanes. Having diverse interests definitely helps stave off an identity crisis when one thing ends or disappoints, but if you mentally limit yourself to only the things you can do or experience from home because of fear, you are cutting yourself off from so much of the truly wonderful things in the world. It's hard and it take conscious effort, but things being hard or taking effort don't make them not worth doing even if the ADHD hamsters think thats exactly what it means.

Gamers this has been on my mind for a while, and I've been Going Through It so I can't thoughtfully articulate it yet but: the little things can, and absolutely will, save you.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Fourteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Discussion of child loss/miscarriage and domestic violence. Oral sex - fem receiving, face sitting, Johnny is a menace as usual, Simon talks you through it, dirty talk, brief daddy kink, pet names. Nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies, feelings of fear and anxiety, PTSD. Dialogue heavy. Bunny making progress. What's in a name?

When you were a child, you got caught in a storm.

Getting caught in a storm as an adult is a normal thing. It’s not frightening and foreign like it is when you’re young. When you’re a child, storms feel like hurricanes. They feel life altering, life ending. With no concept of larger, or smaller storms, it’s hard to understand how you’d make it through the to the other side.

You remember this one vividly. Your mother was on her way to work, her night job, and you were clicked into the backseat, barely awake, staring out the rain pelted window. The wind was so strong it shook the car, blew it all over the road, your mom’s fingers like rebar gripping the wheel. It was terrifying. It was like you’d never be safe, like the wind would pick your entire world up and send it crashing down into a farm field that stretched a million miles long.

It felt, somewhat, like this moment, and hundreds of moments before it. Small thorns in a life that no longer felt like your own. A far cry from the dreams you had when you were that little girl.

The thorns, the storms, had twisted you into this version of yourself, this stranger, and that’s how you feel as you stand in front of Simon, cold panic crackling through your bones.  

Your mouth opens and closes without sound coming out. You’re a fish out of water, lips parting just to swallow dry air, eyes wider than saucers.

Penny cries in your arms, but Simon doesn’t move. Johnny doesn’t breathe, and you stand alone in the silence, baby vomit on your clothes, trembling in fear.

They won’t understand. They’ll know you’re a liar. They won’t trust you. 

They won’t want you.  

“It’s not… I arranged it months ago.” You blurt, words strung together in a stream of consciousness. “It’s not like, you can just go out and buy a new passport. It takes a while, and connections, and lots of hoops and money and I-“ Simon holds his hand up.

A signal to stop.

“Give me the baby.” He says, stepping forward, arms out, and your hands shake as you pass her over, avoiding eye contact until he tips your chin back. “Take a deep breath, go upstairs, get cleaned up. When you come back down, we’ll talk. Okay?” He looks to Johnny, who nods, and then back to you, expectantly waiting on your answer.

“O-okay.”

Simon still has the passport.

It’s in front of his knee, on the coffee table, but within arm’s reach, close enough he could snatch it up in moment’s notice.

“Were ye goin’ to leave us?” Johnny whispers, and you shake your head.

“No, I… it takes a while. I arranged it months and months ago, before I even met you.” Simon frowns.

“This is not a fake, it’s a real passport. How did you get it?” Oh, fuck. Your throat is as dry as paper, scratchy and stiff, and you force yourself to spit out a coherent sentence.

“I bought it… from a guy.” Brilliant. You sneak a glance at Johnny, who’s watching with a pink sheen on his cheeks, knuckles white against the arm of the couch. He looks upset, and guilt swamps you, worry over making him feel worse in his state eating away inside your heart.

“You know a guy who can get his hands on government issued documents?” Simon holds himself very still. Nearly a statue, his eyes never leave your face, and you move your hands under your thighs to try to stop their trembling.

There’s a familiar feeling building in your chest. A twisted, gnarled root of fear, growing deep. “I… it’s… no, he’s… I was referred to him, by someone else. He doesn’t even know my real name, I’m careful, I’ve-“

“Done this before.” Simon finishes, and your heart stops in your chest.

“Yes.” You whisper. How are they going to feel when they realize you’ve been lying to them about your name? You spiral, imagining the hurt flashing across their faces, the disappointment from Simon, the sadness from Johnny. “I use a new identity, when I move around.”

“Your name…”

“Isn’t my real one.” The admission stings, but that person doesn’t exist anymore. You haven’t been that happy, fulfilled, carefree girl in too long. You don’t know her. You don’t remember her.

She’s dead.

She’s a ghost.

“Will ye tell us? Yer real name?” Simon is thoughtful from where he sits on the chair, focused, as Johnny looks hopeful. They’re both looking at you with trust heavy in their eyes, and it gnaws, burns in your bones all the way through until your real name is slipping free with a whisper.

“That’s beautiful, bun.” Johnny murmurs sweetly, and they exchange a look, something stern etching across Simon’s brow before it drifts away.

“Do you want us to use it?” You shake your head.

“N-no, I… I’m not that girl… anymore. She’s long gone.” The room is silent, and you mull it over, toss it back and forth in your mind. You’re so disconnected from the person you were when you last felt whole, when you last felt real. How will you ever feel that way again?

Something flickers in Simon’s gaze. Something severe and almost sad, a storm in the middle of a sea, a little boat with nowhere to hide, and you get lost in it, lost in him, a million lives and a million emotions clouding the space between your bodies.

He swallows, and it’s gone.

“How does that work with your nursing license?” You blink, but you’re not surprised he knows to ask the one question that will undoubtedly unravel the rest of the threads. The biggest piece of the puzzle.

“I…” Fuck. Are you really going to do this? Are you doing this? 

Do you trust them? 

It’s not a question now, you know the answer. Know why it is you’ve been sleeping in their bed, helping with their baby, living in their house.

It’s more than trust.

“I had a friend in college. Dean.” You’re really doing this. “He was really smart, and really kind, and going places. We were on different paths, but we stayed in touch. As best we could… my ex didn’t really like me talking to… anyone.” Johnny’s fingers slide across the couch, hesitantly brushing your thigh, and it grounds you, calms you. “He became a fancy, big time lawyer. Like, really big time. One of the best in Texas,” Simon’s eyes narrow, head tilted as he stares at you, before it all flits away, and he returns to stasis, “possibly the country. He… he helped me.” You pause, unsure, and Johnny nods encouragingly.

“Helped ye how?”

“I’ve been running, had been running, for a while. Years. At one point, Dean got a judge in a different state to agree to change my name, my identity, everything, and then seal the record. It gave me a chance to disappear, a fresh start to build from. Or, I thought it did, anyway. My ex is… very determined, it didn’t take long for him to catch up.”

“So, your license…”

“Whenever I get a new job, I refer the HR department to my big fancy lawyer in Texas, and he makes sure my license is accepted and they understand the circumstances. I manage the rest… on my own. The turning over of a new identity- identification documents, passports, housing, everything.”

“Do they know anything about this?”

“No. I think they probably think I’m in witness protection or something, and per the court order, they can’t discuss the discrepancy with the name on the license to anyone in the hospital. Dean makes sure of that.” You laugh weakly, but Simon doesn’t, he only studies you, laser focused. “I can’t really have contact with him anymore, because it leaves too much… out in the open, but he’s a really good friend. The best.” Tears blur your vision as you think about Dean, remembering the way he stared at you the night you turned up on his doorstep.

You were so young then. So stupid. But he gave you best chance he could, and you’d always be grateful.

Johnny reaches for where your hand is shoved beneath your thigh, and lightly tugs until it’s in his grasp, warm and safe.

“An’ ye change yer identity every time?” You nod, lips tucking in over your teeth.

“That’s what the passport is for. In most places, a passport counts for both a birth certificate and identification card, so they don’t ask for a secondary. It’s the easiest to use.”

“You were preparing to run.” Simon murmurs.

“Before Johnny became my patient, I was getting ready to, yeah.”

“Why?” You take a deep breath, but your chest feels too tight. Fear is still dripping down the back of your throat, making your stomach sick, your hands tremble.

“I knew he was here.” The words break apart into a sob, and your eyes slam shut.

The next thing you know, you’re breathing into Johnny’s warm chest, a hand running up and down your back slowly.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore.” You cry, gasping. “I.. I’m scared all the time. I run all the time. I d-don’t even know who I am, without it. I don’t know how to be here, or be a normal person, or have a normal conversation.”

“Shhh, yer alright, pretty girl. It’s okay.” Johnny hums, and you feel his diaphragm vibrate as he soothes you.

“I want to be with you… but I don’t know how. I’m terrified he’ll come here and- and hurt you, or Penny. That it will be my fault, like everything else has.” You cry harder, chest aching, Simon’s hands closing around your shoulders and pulling you back to tilt your face up to the two of them.

“It’s not your fault, bunny. None of it, ever, has been your fault. Do you understand?” You shake your head no, because you don’t. You’re good at running, at hiding. You’ve made a new life over and over again by doing it, and getting caught is your fault, no matter what they say.

You slipped up. It could happen again. 

“You don’t understand. I… I should have left, after he found me in my apartment. I should have left.” It sticks in your mind, playing over and over again. “I sh-should have left, I shouldn’t be here, I-“ your vision tunnels.

“Okay, okay. Easy, sweetheart.” Simon tries to settle you, but everything is bubbling up and you feel like you’re going to explode, like your skin is too tight, like you’re falling apart, all at once.

There’s nothing left inside of you, nothing left to do.

You break.

Millions of miles of denial and fear and agony splinter, shattering into shards that destroy you from the inside out.

“He’s going to kill me.” Johnny curses something thick as you sob, palm flat over your racing heart. “He t-took everything. He made me into… into this, and it’s only a matter of time. He’s going to find me again, and he… he’s-“ He cups your cheek.

“Shhh, bunny. We’re here, we’re right here.”

“No, he’s not. Listen-“ you try to pull away but Johnny stops you, holding you firm as Simon ducks into your line of sight. “Listen to me. He’s never going to touch you again, do you understand? We will never let him near you, ever again. We promise.”

“You can’t pr-promise that.”  

“We can,” Simon vows, “but… we need to know everything. What we’re looking for, who he is.”

No. You don’t know why, but there’s a barrier around Phillip’s name. Like you can’t force your tongue to make the sound, and you can’t tell them.

If they know, they’ll look for him. They’ll try to find him; you can already tell.

They’ll get hurt, or worse.

You can’t let that happen.

“I can’t.” You whisper. “I can’t.” Johnny pulls you back into his arms, and you curl up against him, his chin on top of your head. They look at one another, long glances you can’t interpret, before Simon takes a deep breath, his hand gentle on your knee.

“Bunny… do you have a child? Someone you’re trying to protect?” Your eyes slip shut, and despair grips your throat like a vice.

“No.” You croak. “No, there would have been one but…” you drag the truth into the light. “I lost it. He didn’t want it so… he got rid of it.” They both freeze.

“Sweetheart.” Simon whispers, Johnny’s arms going rigid, and you shrug, slipping away from this moment, from them.

“It was a long time ago.” You pause, keeping your eyes closed. “I’m fine.” Johnny scoffs.

“The hell ye are. And ye shouldnae be.” You shake between them, exhaustion settling into your bones like it belongs there, and they linger in silence with you, in the moment, letting it stretch long before Simon murmurs something and brushes his fingertips against your cheek.

“We’ll wait, until you’re ready.” You relax with a small sigh. “But if we don’t know who we’re dealing with, that means no more coming and going. I don’t want you outside this house without me, do you understand?”

“I’m going back to work.” You refute immediately.

“When you’re ready to go back, we’ll come up with a plan to keep you safe.” He says sternly, and you swallow, eyes wide.

“We jus’ want to keep ye safe, pretty girl.” Simon tugs your hand into his, and murmurs lowly.

“I know you’re independent, and you’re used to being on your own, but we’re here now. You don’t have to do this alone. We’ve got you.” Tears burn at the corner of your eyes.

You should tell them no, but you can’t.

You should be angry, or nervous, or even scared, but all you can feel is relief.

You don’t have to do this alone.

The house is quiet when you wake up the next morning.

It’s odd now, opening your eyes to an empty bed. All you’ve known for years, is being alone. All you’ve relied on for so long, was yourself.

But now, when your arms and legs spread wide between the sheets and you come up empty, panic flutters in your heart. “Johnny? Simon?” When there’s no answer, you stumble over the side, loping steps hauling you down the stairs and into the living room.

Johnny’s half-awake on the couch in his boxers, flipping idly through television programs. You breathe a little bit easier, and he cracks a smile. “Morning, pretty.”

“Morning.” You bend in front of him, swooping down to press your lips to his. “Where’s…”

“He took Pen to swim. She’s in classes and then has a playdate at a friend’s house after. Busy wee one, our Penny.” Fingers idly rub against the skin beneath his ear, tracing down to his collarbone.

“You eat breakfast?”

“Was waitin’ for ye.” Something dark and hungry glints in his eyes, and your knees go weak.

“Oh, w-well I can make you someth-“

“No.” He traces down the inside of your thigh, where he’s eye level, and then up, backs of his fingers stroking over the front of your panties, thumb skirting along the seam between your legs. “Not hungry for food, bun. Just for ye.”

“O-oh.” His thumb presses, just enough pressure brushing against your clit, and you gasp, hand shooting out to steady yourself on the arm of the sofa, where his head is.

His lips touch to the inside of your wrist, and he grins. “C’mere Bunny.”

“You’re still recovering.” Your fingers twist in the hem of the t shirt you grabbed off the floor, one of theirs.

“My face isn’t.” His hands wrap around the backs of your thighs, tugging you closer. “My face is the perfect seat for ye, pretty girl. Let me make ye feel good.” Everything tightens, your chest, your heart, each blood vessel stitched throughout your body. Your clit pulses, knot in your stomach tying so tight it makes you lightheaded, agony and arousal singing together in perfect harmony. It’s a song with perfect pitch, swirling around the two of you in euphoric polyphony.

You want this. Want him. Want to let it all go. 

“Johnny.”

“Got a seat for ye,” his fingers trace over his lip and down his neck, where his throat bobs with a swallow. You can’t pull your eyes away. “Right ‘ere.”

It doesn’t take more coaxing after he tucks his fingers into your underwear and rolls them down your thighs, giving you a light pat just under your ass, shifting and arranging until you’re perched across his shoulders.

“What if you can’t breathe?” Your voice hitches on a panicked note, and he rubs your legs soothingly.

“Then I’ll die a happy man.” You choke. “Just kiddin’ bunny. Ye cannae hurt me, I can breathe just fine.” His eyebrows crinkle and crease, soft expression puckering down to where his lips part.

Let go. You can do it. You want this. Just let go. 

“I- I’m not very good with…” You gulp, chest heaving. “With sex, I uh. I don’t have good memories of it, and I’ve never… I’ve never done this.” It’s the best you can explain, in this moment, and you pray it’s enough, that he’ll understand.

“We’ll go slow.” He promises, still rubbing circles into the backs of your legs, grabbing fistfuls of your ass and thighs, pressing long kisses into your skin. “Ye tell me to stop, if ye dinnae like it or ye want to stop, promise?” You nod. “Say it, pretty girl.”

“I’ll tell you… to stop.” He smiles, and urges you forward, palms still curved around your cheeks.

“Cannae wait to taste ye,” you move slowly, hesitantly, and he encourages gently, patting and rubbing patiently, eyes locked your face the entire time, “have been dreamin’ about it, since that day ye didnae wear any panties to work.”

“Johnny!” you hiss, playfully scandalized, heart trilling. He’s turned a miserable memory, a scary memory, into something not so bad, so easily. It means a lot, means more than you think he knows, and you’re just about to tell him when you feel heat slip across your skin, thumbs stroking down the seam of your cunt. He jerks you forward completely, until the bottom half of his face is missing, and all you can see beneath your legs is a crop of mohawk.

The first touch is heaven. He’s warm, and safe, and you melt onto him, indulging in the feeling of it all. His arms wrap around your hips, anchoring you in place, mouth sloppy against your pussy like he’s trying to devour you whole. You jerk, falling forward at the waist, one hand against the couch, the other fisted in his hair, trying to create space for him to breathe.

“No.” He growls, slamming you back down, nose bumping against your clit over and over as his tongue dives into you, curling up into your body.

You close your eyes. You need more friction, but you don’t know what to do, don’t know how to get it, and the longer you try to figure it out, the more you’re slipping away, kicking and fighting in darker waters.

Stay present. Stay here. With him. You’re safe. Let go. 

Your breath stutters in your chest. Two factions fight one another, one trying to catapult you towards an orgasm faster than you’ve ever gotten there in your life, and the other, trying and failing to stem the memories and anxiety that bleed freely from your brain. The pleasure is mixed with pain, with nightmares, and your muscles turn to rock, eyes slamming shut.

A big, warm hand settles between your shoulder blades.

You jolt away from it, but when your eyes snap open-

You see Simon.

He’s on his knees at your side, part of your thigh now pressed against his chest. He watches you intently, sweeping over your features and down to where you’re sitting on Johnny’s face, half relaxed, half coiled tense.

“You’re in control, sweetheart.” Even kneeling, he’s tall enough that he’s nearly eye level with you, and Johnny’s free hand searches for him when he hears his voice. Simon gives him a squeeze, and then lovingly strokes some of his hair from his forehead. “Our sweet boy just wants to make you feel good. Do you want that?”

“Y-yeah.. but I don’t… I don’t know how.” You squeak, burning with embarrassment, still clutching the couch. He pulls that hand free, into his, and rubs a thumb over the back of your knuckles, before placing it back against the armrest. It’s comforting, and reassuring, and he keeps the other one anchored at your back.

“Just relax.” He murmurs above your ear, now cradling your hips. “Hold onto the couch with both hands, like that- good girl.” His grip tightens, and then slowly, he starts to move you. “Find what feels good, take your time.” You roll your hips slowly, looking for the right amount of pressure, the friction you’re desperate for, and Johnny moans beneath you, his own hips flexing. “There you go, does that feel good?” Simon’s eyes are nearly black, and you nod hungrily. “Ride him just like that, don’t stop.”

“Oh my god.” You moan, tilting back. Each time Johnny’s nose or tongue rubs against your clit it’s like lightning striking in your blood, and warmth crackles around you like a blanket.

“Fuck,” Simon growls, palm pressing against your lower belly. “Look a’ the two of you, all mine.” The possession shivers across your skin and you moan, head heavy. Johnny’s tongue finds your rhythm, and then he’s flicking across your clit like he’s plucking a string, a perfect note.

“Johnny, ah…” He groans something in response, the vibration shooting straight to your brain. You tip to the side, face pressing into Simon’s neck, and he supports your weight, keeping a hand on your hip, now spread over where Johnny holds you. You're in a frenzy now, panting, chasing, rough pace only increasing with desperation.

“Good girl, rubbing your little pussy all over our sweet boy’s face. Is he going to make you cum? Can you show daddy how pretty you are when you cum?” Daddy. The word makes you dizzy, strikes you dumb. Simon’s lips press to the crown of your head, and all you can do is gasp and whine, hips jerking across Johnny’s nose and mouth, slick, lewd noises coming from between your legs.

“Oh, oh- fuck,” you gasp, fingers now tightening in Johnny’s hair, electricity sparking through your muscles like fireworks, “I’m gonna- I’m-“ You drag yourself across him, chasing the edge of oblivion, white light crackling behind your eyes as you clench them shut with a near shout. Your orgasm shoots through you, exploding every cell in your body into star light, everything heating together as your eyes roll backwards and your hips shake. Johnny grunts, still anchoring you down onto him, aftershocks rattling through your bones to your teeth. Simon pries him lose, keeping a hand on you, and him, as he pulls you back to reveal Johnny’s face.

He's soaked. Neck, chin, cheeks, stubble all coated in you, and your eyes goes wide, wicked pleasure at the sight curling in the pit of your stomach.

You did that. Your boy.

Simon chuckles like he’s reading your mind, tucking you into his chest before pulling you free and placing you in the space next to Johnny on the couch, laying down. He kisses him slowly, softly, running his tongue over his cheeks before returning to dip back into his mouth and pulling away. “Stay, ‘m gonna go get a towel to clean you both up.” He says quietly, kissing your nose before rising and slipping off into the kitchen. Johnny tries to tug you closer.

“How was that?” You can hear the smug smile and his face as he breaks the silence, and your cheeks burn.

“Really good.”

“Hmph, I was shooting for amazing, so I guess we’ll just have to try again.”

“That’s not… it was!” He laughs, and then gives you a half hug with his good arm.

“Ye were perfect, bunny. We’re so lucky to have ye.” Tears burn and threaten to spill.

“I’m the lucky one.” You whisper, and you don’t know if anything could be truer. It’s more than luck now, more than a chance meeting, a chance occurrence. It’s something bigger, something all consuming, something stronger than anything you’ve ever known.

Something bright, like the sun.

Something like… love. 

[steddieas-shegoes]

It’s been done in every which way but Eddie being in an accident of some kind that leaves him paralyzed, but his doctors believe he could walk again with intense physical therapy

He’s stubborn and absolutely hasn’t dealt with any of the trauma of the accident and takes it out on his physical therapist, Steve, who is used to patients being pretty angry about their situation

He always meets Eddie where he is though, tries to keep a smile on his face and joke when appropriate and even shares his cookies from his lunchbox with him

Eventually, Eddie starts making some progress, but instead of being happy about it, he panics and cancels all his PT appointments for the week

Steve tries calling, texting, emailing, doing everything he can to encourage him to keep going, but it all goes unanswered until Gareth, one of Eddie’s closest friends, calls him on Eddie’s phone

He’s depressed and he won’t get out of bed, he’s given up. He’s tired of being in pain and having to try to so hard just to move his damn legs a little

Steve isn’t usually this personal with clients, and tells Gareth he can’t discuss anything medical with him due to patient confidentiality, but insists he should try to drag him to the office the next day before it opens

And somehow, probably through guilt, Gareth manages to wheel a very sullen and grumpy Eddie into the side door entrance to the office at seven in the morning

Steve tells him to come back in an hour to pick him up and Eddie ignores the goodbye Gareth says to him

And Steve pretends nothing is wrong at all, goes through the usual temperature and blood pressure check, asks how he’s feeling and gets a grunt in response, asks if there’s any pain and gets an eye roll

But Eddie met his match in Steve because Steve then pushes him to the center of the workout room, where a large mat is out and a walker is set to the side

“What’s that?”

“Your walker.”

“I don’t need one seeing as I can’t fucking walk.”

“You are today.”

And Steve knows he’s pushing and he hates being pushy

But he knows what his clients are capable of, and he knows without a single doubt in his mind that Eddie is ready to use the walker for five to ten minute increments. He has the leg strength and the stubbornness, he just needs the belief in himself

“Do you want me to hurt myself worse?”

“Of course not. And if you get tired, the seat on the walker is right there. But you can walk and you will walk.”

“And if I call Gareth to come get me right now?”

“Then I don’t believe my services are of value to you anymore and I’ll wish you the best.”

It pained Steve to say it because he knew he was fucking good at what he did, maybe the best in town. His clients often had to wait for his availability to open for weeks or months at a time because of how many people were referred to him

But he said the right thing because Eddie huffed, groaned, and cursed under his breath before wheeling himself to the edge of the mat to hold onto the walker

He pulled himself up

His legs were shaking from not being used for the last few days more than the bare minimum, but his determination was clear

Steve slowly pulled the chair away as Eddie unlocked the brakes of the walker and glared at Steve as he took one step, then two

Sure, he was relying pretty heavily on the walker, maybe more than Steve would’ve liked to see, but he was moving

He made it across the mat and then locked the brakes, sat down on the pad on the walker, and gave a sarcastic grin to Steve

“Happy?”

“Are you?”

And maybe Eddie wasn’t ready to be asked that because he was suddenly sobbing, covering his face as tears flowed down his cheeks

Steve gave him a few seconds before moving to kneel in front of him, pulling his hands away

“You deserve to have your life back, Eddie. You’ve been lucky to have the chance to walk again. Let’s not waste it, okay?”

Eddie spent the rest of the session walking across the mat and taking breaks every two minutes or so

It was better than Steve even expected, but he reminded Eddie not to do too much at once

Eddie didn’t miss any more appointments with Steve, and every appointment, he seemed to be more charming and flirty, more like “the old Eddie” according to Gareth, who drove him most days

Steve never admitted it out loud, but he knew what he felt for Eddie was different from other clients. It felt more personal, and it felt like it could be more someday

When Eddie graduated to a cane, Steve’s services were officially no longer needed

And Eddie decided that he should probably take Steve out on a date

“Since I can walk and hold your hand now,” he winked.

Steve should say no, but he doesn’t

Because holding Eddie’s hand feels even more right as his boyfriend than it did as his physical therapist

[starrywilliams]

guilty as sin? | abby anderson

“these fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath, taking all of me, we’ve already done it in my head”

warnings: masturbation, slight masochism, ruined orgasm, angst, perv!abby (a little), internalized homophobia (discussed in more detail below)

notes: no surprise my favourite ttpd song is the gayest one on the album, but guilty as sin? screams lesbian guilt i fear!!!! i’ve been writing this for over a month so i hope u guys like it 😭

cw: discussion of lesbian guilt & comphet - these are somewhat based on my own experiences with my sexuality and i absolutely!!! do not think a man can ‘cure’ a lesbian or anything similar to that. nor do i believe anyone should ever feel guilty for being gay. realising i’m a lesbian has been extremely freeing & dykes r the best x

wc: 1.8k

likes, comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

the door slammed harshly behind abby as she stormed into her room. she pulled her jacket off desperately; her skin hot under its tight vice. she’d been in the gym, trying to work out her endless frustration of late, when you’d walked in.

you’d only said “hi" and smiled politely at her before setting your things down. but she felt her stomach churn, a black hole opening inside her. abby stood up, pulling the weights off the barbell and onto their rack. she grunted softly, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.

you’d started stretching, currently bent over as you touched your toes. her eyes drifted for an infinitesimal moment, locking onto the swell of your-. she looked away - wrongwrongwrong.

but then she looked back, her stare feasting on your body. she wondered whether you were doing this on purpose, trying to tempt her from across the room. she wondered if you knew her dirty little secret, abby picturing a smirk on your face as you mocked her for such indecent thoughts.

she didn’t want to feel this way. she didn’t want to feel the poison ivy swarming around her chest, getting tighter, tighter. the rash spread inside her; this invisible whip of lust lashing against her skin whenever your face appeared in her mind. well, had it been just your face maybe she wouldn’t feel like some depraved sinner.

now it wasn’t like abby believed in god, in a world where death and destruction infect every crevice you’d have to be mad to believe that any ‘god’ wanted its followers to suffer so greatly. but something inside her screamed every time she had these thoughts. these impure, twisted thoughts about you.

she didn’t know what made her feel like this. what made her resent you for simply existing; and what made her resent herself.

she recalled her teenage years, when manny had subtly suggested that owen liked her - so she was supposed to like him back, right? and she tried! she loved him even - but there was always that something, that feeling in her gut that told her that something was wrong, something about him that just would never sit right with her.

but all the other girls wanted a boyfriend too, and the jealousy was nice at first - she’d thought. after all, mel was the star student, a doctor in the making, her dad’s favourite; and nora was this freshly trained medical officer, and abby was- abby was just abby.

her dad began noticing her more too - previously too preoccupied with his firefly duties and his favourite student. now his little girl was slipping away from him, he finally began paying her the amount of attention she’d craved for so long.

before, their conversations had often drifted into talk of mel and her new achievements, or his hopes of a vaccine, or some animal he was tracking. never anything about his daughter’s life.

having a boyfriend made her interesting, it gave the other girls something to envy. which was a nice reversal, for a while. then her dad died, and she had become this object of pity. owen helped a bit, she supposed. he tried to distract her and keep her focused on their new role as soldiers, but she barely cared about him anymore. all she wanted was revenge, and with revenge, came you.

you were one of the gyms trainers, passionate about helping the members of the wlf stay fit and healthy! you’d helped her start lifting weights, squealed as she reached every milestone, and had remarked jokingly about just how much you loved her new physique.

it was innocent at first, the most being her brain going a little fuzzy when you’d bit your lip while spotting her; a slight blush when you’d hugged her a little too tight. then, once she and owen were finally broken up, these new pictures began hanging themselves on the walls of her mind. still, innocent, just slightly tainted with desire - the true nature of them still an avoidable matter for her back then.

when she could ignore the truth in her recent behaviour, abby loved spending time with you. after all, you were just really good friends! anyway, she’d had a boyfriend before so everyone knew she was normal, and absolutely not different, and she would never ever have to feel like an outsider.

yet it took a mere three months before she gave up on this foolish lie. she liked you, and as long as nobody ever found out, it wouldn’t matter.

but as her mind grew dark and twisted - joel a constant topic in her head as she obsessed over finally getting to enact revenge - her thoughts got worse in turn. she wanted you - filthily and desperately.

every gym session ended with another cold shower, a desperate plea for her body to stop and let her focus on the task at hand; a hopeless attempt to bury this ache into the ground; an endless endeavour to escape these urges for just one second.

but then she came back changed, every hair on her body endlessly erected with guilt. the way she’d killed him so mercilessly, the way it had done nothing to ease the pain, and the way you had tormented her mind ceaselessly throughout the entire trip.

maybe, had she never met you, she could’ve just killed him and been satisfied. maybe had you never offered to train her personally, she could’ve just stayed comfortable in that stuffy closet. maybe if she found the right man she’d stop feeling this way.

abby deemed such ideas unfathomable now.

owen made her feel nothing. being with him was like an eternal thursday, an endless wait for the week’s end and its pleasure to turn up at her door. every day she’d wait for some spark to arrive, the routine only becoming more and more tedious by the minute. but he helped her get people’s attention, which was enough when she was just abby.

but then she was abby anderson, top scar killer and isaac’s favourite. she got attention on her own, she was praised for her own accomplishments: people worshipped the fucking ground she walked on. but they didn’t know who she really was.

they didn’t know she liked girls the way she was supposed to like boys. she’d seen it in enough of those wlf movie nights - cruel jokes about anyone who even thought about being different. she’d heard the way people gossiped, “did you hear that they’re moving lesbians into the family unit? what a joke.”

they said it like it was something dirty, something egregious, something that she had to hate about herself. so she did.

but as long as she kept it secret, kept it locked away in her mind, maybe she’d be okay. after all, only your actions talk: it was the age old question really, if a tree falls in a forest and no one else hears it, does it make a sound?

abby fell back against her bed sheets, calloused hands pushing her cargos down to her ankles as she replayed the sight of you in her mind. bent over - she felt like you were trying to tempt her on purpose.

she felt like a heathen; staring, fantasizing, worshipping. her mind was bursting with the idea of every possible position she could put you in; head a chorus of every little noise she wanted to hear you make; eyes screwed shut as depravity filled her every sense.

she shoved her bralette up her chest roughly, fingertips dragging over her nipples with little mercy. she pinched them, the peach skin stinging underneath her touch.

she wanted it to hurt; wanted it to feel like some sort of punishment for her thoughts. but as her hips bucked into the air, a long whine dragging from her clenched jaw, she realised it needed to hurt more.

she imagined you, finding her like this. disgust burnt into your features - what the fuck was she doing? repeating your name like some subverted prayer, fingers harshly scratching along her stomach as she tried to make the pleasure feel more like pain, trying to induce some connection between the two.

if it hurt enough, would she stop? force herself to forget? could she torture this part of herself until it surrendered?

her hand slipped over the top of her boxers, a finger running tentatively over her clit through the now darkened fabric. she bit down on her lip, groaning against it as she pushed down harder and harder, attempting to break through the skin.

another finger pressed down, beginning to draw circles down on the throbbing bud. she jolted against her own touch, your head between her legs burning into her mind. your hands, trailing along her flesh - groping at her with little tenderness; tongue, swiping at her pussy with no intent of fulfillment: she wanted you to make her weep, smoke out her lungs with shame, deny her from gratification until all she could feel was regret.

she pulled away, only to cover her fingertips with her spit - diving under her boxers to continue with her corruption. abby let out a strangled sigh, hips grinding against her fingers as they toyed with her clit.

she moved a hand to her hair, knuckles stretching against her scalp as she began to pull her braid. she grunted, yanking even harder. she whispered your name: pained, hopeless.

she sped up her assault against her pussy, feeling that pit in the bottom of her stomach begin to grow. “pleasepleaseplease” her voice cracked as she begged, unsure what she was pleading for.

she wanted to stop, but she needed to try and make this feeling go away. she knew it would come back, it always did - but even five minutes free from your torment on her mind might save her.

her fingers kept going, drawing desperate circles against her weeping pussy relentlessly. the void was growing, almost consuming her entirely at this point. she thought of you laughing at her current state: a crying mess, pussy wet with perversion.

it was sick, really - how the idea of you hating her for this made her need even worse. you’d probably think it appalling: someone who was supposed to be your friend, now sat here burning at the thought of you.

a part of her wished that you shared this sickness. that you too let yourself be overwhelmed by the thought of sin. maybe you didn’t let the guilt swallow you whole - she hoped so.

but there was no point lingering in the what-ifs, they were far too fleeting.

her deft fingers quickened their pace, the ache all consuming. the climb began - a desperate jump towards oblivion. closer, closer. the flames scorched her bedsheets as her breathing hastened.

fuck, she hissed before reaching the apex with a scream of your name. a scream? a whisper? a thought? it didn’t make her actions any less deplorable.

her conscience grabbed pleasure by the throat as she ripped her fingers away, putting out the blaze on her hips like a cigarette crushed on the ground.

the desire imploded within the walls of her torso; scratching against her insides in the vengeance of her denial.

it was wrong; she had to stop it. yet still, the guilt poured into her lungs with no chance of resolve. she was a fool for thinking it would fix her. maybe next time it would work. maybe next time the exorcism would finally purify her.

until next time.

[you-have-a-metal-arm]

'Til The End of The Line pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of hospitals

Summary: You get injured in a mission, and Bucky cannot bear to see you in such state.

Author's Note: Please do not copy or translate my work. English is not my first language, so please understand grammar or spelling mistakes.

Thank you for those who enjoyed the first part, and thank you again for waiting.

Part 2 is now yours.

The world around Bucky seemed to blur as he followed the medical team through the corridor. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum. The sight of you lying so still, bloodied and broken, was something he never thought he’d see—not like this, not when he hadn’t even told you how much he loved you that morning.

As Dr. Cho and her team wheeled you into the surgical room, Bucky’s steps faltered. He felt like he was wading through quicksand, every movement heavy and slow. He wanted to be with you, to hold your hand, to tell you that everything would be okay. But he was kept out of the room, forced to watch through the glass as the doors closed behind you.

Tony, standing beside him, placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong, Bucky. She’ll pull through.”

But Tony’s words felt hollow to Bucky. He had seen too much death, too much loss. The fear of losing you was like a knife twisting in his gut. He couldn’t lose you—not when you were his reason to keep fighting, his anchor in the storm.

His mind raced back to the last few months—the mornings spent in quiet domesticity, the late-night talks about the future, the way you laughed at his terrible jokes. How could it all be ripped away in a single moment?

Bucky pressed his hand against the glass, his breath fogging up the cold surface. His other hand clenched into a fist, the tension coiled tight in his chest. The image of you, fragile and bleeding, burned into his mind.

Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours—he couldn’t tell. Time had no meaning as he stood there, waiting, praying, hoping for a miracle.

Tony stayed by his side, silent. Steve joined them, his face drawn and pale. The guilt weighed heavily on Steve’s shoulders, and Bucky could see it. But Bucky had no room for blame—only a desperate need for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dr. Cho emerged from the operating room. Her face was tired, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “She’s stable, but it was touch and go for a while.”

Bucky’s knees almost buckled with relief, but he held himself upright by sheer will. “Can I see her?”

Dr. Cho nodded. “She’s still unconscious, but you can sit with her. It’s important she has someone she loves nearby when she wakes up.”

Bucky didn’t wait for further permission. He pushed past the others and entered the room where you lay. The sight of you hooked up to monitors, IVs, and machines tore at his heart, but at least you were alive. Your chest rose and fell steadily, and the color was slowly returning to your cheeks.

He pulled up a chair beside your bed, taking your hand in his. The warmth of your skin, even faint, was enough to give him hope. He brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his thumb tracing the lines of your face as if memorizing every detail.

“I’m here, doll,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “I’m right here. Please, come back to me.”

The room was quiet, save for the beeping of the machines that tracked your vital signs. Bucky stayed by your side, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. He didn’t sleep, didn’t eat—he just watched you, waiting for any sign that you were waking up.

Hours passed, and the rest of the team came and went, offering support, but Bucky barely registered them. His world had narrowed down to just you, lying so still in that hospital bed.

At some point, he must have dozed off because he was startled awake by a faint pressure on his hand. His eyes flew open, and he looked down to see your fingers twitching slightly in his grasp.

“Y/N?” His voice was barely a whisper as he leaned closer, his heart pounding in his chest.

You stirred, your eyelids fluttering weakly. It took you a moment to orient yourself, but when your eyes finally opened, they were full of confusion and pain. “B-Buck?” Your voice was hoarse, barely audible.

“I’m here, doll, I’m right here.” Bucky’s relief was palpable as he squeezed your hand gently, his eyes misting over. “You’re okay. You made it.”

A weak smile tugged at your lips, though the effort seemed to exhaust you. “I… I thought… I wasn’t going to make it.”

“You did, though,” Bucky whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re safe now. We’re together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, your hand trembling slightly in his grasp. “I… I heard you… on the comms. I was so scared… that I’d never see you again.”

“It’s quite a miracle that she woke up. But we still must keep an eye out for any damage to her brain,” the doctor said.

“I’ll call Dr. Cho for further checkups. My job’s done for now.” The doctor left, and Bucky’s gaze returned to you.

Bucky sat back down beside you, his eyes brimming with unshed tears as he clutched your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. He couldn't believe you were awake, breathing, speaking to him. The terror of almost losing you hadn’t yet faded from his mind.

You looked at him, your voice barely a whisper but full of the love you had for him. “Hey, I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

Bucky let out a shaky laugh, a mix of relief and disbelief. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours, feeling the warmth of your skin that he thought he’d never feel again. “You scared the hell out of me, doll. I thought—”

His voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know, I know,” you whispered, your free hand weakly brushing the tears from his cheeks. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, Buck.”

He pulled back to look at you, his blue eyes swimming with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted, his voice barely holding together.

“I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

“You won’t,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand with as much strength as you could muster. “We’re going to get through this. Together.”

For a long moment, Bucky just stared at you, memorizing every line of your face as if afraid it might vanish if he looked away. The weight of everything he had almost lost hung heavily in the air between you, but so did the promise of the future you still had together.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the intensity of the words.

“More than anything in this world.”

“I love you too, Buck,” you replied softly, your eyes shining with the same intensity. “And I’m sorry for putting you through this. For making you worry so much.”

“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. You’re the strongest person I know, and you’re going to get better. We’re going to get through this, and then we’ll live that life we talked about.”

A small, hopeful smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, with the house, the backyard, and maybe… maybe even those babies.”

Bucky’s heart swelled with emotion at the thought. The future seemed so far away, but with you here, with your hand in his, it felt possible again. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice choked with emotion. “We’ll have that. I promise you, we’ll have that.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, exhaustion weighing heavily on you, but you fought to stay awake, to stay with him. “I’m going to hold you to that, Barnes.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You better. I’m not going anywhere either, doll. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good,” you whispered, finally allowing yourself to drift off to sleep, knowing that Bucky would be right there when you woke up again.

As you slept, Bucky stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours tightly. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink, afraid that if he did, this fragile moment of peace would shatter. But as he watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, he let himself believe that everything was going to be okay. That the darkness had passed, and the light of a new day would bring the life you both deserved.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky allowed himself to hope.

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

Tag list @baw1066 @hzdhrtss @mrsnikstan

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

Thank you for reading and enjoy your weekend :)

[aniqua]

error: v1r2ous | yandere!qimir x reader

✧content: 18+ mdni, y/n not used, everything that comes with yandere tendencies, a prequel to [f13nd] that can stand on its own

✧anon says: "im super curious to perhaps see flashbacks of reader and qimirs relationship before their death but whatever u choose to do w the plot im sure itll be great!!!💓"

✧note: anonie, my self-control is laughable. this originally was a couple of bullet points until it wasn't. I even foreshadowed it when I said, "I keep pretty much be convinced of a lot of things if it's in the form feedback."

✧word count: 1.4K

✧series masterlist

Qimir and you originally met when you entered his shop to buy something for an illness you were experiencing.

From his perspective, a pretty customer--wide-eyed, slightly frazzled, but sincere--comes in walking in like a blown-in dandelion, and his brain halts at a blank. All of his senses were taking you in except for sound. He was picking up on your scent, taking in your appearance, trying to taste your fragrance like a madman, all the while he couldn’t hear a thing coming out of your rosy lips.

There are no quippy jokes, clever back and forths, or sarcastic upselling. He just saw someone with shining eyes and an unintentional constant pout to their lips as they explained their problem and he was just staring.

Through what he heard when he finally checked back in, you chose to entrust him with your health because of what you heard through grapevines and gossip which led him to take on a deep sense of responsibility to get what he was making down to the right gram.

From your perspective, you didn’t expect the apothecary to be so breathtaking. You expected to meet the face of an age-old man who you’d have to convince to take your symptoms seriously. So when you had materialized at the first jingle of the door and you saw Qimir look up, you’d almost waited for his master to come walking out of a room. Even as you spoke, you sort of hoped it would still happen since his sharp features but kind eyes were too overwhelming for your sensitive self to stomach. If he was to be your saving grace, you feared that your timidness to his aura would have you killed before a progression in your condition did.

Through nervous small talk from you and shaking hands that only Qimir could feel, he works on something as you watch with a look that could only have him describe you as a rabbit. In the end, he fervently insists that you return for weekly refills since swore he could only make so much with the supplies that he had. This was untrue. But you were so dazzled by the way parts of his warm hand ghosted yours when he passed the medication that you didn’t even think twice about it.

By a few months, you both had established an unspoken comfort that resided between each of your meetings. 

You were expected to call ahead so that Qimir could ensure it was just him and you in the shop. Your appreciation for the gesture made you believe that he was entirely selfless but let Qimir tell it and it would be the most selfish thing he did once a week. The days would meander as he spent time forgetting faces until he’d get a call in which in that moment, the time ran like a jackrabbit. 

There was a night when you called so late that the sun had already set and he was already in bed. He picked it up without a second thought and felt his spine turn into water when he heard you on the other end profusely apologizing. The name of the game was reassurance and patience as he tried to keep you talking. He so effortlessly did it that you would almost believe him when he said he didn’t mind the call if you didn’t feel immense guilt.

Qimir spent the time listening to you ramble about the series of unfortunate events that had led you to break your medicine vials and lose your travel ticket. The way your weak voice spoke and the shaking in your cadence made it clear to anyone who cared--so Qimir--that you had just been crying. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you heard from the other end. He waited for you to come down from your panic while twistedly picturing how beautiful you must have looked when you cried. Red eyes, clinging lashes, and swollen lips flashed across his mind just for him to say “I know a guy who can get you a much sooner ticket and when you come here tomorrow I’ll make you more. Free of charge. How does that sound?”

Another good amount of back and forth was spent with you refusing his generosity until his persistent rejection of your rejection caved you. Sure, you felt unworthy of the offer but you also were terrible at resisting the way he sounded over the phone. 

It was in that moment that Qimir determined to make you his permanent problem. From his perspective, he couldn’t stay just your good friend, but he wanted you to see him as the lighthouse that you were a permanent resident of. He was transfixed on the image of you and him together.

Did Qimir actually know a guy? No, but he wasn’t going to find a guy since he knew how to be both hell and high water.

On another one of your later visits, you made some remarks about your uncomfortable trip to his store as his hair curtain his face while he worked. 

Qimir saw this as a rare window of opportunity to take advantage of the trust between the both of you.

“You know, long trips are taxing on the body,” he said as he was dicing a specific plant.

“How else do you expect me to get here?” you teased as you layed your head on the counter and watched him so focused. It was when you liked watching him most. 

This was now routine for the both of you. You would pretend like you weren’t watching the way his biceps flexed and his brows knitted together when he was focused. All the while, Qimir was trying to use every bit of his self-control not to drown in your fresh scent and the warmth that came from your close body. If he didn’t use every bit of the discipline he was taught, he would have devoured once for every time he looked up to find you desperately trying to look anywhere else out of shyness.

“You’d walk here if you just lived in the city,” he told you while peeking through his lashes.

You sighed as you waited for another lecture from him that he practically had memorized but it never came which surprised you. He was playing offensive this time.

“The city is expensive,” you said.

“Hm” he quirked a brow in acknowledgment as he kept dicing. Although he was calculating, he loved the way your voice sounded when you were passionate.

“And who knows if I’ll find somewhere to live on such short notice.”

“So stay here.” he dropped so casually as he went to grab something off of a high shelf.

“Huh?” That was new.

Qimir didn’t say anything until he came back. He made his way back to the counter and leaned over it. You felt so scattered as you watched his striking features get closer as you swallowed. He was intentionally playing dirty.

“Stay here and you can work in the shop in exchange.” When he shrug so nonchalantly, strands of his hair framed his face so well.

“Qi-Qimir,” you manage to get out. “You don’t want me here,” you joked trying to get out of his intense soul-eating eyes. However, he took your hands as you tried to lean back into the chair you were sitting in.

“What makes you say that?” You almost lost your breath at the way he lifted his brow.

“You really want to become roommates with a customer?” you said only half teasing.

The way his expression shifted like a cloud had gone over him. You wondered if you had said something wrong. With his thumb, he made circles in your hands as he straightened out the fabric of your shirt. He was still silent as you held your breath until he said, “Did you really think I’d empty out a store on a weekly basis for just some customer?” His voice was steady as he practically loomed over you from across the table.

You had no response to his words but you were getting hot in the face.

“I don’t even answer Osha’s calls in the middle night,” he laughed. The way that he went back to his light demeanor and the smile that eclipsed his eyes gave you enough whiplash to say stupidly vomit “alright” without any clue as to what you were signing up for.

leave a comment, send an ask, or reblog. i might write a whole fic because of it or maybe send a meme, but I always respond.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 18+ 🔞

WHISPERED SECRETS MASTERLIST

Summary: After four years, your sister's ex-boyfriend comes back into your life. Can you keep your entanglement a secret? Will the guilt eat you alive? 

Pairing:  Sisters ex Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader. 

Genre: SMUT, angst, hurt - comfort, romance. 

Warning: Explicit sex, fingering, Possessive Yoongi, swearing, reader is insecure, jealousy, punishment, unprotected sex, drinking, dirty talk, praising, degradation, spanking, spanking as punishment, teasing, hair pulling, arguments. Overuse of the name, baby, Use of prescription medication. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦         ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You stare at your sister from across your parents table. She looks good as always, happy and almost glowing. The man next to her is just as beautiful. Mingyu is tall, handsome, and personable. The perfect example of someone you want to bring home to your parents.  He develops something, real-estate you think. Not exactly sure what that means, you’ll have to google later.  He screams money with his designer clothes, fancy watch and shiny shoes. He is perfect for her and they look good together.  He's nice, really nice and you're honestly so happy for her.  You wonder how long they have been together. Your parents must have known about him as they didn't seem surprised when he showed up with her. It makes you feel all the more guilty. You feel guilty for lying, for not knowing about her life anymore.  You feel guilty that Yoongi will never have your family's approval.  

You stay quiet during dinner, just moving the food on your plate around with your fork. You don't have much of an appetite. Your mother won't stop gushing over the two of them as she watches them with the biggest smile on her face. She goes on and on about how handsome Mingyu is, how successful he is. You feel embarrassed on his behalf. Your dad seems like he's tuned out of the conversation, keeping one eye on the tv. You should have known something was up when she said that she wanted an additional dinner this month besides Christmas and had asked you to dress up. You thought maybe she was going to set you up with a blind date.  Yoongi didn't find it funny. He gave you a light spank as a warning. 

“I'm happy we can be here today,” your sister says, bouncing in her seat. Her smile is a perfect pearly white. She must get them whitened regularly.  “We have some news.”  You watch as she takes Mingyu's hand. “We are getting married.” she says, holding up her left hand to show off a huge diamond. The sunlight catches the diamond to show off how truly beautiful it was.  You know that she's in love with it. She always loved things that sparkled. 

Your mom cries out in joy, hugging her as they start jumping up and down squealing like teenagers.  She’s never been happy for you. You think bitterly. She didn't care about you passing your drivers test, your first homecoming with an actual date, getting into art school. She always went after your faults, and your sister reaped all the benefits. You plaster a smile on your face watching them, hoping it comes off as sincere. Your dad offers congratulations by shaking Mingyu’s hand. Mingyu, however, looks at you with a curious expression on his handsome face . You're not sure what he is thinking. You wonder what she has told him about you. Was it that you were an awful, harlot, boyfriend stealing woman?  That you were the worst sister in the world. Maybe she doesn't say anything at all. Maybe he thought you were some weird stranger at the table. 

“Do you have the style of your bridesmaid dresses picked? We will have to get Y/N’s measurements done,” your mom started, but your sister cut her off. 

“I already picked my bridal party. There's just not enough room,” your sister explains. “You understand, right, Y/N?” 

“Sweetheart, I'm sure there's room,” Mingyu told her. “I'll find another groomsman.” 

“No, she understands. It's just not in the budget.”  She looks at you with a tight smile. You just want the ground to open up and swallow you whole. This…this is how much she hates you. Does she know? Does she know that you are with Yoongi?  That he spent an hour with his face buried between your thighs this morning, trying to calm you down about this dinner. Can she smell him on you? No one says anything until Mingyu clears his throat. 

"That's…uh…an interesting ring,” he says to kill the quiet. “A sun, it's pretty.”

“Umm, yeah, my boyfriend gave it to me,” you say quietly. You hold your breath and pick at the napkin in your lap. This is not how you wanted to break the news. Honestly, you don't think that you ever planned on telling them.  You just hoped that maybe, somehow, you two would have been able to run away and start again where no one knew you.

“Boyfriend?” Your mom asks. “Since when do you have a boyfriend? One serious enough to buy you jewelry?” 

“Uh,” Mingyu looks a little panicked like he shouldn't have said something. “What about work? What do you do?” he asked, trying to change the subject. 

“Oh, she's just an accountant at a small-time, no named business.” Your sister answers for you as she eyes your ring.  “Nothing important.” 

“No, I quit,” you tell her. Your mom literally dropped into her seat. “I'm starting an art program in the summer, and I have a new job with more flexible hours that will accommodate me.”

“Art?” Mingyu exclaimed. “My company loves doing charity for local school programs. You know, art supplies for classrooms, dress clothes for choir performances, and offering financial assistance with band instruments.” 

“What? I didn't know this,” your sister said, looking at her fiancée like he grew another head. 

“You never asked,” he said quietly. “Sports are great and all but…the arts always get overlooked. Music and drawing are such amazing ways for kids to express themselves.” 

“How are you going to afford an art program?” Your mom asked you. Damn, you even had your dads attention.

“My boyfriend is paying for it,” you say quietly. “He got me my job too.” 

“Where are you working now?” Your mom asked, and boy, does she look pissed. “Who the hell is this boyfriend?  You better not be doing…things… to get him to pay for you.”

“Uhh,” Mingyu says. Poor, poor Mingyu, he doesn't know what he walked into.  You think that he's starting to sweat.

“A record company,” you say quietly, staring down at your plate. You're trying to brush off her insinuation that you're a sugar baby or something. Is she wrong, though?  “My boss Namjoon…”

“Kim Namjoon?” Mingyu asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“You know him?” You question as your eyes snap to him, and your heart rate starts to pick up. 

“Yeah, we've done charity events together. He has a small crew, too. Jimin, Hoseok, and uhh…” he trails off, trying to remember. “He was super quiet and didn't really say much.” You panic. He knows of Yoongi. This can not be happening. “Man, what was his name? He looked angry.” 

“Jimin is dating my friend Lisa. That's how I met them,” you explain quickly, lying, hoping to break his train of thought. “Their uhhh…yeah, dating.” 

It’s quiet again as four sets of eyes stare at you as you ramble. It's an awkward silence that you need to get out of.  You excuse yourself from the table and race out to the back patio as fast as you can. Hoping if you can avoid any more of the conversation, and they will just move on. 

Taking a deep breath of fresh air, you look around, and you try to calm your fast beating heart. Your parents took everything down slowly throughout the years. The tree house, the trampoline, and the swingset. Your sister always made you push her on the swing so she could pretend to be some sort of fairy princess. She never pushed for you.  Your whole childhood is gone. Even though it wasn't the happiest, it still hurt to know it was gone.  You pull out your phone and quickly send Yoongi a text.

It's a shit show. Will you call me for an emergency? 

Sorry, my love. He texted back. Tell them your dog is sick

I don't have a dog, you replied.

Do they know that? he answered. 

Behind you, the door slides open, and your sister storms up to you. Her eyes are heated, and you're pretty sure she's trying to kill you with her glare. She crosses her arms and starts tapping her foot. 

“You made me look stupid in there. Mingyu won't stop asking questions about why we don't know anything about your life. Why I won't let you be a bridesmaid? How you should be my maid of honor.” She hisses at you and pokes you in the chest. Her bony ass finger hurts. “You need to fix this mess.” 

“He asked a question, and I answered,” You defend yourself. “What do I tell him? That you and mom only give a shit about each other. That I've been trying to move on with my life without you two making me feel bad all the time?”  

“Oh, you're so full of yourself. No one was ever out to get you,” she rebuttals.  Your phone chimes, and you ignore it. “You locked yourself away and always expected everyone to help you. It's not our fault you didn't have a life. Your poor me shit needs to stop.” 

“I was a kid. Dad was never around,” you yell at her. Your phone chimes again. “Mom was always stuck up your ass. Your pageants, dance, and everything else you did. Yeah, I needed help.”  

Your phone rings this time. You flip your phone to look at the screen. You freeze. You forgot that Yoongi's contact picture was of the two of you. Lisa had bullied her way into his studio and took the picture. She made him kiss you on the cheek as you sat on his lap, and to your surprise, he actually did it. He kicked her out not long after. You hear your sister gasp, and your eyes fly to her face. She is stunned, staring at your phone. It stops ringing, only to immediately start ringing again, picture popping back up. 

“You have gotta be kidding me,”  she says lowly, harshly. “Is that Yoongi? Tell me right now! Why do you have a picture of him kissing you?”

“I…I…” you stutter.

 “Yoongi? Your boyfriend is Yoongi? WHAT THE FUCK!” she screams. “ANSWER ME! IS HE YOUR BOYFRIEND? ”

Your parents come out back where you two were. Mingyu is not with them. You wonder where he went. You hope he ran away, far, far away. You hope he doesn't come back and that he can find someone that is….not your sister. someone who will appreciate his charity and kindness. Someone who wants to help people and isn't selfish.  Your sister snatches your phone out of your hand.

“She's dating Yoongi, mom,” she cries out. She waves your phone in front of your moms face, showing her the missed calls. “I always told you…” 

“Leave it alone,” your dad says, cutting her off. You, your sister, your mom, you all freeze. You think this is the most you ever heard him speak in years. “Give her her phone back.” 

“Y/N, how could you do this to her,” your mom scolds, ignoring your father. “I told you to leave him alone years ago. You never listen. Why can't you ever listen? Do you know how selfish this is?” 

“How long did you wait to go after him?” she snarled at you. “It was always pathetic how you always followed him around like a lost puppy. He hated it too, you know?”  No, no, she's lying….please let her be lying.  “He always hated helping you. He called you a burden all the time.”

“I SAID LEAVE IT!” Your father yells. “ I've sat back for years and kept quiet. No more, leave her alone. Give her the phone back right now!” 

Your sister looks murderous. Your phone chimes. She smiles a sardonic smile as she looks at the screen. Instead of handing you the phone, she throws it on the hard cement below you.You cry out and pick it up….it's shattered. Your family is shattered, and Mingyu is probably shattered. The tears are streaming down your face. Yoongi, you want Yoongi. You need him to fix this. Were you a burden to him?

“You knew I loved him, and you always wanted everything I had. You jealous bitch! You are dead to me,” she whispered. “I will never speak to you again.”

Crying, you push past her and run through the house and out the front door. You grab your purse and your keys hanging on the hook on the way out. Running to your car, you slip and fall on the icy driveway. A sharp pain radiates through your wrist as you land on it. It takes your breath away for a moment. You ignore it as you manage to climb into your car. Your phone screen is glitching. You can't even pull up your contacts as it flickers erratically.   

“Hey Siri, call, Yoongs,” you try to command your phone as you slam your car door shut. Sighing in relief, you hear your phone respond to your command. Thank you, thank you, thank you, you chant to yourself. The phone rings, and it's choppy and staticky. 

“Ba..,” Yoongi answers. You can barely hear him. “...omthin….wron…” 

Your phone completely turns off. No…no…no. Starting your car, you race back home to your apartment. Not Yoongi's but yours. You've been slowly packing. You have a week to be out. You just wanted your bed, your warm, comforting cocoon. You slam your door as soon as you get there. You don't even bother locking it as you dodge the boxes scattered about to get to your bedroom. Burying yourself in your blankets, you cover your head with your pillow and cry. Loud, full chest sobs, such violent sobs your body shakes. It gets hot quickly under there, but you don't care. You don't want anyone hearing you. You're too vulnerable, and it's an ugly sight.  Fuck…your wrist hurts. 

“Baby,” Yoongi's voice rang out. “Y/N.”  His voice is muffled due to the pillow over your head. “Y/N,” he's close now.  His body drops on the bed, jostling you a little. “You're scaring me.” 

Yoongi pulls the pillow off your head and moves the blankets down. He reveals your sweaty red face as tears stream down your cheeks from your bloodshot eyes. You're sure your face is probably all snotty, too. You're too far gone to care about it, though. 

“They know,” you whisper to him. “She smashed my phone.”  Yoongi grabs your phone that was laid beside you and inspects it.  “She has a fiancée. He was so nice and I ruined it for her. He knows Joon,” you explain. “I think he knows who you are too, and I panicked. I thought he was going to out us, and I didn't……” You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.  “She saw our picture when you called.” 

“Y/N,” he sighs and wipes the sweat and hair away from your face.

“I fell…my wrist really hurts,” you sob loudly, showing him your injured wrist.  Yoongi gently picks up your wrist and tries to examine it.

“We should get you to the hospital,” he says softly, but you shake your head no. “It could be broken.” 

“She said you called me a burden all the time. That you hated it when I followed you around,” you start crying again. 

“What?” Yoongi’s face turns hard and red. “I never said that. You were the reason I stuck around for as long as I did.” 

That shocked you. Your questions surrounding their relationship have never been answered. After today, you feel like you have a million more. They were together for two years. You always just kind of thought that they just grew apart. Now, you're not so sure anymore.  His comment just now. His note in that red envelope with the ring, your picture in his studio. You clearly don't know anything.  

“Let me take you to the hospital,” Yoongi says as he kisses the side of your head. “I'll try and pull some strings. My friend Jin might be on tonight. He'll take good care of you.” 

“You have a lot of friends,” you say, leaning into his chest. You cradle your own hand to your chest. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “You were never and will never be a burden to me. Let's go, we can get some ice cream after, and I can try and finish packing.” 

“Okay,” you agree. “I love you, Yoongi.”

“I love you, too,” he whispers. 

“Well, you are one lucky young lady,” Dr. Kim said, coming back into your room. Your x rays in hand.

Yoongi wasn't lying when he said he could probably pull some strings. As soon as you got to  the hospital, they got you right in. Unfortunately,  you wouldn't be you without embarrassing yourself somehow. When Dr. Kim introduced himself and shook your good hand. You may have giggled, and Yoongi sighed in defeat. He's very handsome and his smile is so beautiful. See, you're starting to feel better already. You didn't need to come.

“Just a sprain. A grade 2 sprain. Rest it, ice it, elevate it, and keep it wrapped, I just prescribed you some mild pain meds, and you can pick those up on the way out at the pharmacy. You'll be just fine in about 6 weeks or so.” Dr. Kim explained. “Any question?”

“No,” you answered. “Thank you, Dr. Kim.” 

“It was my pleasure. Finally, meeting my little Yoongi’s girlfriend is the highlight of my night,” Dr. Kim tells you.  “Please call me Jin. We are family now,” he continues. “Also, always remember when you get a bladder infection…”

“Jin, don't,” Yoongi says, trying to cut him off.

“...urine trouble.” Dr. Kim….Jin throws his head back and slaps his leg laughing at his own joke. Yoongi shakes his head in embarrassment. You can't help but giggle, his laugh is infectious. “Okay, kids. You're free to go, Y/N take care of  Yoongi for me.”  Yoongi looks unimpressed as Jin leaves the two of you alone. You finally break out in full laughter.  You think the meds have kicked in. 

“It doesn't hurt anymore,”  you say in awe as you flop your hand around.

“Stop that,” Yoongi says from the driver's seat.

“You know what!” You exclaim while bouncing in your seat. “Fuck her! Fuck my sister….well…you already have but still.”

“Hey, watch it,” Yoongi growls at you. He stops at a red light glaring at you.

“Oh come on. You were together for years. I'm not stupid….you've fucked her. Wow, these meds are great,” you laugh at yourself. Yoongi mumbles something to himself you can't make out in your haze. “Sex must have been good with her for you to put up with her like you did. You know what we should do?” 

“What?” Yoongi asks, sounding exasperated, but you miss it. He pulls back into your lot and helps you out of the car.

“OH I KNOW!” You yell out and look at him with a serious look . “YOONGI! When did you get here?”  Yoongi puts his hand over your mouth, shushing you. Thank the Lord you live on the first floor. It probably looks like he's kidnapping you right now. “Oh, Oh, we should make a sex tape! A really, really, really dirty one. I'll even let you jack it on my face! Yeah! Yeah! Then…I'll send it to her. We'll be naked!” 

Yoongi huffed a little as he struggled with you. He finally managed to get you inside of your apartment and into your bedroom with you stumbling most of the way. You gave him work out trying to change you into something comfortable. 

“Noooo,” you whine. “NAAAAAKKKEEEED!”

“Okay, my little adult film star. You lie down, and I'll get the camera,” Yoongi says, placating you. You snuggle down into your bed, and as soon as your head hits the pillow, you're out. Snores and all. You miss the worried look on Yoongi's face and the sad smile he gives you.  Turning off the light, Yoongi leaves you alone. Maybe you weren't as sure about this relationship as he thought. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦         ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A/N: I understand she probably would have just taken something like Tylenol for her wrist. I needed her to be loopy for this one. 

READER TAGS:

@unicornbabylover , @marimarvelfan, @minghaosimp, @iheartsvt, @seoullove96, @babyitscoldoutside

[persefolli]

𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐧𝐚'𝐯𝐢!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @myheartfollower​, @laylasbunbunny​ , @destinylb, @deadgirl02​

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Get here!” Jake yelled at Lo’ak. “I let the two geniuses fly a mission and you disobey direct orders?!”

You hopped off your ikran and walked over to the crowd of Sully’s that stood slumped at another one of Jake's outbursts.

“K-Kiri go help your grandmother with the wounded.”

“My brother is wounded.” She responded.

“Please-Tuk! Go with her. Go!” He continued yelling.

“Father- Sir,” Neteyam said groggily. “I take full responsibility-”

“That's right! Because you are the older brother, you need to act like it.”

“Jake!” You yelled with your eyebrow cocked. “Your son is bleeding!” You interrupted, hoping he would let the boys off just this once.

“Mama it's fine-”

“Gone get patched up.” Jake dismissed Neteyam.

You escorted your older son towards the medical pod, where you continued to overhear Jake yelling.

“Do you understand you almost got your brother killed.”

“Yes sir.”

“You're grounded. No flying for a month.”

This was a regular occurrence for the Sullys. Something would go wrong and Jake would go down the line, one by one, kid by kid, lecturing them. As their mother, you also had to put your foot down at times, but you weren’t as strict as Jake. You began to watch your children slowly fall into a state of depression. They became more tense when Jake entered the room, they were silent during dinners, they didn't even go explore the forest anymore. Even Tuk began hiding her toys, afraid Jake would punish her by taking them away.

Guilt followed you soon after. It was your job to be there for them, and you had managed to let their mental health decline under your watch. You did feel it was your fault, knowing that you sat back so many times and watched Jake snap at your kids.

But you had enough.

“Didn’t I tell you?! Didn't I warn you boy?!” Jake yelled at Lo’ak again. “OFF LIMITS THE SHACK WAS OFF LIMITS!” He stepped closer to the boy and yelled in his face. “You had Tuk! You tryna get your little sister killed?” Lo’ak averted his eyes to you but quickly looked back at his father when he noticed. “Look here boy!” He snapped again.

“Enough.” You walked over and slapped Jake on the shoulder. “Kids go play.” You shooed them out of the shared space.

“Are you serious Y/n?! He went too far this time! Nothing you can say will make this easier on him.” Jake sternly said. “You are his mother! If anything, you need to be watching out for them as much as I do.”

You stepped back, scoffing at your husband's jab. “You calling me a bad mother? Jake, I was fucking scared too! They are children, they will be curious, the world is theirs to explore!” You yelled back. “It’s not their fault our enemy from 14 years ago popped up again! You should be comforting them, not yelling in their faces!”

“They need structure! They don’t have that. None of them, especially Lo’ak, should be fucking up this often!”

“Structure?!” You placed your hands on your hips. “They're fucking scared of you Jake! They don't even call you dad anymore, you're sir! You have to dismiss them like their fucking soldiers! We're a family, not a squadron!” You hissed.

“I don't earn respect, I demand it, especially from my own family.”

“Oh? So I should start calling you Colonel Sully from now on?”

“You're doing too much-”

“No! I'm not-”

“You are! Any other time you sit back and let them do whatever they want. It's like I'm the only parent here! They respect me, can we say the same about you?” You smiled, tears welling in your eyes. Pregnant silence fell between you two, and the tension in the room grew heavy. “I can't do this. Can't do it.” You whispered. “Oh Eywa I didn't want it to ever come down to this.” A few tears slipped from your closed eyes.

“Now what do you suggest?” Jake said snarkily.

“We should split up.”

It felt as if the entire village went silent. Jake’s face, along with his stomach dropped. Panic began to wrap and enclose his throat in its grip. “I can't do this. We can't do this, our kids need a break dammit!” You shouted.

“Hey,” Jake began grabbing at you but you removed your arms each time he made contact. “Hey, Hey, Hey! Y/n baby look at me. Talk to me please.” He began getting desperate.

You looked at him with a deep frown, and tears running down your cheeks. “You don't listen! I have been telling you. I HAVE BEEN TELLING YOU.” You shouted at him.

Jake became more persistent, and now had you in a bear hug, rubbing your back and shushing you. His chest was tight, and he felt like sobbing. The thought of you leaving him? And to know it would be his fault. “I can't! I can't!” You pushed him away and stormed out the pod with tears in your eyes.

That same day, the kids and you came by, grabbing a few items from their rooms before leaving to stay with Mo’at. Jake cried his eyes out that night, having multiple panic attacks and sharp pains in his stomach. He knew he fucked up bad, and what was most disappointing was that it took you threatening to leave him for him to realize that.

Jake needed to look back, deeply reflect on everything you said. He thought back to his kids’s mannerisms, and how they used to act. Lo’ak was the carbon copy of himself, Kiri was down to Pandora, Tuk was an energy ball all around, and Neteyam was cool and collected. He did notice his kids' downturned ears, the silence that appeared when he came around, the fearful staring. It hit him how quiet Tuk had become, and he knew his little one was so hard to shake up.

Jake spent a few nights like this, cheating himself out of sleep and thinking back to all the details he missed.

After a week of moping and thinking, he finally sought you out right before another insurrection. You stood, picking out your arrows to put in the holster that was attached to the ikran. He noticed your fatigued state, how you didn't stand straight, and how it seemed a smile hadn’t appeared on your face since the argument.

“Y/n.” He announced himself. You looked up and sighed, turning to look away from him.

“Can we talk?” He walked closer.

“About what?!” You hissed.

“Everything.”

You huffed and set your bow aside. “Don't move until I get back.” You called out to your team. Jake led you to your once shared home, and turned to face you. You closed the entrance to give the two of you privacy. “I'm sorry.” Jake started. “I should've noticed the signs earlier. I should've communicated my fear of losing them instead of punishing them for my own fears.” You nodded, agreeing with him.

“I let my experiences with the Sky People trigger something in me, causing me to treat you and the kids like the squad I ran back on earth. But you guys aren't my squad, you're my family.” He approached you. “I love you Y/n. I love all of you so much. I will change, I promise I will. I hate that it took you leaving me to realize that.”

You wiped your leaking eyes, and leaned into your husband. A glimpse of the old Jake Sully. One thing you knew was that Jake made sure to keep his promises. Even after the destruction of the home tree he did everything he could to gain your trust again.

“Don't leave me.” He whispered. “Please don’t leave.”

You looked up at him, noses nearly touching each other. “I’m not going anywhere Jake…but you need to apologize to the kids too. Show them that you can act like a father, and treat them with care. Not their Colonel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jake placed a quick peck on your nose, before tilting his head and clasping his lips around yours.

---

The attack against the Sky People was successful. The clan was able to get more supplies and resources for the village. “Sully's fall in!” Jake called out as the lot of you landed back on the mountain. You watched your kids exchange looks, before following their father home.

“Everyone have a seat.” Jake ordered them. They sat quickly, and stiffly. Jake squatted, looked down and sighed heavily. “It has come to my attention that the lot of you are afraid of me.”

The kids looked at each other again.

“And I am so sorry I have pushed you to the point of feeling that way towards me.” He apologized. “I just get so-” He began choking up. “I get so scared…when you kids are in danger and out of my reach. I thought maybe putting some structure into you, it would make my job easier.”

“But somehow I managed to turn my entire family against me.” He paused and looked across their faces, before stopping at Lo’ak. “Come here boy.” He stood, and hesitantly walked over to his father, squatting down to reach his height.

“When I was human, I managed to paralyze myself from the waist down. Thinking nobody could tell me nothin cause I knew it all.” He began shaking his head. “I'm so hard on you because I see you doing the same things that led to me being immobile. I want you to become strong, and more responsible. But I love you son, and I never want you to question that.” Jake placed his hand on his younger son's head, embracing him in a fatherly manner.

“Neteyam,” He motioned for him to come next. “I shouldn't burden you. Especially as the oldest. Your siblings don't reflect you, so you no longer need to take responsibility for their mistakes. I do ask that you guide them the best you can. I see you, and I see who you will become.” Neteyam sniffled, folding his lips in to restrain himself from letting his tears slip.

“Kiri, Tuk.” He recruited the last two standing Sullys. They ran over to him and joined the group embrace. “You two are my very special girls. It may be harder letting the two of you go, but I want you to be as free as you want.” He wrapped his arms around all 4 of his children, holding the now crying Sully kids.

You stood, holding your elbows, letting tears slip on your own as the children accepted their father again. Jake opened his eyes, and looked at you. “My wife, my beautiful wife. C’mere.” You knelt down and crawled over to him, joining the family hug he’d initiated.

“I love you all so much.”

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Right, so, I've been seeing some persistent misconceptions in fanfiction where a character has ADHD. I'm a man of color with ADHD and I want to clear some things up. This is specifically about how people tend to write Ed Teach, but it can apply to other characters you're writing with ADHD. And I'd love if other people with ADHD, especially other people of color with ADHD, have any additions to tack on!

These things are NOT what ADHD is.

ADHD does not make you "stupid." This whole thing was inspired because I just read a fic where Ed cites his ADHD as evidence he's "dumber" than the other characters (and this was supported by the writing in the story). There is no correlation between ADHD and intelligence, and we know that Ed is a genius!

ADHD does not automatically mean that someone can't finish school or can't succeed in demanding academic fields. I'm working on my PhD. It just means your character needs coping skills.

ADHD does not mean that someone will "hyperfixate" on or suddenly lose interest in relationships, whether romantic or platonic.

ADHD doesn't mean your character struggles with personal hygeine or keeping their home clean. Please stop making me read fics that characterize a man of color as dirty or incapable of keeping his home clean and excusing it because "he has ADHD!"

ADHD doesn't mean that your character will need someone to look after or supervise everything they do. Ed does not need a White man to take care of him or make sure his work gets done.

ADHD doesn't mean a character will be unable to sit still, focus, stay on-task, or sit in silence 100% of the time. We all have different tolerance levels and those can change depending on current circumstances.

Here are some more realistic, interesting ways ADHD can impact successful, smart characters of color, like Ed.

He might feel the need to be hypercompetent, all the time.

He might get frustrated with himself. ADHD can be frustrating! You can be on top of things 99% of the time at work and school, and have people look up to you, and then you'll realize that you've been forgetting to book that doctor's appointment for six months straight now and you'll feel like a failure.

He might overcorrect symptoms. For example, he might have trouble keeping a neat, organized space and know that messes stress him out, so he overcorrects by being a bit of a neat freak and avoiding mess wherever possible so his space never becomes unmanageable.

He might struggle with The Evil Boredom. That's when you feel super understimulated and nothing is enough to help.

He might have trouble sitting still or saying quiet when he's nervous, feeling strong emotions, or in a boring environment or trying to do a boring task (the scene where Ed struggled with being still and quiet while fishing, while also feeling strong emotions of guilt, was super relatable).

I like to write AuDHD characters (with both autism and ADHD), and it can add a fun new dimension! I personally headcanon Ed as AuDHD. When you have both, symptoms can be frustrating because they can feel contradictory (for example, my autism demands I keep a neat, tidy space and I like routines, but my ADHD means I have trouble keeping things tidy to my standards and routines are super boring).

And finally but crucially: it's obviously okay to headcanon a character as ADHD or with any other neurodivergence when you're White. However, it's important to remember that the experience of neurodivergence looks different for people of color. Boys of color with ADHD, for example, are often overdiagnosed with ODD and labelled as "defiant" or "uncooperative." I often avoid telling White friends and coworkers that I'm AuDHD because it tends to make them infantalize me, as if I haven't already proven to them I'm a capable adult. People of color often have to go undiagnosed or without appropriate medications (if needed) and/or are misdiagnosed. If you're writing about a chracter of color with ADHD, I really recommend finding a sensitivity reader.

[gofishygo]

[PRIDE MONTH- WEEK FOUR] : through green hydrangeas (my heart lies) price x ftm reader (part 2/2) - UNFINISHED

(i will complete this once i am unsuicidal and motivated)

[PART ONE] | notes: medical settings, description of injury, should have a good ending but like rn its not necessarily very bonita for either of them

The next time you and Johnathan price meet each other is indeed, in Burningham.

The doctors treating you had come with a prognosis- a puncture to the intestine. Through the whole eight hours of the surgery, the whole two weeks of an induced coma, he’d shadowed it behind a glass window. His now practically immune to the scent of disinfectants, the lemon-stained chemicals burning at his nose until the chemoreceptors in them saw nothing, felt nothing. He compares it to a black hole, how his sensory limbs have dulled since his career; his ears are now half drowned, all noose shallow and diasporic, left behind at a botched mission in 2002 Moscow. The keenness of his nose now snuffed by a recent disaster with chemicals. His body is trying and failing, pulling the weight of the world on its shoulders and inside the gaping voids of his chest, always consuming, killing, but never truly settled. Never truly sated.

And now his eyes have resulted in you being eaten, now his ears have resulted in you being ripped at your core. His body has chewed you and, and was left to spit out your body, just like Johnny-

He is scared of looking into closed eyes-they remind price too much about him. So, he leaves the living pearls alone, refuses to peel the skin back to see your colours. He never wants to chew again, not after this.

In every other world be should have stayed attentive, should have yelled at you to not mount the doorframe. But now you are here, bandage wrapped vice-tight below your own scars under your chest and blanketing part of your tattoo, and guilt and pity and some dark festering emotion he couldn’t pinpoint layer and boil like bile in his kidneys. Threatens to spill over into his throat and all over the bed when he is finally allowed to take the compression off. It reveals the shooting star of a wound, crusted tail stretching and expanding into arms that seem to try reach across your skin, to take more of the body it had infested. And he fears you will meet the fate of Johnny- that the wound had claimed your soul instead of your life. And it was an early death too, for the man he had met, for the private who’d body he thought he’d fully memorised a decade ago. The short-lived life of the man who smiled with his whole face for the woman who couldn’t. He knows you have changed, have grown up and out of your past life.

But he can only hope that now; you are strong enough to live through it.

On the nineteenth day of your bedrest, John seems to notice that the slow trickle of bouquets and cards of condolence had been wrung dry, petals brown and crusting on the small bundle of roses that Gaz had left on the bedside since the beginning of your stay in the hospital. The colour of the wilt now matched his increasingly darkening eyebags, crow’s feet near buried, shallow dents in the corner of his peripherals. Pads of his fingers rest atop your forehead- and he knows no matter how dysregulated your internal temperature was since the mission, the number of degrees in your body would always be more than the amount of “get well soon’s” you were given. Some stone of pity seems to snowball at the tip of his tongue and lodge in his throat at the lack of a similar last name on any of the unopened cards left to collect dust on the table. Perhaps, since you’d dropped your original name, the people who’d carried your last refused to see you. And maybe, the idea that the number of degrees your body temperature was also outmatched the number of times you’d seen your relatives since your transition. And maybe, you had been alone for that stretch of years, without familiar flesh to grip onto or a face to share your ashtray and lighter with.

(When long-abandoned lawns are left unattended, they seem to flourish. Rainwater fills the cracks of pavement, toadstool and wildflowers sprouting between the roots of household weeds. In miracle, you had thrived in your isolation.) With one of your eyes slightly peeled open and fixed towards him, and voice barely gathering into the creak of a tree deforested, you ask what is wrong. Price swallows: and he replies with silence.

But even in your quarter-dead state, the captain can’t seem to stomp out the embers of your stubbornness. You’d always cared for him, affection growing teeth and latching onto him with a grip near impossible to pry. In warmth, it held him, in cold, it smothered him. “Put a lid on it, private,” its some form of rumbled warning, a predecessor to earthquakes that would split continents open. “Laswell called. All six targets got taken down, thanks to the work of you and the ULF. Another mission cleared, another day of living.” The dynamics of your exhale sound oddly like a rendition of price’s puff of a cigar. He can faintly recognise the lethargy, energy seeped out of your injuries, clearly exasperated by the way he slams shut at your prying. “You don’t need to worry about me,” But you’re attentive, even in your indigence, and notice how his eyes are not focused on the explosion of scab across your torso, but on the scars that adorned the underside of your chest. “Or is there something else on your mind?”

Price- he truly does hope that you register his stifled grunt and the widening of his eyes as shock instead of horror. Your words catch him off guard, a bear trap that ensnares his tongue instead of his legs, and he is left thrashing in desperation for new words. “no, it’s not- its not that you’re transgender. I don’t care for that. Why didn’t you contact me? What made you think that I would despise you, just because you changed? Just because you were happier?” did you think I could ever hate you for that? “no, its not your fault kid. m’ mistake.”

Silence from the only person who’d dared to raise their words to match all his own, isolation from the man whose touch anchored you down to the ground of the earth and the heat of his skin- it’s smothering him still, a phantom weight that chained the both of you to the bones in your knees and the cuffs of your necks. (If love Is liberation, maybe you two could have been set free-)

[mozmamellz]

Kung Lao × Raiden

__________

little warning ; gay yaoi men who are scared of commitment n losing each other, probably out of character writing, tooth-rot fluff, accidental confession

prompt request by ; @karl00sz (tysm)

art in the middle is by ; @novicedraws

__________

“ You're the number one in my heart. „

Raiden is usually in control of the amulet, knowing his limits and always trying to push through and unlock something new, or that's what he thought. He didn't mean to, he didn't mean to almost shock his best friend to death, he didn't mean to go too rough.

But yet when Kung Lao insisted that he was fine, he couldn't help but carry the weight of guilt on him, knowing that he caused those bruises and scars on the man's body.

"When will you get that taken care of?" Raiden asked as they just finished their training, the bruise on Kung Lao's body never left, it's getting concerning. "It's fine, it'll rub off in a week, I already rinsed it in water." Kung Lao shrugged off as he tried cracking his shoulders and neck. Raiden stayed silent before he stood up from the bench. "It seems like not." Raiden told him as he crossed his arms and observed the stance Kung Lao has on.

Ever since that incident, Kung Lao has been sloppy, his balance is not as good as usual. Raiden sighed before he tried to reason with the man who was trying to fix his razor hat. "Lao, at least let me help, it'll reduce the amount of time you have to wait, it could last weeks, months, and you won't be able to train properly."

Kung Lao's eyebrows furrowed softly, before he looked up from the razored hat to face his 'best friend'. Seeing Raiden's concern and worry plastered on his face, he decided to just let Raiden win this one. Kung sighed softly before speaking up. "Sure, we can go to the medbay, the monks can patch me up, happy?" Raiden stayed silent as he nodded, but the change in his face was an obvious answer to Kung Lao, the look of satisfaction and delighted, and a relived look in his eyes, makes Kung Lao slightly weak on his knees.

Raiden just gave him a quick nod before he followed Kung Lao behind to the medbay. They didn't have any conversation, they just stayed quiet as they went. When Kung Lao slides the door open, no one was there. "They aren't here yet, guess we'll come back next time." Kung Lao said before he walked in and looked around, making sure there wasn't actually anyone.

Raiden stayed silent, ‘next time’ won't happen and he knows it, if they aren't here, then he will. Raiden quickly then took his surroundings. "Sit down." Raiden told Kung Lao, the man raised an eyebrow before sitting on the seat nearby. "Raiden, we can wait, it'll take a few hours, or minutes, depending on their break."

"Let me help you."

"Rairai, you don't have-"

"Let. Me."

Kung Lao could hear every emphasized word in that short sentence, so he stayed put as Raiden searched through the cabinet. Kung Lao watched his every move, softly mesmerized by the look of him, how did he get someone like Raiden in his life? let alone be his friend, it's impossible for Raiden to feel like that for him, it seems unrealistic and hopeless to even think about it. ‘Kung Lao? dating Raiden, Earthrealm's champions, the thunder god, yeah, no. It won't work.’

While he was getting patched, it was, quiet, too quiet for his liking, so he decided to teasingly ask. "Why are you even doing this? Don't you have anything else important to do, Thunder god?"

But he didn't get a word out of Raiden, but he watched Raiden stop midway bandaging him up. Kung Lao was slightly confused now, why is Raiden stopping?"

"I was..."

"..worried."

Kung Lao huffed, relieved, he was always like this, since childhood, worried about him. When Kung Lao was about to say some snarky comeback, Raiden spoke up again.

"I was scared, when I electrocuted you, I watched you squirm, yelped and gasped in pain, I was scared, that I might lose you, when the medics took too long to come over..I had a weight of guilt, I still do, I went too rough with you, I apologize, for making you, hurt, I wouldn't know what to do without you, I love you too much for you to die on me so easily, and over my careless actions."

Kung Lao stayed silent as he began processing the man's word, ‘he was scared, he had a weight of guilt, he wouldn't know what to do with me..and..wait..did he say he loves me?’

"Did you, just confess to me?" Kung Lao asked him aloud, wanting him to confirm his words, instead of Raiden just love bombing him, he wouldn't want that.

Raiden stayed silent before he slowly nodded, and finally looked ahead to look at him. "Yeah, I guess." Raiden murmured before he confirmed it. "I truly do love you." Kung Lao had a soft red tint covering his cheeks as he stayed silent, ‘holy fuck..it's, mutual.’

"Oh Raiden, you don't know how long I waited for you to say that." Kung Lao said happily before he moved his body to face him and hugged him tightly, burying his face against his shoulder as he sighs in relief, knowing his months or years of pinning was worth it after all.

Raiden stayed silent, letting the injured man hug him, but he couldn't help but let a gentle smile out before he slowly put his arms around him and tightened his grip around him. This wasn't some dream, it was reality, a reality they both could live in together, in harmony, and in each others arms.

[gumnut-logic]

"Scott, do you have him?"

"No, I thought you had him!" Scott came to a halt in the corridor just outside the hangars, his breathing harsh.

"He ran in your direction!" Gordon’s voice was frantic.

"He ran? How could he run? He can barely walk!"

"He was running! John, where is he?"

"Heading towards Two's hangar."

Scott darted the last few metres into the huge cavern. Thunderbird Two towered above him, the only sound the howling wind of the cyclone outside. "I'm in Two's hangar."

"It's a big hangar, Scott. I've sent Alan to assist."

"So which entrance? Send Gordon down here, too."

"He’s entered at the northern end. Gordon is covering security."

Scott wished, not for the first time, that Kayo hadn’t chosen this weekend to hang out with Rigby. "How the hell did he get out anyway?"

"I think we should make sure he is safe before we start assigning blame." And there was the guilt.

"What did you do, Gordon?"

"Nothing! He wanted chocolate...so..."

"You left him alone to get him some chocolate?! You know how he can react to new medications. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on him!"

"Can we find him first and not blame me later?"

"Found him!"

"Alan, you be careful."

"C'mon, he wouldn't hurt me!" The sound that followed that statement was more a squawk than anything else. It was followed by a crash that echoed the length of the hangar.

"Alan?" Scott started running. "Alan!"

"I'm...I'm okay. Though we now have proof that he can pick me up with one hand and throw me like a football." A grunt. “Always thought he was boasting about that.”

"Alan! I'm coming to you."

"I'm fine, Scott. Ooooh!"

There was a slam of a door that echoed the length of the hangar. "I've got Alan, Scott. He's o- Alan, that is not supposed to bend that way!"

"Gordon!"

"Thunderbird Three is down for the count. Broken arm. I'm taking him to the infirmary and Grandma. You'll need to field the target until I get back."

Field the target. After this, Gordon was fielding sanitation duty for a month.

A soft footfall.

Scott spun.

Virgil stood in a torn infirmary gown, glazed eyes looking up at his ‘bird. The gown had been ripped down one side and the bandages on his arm were tangled and trailing behind him.

Voice calm and soft. “Virgil?”

That disoriented gaze found him and his brother’s eyebrows crumpled. “What?”

Scott dared a small step forward. “Hey, Virg. How are you feeling?”

His brother blinked slowly. “You can’t keep me here. I will escape.”

Damn. “Virg, you’re home. You’re safe.”

“You’re lying.” Virgil’s top lip curled up in a snarl.

“I’m not, Virgil.” He held up his hands trying to be open and friendly.

“You just want our technology. You want to hurt my family.” His injured, but still very heavy lifting brother took a step forward. “You won’t succeed.”

“I am your family. Please believe me. You’ve been injured and medicated. You’re not seeing things straight.”

Virgil growled. “You hurt Gordon. You crushed him beneath tons of rock at the bottom of the ocean! I wasn’t there to help him then, but I am here now!”

His brother shouldn’t have been able to move that fast, certainly not high as a kite on painkillers. But suddenly he was on Scott and a mass of angry flailing limbs.

“Virgil!” Scott ducked an elbow aiming for his head, only to catch one in his gut. Virgil was off his face, but he had been taught by Kayo and her father as much as the rest of them, even though he was the least inclined to use it.

And he was all solid muscle.

“Virgil!” Scott made a grab for an arm and missed, paying for it with a solid connection to his side that had several ribs groaning. He scurried backwards, attempting to avoid his brother’s reach. “C’mon. Please don’t do this.”

“You won’t hurt us anymore!” Virgil’s fist was a solid projectile that Scott barely avoided. He skipped and dodged as his brother growled. If Virgil pinned him, he was screwed.

“I’m your brother! Your big brother! Virgil, please! I would never hurt you.” He backed off hastily as his brother moved in.

“You nearly killed him! You nearly killed little Gordy. How could you do that? How could you?!”

Virgil rushed him again and Scott was hard put to keep out of reach, those huge fists determined to do him damage. Perhaps he could have dodged his brother for some time, except something came up against the back of Scott’s shins and he was suddenly falling backwards.

Shiiiiit!

A blur of green as he landed hard, and he realised he had fallen over Thunderbird Two’s landing strut.

It was a conspiracy of pilot and machine.

Virgil loomed over him as he struggled to move out of the way. This was going to hurt.

But his brother suddenly flinched, a small sound of distress falling from his lips. He turned around to find Gordon lowering a tranquilliser gun and Scott got a full view of the dart embedded in Virgil’s shoulder.

“No! No! You can’t! I won’t let you! No!” He took a step in Gordon’s direction and Scott used the opportunity to scuttle to his feet.

“Virgil, it’s Gordon. I’m okay, see?” He held up his hands. The tranquilliser gun had vanished.

Virgil stared at him. “No, please, please don’t hurt him. Please, he’s my little brother…”

The injured engineer waivered where he stood, a hand going to his head as he staggered.

Scott edged a little closer as Gordon did the same.

But the spirit hadn’t left Virgil and as he caught sight of Scott once again, he took another swing at him.

It was uncoordinated and Scott stepped out of reach easily. Virgil staggered and nearly fell. Scott had to fight the urge to jump in and help.

Wide, fear-filled brown eyes caught his as his brother waivered badly. “Scott? No, I can’t-“

And Virgil folded, Scott barely managing to catch him before he hit the concrete floor. Gordon darted in, helping him to lower their heavy brother down gently.

Virgil struggled weakly, still determined not to give it up, muttering Gordon’s name over and over again.

“I’m okay, bro. I’m safe.” Gordon’s voice was almost as tearful and desperate as Virgil’s. He grabbed his brother’s hand, holding it tight in both of his own. “See, it’s me.”

Scott held his brother close as those brown eyes stared at Gordon, finally stilling their struggles. A whisper. “Gords?”

A smile spread over the aquanaut’s face. “Yeah, Virg, it’s me.”

“I’m so sorry…” But Virgil’s eyes rolled up in his head and his body fell limp as the tranquilliser finally had the last word.

Scott clutched his brother close as Gordon stared at the unconscious man and swallowed hard. Carnelian eyes caught Scott’s, but nothing was said before the aquanaut was thumbing his comms and calling Grandma down with a stretcher.

Pulling Virgil in even tighter, Scott closed his eyes and buried his face in black hair.

-o-o-o-

Virgil woke with a headache and a foul taste in his mouth.

The obvious smells of the infirmary alerted him to where he was, and even this deep in the mountain, he could hear the storm still raging outside.

He groaned. Damned cyclone. Two was going to need a full overhaul after that landing.

Landing.

Memory tracked him approaching Tracy Island, desperate to get home before the cyclone hit, but sure that Two could handle the conditions. After all, she had tackled much worse on many an occasion.

But there was a blank. He didn’t remember landing and all his memory could supply was a jumbled mess of terror.

“Scott!” He sat straight up in bed, his heart suddenly racing, thudding in his chest, absolutely terrified. What had happened to his brothers?

Hands grabbed him and, for a split second, that fear multiplied as he realised his own hands were tied down and he couldn’t free them.

“Virgil! You’re safe. You’re home. You’re safe.” Scott’s voice, panicked and desperate. A pair of worried blue eyes and Virgil latched onto them. A moment of stillness, recognition. He was in the infirmary. Scott had him. He was okay.

God, his head hurt.

“Scott?”

A tentative hopeful smile. “You with me, Virg?”

“Uh, yeah.” He pulled at his arms, looking down to find his wrists strapped with medical restraints. His left arm was swathed in bandages and was complaining. A frown. “What happened?”

Scott stepped back a little, but his hands didn’t leave Virgil’s shoulders. “You had a bit of a rough landing. Two did her best, but you got a bit shook up.”

Landing.

He searched his memory. Still nothing. No specifics, just a haze. But this wasn’t the first time he had hit his head...because he had obviously hit his head because he couldn’t remember the incident. “What’s the damage?”

“You have some electrical burns and bruising.”

“Not me, Thunderbird Two!”

His brother’s shoulders dropped and he sat back, rolling his eyes just a little. His brother radiated such a sense of relief. “Virg...” But there was a hitch in Scott’s voice. “Two is fine. A bit of strain to her superstructure, one wheel had to be replaced. Brains was concerned about her electrical systems, but he said it was mostly a replace and patch up job. He’s already repaired the dash.”

“The dash?!” What the hell happened?

“Hey, relax. She’s good. As far as we can tell it was a freak accident. A combination of lightning and a shielding failure. You hit the runway hard and an electrical arc took out you and half the dash.”

Virgil stared at his brother. “Are you sure she’s okay?”

Scott frowned at him, all humour gone. “Virgil, I don’t care about Two. I only care about you. It was...close. You scared us.”

Virgil blinked, the terror making a sudden return, swirling in the back of his mind. “What happened?”

Scott sighed. “You’re okay, just as much as your ‘bird. Grandma knows what she is doing.”

Another blink. “Grandma? Where is she?” He looked around the room as if expecting her to suddenly pop out of the shadows.

“She’s resting.”

Another thought hit him. “Gordon! Where’s Gordon?”

Scott frowned at him. “Gordon’s fine.”

“But the Landing...” He trailed off. His memory refused to supply the information he needed. There was something about Gordon. Gordon getting hurt.

“He wasn’t on Two. You were alone. You were coming back from Beijing. You were delayed with another rescue in the Phillipines and it messed up your flight plan proper. Gordon was fishing a boat full of whale watchers out of the drink in Tonga.”

Virgil just stared at him.

Scott’s frown deepened. “Gordon, travelled back under the edges of the cyclone. Made it back a couple of hours before you.” The hands on his shoulders squeezed gently. “Virg, what is it?”

“Why am I strapped down?” The fear was becoming a physical thing. His memory was blank, but something had happened. His neurons may not have recorded the information, but his body was on edge. Something other than falling out of the sky.

It hit him like a slap to the face as the facts all came together. The strain on Scott’s face, the fear in his own heart, the restraints, the memory loss... Quiet words echoing the terror welling inside. “What did I do?”

Scott’s stiffening gave it all away. The flicker of fear in his brother’s eyes that echoed Virgil’s own.

“Scott, what did I do?!”

“You were medicated. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Scott!” Why the hell didn’t he just tell him?

The door slipped open and a strawberry blond head poked through. “Virg! You’re awake!” Gordon bounded into the room, a grinning Alan following him in.

The aquanaut thumbed his comms. “John, he’s awake.”

The FAB at the other end of the line was curt, but a moment later his tall and lanky brother slipped in behind them.

Virgil stared, his aching head not quite able to keep up with the sudden change in audience.

Alan had his left arm in a sling. When had that happened? Again, his memory refused to supply the requested information. He resisted the urge to swear.

“Will someone please tell me what happened?” He was almost embarrassed by the desperate plea in his voice...almost.

All four brothers froze, three of them turning to Scott as if awaiting direction. Virgil looked from one to the other and back again. “Guys?!” He rattled the restraints like that guy out of Dicken’s ‘A Christmas Carol’ rattled his chains.

And immediately regretted it when Alan’s eyes latched onto them. The expression on his littlest brother’s face flashed worry.

“Allie?”

Alan startled and Virgil’s already thudding heart upped its pace another notch as clues began to slot together.

“Allie, how did you break your arm?” No, please, no.

“Virgil-“

“Scott!” He glared at his brother before turning back to Alan. “Are you okay?”

The worry on Alan’s face vanished and he shrugged as if the sling was nothing. “I’m cool. You’re the one we’re worried about.” He strode up to the end of Virgil’s bed and dumped himself on it. “Are you feeling better?”

There was so much hope in those blue eyes.

Virgil blinked. He really wished his head would stop hurting.

Enunciated very clearly. “Can someone please tell me what happened?” An unsteady breath as his eyes latched onto Alan again. “Did I hurt you?”

The restraints bit at his wrists as he clenched his fists.

Alan’s eyes darted to Virgil’s hands in echo of that earlier flash of emotion before his little brother threw up the same cheerful façade he did during rescues.

Virgil’s heart broke.

Alan reached out, a soft smile on his face as his fingers landed on Virgil’s leg, the bed covers relaying his little brother’s touch. “I’m good, Virg. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I hurt you.” The words scraped past his larynx as Virgil’s eyes latched onto the sling holding his little brother’s arm safe.

Alan waved it away. “Eh, you just proved a point. I need to spend some more time with Kayo.” He smiled just a little. “You know how to kick ass when you want to. Note taken. Don’t get in your way when you’re determined.” An impish grin. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I-“ He knew Alan meant well, but every word… he struggled against his restraints. He desperately wanted to reach out and hold his brother, reassure himself, provide comfort, but…his chains rattled.

It was Gordon who acted. “Hey, Virg, it’s okay.” A hand on his shoulder for just a moment before his aquanaut brother was fiddling with the strap holding down Virgil’s arm. “I can see that hug machine grinding gears.”

Scott was fiddling with the fastenings on Virgil’s other wrist.

“No, not the hug machine!” It was comical on Alan’s part as he flailed dramatically at the end of the bed, but it was in such contrast to the distress in Virgil’s heart…

Then his hands were free and he was reaching for his little brother. “Allie!”

Perhaps he feared rejection in Alan’s eyes, but as the young astronaut flew into his arms without hesitation, Virgil was overwhelmed with a mixture of gratitude and love.

“It’s okay, Virg. I promise.” It was muffled into his shoulder.

Virgil only squeezed tighter, his left arm pulling at whatever he had done to it. Blond strands fluttered as he breathed into his brother’s hair.

“Sorry.” Hoarse.

“Is okay.” One thin arm tightened around him even tighter and it squeezed moisture out of his eyes.

He clung to his little brother for a long moment, but questions still needed answers.

As Alan eventually pulled away, blue eyes looked up at him and smiled. As far as Alan was concerned, he was obviously forgiven.

But Virgil didn’t think he could ever forgive himself.

And he still didn’t know what had happened. His eyes skipped to Scott, then Gordon and finally John.

John.

Virgil’s eyes narrowed as they focussed on his space brother. “Tell me.”

“Virg-“ Scott placed a hand on his arm again.

Virgil shook it off and kept his eyes on John. “Tell me!”

Aquamarine gauged him, flickered to Scott and back. “You had an adverse reaction to medication. Grandma tried a new combination as you weren’t responding well to your usual dose. It worked. However, an unforeseen side effect was paranoia. You fled the infirmary in what appears to be an escape attempt from the Island and headed down to Thunderbird Two.” John’s eyes were kind. “Alan got in your way. He claims you picked him up with one hand and threw him across the room. Hence the broken arm.”

Virgil turned to stare at his little brother who shrugged. “You were right. You can pick me up with one hand.”

Fingers tightened on Virgil’s arm, but he was beyond identifying who they belonged to as he turned back to John. Quietly. “There’s more.” It wasn’t a question.

John tilted his head a little. “Then Scott got in your way. You were determined that he was an enemy. Either the Chaos Crew or the Hood himself, because you blamed him for Gordon’s injuries earlier in the year.”

“John.” Scott’s tone was sharp.

The space monitor turned to the commander. “He needs to know.”

Virgil couldn’t take his eyes off his tall, red-headed brother. Those aquamarine eyes turned back to him. “You attacked Scott. Gordon took you out with a tranquilliser gun.”

Virgil stared. A lump in his throat welled up. “Thank you, John.”

His brother’s lips curled up into the faintest of smiles and he nodded once, but didn’t say anything further.

Virgil turned to Scott. “Are you okay?”

Eyes were rolled at him for his efforts. “As if you could take me your best day, Virg. Are you kidding me?” All smirking confidence.

Virgil raked his brother with his gaze, almost wishing he could medically scan him with his eyeballs.

He turned back to John. “Is he okay?”

A disgusted sound from Scott almost obliterated John’s smiling words. “He’s fine. Maybe a few bruises. That’s all.”

“John!”

John turned to Scott. “You want to try and hide medical issues from Virgil? He’ll worry himself sick and then find out anyway. Best to be upfront. For everyone’s health.”

Scott grunted and glared. “I’ll remind you of that next time you complain I’ve set Virgil on you for not sleeping.”

“That’s different.”

“Different how? Eos claimed it was a good thirty-six hours last time and you were hallucinating coffee.”

“I am old enough to make my own decisions.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“You can’t talk. You hid that bruised rib from him when you came back from San Fran two weeks ago.”

“John!”

“You’re lucky he punched you on the other side today.”

“John! For goodness sake!”

Virgil stared at both of them in shock as the ‘discussion’ blew up into a full-on argument over the bed. John stood with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed while Scott pointed fingers at him in punctuation.

Alan stared at the both of them, wide-eyed beside Virgil.

A nudge at Virgil’s other side snapped him out it.

“Both idiots, if you ask me.” Gordon was quietly grinning. He sat on the edge of the bed beside Virgil and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Can’t hide anything from you, anyway.”

A blink. The hug was weird and voluntary, but Virgil wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

However…

“You shot me.”

“Yep.” The grinning continued, but Gordon didn’t look at him, his eyes tracking the entertainment of space monitor versus commander as they bickered.

“Thank you.”

That did draw those amber brown eyes in his direction. “You’re welcome. Any time.”

Virgil’s left arm hurt and was stiff as hell, but he lifted it awkwardly and pulled his fish brother in as best he could. There was that odd compliance again as Gordon let him do it with no protest at all.

Gordon’s hair always smelled of chlorine. It was familiar and reassuring.

“You okay?”

That earned him a snort. “My only regret is I didn’t shoot you in the butt.”

“Gordon.”

His brother sobered a little. “Honest, Virg. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me and...” Those eyes, so like his own, fixed him where he sat. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Virgil didn’t have an answer to that so just pulled him in closer.

“Do it again and it’s the butt. I’m taking pictures.”

Virgil closed his eyes and just held on tight.

-o-o-o-

[xbruised-peachx]

could i get some soft gromsko hcs 🥺 sorry i keep seeing ones where hes a misogynist (untagged so it triggers me from a past relationship) and i much prefer your interpretation where he's caring but still confident

Aww 🫂🫂🫂 I'm sorry Anon, I'm actually in the same boat as you, my bad relationship ended exactly a year ago so yeah.

Everyone's allowed to have their own interpretation and all that fun stuff but I absolutely agree, I can't see him like that. Talking to my Polish friends about it, it's just not his generation and it's a very tired trope of "misogynistic, loud slavic man" they are not too happy seeing. For me, it's almost a bit of an American trope that is "loud and boisterous=asshole", which I dislike as he has multiple lines IN GAME that shows him as caring and you know... nice (ex. Czasami trzeba się poświęcić dla innych (sometimes you must sacrifice yourself for others), You're not dying yet!, Trzymać się (hold on) the surgeon is coming, I was proud to fight with you!, I am your wingman, etc). Not to mention you know... HE'S A MEDIC or at the very least "extensive medical training" as stated in his bio.

So yeah, I'll happily give you some nice, loud and proudly in love Gromsko headcanons, Anon💚

Tags: fem!reader, pure tooth rotting fluff, alcohol mention for the last point

Gromsko always has his arm around you in public. He wants the world to know how lucky he is to have you. He still has some slight guilt in his head about showing PDA from getting glares from various babcias back home, but he can't help it when he sees you, beautiful eyes looking back at him with such adoration. He has to show it back somehow.

Often, he'll just settle for hand holding (before marriage? Scandalous) as you guys walk around. He'll watch you as you interact with employees, you asking for help as his thumb runs over your knuckles, running along the back of your hand. Even if you get nervous talking to employees, his touch reminds you he's right there if you need him, and that he's more than willing to help if needed.

You getting disrespected sets him off in a whole new way. Instantly, he'll step in front, asserting his height advantage he often has, looking down at them with contempt that they would even dare speak to you like that. "Want to repeat that?" His voice coming out as low and threatening, booming around the room. When they inevitably leave you both alone, his attention goes right back to you, gently cupping your face as you look up to him as he asks if you're okay. You smile and nod, telling him a soft thank you. You can practically see his heart melt as he looks back, eyes softening and a gentle smile on his face, taking your hand and continuing like nothing happened.

Though he learned some cooking from his grandma, he has fond memories of watching Robert Makłowicz with his mom during weekends, making the recipes for dinner. When he found out Makłowicz has a YouTube channel, the two of you went on a deep dive for hours, cuddling on the couch and him translating for you when he started laughing or just said something nice, and thought it'd be nice to share. He also showed a few older clips, particularly this one of him and a dog and now the two of you have the little inside joke going "EHEHEHEHE" at small, cute things.

He often cooks for you, even wanting to take care of you like that as well. He doesn't mind the help but he takes quite a bit of pride in his cooking. He loves when you come up behind and just hug him while he's at the stove. For him, that plus you smiling as you eat a meal from him is the greatest reward.

Every injury is an emergency to him, often taking huge precautions even for little things. The house is never out of band-aids or antibiotic ointment. Even stubbing your toe will have him running out of whatever room he's in, stopping what he's doing to make sure you're okay.

He is the best to have around during the time of the month. He'll make some good iron rich foods, but still get you whatever snacks you want. He may want to take care of you physically but he knows part of health is mental too, and that he can't force something on you when you are craving something else. He makes sure heating pads are ready along with a nice comfortable spot in bed. He isn't overbearing though, as he knows sometimes you just need space. He knows that when you need him, you'll let him know. Often you have fallen asleep, head in his lap with a heated stuffed animal hugged to your chest. He'll carry you to the much more comfortable bed with ease, watching you at peace with a smile on his own face as he'd go back, cleaning up any snack wrappers in the living room, turning off any electric heating pads that might have been left on. He may join you for a nap eventually, but he'll leave you at peace for now.

Being used to waking up for the military, he wakes up before you, and he really doesn't mind. The warm glow of the sun rising as your lips are parted, gently breathing. His arm around you, he can feel the gentle rise and fall, your heart beat calm against him. He could look at you like this for hours, going back in forth in his head questioning how he got so lucky but also not wanting to question it, instead to just enjoy this quiet morning. Birds chirping, he wants to get up and make some coffee for you but he doesn't want to leave you in this moment... not now or ever.

He loves animals... all of them. Often, if he sees a random animal in the street, he'll call out to it instinctively in Polish, often leaving a poor hedgehog stunned in the streets, unsure what to do about this giant heading towards them. He loves going to the shelter with you, seeing big dogs go from barking to wagging their tail, wanting to get out to play, and going to cat rooms to sit for a while, playing with all the cats, young and old. Old cats flock to him like no other and he always imitates their crispy meows. Seeing him hold a kitten that easy fits in his hands, curling up into a ball as he holds it against his broad chest, gently petting its head with two of his fingers... it warms your soul.

He is a very affectionate drunk. He'll be stumbling down the streets, goofy grin on his face as he hugged on you for balance. If any even breathes in your direction, positive or negative, he'll be calling out to them, "HEJ! To moja dziewczyna... GO!" (Hey, that's my girlfriend) You often end up apologizing to whoever it is, his slurred speech being the answer for why. When you get home he'll often just keep repeating how beautiful you are while snuggled in your chest for once. Looking up at you, you see that look of disbelief in his eyes, but quickly returning to just bliss as he remembers you belong to each other. Snoring like a bear buried deep, he knows absolute comfort knowing you'll be there for each other for the inevitable hangover the next morning.

[inaworldofmonsters]

My Eyeless Jack headcanons:

Jack uses his scalpel to cut his own hair. It is usually long and unkempt with choppy, uneven layers. It curls around the nape of his neck and ears.

Jack's main source of transportation is through train-hopping.

Jack is around 6'3. When he was a human, he was originally 5’9.

Being partly a Slavic God, Jack has a large stature. He hates it. He will slouch his shoulders in an attempt to appear smaller and less intimidating to no avail, of course.

Chernobog is similar to a second conscious. Jack is able to hear and communicate with him inside of his mind.

Jack's features are naturally sharp. In another lifetime, he could have been a model.

In the early years of his transition, Chernobog was able to control Jack's body. During these times, Jack would black out and wake up to whatever chaos Chernobog had left him to deal with.

Jack is a poet, heart and soul.

He keeps an overflowing leather journal inside of his duffle bag.

It was a gift from his mother for his 20th birthday-the only reminder he has left of his human life.

Jack is a professional at self-loathing. He can't even look at his reflection without being overcome by guilt. He despises the monster he has become but knows there is nothing that can be done.

Jack has attempted to kill himself once. It had been immediately after the incident.

It's how he learned he was now an immortal being. Chernobog's haunting laughter was in the backtrack the whole time.

In my version of Eyeless Jack, him and Jenny actually dated for two years during college. She broke up with him once reaching her senior year, stating that, "it was time for her to move on and focus on her future".

Following Jenny's graduation, Jack and her would mail each other letters every two months or so in order to keep in touch.

Jenny would always say he had "such a way with words".

Jack studied to be a doctor, more specifically a surgeon. He had always been particularly fascinated in human anatomy, but after his father's passing due to an unknown disease, it only fueled Jack further to pursue the medical field.

Jack was reborn at the age of 26 years old, only 5 years after earning his bachelor's degree.

I do have a very loose outline of my version of Eyeless Jack’s backstory. It doesn’t strictly follow the original, but it takes aspects of it such as the cult and the sacrifice. I’m working on getting it finalized once I get my PC back, so hopefully in the near future I can post his backstory!

[melishade]

If you’re still doing the dialogue prompts, could you do “What can I do? How can I help you?” For Ratchet and Optimus after he woke up and continued to heal? (In my mind ratchet waited so long for prime to wake and I always love to see how authors write their interactions).

How about Optimus and Ratchet interacting during those three months before the peace treaty summit in Aveneg.

Ratchet couldn't help but notice all of the changes in Optimus' behavior ever since he had gotten him back.

Before Optimus became one with the Allspark, the Prime took great care and detail in hiding his emotions. It was something that he had trained himself to do during the war. It did come with some drawbacks, but Ratchet knew that Optimus was doing it for their protection. He needed to be their strong, reliable leader in times of strife and spark ache.

But now on this strange world, he saw Optimus being more expressive than he usually was. He saw more smiles and gentle words of assurance. There were many that still looked to him for support and reassurance. There were many that wanted to praise and thank him for saving the world, which he believed Optimus deserved. But he noticed expressions of sorrow, of shame and guilt, of pain. Was Optimus hiding something from him? Was he still hurting and he refused to say anything? He-!

"You should check on Optimus," a voice spoke up, and Ratchet turned his attention to them: Hanji Zoe. The human who somehow managed to get Megatron under their thumb was now hanging from the ceiling of the Nemesis with that strange contraption around their waist.

"Optimus has not reported any medical failings," Ratchet reasoned.

"Please," Hanji scoffed at that, "You and I both know that Optimus hides how he feels and doesn't admit to how he's feeling unless someone forces him to open up."

Ratchet sighed, finding himself agreeing with the human.

"I noticed him holding his servos a lot," Hanji informed, "Rubbing the joints a lot. I don't know if it's something he picked up or if he's hiding his pain. If you could check him over, that'd be great."

"...Why are you telling me this?" Ratchet couldn't help but ask.

"Because you're his doctor," Hanji answered automatically, "He needs you right now. You can provide a comfort that I can't."

Ratchet was taken aback by the confidence Hanji seemed to have in him.

"And also, Optimus locked himself in a room and I don't know how to get him out," Hanji added.

"And you didn't start with that?!" Ratchet yelled.

"I didn't want you to panic!" Hanji exclaimed.

Hanji had directed him to the room Optimus had locked himself in and Ratchet immediately inputted the override key to unlock the door. Ratchet stepped in and immediately shut the door behind him before anyone else could step in. The medic found the Prime seated on the floor. He looked uncharacteristically...meek and feeble. One knee was raised and the other was lying flat on the floor. His battle mask was on, and Ratchet could hear soft mutters come from the Prime.

Ratchet wasn't going to lie to himself: he didn't know how to handle this. To help Optimus like this, he-!...Start with a check up first. That should help. Ratchet got down on his knees to look him in the optic, and saw panic in usually calm cerulean.

"Optimus," Ratchet quietly spoke, "Are you in pain?"

Optimus blinked, registering the sounds of Ratchet's words and raising his helm. Ratchet took notice of his now trembling servos.

"May I take a look at your servos?" Ratchet asked.

Optimus shut his optics and slowly offered his servo to Ratchet. Ratchet gently took it and examine it with great care.

"Any pain when I do this?" Ratchet applied some pressure to his joints. Optimus shook his helm. "How about here?" Ratchet applied pressure to another spot on his servo.

"No," Optimus mumbled quietly.

Ratchet sighed in defeat, letting go of Optimus' servo. Ratchet knew that it was the actions he had to take in order to save the world. Ratchet knew that Optimus was forced to break his code and kill someone that he cared about. This wasn't anything physical that Ratchet could fix. But still...Optimus was someone he cared about. "Optimus, I know that it has been four years since we've last seen each other, but I can't stand seeing you like this. I can't bear to see you in pain. What can I do right now? How can I help you?"

Optimus glanced over at Ratchet. "Just...do not let anyone in this room for the time being."

Optimus wanted to be alone. He wanted to grieve by himself, like he usually did. Ratchet nodded in understanding and defeat, and slowly stood up to exit the room and lock the door. But Ratchet was stunned when Optimus grabbed his wrist.

"Optimus." Ratchet looked back to see Optimus retracting his mask.

"...You can stay," Optimus decided.

Ratchet didn't need to be told twice. The medic sat down next to Optimus, causing the Prime to relax a little bit. He flinched when Ratchet scanned his body before looking at the result of Optimus' vitals.

"We have more than enough energon now," Ratchet reminded, "There's no need to neglect your rations."

"...It was a force of habit to conserve my energy," Optimus confessed.

"Well, you don't need to do that anymore," Ratchet reassured, "You can consume as much energon as you want. I'm sure it will take time to get used to it now. It took me some time too."

Optimus hummed in agreement. The Prime then slouched against the wall before resting his helm atop of Ratchet's own. "I hope this does not bother you."

"Never," Ratchet declared, "I've missed you. I'd do anything to help you."

"...I missed you too," Optimus reciprocated his feelings.

(I think a lot of my dialogue prompts are going to be centering around the events post Rumbling. Lol.)