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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

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Honest and Truly

Summary: Spencer has his prom 10 years late, but none of that matters when it's with the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female (She/Her)-- Fluff

CW: Minimal vulgar language (PG-13)

Author's Note: This just might be my most favorite thing I've written in a very long time :) Also listen to the song I linked, it makes the title and the ending make more sense! thank you to @spookydrreid and @writhingintheroses for helping me a particular scene!!

Add yourself to my taglist! It makes it much easier for me :)

Honest and Truly

“A prom?” Spencer asks, realizing that the conversation had entered uncharted territory, a territory in which he had not a single clue how to navigate. Spencer, being a preteen in high school, never attended prom.

“Yes, Reid. A prom,” Penelope says, staring at him over the many monitors and stuffed cats that littered her desk, “It’s going to be so much fun!” she says, excitedly.

“That sounds like, uh, I’ll have plans that night,” Spencer tells Penelope, spinning around in the swivel chair as he eats his turkey and cheese sandwich. He usually enjoys their lunches together, but when Penelope gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

@s“Now I don’t believe that for a second, Reid. The only time that you have plans is when you’re with Y/N. And Y/N is going to be at this prom,” Garcia says, her pink glasses sliding down her nose. She winks at Reid, almost like she enjoys watching him squirm.

“How do you know that she’s going? Did she say she’s going?” Spencer asks, unable to conceal his eagerness that Y/N could be attending. Spencer might hate dancing and those fancy shoes that are too tight on his toes, but all that can be talked away if Y/N is there.

“Yes, she’s going because you’re asking her. That and I’m making everyone go,” Penelope says matter of factly.

Spencer opens his mouth, attempting to talk away Penelope’s suggestion. But Spencer Reid is a smart man and he knows better than trying to argue his way out with Penelope. Especially when it comes to Y/N. He might have an excellent poker face, but Spencer can’t hide his love for Y/N.

“I’m not going to ask her. You know she’ll think it’s because-” Spencer says, prepping for a long winded rant before the door of Penelope’s office swings open.

Y/N, with two coffees in hand, floats into the room like she’s walking on air. Or maybe it’s Spencer’s mind that’s floating when Y/N walks in. He can never tell. Whenever he’s near her, it’s like everything is sweeter, lighter and airier. Wordlessly, she passes the coffee to Spencer. Feeling her fingertips graze his reminds him of how pathetic he must be. He nods, telling her thanks, knowing that he’s unable to fully articulate just how grateful he is for the littlest things.

“Who are you not going to ask and to where, Spence?” Y/N says, leaning against the filing cabinets and sipping her coffee. Penelope, never one to be quiet, silently watches as Spencer and Y/N converse. Spencer looks up at her, feeling that light and airy feeling again. He brushes his hair that falls against his forehead nervously thinking of an answer.

“I- uh, I was thinking of asking my mother to come stay with me for a couple of weeks. You know, she hasn’t seen DC in a couple of years. And I do have some personal days banked,” Spencer says, telling Y/N a small white lie.

“She’s in Vegas, right?” Y/N asks, interested in what Spencer is saying, which is something that he’s still not used to. Spencer nods, smiling awkwardly.

“Yeah, she says that she likes the heat,” Spencer says, hating how formal and cold the conversation sounds. It’s normally flowing with easy and familiarity, but something is wedged between them. Penelope, long forgotten by the pair, types rapidly on her keyboard.

“You know, Spence. If you’re up for it maybe we can have lunch or meet at Elmwood Park. I’d love to meet the woman that made my favorite person,” she says, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes. Her stare is so intense that it’s like she’s looking into his soul. He thinks that if she looks deep enough she’ll see her own reflection because his soul belongs to her.

“I-I uh,” Spencer says, immediately thinking that he should actually invite his mother out for a visit, “I think that’s a good idea. She likes the sites and all,” he tells her nervously, trying to ease his beating heart.

He’s her favorite person.

Out of all the people in this city, this world. He’s her favorite person. Spencer, a lover of math, is tempted to figure out the odds of being his favorite person’s favorite person. He knows it’s slim. He knows it’s rare. It’s something magical and Spencer is terrified he’s going to ruin it. He’s terrified he’s going to fuck something up that’s not even his.

“It’s a date,” Y/N says, turning to Penelope, who’s still long forgotten, “Oh, Penny, you need to yell at Morgan for me. He ate my leftovers,” she tells Penelope, who feigns horror, “And now I don’t have lunch”

“How dare he!” Penelope says, her exaggerated response inciting chuckles, “he can get away with murder because he’s pretty,” she says, shaking her head.

He knows that she’s pretending to be disappointed, but he still doesn’t like to see it. Spencer unwraps the other half of his turkey and cheese sandwich and hands it to Y/N. She looks surprised, as if Spencer just handed her a million bucks.

“Spence, you don’t have to,” Y/N says, softly, handing back the half of the sandwich, “It’s your sandwich, I don’t want you to feel-”

“Eat it, Y/N,” Spencer says firmly, looking straight at Y/N, “You need to eat something. We both live off coffee as it is,” he says, hoping that Y/N will take the sandwich.

He’s looking straight at her and she’s looking straight at him. Spencer wonders if he looks deep enough he’ll reach her soul. He dares to think that if he can find her soul, he’ll stare at his face. He’s her favorite person after all, that’s got to count for something.

“Thanks, Spence,” Y/N says, smiling softly, “You make the best sandwiches,” she tells him, taking a bite of the sandwich as Garcia’s eyes flit from Spencer to Y/N. Back and forth, she watches the pair engage in the world’s best miscommunication.

“Y/N, did you hear? I’m throwing a prom!” Garcia says excitedly, hoping that Y/N’s reaction will be more enthusiastic than Spencer’s.

“A prom?” Y/N asks, unconvincingly, “God, I hated my prom. I got punched spilled all over my dress and my date tried to sneak alcohol into the banquet hall. It was a shitshow,” Y/N says, remembering the less than happy memories from high school.

“I didn’t go to prom. You know, between being a 12 year old and a dork,” Spencer says, self deprecatingly, “It’s not the ideal scenario, but I am familiar with the cultural significance of proms in American high school,” Spencer says, speaking to no one in particular, yet looking at Y/N directly.

“Maybe we’ll both get the prom night we deserve, Spence,” Y/N offers, tossing out her wax paper wrapper. She walks past him and it’s like the air is sweeter. He believes in science, but loves magic. Y/N is magic.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, refusing to make eye contact with Penelope, “you know, sorry to uh, cut this short. I have some paperwork to finish. Hotch’s been on me all day about it. So, uh, see you later,” he says, walking out of Penelope's office like a bat out of hell.

He tries to ignore the knowing stares from Penelope and Y/N’s confusion as he ducks out and walks into the bullpen. Spencer doesn’t have paperwork. He finished all his paperwork by 11:12 am. But what Spencer does have is a flight from Vegas to Quantico to book.

And prom shopping.

___

As it turns out, Spencer doesn’t know much about teenage American culture. Sure he’s seen 90s movies that Y/N forced him to watch. But it was quite difficult to pay attention when all he could feel was Y/N’s fingers brushing up against his in their shared bucket of popcorn or her head laying against his shoulder when she got tired.

He doesn’t know much of anything when it comes to romance. But he knows that he loves Y/N— and hopefully that’s enough. He still hasn’t asked her if she’d go with him. Honestly, he’s not too sure why he even has to ask her in the first place. She’s going to be there already, but Garcia and Morgan convinced him that it’s part of the so-called “Prom Experience”

“Spence,” Y/N says, she’s perched on the tall bar stool and rests her elbows on her kitchen island, “did you find a suit yet? I was thinking that we can go to that vintage store on Rock Ave. They have a surprisingly good size selection, and I think that this whole vintage thing fits your aesthetic really well,”

“My aesthetic?” Spencer questions, again lost at sea.

“You know, you’re like nerdy chic. Equal parts dorky and equal parts handsome,” she tells him. He feels his cheeks burn at her words.

Handsome

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” Spencer says, eyeing Y/N over the rim of his hot coffee.

“It is,” Y/N says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like him being handsome is just as obvious as him being dorky, “And get your wallet. We’re going to the vintage store,”

Spencer has a hate-love relationship with weekends. He loves spending time with Y/N where it was so easy to pretend that she loves him as he loves her. He hates the weekends for the same reason he loves them. Spencer knows that it’s all fake. It’s a façade of the truth.

“Spence! You’d look great in this,” Y/N suggests, holding up a gray sports coat, “I think it will match your eyes perfectly,”

“If you think so, Y/N,” Spencer says, nodding his head in agreement. She continues eyeing him as if she’s imagining what he’d look like in the jacket. He has to admit, it’s a very nice jacket.

“Come on, Spence. There’s a mirror over in the corner. Try it on for me,” she requests and not even a second later Spencer finds himself being dragged by the hand to try on the suit jacket.

Y/N holds the jacket open for him as he slips it on through his arms. He’s surprised to realize that it fits perfectly. He looks into the mirror, staring at his face and Y/N, who tugs and smooths the jacket. Spencer can’t look too much longer because if he does the lines between reality and fantasy will be difficult to distinguish. As much as he wants to stare into the mirror all day long, pretending that this is real, he much rather it actually be real. But wishing and dreaming only ends up with battle wounds and broken hearts.

“You look very handsome, Spencer. Very handsome,” Y/N says, staring into the mirror too now. But she’s not looking at the jacket, she’s looking at him. The beat of silence lasts longer than what’s comfortable, “Um, I think, I saw some pants that would look good on you, with this jacket, I mean,” she says, stumbling over her words. She’s not looking in the mirror any more, her gaze is noticeably away from Spencer and the mirror.

“Okay, uh, whatever you think, Y/N,” Spencer says, “I’m not even sure why I agreed to this thing. I don’t dance,” he says, regretting his choice to go to Penelope’s prom, but feeling guilty for maybe disappointing Y/N all in one breath.

“Did you ask her yet?” Y/N asks, holding up a pair of similarly gray colored pants. She must notice his confusion, “You know Austin, the woman you heroically saved. Does any of it ring a bell, Spence?” Y/N teases. Spencer feels his cheeks burn and his heart tighten, that happens a lot around Y/N.

“Oh Austin, uh no. She wasn’t interested in me, after all,” Spencer says, shifting his weight and staring at his converse, “I mean, I should have seen it coming. It’s transference, that’s like Psych 101,” he says, feeling strange. It was odd when Austin broke up with him, even if you can consider it breaking up. He felt a strange sense of relief when it happened, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Y/N clicks her tongue in annoyance as she walks over to Spencer. Tugging slightly on the sleeves of the jacket she says, “well she’s not as smart as I thought she was. You have to be a complete fool to let someone like you go,” she says quietly. She’s standing too close, looking too beautiful, and seeming too perfect for Spencer to not be completely enamoured.

Then it breaks, like shattered glass. The rosey glasses are lifted, leaving only cheeks that sting with nervousness and hearts the yearn for something a little more tangible.

“Stop staring at me and go try it on,” Y/N says, handing him the pair of pants, “Oh and I’m going to look for a vest and a tie to match. This store is unbelievable,” she tells him, pushing him into the makeshift dressing room.

Spencer puts on the pants, which fit, despite being maybe an inch or two loose in the waist. He looks into the tall mirror, which is noticeably empty without Y/N standing with him. A floating hand, belonging to Y/N appears. She holds a burgundy tie and a dark brown vest, both of which are very Spencer. He smiles slightly, strangely happy that Y/N has picked something out that’s perfect for him.

“Tell me when you’re decent,” she says, her voice muffled by the curtain that separates them. He sticks his head out of the curtain, his eyes immediately finding Y/N’s.

“Ohh, Spence, you look amazing. Very handsome,” she says, her hands clasped around the tie, tugging just like she did with his suit jacket before, “What do you think?” she asks, looking at him curiously.

“It’s nice,” Spencer offers, approaching this like he does everything: cautiously, “I do like the texture,” he says, running his hands up and down the sleeves of the jacket.

“You look more than nice, Spence. I know I’ve said it like 30 times, but you look very handsome,” she says. Spencer hopes that she means it. He needs something to be real. Sometimes besides what he feels, because what he feels is the realest thing in the world.

“It’s nice to hear,” Spencer says, “you know from someone who’s not my mother,” he jokes, shrugging off the jacket and grabbing the hanger from Y/N.

“You deserve to hear it,” Y/N says so softly Spencer wonders if she’s saying it all. That beat of silence, followed by the awkwardness is back.

“So, uh, I saw a dress that I’m going to try on,” Y/N tells him, her gaze shifting everywhere but Spencer’s eyes.

“I’ll go pay for this,” Spencer says, walking back into the dressing room and the mirror that lies to his face.

___

Back in Y/N’s car, Spencer shifts in the passenger seat trying to find a way to sit comfortably while holding his suit jacket, pants and vest. Y/N hangs up her dress, that’s wrapped in a gown bag. She wouldn’t let Spencer see the dress, despite her practically picking out his entire outfit.

“So what’s next,” Spencer asks, as Y/N gets into the car. She smiles over at him sheepishly, leading Spencer to think she’s got another trick up her sleeve.

“I’ve got a confession, Spence. And please don’t hate me for it,” Y/N says, her voice coming out a little nervous as she eyes Spencer.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, even if I tried. And I’m certain I’ll never have to,” he says softly, resting his hand over hers on the console. He rubs the back of her hand gently, thinking about just how easy things are with her. If he could only be a little braver, maybe then the mirror wouldn’t be so empty.

“Okay. I knew that things didn’t work out with you and Austin. I overheard you telling Derek,” Y/N confesses, “And I know that it makes me a horrible friend or whatever, but I’m sorry that I eavesdropped,”

“Oh, uh how much did you hear?” Spencer asks, suddenly quite nervous. He can feel his heart drop, waiting for the moment when Y/N laughs at the thought of her loving him. He knows that it’s not fair to her, but then again all is fair is love and war.

“Enough to know that you’re still hung up or or someone else. I left once my conscience got the better of me. Once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout,” she says, making the three finger salute that’s common in scouting, “I just wanted to hear it from you, you know you’re my favorite person and all,” she says, a frown forming.

“I think, uh,” Spencer says, “That I was just a little embarrassed. You know how Derek and Penelope and Emily and JJ can get. It’s basically just you and Hotch who aren’t jumping down my throat about being, you know, alone,” he says, chuckling awkwardly.

“They just want to help you, Spence. In their own ways, but I’m always on Team Spencer. You never got to worry about that,” Y/N offers, squeezing his hand.

He considers what she says, not responding verbally, but nodding his head. He hasn’t ever had someone on his “team”, so it’s strange. But a good kind of strange.

“Spence, you okay? I wanted to give you something. To be truthful, I’ve been thinking about how I was going to do this for awhile,”

“Ask me what?” he questions, wondering what she has in store. He watches as Y/N rummages in his bag, clearly looking for something. He’s thoroughly confused when she pulls out a TI-84.

“What on earth?” Spencer says, as she places the calculator in his hands. Her sly grin, beaming up at him only further proves his point: his heart just beats faster around her.

“Just shut and press the on button. You’d think that a genius would know how to work a calculator,” she comments, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You know, I never used these. I can just do it in my head faster,” Spencer says, winking at Y/N when she pushes him teasingly.

“God, Spencer just turn it on!” she demands, very apparently getting more and more impatient.

He turns the calculator on and is brought to a green screen that has a picture of a graph. Spencer raises his eyebrow, as if to ask Y/N for the next direction.

“Press the graph button,” she says, getting quieter as Spencer looks at her.

He presses the button that she said to, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen. Spencer watches as the screen draws four black lines running parallel to each other. A curved line is drawn on the first two black lines, forming the letters “P” and “R”. The screen continues to draw, making an oval that looks like an “O” and the last two parallel lines are joined together with a “v” shape, forming the letter “M”. He takes a second glance, reading the 4 letter word slowly.

P-R-O-M

“Well?” she asks, waiting for his answer.

He’s speechless. Spencer blinks. It’s like his brain has stopped working. It’s a prom, a stupid prom that’s 10 years too late. But it’s the girl of dreams that’s asking him. And that’s the stuff those rom-coms he couldn’t pay attention to are made of.

“I mean, of course. Of course, Y/N,” Spencer says, dropping the calculator into the cup holder and leaning in to hug Y/N.

His heart stops again. Falling into that tricky habit of either speeding up or stopping when she’s around. He thinks he’s ready to implode when she pecks his cheek. Her lips don’t linger, hardly touching his skin for it to be considered a kiss.

“I don’t think I’d want to go with anyone else,” she says, mumbling into his skin. She seals his fate with her lips against his skin. Never again will Spencer imagine what it’s like to have her lips against his skin. Even though it’s a fraction of the time he’d want, it’s tattooed in his mind.

“I’m not much of a dancer, by the way,” Spencer says, reluctantly letting go and sitting back into the passenger’s seat, “so don’t expect too much,” he jokes.

“Oh you better watch it, Doctor Reid. I’m getting you on the dance floor, even if you hate it,” Y/N says, smiling as she backs out of the parking spot and turns into the street.

Spencer looks out the window, thinking to himself that there’s probably nothing he can hate if he’s doing it with Y/N.

Spencer didn’t go to prom in high school. He didn’t do a lot of the traditional things that most former high schoolers reminisce about at his age. He didn’t go to football games or have a best friend to make lifelong memories with.

He didn’t have any of that, until now.

But it’s prom night, 10 years late. His hands are sweaty and his mouth feels dry. Spencer wasn’t this nervous for even his first day at the BAU all those years ago. He tries to fix the burgundy tie that Y/N picked out at the vintage store. It looks crooked and twisted. Nothing like when Y/N tied perfectly in the store for him. He supposes that he can wait till she comes to pick him up.

The mirror, again, is noticeably empty without Y/N standing beside him. He can get lost in there, thinking about her standing with him. He does, because it feels like seconds later when he hears a rapid knocking on his apartment door.

Standing on the other side of the door is Y/N. She wears a sage green dress that looks like it’s made of softest silk. He smiles at her, not sure if he can trust his words. Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much thinking when all he can focus on is the tiny straps that rest on her shoulders or how the sage green compliments her skin tone.

“You look, god. You’re beautiful,” Spencer says, partly under his breath partly aloud to Y/N, “so beautiful,” he says again, focusing on her eyes.

“And you’re looking very dashing in that suit, Spence,” she says, pushing her way in, “do you need help with your tie?” she asks, looking at the tie he holds in his hand.

“Yes, please,” he says sheepishly. He holds out the burgundy colored tie, but takes his hand back as an idea crosses his mind, “oh wait here, I’ll be right back,” Spencer says, walking quickly to his bedroom.

“Alright,” Y/N says sceptically, “Don’t ditch me, Reid!” she calls out from the living room.

Spencer returns, hiding the new tie behind his back. He places an olive green tie with dusty blue and pink flowers in her hands. He notices her smile grow, realizing that he’s picking a new tie for a reason.

“I might not know much about prom, but I think that we’re supposed to match. You know, since we’re going together,” he offers, “but I need help putting it on,” he says.

“We’re going to match!” Y/N says excitedly. As she unbuttons the first button on Spencer’s cream colored shirt he holds his breath. He can’t breathe when she’s this close. Her fingers are quick and nimble as they feed the tie around his neck and elegantly create a knot. If Spencer wasn’t already in love, he knows that watching her eyes twinkle and her tongue poke out as she concentrates would make him declare it then and there.

“So handsome,” she says, using that quiet voice that makes it seem like she’s talking to herself rather than him, “I can’t wait to dance with you,” she tells him tugging the tie.

“I’m not going to be good, Y/N. I’m going to be a fool,” Spencer says, lamenting already about what an idiot he’s going to look like in front of Y/N.

“That’s nonsense, Spence,” Y/N says, waving him away with a toss of her hand, “You’re going to be the best dancer there,” she tells him rubbing her hand up and down his arm, like she did at the store.

“Would you believe it, if I told you I never danced with anyone?” Spencer says, being the most honest and true he’s ever been.

“We can change that,” Y/N says, stepping towards Spencer and linking her hand in his. She squeezes, restarting and stopping his heart all in one go, “oh wait we need music,” she says, feeling around for where her phone usually is.

“I got it,” Spencer says, stepping away from Y/N. He walks over to the small record player in the corner of his living room. He doesn’t play it too often, the records he has were once his mother’s and they’re too painful to play most days. But Spencer’s sure that he can make every exception to all his rules for Y/N. Maybe he’ll get some happy memories out of it.

“Going old school I see,” Y/N says, teasingly as Spencer walks over grabbing both his hands in hers, “everything about you is very charming, Doctor Reid,” she says, softly swaying to the jazzy tunes of Sarah Vaughan.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Spencer says, following Y/N’s lead as she floats around his living room, carrying him everywhere she goes. She rests her head against his chest and Spencer swears that she’s going to get a concussion from how hard his heart beats.

They’re alone, no audience to witness the moment that Spencer wonders if he can dare to call intimate. It’s intimate to him because every moment with Y/N is intimate. Maybe if someone had told Spencer that dancing like this could bring pure paradise all the way from your fingertips to your eyelashes, maybe he would have done it sooner.

“You’re quite the romantic, Spencer,” Y/N says as the song comes to a close. The record player stops, but they don’t stop swaying, “And you told me you couldn’t dance,” she scoffs lightly, with her head still resting against his chest.

“Is that okay with you?” He asks, “me being romantic,”

“I don’t think that I’d want it any other way, Spencer,” Y/N says, removing her head from his chest and her hand from his. She cups his face, touching him lightly. Y/N holds him like he aches to be held. It’s gentle and tender, yet leaves him desiring more.

“Honest?” Spencer asks, daring to be brave.

“Truly,” she responds.

Spencer shifted slightly, so he can also hold her face in his hands. Y/N drops her hands though, wrapping them around Spencer’s waist to pull them closer together. Spencer’s phantom fingers are like that dance around that dance around Y/N’s skin.

It’s Y/N that initiates the kiss. She moves in slowly and tenuously, looking just as nervous as Spencer is. He’s shaky slightly, the anticipation getting to his head when all he can see is Y/N’s eyes looking into his and all he can think about is how soft her skin is. It’s all he’s ever wanted to think about. Her lips are soft and pillowy.

But it’s more than that.

Kissing her is everything to Spencer. It’s the breathy sighs she lets out as he moves his hands and rests them securely behind her neck. It’s the peachy scent of her perfume that’s so sweet and strong it should be overwhelming when all it is, is intoxicating. Kissing her is dizzying and terrifying, but wonderful and sweet. He can’t tell where his lips start and where her’s end, but it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t open his eyes because he knows he’s facing the mirror. But unlike before, he doesn’t need a mirror to know what he’s looking at. He can look into his soul for that.

“Very romantic,” Y/N says, smiling through the quick kisses she plants on his jawline, “I always thought you’d be a romantic,” he tells him.

Spencer brushes his thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip. It’s puffy and bitten from his kisses, but he thinks that it would be a shame to not bite and kiss it some more. He smiles so hard he knows that he’ll wake up in the morning and his mouth will hurt. But that’s the least of his worries if Y/N’s there to kiss it better.

“Honest?” Spencer says, calling back to the song, that’s now their song.

“Truly,”

---

TAGLIST (ADD YOURSELF HERE)

@shemarmooresfedora @willowrose99 @calm-and-doctor @spideygenius @measure-in-pain @nomajdetective @spencerreid9 @saspencereid @laurakirsten0502 @winifrede @muffin-cup @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @strawberryspence @g0lden-cth @spookydrreid

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader happy ending #spencer reid x reader one shot #spencer reid deserved a happy ending #criminal minds fanfiction

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nashibirne · 3 years

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London Calling - 1

Yes, I'm still in my August phase and I'm not even sorry...I just can't stop thinking about the sexy mf and so this idea crossed my mind and turned into a storyline. I have to admit I'm even more nervous about posting this than usual because it's a little different from what I've written before and I really hope it's not going to bore the shit out of you. If you like this although the tension between August and my ofc builds slowly, please let me know. I appreciate every single comment, reblog and/or like! Thanks 💜

Pairing: Augut Walker x OFC (Lu Johnson)

Words: ~3.0 k

Summary and A/N: This story plays with the thought of "what if…" What if August Walker had taken another road? What if he had turned into John Lark for completely different reasons? What if he had found love before becoming a bitter, disillusioned man?So the events of "London Calling" take place about ten years prior to MI:Fallout and August Walker hasn't joined the CIA yet, he's an FBI Agent and his new mission in London that lies ahead of him is going to be a challenging one. Maybe it's even going to change his life.

Warnings: 18+! This story deals with the topic of a toxic/abusive relationship, gaslighting and problematic behavior of one of the protagonists in general. Please don't read if these topics trigger you or make you feel uncomfortable. Luckily I've never been in any kind of toxic or abusive relationship, so I lack personal experience but I hope still do this sensitive topic justice.

English is not my mother tongue but the lovely @sillyrabbit81 was so kind to be my very helpful and patient Beta! Thank you so, so much, bunny 🐇💜 You have no idea how much I appreciate your support, your encouragement, your help and the fact that you took the time to proofread this. (Edited by me, so there might still be mistakes and they're all mine)

📖 You can find my other fics on my Masterlist 📖

Credits: I don't own August Walker or anything related to MI:Fallout. Pics for the moodboard from pinterest, face claims: Lu - Hannah van der Westhuysen, Adam - Freddie Thorpe. FaceApp helped me with making August look a little younger

Taglist

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfanfics101 @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc @wheretheriversrunintothesea @lam0ureuxq @kingliam2019 @pandaxnienke

So...now...off we go...story under the cut!

"London? Are you kidding me, Kyle?"

August Walker stopped pacing the room with an incredulous frown. He raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes fixed on the other man's face.

"Absolutely not," his superior and close friend of many years said slowly, drawling both words more than necessary to stress that he wasn't joking. "They want you in London."

"What about my promotion? You gave me your word. You wanted me to finish Operation Old Bridge and that's what I did. You wanted Tony Salerno's head on a silver platter, that's what you got."

August's voice was surprisingly calm, his expression blank but his gaze was blazing with anger and frustration. His hands were balled into fists and he only opened them to lean on Kyle's wooden desk, which was very tidy, except for the piles of case files that slowly grew larger than him.

"Damn, Kyle, I risked my life when I went undercover and joined this Mafia mob."

"I know, August, but unfortunately my hands are tied. Interpol wants our best undercover Agent and that's you. Just this last job and afterwards you can happily join the CIA." SSA Kyle Langdon leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his neck with a sigh and an apologetic shrug.

"That's exactly what you said last time. Do you expect me to believe you?"

"As I said, it's not my doing. Manchester contacted Bill because the NCB needs help, blue notice, August. You know that we cannot say no and that means...London calling, man," Kyle pointed out with a smile. "You should be grateful, it's a great opportunity. So just do your job there, return and get your promotion."

"Why don't you just send someone else and I get my promotion right now? We have many great undercover agents. Craig for example. He's crazy about British pussies. He'll love London." August straightened his tall body before crossing his arms in front of his broad chest that was forced into a white button down shirt and a black suit jacket.

"No, Craig cannot go because they want you in this operation. They asked explicitly for Agent August Walker. That's a huge appreciation of your work and a big compliment. You're only 27, August, not many FBI agents are this well known and respected at such a young age." Kyle sat up straight, mirroring August's body language.

"I don't give a shit about their respect and appreciation. I know my worth and I know I'm your best agent. I've worked very hard to get where I stand now... just one step away from becoming a CIA agent," August said angrily, his brows furrowed, his eyes dark. "Fuck, Kyle...why use an American agent in a purely British matter in the first place? They could easily…"

"Listen, August," Kyle cut in and he got up and walked around his desk to face his friend, "the thing is, I am not asking you to do this, okay? It's not a request, it's an order. There's no room to negotiate."

He gave him a friendly smile to temper his words before placing a hand on August's shoulder. "No hard feelings. It's…"

"It's the job. Yeah. I know." August took a step back and nodded his head slowly, curling his lip. He had heard his boss say these words so many times and he hated that line although he was perfectly aware that it was the truth. That was the way it worked. They got orders, they did the job, no matter what. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment, feeling a bad headache brewing behind his forehead.

"I have already talked to Sloane about this. Erica seconds the motion by Interpol because she wants you to prove yourself in another operation abroad. If you are successful you will be part of her team. It's simple, Walker. Just don't fuck this up."

"I've never fucked anything up,” August snarled, clenching his teeth, his jaw grinding.

"See, that's exactly why they want you,” Kyle answered with a triumphant smile.

****

"Lu!" Adam Mayfield knocked impatiently on the bathroom door. "Get ready. We're going to be late." He glanced at his Rolex with an annoyed sigh before he straightened his tuxedo jacket and adjusted his bow tie for the umpteenth time. "God damn, this meeting is important." He banged his fist against the door again and rolled his eyes when he heard her muffled voice behind the bathroom walls. "Just a minute, Adam."

Although he was really a little angry that it took her so long to get ready, they weren't actually late, in fact there was more than enough time to meet up with his clients at The London Opera. He had just said that to make her hurry up. Lu had the tendency to dawdle around, she got easily distracted and it was his responsibility to help her with that bad habit and usually it worked well.

Compared to the woman she was when they had met at a party more than five years ago, she had improved her behavior a lot, thanks to his efforts and his strict education. She had been common as muck when they started dating, an ordinary working class girl, smart but not a bit sophisticated, pretty but with no sense of fashion or taste, ambitious but without any connections. He had changed that, he had moulded her into the beautiful, stylish, refined and cultured woman she was now. She was his work, his success, his pride...she was his.

When the door of the bathroom that was adjacent to the master bedroom finally swung open, the welcoming sight of his fiancee interrupted his thoughts and picked up his spirits immediately.

"Wow, this was worth the wait." He eyed her up and down with a smirk and leaned in for a kiss but she stopped him with her hands pressed against his narrow chest.

"No, you're gonna ruin my make-up, darling." Lu smiled at him and spinned around to present him her dress. The black, belted Burberry gown was elegant and classy. High-necked on the front but with a low back that showed off lots of her perfect, lightly tanned skin. Chaste and sexy at the same time, just the way Adam liked it.

"That dress is stunning, baby. You look wonderful." He grabbed her by her waist and pulled her close to leave a sensual kiss on her slim neck while his hands wandered to her ass where they rested for a moment before they squeezed her firm cheeks. "I really hope you're not wearing any panties."

Lu freed herself from his embrace with a frown and stepped in front of the large wall mirror opposite of their king-size bed to check her reflection one last time, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Of course I'm wearing panties. We're going to the opera with your VIP clients." She walked to her dressing table and took the diamond-encrusted, leaf-shaped brooch Adam had given her for their five years anniversary on New Year's Eve. "Would you help me with this?"

Adam took the piece of jewelry from her slim hand and pinned it carefully on her dress, right above her heart. He kissed her tenderly but his expression was stern when he spoke. "Strip it off."

Lu's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"You heard me. Get rid of your thong. I know you're wearing one of these slutty, tiny g-strings to make sure your look is flawless and your underwear doesn't show under your dress." His face hardened slightly, yet his voice remained soft and smooth.

"But…"

"Don't test me, Lu,” he said slowly, still smiling but screwing up his beautiful grey eyes. "I want you naked underneath that dress in case I want to have a little fun with you tonight. I mean, we both know Rigoletto is gonna be boring as fuck, we may need a little distraction." He gave her a lewd smirk and with a tiny frown and a raise of his brows he motioned her to be obedient. "You don't want anything to get in my way, do you? Not even a little piece of lace, right?"

"Of course not, Adam," she answered softly with a smile she had to force onto her lips. Lu reached under her dress with shaking hands and pulled down her panties till they hit the floor so she could step out of them carefully, making sure they wouldn't get tangled up in her stiletto heels.

"Good girl," Adam said with a wolfish grin and with a sly smile he added, "you know what, baby? I think I'm going to have a little fun with you just now. My clients can wait."

Lu didn't even try to argue with him, knowing exactly that she was in a no-win situation. She closed her eyes and turned around, lifting up her dress, when she heard him unzip his fly.

****

While Adam Mayfield was fucking his fiancee in front of a mirror in one of the most exclusive penthouses in London, August Walker was having a bad coffee, sitting at a table in the plain and pretty ugly meeting room of their FBI department at the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington DC, listening to the explanations of Kyle and the lead of 'Operation Brutus', Christine Carpenter. He didn't like her much but he respected her competence and her leadership qualities and most of all he trusted her with giving him the perfect fake identity for the job in London.

"So, what do you have for me, Chris?" August looked at her with a smile, but his eyes gave away that he'd rather be somewhere else.

"Well, let me just explain the background first, okay?"

She pressed a button on her laptop and the handsome face of a young man appeared on the screen behind her.

"This", she nodded at the picture, "is Adam Arthur Clive Mayfield, 27 years old, only son of Alfred Mayfair and his late wife Erica, heir of the immense family fortune and the private bank Mayfield & Holmes, that was established by his ancestors more than 200 years ago. He is one of the most eligible bachelors in the United Kingdom, and one of the richest, too. His father officially still runs the family business but he isn't in the best state of health, so in fact Mayfield junior is the one who's at the helm. Unlike his father he's not a man of integrity, he's been on the radar of the British authorities for years. From dealing drugs and other minor crimes in his college years to insider trading, investor fraud, misappropriation and money laundering nowadays. He is a big fish, has connections all over the world, drug rings, gun runners, human traffickers, you name it."

"And the Brits are not able to catch him without my help?" August couldn't help but smirk cockily.

"Don't be so full of yourself, Walker. The problem is, he is a damn genius. IQ score beyond 150, very clever, very cautious, a strategic mastermind, always ahead of the authorities. They tried to infiltrate his business a few times but they failed miserably, so now they want to concentrate on his private life."

"And this is gonna be my part?"

"Exactly," Kyle said, getting up to join Christine in front of the screen. "He has a few bodyguards he always hires from an American agency. They are known for their discretion and loyalty and the bodyguards they place with their clients are the best of the best. Unfortunately one of his bodyguards died in an accident a week ago and now he needs a new one. Luckily, we have the owner of the agency by the balls for several major crimes. He cooperates or he will end up behind bars for the rest of his life."

"To cut a long story short, he will place you with Mayfield and you can become part of his daily life. Your job consists of monitoring and collecting information and data. I will give you an exact briefing later," Christine finished Kyle's explanations.

"So I will just be his lapdog?"

"Not his," Kyle grinned, "hers."

The picture on the screen changed, now showing a young, blonde woman. The second he saw her, he judged her.

He could tell what she was like, just by her looks, by the way she jutted her chin in the picture, by her perfectly manicured fingers, by her flawless make up and the expensive clothes. He knew women like her, a walking stereotype, the blond, beautiful Trophy Wife Barbie that's always by Millionaire Ken's side. Pretty on the outside, boring on the inside. Lame bimbos that only lived for showing off their designer clothes and it-bags, tripping around in high heels that cost more than he earned in a month, finding self-fulfilment in stupid things like designing overpriced furniture, running a yoga studio or doing charity stuff. Useless, needless but still blueprints for millions of girls who would literally give the shirt off their backs to catch themselves a rockstar, a famous actor, a hyped football player or just a rich heir.

"This is Mayfield's fiancee," Kyle said, pointing at the photo, "you're gonna be her personal bodyguard."

"How am I supposed to monitor him, when I have to be on her heels all the time?"

"You're gonna live with them, there will be lots of opportunities. Just make her trust you, we need her to open up, get her to talk. They've been together for years, she should know what he's involved in," Chris explained and she made it sound easy when in fact it wasn't only hard to gain a stranger's trust, in this case it was even dangerous.

"Alright. Tell me about her."

"Her name is Lucretia Johnson, 24 years old," Kyle started reading the memo.

"Lucretia?" August let out an amused snort.

"Yeah," Kyle grinned, "her mother seems to have a preference for strange names, her younger sister's called Petronilla."

"What the fuck?" August laughed out loud. "Is she some kind of Latin professor or something?"

"Well, first of all she's dead," Christine took over with a serious look on her face, she was notorious for her lack of humour, "and secondly, no, she was not a professor. She was an alcoholic and a complete mess. An irresponsible, uncaring mother who spent too much time fucking around and too little time taking care of her daughters. Petronilla was taken away from her when she was 15 and was handed over to youth welfare. Lucretia was 18 at the time and lived on the campus of the Chelsea College of Art and Design."

"So she's an artist, huh?" August knew the ridicule in his voice wasn't very professional but he just couldn't help it.

"Maybe, at least she has a master degree in curating and owns a little gallery in Covent Garden. Well, actually Mayfield owns it, she just runs it."

"So, to sum it up, she's made it from the daughter of a drunkard to the fiancee of one of the richest heirs in the kingdom. She's fucked her way to the top. I guess that's all I need to know about her."

"Don't be so sure, August. She seems to be smart," Kyle threw in, "I think there's more to her than the pretty face. It's just a gut feeling but I guess you'll find out soon enough."

August took a deep breath, rolling his eyes at Kyle. "Sure. She's the saint that sleeps with the devil."

"That's not what I said, mate. But whatever she is, you'll have to deal with it."

"What's my cover, Christine?" August wanted to know.

"Well, your alias was born in 1981, just like you, but on the fifth of May. Born and raised in Portland, Maine. Only child, mother deceased, not on speaking terms with his father, a mechanic who still lives in Portland. You can find the details of your early life and your family tree in the memo," she waved the file above her head before she continued. "Careerwise...ex military, ex cop, had some problems following the rules and respecting the law. Single, no ex-wifes, no kids. We kept it plain and simple. They will not dig deep anyway. According to the agency boss, Mayfield expects his bodyguards to be disciplined, always on duty, quiet and discreet. There's three of you. Benjamin Garner is Mayfield's watchdog and his personal assistant, Edward Landow was Johnson's guard you're gonna replace, Andrew Brown is the back-up. You and Garner live with them, Brown lives nearby with his girlfriend. There's other staff of course, a housekeeper, a cook, cleaners. No chauffeur, no butler, no assistant, that's all part of your job."

"Great," August let out an annoyed snort, "so basically I'm gonna be her servant."

"Basically," Chris fixed her gaze on August, "you're not gonna leave her side unless you're told to. Just be professional, stay in the background, prick up your ears, listen closely and be careful. No obvious nosing around. Their penthouse is a high tech fortress, including video monitoring, so just…"

"I know how to work undercover," August cut in impatiently, "just gimme that fucking file and let me do my job."

Christine gave him a pissed look but she handed him the document with a shrug and without further comment. August grabbed it from her hands, staring at the data of his new life, his new name and the composite sketch of his new look. He would have to stop shaving.

*****

tbc

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x ofc #slow burn

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flufflepuffle296 · 4 years

Text

Heathers au: Beautiful Songfic

This is more centred around Veronica/Marinette so not really any mentions of Heather/Heather/Heather. Sorry if someone’s done this before I apologise I just got into Heathers like two days ago. Also I changed some lyrics and took others out to make it more “realistic”. Sorry I suck at endings, it’s 5:30am rn and this is my first fic so be nice please! (I’m on mobile so I can’t add the keep reading tag so sorry if you don’t like this) xxx

I brushed down my dress: I couldn’t give them anything to criticise me over. Everything had to be perfect. I had to be perfect. Chloé sat next to me, my beautiful fiancée, slipping on her kitten heels. She may be 3 months pregnant but no Bourgeois woman would be seen wearing flats. I was in a red floor length a line dress — I grew out of my childish pink years ago, before it even went out of fashion! My hair was twisted into two plaits that were knotted together into a stylish bun at the back. Chloé meanwhile had stuck to her white and gold aesthetic, currently in a slim fitting white dress, showing off her small baby bump, decorated with gold jewellery. I rummaged through my drawers, trying to find a lipstick, when a thin book toppled out. I picked it up, and laughed fondly when I saw what it was.

My old Collège and Lycée diary.

I flipped through it, landing on the page that stuck most clearly in my mind. It was the day my class reminded me of my current reality at that time, shocking me out of a bubble that had surrounded me during the summer holidays that year.

September 1st, 1989.

Dear Diary: I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of senior year!

And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself—what happened?

I bit my lip. What happened? I knew darn well what happened. Lila Rossi. She came in, flaunting her friendships and connections, a new disability every other week to cry about, another rumour about me coming out every 3 days.

Alya ended our friendship, Adrien continued to cry about Lila’s feelings. Lila just kept doing what she did best. The class gave up on changing my mind and instead decided that calling me names would be better. Because logic?!

“Freak!” “Slut!” “Burnout!” “Bug-eyes!” “Poser!” “Lard-ass!” Were the insults they liked to yell daily. Yeah, they weren’t the most creative...

We were so tiny, happy and shiny. Playing tag and getting chased. Singing and clapping, laughing and napping. Baking cookies, eating paste.

Nino and Kim used to come over to the bakery when we were kids, where we’d gorge ourselves on sweets, before celebrating our sugar rushes by chasing each other in the park and then crashing on my sofa, cuddled in blankets and laying on top of each other.

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger. Like the Huns invading Rome. Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school: This is the Thunderdome. Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon. College will be paradise, if I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again. We can be beautiful...Just not today.

I scoffed at my optimism back then. Them changing? They never did, I don’t know why I bothered trying at that point. I should’ve moved on but hey! We all make mistakes. It’s just that sometimes you make 11 friendships worth of mistakes.

“Freak!” “Slut!” “Cripple!” “Homo!” “Homo!” “Homo!”

I cringed as I read their old “insults”. They would write homophobic messages across my locker, getting Alix to spray paint a few slurs across my work after I came out as bisexual.

Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown. Wake from this coma, take my diploma. Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy-covered walls, no smoky French cafés. Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze!

I had purposefully sent out applications to universities far away from these people, from Paris. All three schools accepted me, something I can’t say about my classmates, most of whom were rejected for essays on false information (sourced by Lila) and a quick scan over the Ladyblog meant not a single newspaper would even consider my ex-best friend. Gabriel Agreste, as I later found out through my internship in America, had to bribe several schools with double tuition to get even one to accept Adrien, after he got exposed as sexual harasser and disgraced hero “Chat Noir”. I turned back to my diary, having to peel off rock hard gum from the page that someone had smeared in “revenge”.

Le Chiên Kim. Third year as linebacker and eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick.

“What did you say to me, skank?” He would yell, his fist raised in the hallway.

“Aah, nothing!” I then cowered. I may be Ladybug, but he was 150lbs of pure rage. No one can compete with that!

But I know, I know... Life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray, For a better way. We can be beautiful...

“Marinette! Wide load! Honnnnnk!”

He was the smartest guy on the football team. Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!”

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” He used to snarl, his hands covered in sauce from knocking my tray.

I stood my ground, I had been practising for this moment. “Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on me. You're a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future gas station attendant.”

Kim then smirked, crouching down to eye level and pressing a finger to my forehead. “You have a zit right there...” he pointed out, causing the cafeteria to laugh at my expense.

I used to ask myself “Why... Why do they hate me?”

And hear Adrien whisper “Why don't I fight back?”

Watch as Max Googled “Why do I act like such a creep?”

Listen in on Lila stamping her feet in the bathroom asking “Why won't he date me?” Clearly frustrated.

Kim panicking as he wondered “Why did I hit him?”

And Chloé sob down the phone “Why do I cry myself to sleep?”

I would stay up late, screaming, begging. At my lowest points I would cry out “Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me! Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope, here! Something to live for!”

I remember when I first met my real friends. The famed trio had gone into the bathroom and I followed after them, clearly my throat.

“Who are you?”

“Uh... Marinette Dupain Cheng. I crave a boon”

“What boon?” Chloé asked, filing her nails.

“Um. Let me sit at your table, at lunch. If our class think that you guys tolerate me, then they'll leave me alone...”

Chloé threw her nail file out and began circling around me, running her hands through my hair, commenting that “For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure!” Before coming to a conclusion.

“And ya know, ya know, ya know? This could be beautiful. Mascara, maybe some lip gloss, and we're on our way. Get this girl some blush; and Kagami, I need your brush. Let's make her beautiful.” Sabrina and Kagami, chimed in, echoing her words.

“Let's make her beautiful...”

“Let’s make her beautiful...”

“Make her beautiful...Okay?” Chloé ordered, dragging me out with Kagami and Sabrina, driving me to her hotel. They sat me down, taking my hair out of its bunches and brushing it out. Kagami painted my nails a deep navy with surprising precision, manning my cuticles. Sabrina twirled my hair into a high bun, leaving a few pieces at the front to frame my face. Chloé came back from her wardrobe, throwing a blue blazer and grey skirt at me. I changed into my outfit for them, to which they clapped their hands in glee. They dragged me back to school, taking in everyone’s reactions to the new and improved me. This became my new daily outfit for the rest of the year — the class couldn’t find anything bad about it, and even if they did Chloé would threaten them with her father’s power.

I was happy with my squad. Kagami taught us Japanese and Chloé taught us American English that she’d picked up from her mother. I taught them self defence, under the guise of learning it from my mum, unknowingly training them for the day I would rip Chat Noir’s miraculous from him, before slamming it into Kagami’s palm. I needed help that day, so thrust them bee and the fox miraculous at Chloé and Sabrina respectively. They became permanent heroes, Kagami under the name “Noirette”, Chloé under the new guise of “Buttercup” and Sabrina “Renard Rouge”. Akuma attacks have never lasted more than 15 minutes since we got rid of that alley cat, and we’ve been closing in on Hawkmoth recently.

I shook my head, snapping the crude book shut, throwing the diary in the bin. Today was going to be the day I made peace with all that happened, our 10 year school reunion. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna make up with anyone, just that I will finally leave everything behind. I found my lipstick and smeared on the crimson lip, smacking my lips together. I grabbed my clutch and helped Chloé stand up, though she wobbled a little in her heels. I slid her miraculous into her updo, blowing a kiss at her as to not ruin her makeup.

We met up with Kagami and Sabrina in the hallway, Kagami in a wine red suit with gold jewellery, and Sabrina was in emerald green to compliment her red hair. We stepped into the limo awaiting us outside and set off, arriving at the school 10 minutes later. We walked up the steps, hitching up our dresses and arrived in the courtyard. It had been lit up with fairy lights, with stands of food and drinks scattered around the court. Our old classmates were huddled in small groups, whilst Mlle. Mendeleiev’s was in a large group, enjoying each other’s company after 10 years apart.

No one noticed us, until Rose pointed at me and whispered “Who’s that with Chloé?” The group turned to stare at us, trying to place my face. Adrien looked up from talking to Lila, who seemed to be flaunting a rather tacky Gabriel engagement ring, and whispered,

“Marinette?!”

The class began gossiping amongst themselves, “Marinette? Marinette? Marinette?!”

I ignored them, their childish ways were behind me, and walked up to Aurore and Mireille, fawning over their relationship. They turned Kagami, asking her about her life and squealing over her Olympic medal for fencing. I grinned as I watched my old class, happy that they had moved on from each other — well apart from Alya and Adrien, who were still hooked on Lila. I was finally, content! I thought back on my diary, one particular paragraph standing out to me at this time.

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful. You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! Ask me how it feels, lookin' like hell on wheels...My God, it's beautiful! I feel so beautiful... And when you're beautiful...It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Chloé boasted my achievements, my business, my awards, and the entire of Mendeleiev’s class started chanting “Marinette! Marinette! Marinette!”, much to my embarrassment. I boasted her’s in return, Sabrina revealed how far she’d come as a lawyer, Kagami swung her prized sword from side to side as she listened to us all catching up, laughing at the memories.

It really was a beautiful day.

#lila salt #adrien salt #class salt #marinette deserves better #alya salt #mlb #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #chloe sugar #kagami tsurugi #sabrina raincomprix #heathers au #beautiful heathers #songfic

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altomer · 4 years

Text

Kuuipo Chapter 1

Paring: Steve Mcgarrett x reader

Fandom: Hawaii 5-0

Warnings: none that I can think of.

Song: American Woman - Lenny Kravitz

Request: None

Outfit

I gripped the steering wheel, watching as my knuckles turned white. I sat outside the palace. My nerves were on edge. I didn’t understand why I was so nervous. It was completely stupid. I took a deep breath and swung the door open. The gravel crunched under my boots. I tugged at the blue air force t-shirt that hung on my shoulders. I glanced at my watch. 10:15, perfect. I smiled to myself as I made my way to the door.

“You're late.” A man said not even bothering to turn around.

“Actually, commander, I'm 15 minutes early.” I didn’t even try and hide the frustration in my voice. He was the SEAL I was sure of that much, The man swung around as the rest of the team looked at me. His eyes widened for a second before he raised his eyebrows. He was attractive, I couldn’t lie. He has green eyes and dark hair. He was tall and well built. The black shirt he wore hugged his arms

“You're the OSI Agent?” The disbelief in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Any attraction to him went out the window.

“Is there something wrong.” He shook his head. “When they said OSI I thought of someone more-”

“Male?”

“Taller.”

I didn’t know if I should be more offended or less offended. I shook my head letting out a sigh. I passed him to the rest of the team. I held my hand out to the closest person.

“First Lieutenant L/N.”

“Danny Williams.” I let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t all stuck up assholes.

The rest of the team was nice enough. Definitely not as bad as Mcgarrett. I looked to Danny

“So what do we have?” He went to hand me a file only to have it snatched out of his hand. I clenched my jaw. This was going to be harder than I thought.

“Lets see what you’ve got Princess.”

“Is this really time for your pissing contest Steve?”

“No,” I said, snatching the file from him.”I’ll do it.” I flipped open the folder 4 pictures sat on top. I set the file down, spreading the photos out.

“The girls are all around the same age, brown hair, blue eyes.” I thought aloud. I moved the pictures looking to the Missing persons reports instead. “They all went missing around the same area at the same time.” I continued deeper into the file. I furrowed my brows bringing my hand up to my mouth. I chewed on the side of my thumb thinking. “Sex-Trafficing? No-” I shook my head.

“Why not?” Steve asked, crossing his arms. I could tell that’s what they were thinking. “There wouldn’t be a pattern like this. I tapped the map that was in the file.

“Could be a coincidence.” Danny said.

“No,” I said “Me running into you at the store is a coincidence.” I grabbed the map and the girls pictures and walked to a cork board. “This,” I pinned the pictures up “This is a pattern.” I turned to face the team. “I think you have a serial killer.” I crossed my arms waiting for a response. Danny clapped slowly, before pointing to Steve.

“You my friend just got your ass handed to you.” The SEAL grumbled grabbing his own copy of the file. He slid a gun and badge across the table to me.

“Kono, L/N go talk to the first victims' family and see what you can find.” he said without looking up from the file. I nodded smiling to Kono as I pulled my keys out of my pocket.

“I’ll drive.”

As Kono and I pulled into the driveway a man ran out of the house screaming at a teenager who now stood on the grass holding his hand up.

“It’s your fault she’s gone!” He yelled pointing at the boy. The man whipped a gun out of his waistband. I heard a woman scream from the house. I snatched my gun and jumped out of the Bronco.

“5-0 drop the gun!” I yelled. the man stood pointing the gun. The boy was on his knees crying.

“He’s the reason my Jamie is dead!” The man’s hands were shaking. I holstered my gun and take a step forward holding my hands up.

“I can only imagine how you’re feeling.” His eyes flicked to me. “You're an Airman right.” I said pointing to the two flags flying in his yard. “I am too brother.” Tears flooded his eyes and he dropped the gun. I rushed forward and kicked the gun towards Kono. I turned to the man, tears were rushing down his face. The pain from his loss over taking him. “I promise I will find who killed your daughter.” His eyes met mine and he brought his hand up to a shaky salute. I gave him a sad smile before returning the salute.

Once we finished talking to the family Kono and I climbed into the Bronco. I leaned my head against the steering wheel.

“That was amazing!” She said looking at me.

“It was nothing.” I said my voice low. It tore me apart to see the way that man was hurting. Maybe I wasn’t ready to work again.

“That was some of the best deescalation I have ever seen.” I hummed pushing myself up. I turned the key starting the Bronco. I pulled out of the driveway as Kono’s phone rang. I watched the road but all I could think about was that man’s face. He lost his little girl, his daughter.

“They need us back at base.” I nodded flicking on my turn signal.

“You did your best.” I nodded again, swallowing the bile in my throat.

As we walked back into the office, all eyes were on us.

“How’d it go?”

“Ask Y/N?” I knew Kono was trying to get me out of this shell I had reverted into but that definitely didn’t help. I turned on my heel storming out of the hall. I heard heavy footsteps following behind me. Cursing under my breath I pushed a door open. Tears ran down my cheeks. I ran a hand through my hair. I remember when the C-17 landed. It was just me and a coffin. The girl who I was sent to save. The way her family looked at me. The anger. The pain. It was the same way that man looked at that boy. Who was I to survive when their baby girl wasn’t coming home. I heard the door open and quickly wiped the tears. The door closed and the light above me flicked on. Steve stood in front of me. Well as far as he could stand since I had chosen to hide in a closet apparently.

“Why are you crying in a closet out of all places?” His voice was calm and smooth unlike earlier and I wanted a hug so bad. No. Get yourself together. I leaned my head against the wall.

“I know why you were discharged.” My head shot up. No one was supposed to know that it had been cleared. “Are you ok?” His voice wasn’t pitiful. “If you can’t finish this case it’s fine.” I looked into his eyes and I remembered my promise to the father.

“The father,” I said clearing my throat, I swiped my hand across my cheek catching the stray tear that had escaped my eye. “The pain of losing his daughter.” I shook my head.

“How often does this happen?” He asked. I looked at him, narrowing my eyes. I shook my head.

“The survivors' guilt, the panic attacks.” I shook my head.

“I’d hardly call this a panic attack.”

“Answer the question.”

“Not as often as you think.”

“That's not an answer.”

“Why do you care?”

I saw a look cross his face. I couldn’t quite place it. It bugged me how easily he could read me. He grabbed my arms gently.

“My team is my family,” He paused. “And even if you’ve been here for less than a day you are a part of that team, that family.” I looked into his eyes. I let out a shaky breath. I was on the edge. One push and I’d be over it. “What happened was not your fault.” His words hit me like a brick. No one had told me that since it had happened. No, no one really believed it enough to say it. Even if they would have I wouldn’t have believed them. But from him it was different. That was the push. I felt myself falling, not literally but I was spiraling. My shoulders shook as I let the tears fall. Steve pulled me to his chest.

“She shouldn’t have died.” I cried my voice barely a whimper. “He killed her to taunt me.” Steve shushed me, rubbing circles into my back. “This is so similar.”

“I know.”

Something inside me clicked as my sobs slowly quieted. I stepped away from Steve, rubbing my hands over my face. At this point I was really glad I had decided not to wear makeup. I had made up my mind. “Let’s get this bastard before he hurts anyone else.” I saw Steve’s face fall. I shoved the closet door open and ran back into the office. All eyes were back on me.

“So?” I asked, Danny pointed to the corkboard where a fifth picture was pinned next to the map.

“They found her body 3 hours ago.” I grabbed her missing persons report.

“A new girl goes missing every two days.” I looked at the pictures. “Can you find me every missing person’s report for anyone who matches this description?” Kono nodded and moved to her laptop. Steve had resumed his place at the head of the table. I felt his eyes on me.

“Has anyone talked to the vic’s family?” I asked, Steve shook his head. I nodded.

“I’ll go.” I started towards the door. Steve followed behind me. I didn’t question it. I had a feeling there was a piece we were missing. I pulled myself up into the Bronco.

“This is yours?” Steve asked, amused. I grinned as the engine roared to life.

“Yep, My baby.” I ran my hand over the steering wheel. A chuckle escaped his throat. The feelings from earlier were nothing but a memory at the moment.

“You got something to say commander?” I nudged his arm with my elbow. He shook his head a smirk on his face. That smirk was something else. It could make anyone weak in the knees.

“No.”

As soon as I saw the marine bumper sticker I realized what we were missing. My stomach fell.

“Mcgarrett.” I said. He looked at me as I pointed out the bumper sticker. He looked at the sticker and back to me.

“You don’t think.” I nodded. He was targeting Military families.

“I’ll call Kono.” I mumbled pulling my phone out of my pocket. I was glad the woman had the foresight to put her number in my phone. Steve jumped out of the car.

“I’ll go talk to them,”

I pressed the call button and held the phone to my ear.

“Kono.”

“Hey It’s Y/N, I need you to check if the other vics are military brats.”

It didn’t surprise me when Kono gave me the news that the girls were in fact from military families. Steve climbed into the Bronco, his mood solem. He looked at me expectantly. I nodded.

“Shit.” he grumbled. His phone rang in his pocket as he answered it he put it on speaker phone.

“Another girl was just abducted from Monoa Park!” Danny’s panicked voice cut through the speaker. I threw the car in reverse and flicked on the newly equipped sirens. Steve looked at me.

“Thank the governor.”

I shot around a corner.

“Danny did she have her cell on her.” I asked

“Kono’s working on that.”

“Car description.” Steve asked, his eyes wandering from car to car.

“Black SUV, either a chevy or a ford.” I spotted one ahead. I hit Steve in the arm. He turned the siren off as I pulled up behind him.

“We got a hit!” Kono’s voice echoed through the phone. My phone buzzed in the cupholder. I reached for it as the light turned green. The SUV shot forward. Steve grabbed the phone from my hand as I trailed them.

“That’s them.”

I nodded as I backed off.

“We’re on our way.” Danny called hanging up. My hands were shaking against the leather of the steering wheel. I turned down the road that the SUV had taken a few seconds prior. Shots rang out from the car. They bounced of the hood of the car.

“Shit!”

“Get down!” Steve yelled. I ducked down snatching my gun and stepped on the gas. Steve returned fire. I flipped on the siren. “Fuck it!”

The SUV swung around a corner into a dirt trail. Gravel flew as I slammed the accelerator. Their bumper was inches from the hood. I growled as I slammed into their bumper. They fishtailed on the trail struggling to regain traction.

“Back off.” Steve said as he reached over the seat to grab a ballistic vest he had thrown back there earlier.

We flew into a clearing bullets racing toward us. I slammed on the breaks. I heard sirens racing up the trail behind us. Steve jumped out using the Bronco as cover. I crawled across the seats. I fell to the ground sending shots in the direction of the SUV. I looked around the front of the Bronco as they pulled two girls out of the back.

“They have two!” I yelled. I brought my gun up and shot two of the three goons. One of the girls ran forward.

It felt like everything slowed as the last man brought his gun up and aimed it towards the girl.

BANG

I watched as the girl crumpled to the ground. Steve whipped around and shot twice. The last girl ran towards me, throwing herself into my arms. I hugged her but couldn’t tear my eyes from the girl on the ground. Two cars flew into the clearing. Danny jumped out of the car and rushed towards us. I stared at the body. I felt the girl let go only to be ushered away by Danny. I felt Steve place his hand on my back and lead me to the side of the Bronco as the officers covered her body. All I could think about was her scared face. If I was quicker, If I was smarter, If I was… If I was…

“Y/N.”

“L/N”

“Princess.”

“Y/N” I felt someone’s hands on either side of my face. I looked into a pair of green eyes. They were full of worry, full of sorrow. I closed my eyes. “Don’t do this to yourself.” His hands were still on my face. Why was he touching me? Why did I like it? “You saved her.” he took a deep “You saved one person that is not failure.”

Steve drove back to the palace.

“I’ll be back.” He jumped out of the car slamming the door shut. I stared out the windshield. The glass was cracked in the bottom corner. I leaned forward running my fingers over the splintered glass. I’m thoroughly surprised that the entire window wasn’t shattered. My body felt numb but my mind was racing. I pushed my back against the seat pulling open the glovebox. I pulled out the pack of gum and popped two sticks in my mouth. Chewing on something calmed me down.

The drivers door opened and Steve pulled himself up.

“Gum?” I offered. He nodded and took a stick. Which surprised me he didn’t seem like a gum guy. I looked out the window as we drove, The ocean sparkled under the moon. I didn’t recognize where we were but I didn’t bother asking. Hawaii was beautiful at night.

He pulled into a driveway before making his way to my side of the Bronco.

“Where are we?”

“You’re staying with me.” He held his hand out for me. I didn’t argue. Any rational thought went out the window as he led me inside. His house was nice. As soon as I walked through the door I saw the ocean on the other side of the house. He led me up the stairs, my feet grew heavy. “You can sleep here.” he opened the door to a bedroom. “There is a shower in there.” he pointed to a door on the opposite wall. “I’ll find you something to wear.” I nodded and started towards the shower.

“Hey Steve.” He turned to look at me. “Thank you.” He gave me his signature smile.

“Your welcome princess.”

I woke up surprisingly comfortable. A ray of sun shone through the blinds. The smell of the ocean and bacon pulled at my senses, I groaned as I opened my eyes. Where was I? The clock read 10:35. I pushed the comforter off and set my feet on the hardwood. I opened the door and stumbled through the hallway and down the stairs. I heard muffled voices from the kitchen so decided to start there.

“Did you hear what happened when she was with Kono?”

“No, I’ll ask her about it.” Steve’s voice cut in. I rounded the corner to see Danny sitting at the island, he raised his coffee.

“Morning Babe.” I raised my eyebrow at the nickname.

“He calls everyone babe.” Steve cut in.

“Nice shirt.” I looked down to see a SEALS shirt. I pinched it and pulled it away from my skin.

“What did you do to get me in this?” I muttered in fake disgust. Steve looked at me and laughed. The skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“You put that on yourself princess.” I dropped the shirt and slumped into the stool next to Danny.

“In all seriousness,” I started causing Danny and Steve to look at me. “I won’t be like this after every case.”

“We know.” Danny said, bumping my shoulder with his.

“What?”

“It was too much too soon.” Steve said, setting a plate of pancakes in front of me and Danny.

“But you were amazing.” Danny said stuffing pancakes into his mouth. “We need you on the team.” I looked across the island to Steve who smiled.

“Welcome to the team princess.”

#steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett #steve x reader #hawaii 5-0 #Hawaii 5-O imagines #hawaii 5-0 imagines #hawaii 5-0 headcanons #hawaii 5-0 x reader #hawaii #hawaii five 0 #hawaii five 0 imagine

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fatesdeepdive · 3 years

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Entry 1: Anticipation

Introduction

What is your most anticipated game? Not the upcoming game that you’re excited about, the game that, more than any other, made you count down the days until its release. No game has ever made me as excited for its release like Fire Emblem Fates did.

Fire Emblem Fates was first announced in January 2015. Back when that trailer was first released, I was still obsessively playing through Fire Emblem Awakening, the game Fire Emblem Fates was meant to be a successor for. The trailer hooked me and I eagerly waited for more information on this bold new entry into the Fire Emblem series. The trailer showed a battle between two armies, a monster destroying a castle, a woman dancing, and a duel between two swordsmen. Between these clips, the trailer showed a return of Awakening’s gameplay, the addictive gameplay that’d taken away hundreds of hours of my free time. This trailer told us nothing, leaving me eager to learn more about this new story.

As the months went on, it was announced that Fates would tell the story of two kingdoms at war. More interestingly, the player would be given the opportunity to choose which kingdom to support, adding a layer of moral ambiguity and complexity to the story. I loved this concept and had no doubts it would be executed perfectly. The game released in June 2015 in Japan, but American fans had to wait until January of the next year to play it.

I bought the game as soon as it came out.

And I loved it. I played through all three routes half a dozen times each. For about six months, Fire Emblem Fates was the main game I played.

I haven’t played Fates in four and a half years. I don’t know why I went from spending multiple hours each day playing it to dropping it and never going back. I’ve played Awakening about once a year since then, but I haven’t gone back to Fates for some reason.

Since its release, Fates has gained a certain...reputation among the Fire Emblem fanbase. Put bluntly, it’s widely considered to be the worst Fire Emblem game. And, to be honest...I can kinda see why. Looking back, the game’s writing was filled to the brim with problems. But still, I can’t bring myself to hate the game like other Fire Emblem fans. I still remember asking my mom to preorder it for my Christmas present when I was fifteen. I still remember devoting hours of my life to this game.

So, I’m left with this quandary. Who should I trust? Other fans, or the memories of my youth? Is Fates really as bad as people say? Well, I kinda want to figure that out for myself. And I think the only way to figure this out is to obsessively play the game.

Over the next few months, I’m going to do a deep dive through Fire Emblem Fates and post my thoughts on this blog. I’m going to go through every chapter, every support conversation, every part of this game to answer the question: is Fire Emblem Fates a good game?

Opening Cutscene

Booting up my copy of Birthright for the first time in years, I’m greeted with an opening cutscene containing much of the footage from the trailer. It’s worth noting that the two armies from the trailer have very different aesthetics, one being heavily influenced by feudal Japan and one being heavily influenced by medieval Europe. The transition from the battle to the woman dancing is done by zooming out, revealing that this battle is actually taking place inside a painting. I actually really like this, it shows that the hostilities that this game is centered on have been going on for a long time.

Another thing to note: the song the dancing woman is singing has been translated into English. I’ll be going through the Lost in Thoughts All Alone’s lyrics and analyzing them when they appear in the actual story. The dance scene leads into circling shots of two families; judging from their different styles and fancy clothing, they are presumably related to the two kingdoms at war. The eastern family has a red and white color scheme, while the western one has a black and purple color scheme.

After that, the camera pans into a deep chasm until it arrives in a land of floating castles and islands, which looks interesting. Next, the opening cutscene shows the dancer in a lake, being choked by a large dragon-like creature. As the creature pushes her further underwater, its scales turn into light and fade away, turning into a humanoid form. Finally, the trailer shows the two swordsmen clashing as the dancer freaks out, setting her up as being an in-between that doesn’t want this conflict to grow. Her necklace flies off as she panics and lands in a pool of dark blue water, bringing us to the main menu.

The opening cutscene, like the trailer, hooked me in and made me excited to play this game. Even though I know that the game is going to bungle the story beats it sets up, I’m still excited to dive right it.

While staring at the dark title screen, which features only the quiet sound of waves for background noise, I get a strange hint of nostalgia. It’s a weird type of nostalgia, though. When I replied Awakening last fall, it felt familiar and comforting. Coming back to Fates, it doesn’t feel familiar. I recognize it, and it’s nostalgic, but it isn’t comforting. It’s like nostalgia for something I’ve forgotten, if that makes sense.

Character Creation

Jumping in, I am presented with three settings each for two types of difficulty. Normal/Hard/Lunatic control the strength of enemies, while Phoenix/Casual/Classic determine whether or not units come back to life. I’ll be checking out the other difficulties in a later entry, but for now, I create a Normal/Casual save file. Yes, it’s taking the easy path. But I barely remember this game and am playing it on a deadline, I don’t have the time to restart every level multiple times.

Next comes the character creator. We’re shown the player Avatar standing at the bottom of a lake and given the ability to customize gender, build, hairstyle, hair decoration (if a girl), hair color, face, scars, and voice. None of the options look bad, but the fact that it’s just choosing from a set list of faces is a bit disappointing. Understandable, considering the fact that these assets are drawn in, but that just raises the question of why there needed to be customization in the first place.

A few oddities about the character creator: hairstyles are sorted on two axis chart of Stylish/Simple vs Wild/Slick for boys and Long/Short vs Cute/Wild for girls. I don’t have time to go into each hairstyle, some are better than the canon versions, some are absolutely ridiculous, some are just boring. The short build is the canon design for Male Corrin while the tall build is canon for Female Corrin. This is probably for the best, because Short Girl Corrin looks like she’s eight. Finally, while both choices have three voice choices, two of Male Corrin’s choices are played by Cam Clarke (Corrin’s other male voice is Yuri Lowenthal, while Female Corrin’s voices are performed by Danielle Judovits, Marcella Lentz-Pope, and Stephanie Lemelin). Later games featuring Corrin stick with Clarke and Lentz-Pope.

I flip a coin and end up deciding on Female Corrin. I go with the generic design, because I really don’t care enough to customize her. Speaking of design, Corrin’s design is a mixed bag. Regardless of player choice, Corrin always wears the same outfit: a grey, black, and white suit of armor with a blue cape. Corrin’s generic hair color is also grey, but like a pinkish grey. I do appreciate Corrin being associated with grey, gold, and blue, making them visually appear to be between worlds, but I personally think the armor looks too complicated, looking more like a striped suit than actual armor. I also don’t get why it has a neck cuff.

Also, Corrin is barefoot. Always. This does give Corrin a sort of animalistic appearance, but that design element isn’t present anywhere else in Corrin’s design. Fire Emblem Awakening was kinda infamous for the fact that none of its characters had feet on their models and I get the vague feeling this game is overcompensating.

Next, we get to the details that actually matter. Name (I went with Corrin, because it’s the canon name and I don’t relate to this character at all), Birthday, Boon, Bane, and Talent. Boon and Bane determine stat growths, but they are labeled by personality traits instead of the actual stars, which is both more immersive and slightly annoying. I made Corrin Quick and Unlucky. Talent determines what Classes are available to you. I didn’t care, so I spun it randomly. It landed on Mercenary.

Prologue: The Ties that Bind

Now that we have our character created, let’s start the game. The game starts with the dancer singing Lost in Thoughts All Alone at the shore of a lake before walking into the lake and sinking below the waves. The song continues as she goes underwater, which means she must be amazing at ventriloquism. As she goes deeper underwater, ruins start to appear, floating in the water. The dancer swims into a bright light and disappears.

Smash cut to the Western prince riding on a horse, commanding an army as they charge into battle. The Eastern prince charges through his army, wielding a sword surrounded by lightning. The anime cutscenes in this game are beautifully animated and incredibly cool to watch. The Eastern prince introduces himself as Ryoma of Hoshido and challenges the Western prince, Xander of Nohr, to a duel. Xander accepts and charges into battle, wielding a sword surrounded by shadowy purple fog. The two clash as the cutscene ends.

We then see Corrin and a Hoshidan Pegasus Rider named Hinoka fighting an enemy, This fight is rendered as an actual game cutscene. Side note, the fact that this scripted battle features Hinoka guarding an attack for Corrin is a great way to foreshadow that mechanic. Hinoka mentions that Corrin looks distracted and reassures her, pointing out that all of Corrin’s siblings are here.

The game then moves onto introducing basic mechanics. If you move your cursor away and look at the other units on the battlefield, you’ll notice that all of them have unique names and designs. Fire Emblem Fates shows both armies off to you during the prologue, which is really interesting. Still, it must be noted that the Nohrian Units are marked as enemies and the Hoshidan Units are marked as allies. This isn’t super important now, but keep it in mind.

Between turns, Ryoma asks Xander why he’s invading and mentions a cowardly attack. Xander tells him to surrender and the two fight some more, both doing decent damage. The camera pans over to Xander’s siblings. The youngest of them, Elise, mentions that, due to a bridge collapse, they can’t get over to Corrin. Her older sister, Camilla, tells her not to worry, because their royal blood allows them to manipulate dragon veins. Camilla moves over to the river and a fireball flies out of her, striking the river and evaporating it. The third of Xander’s siblings, Leo, tells Elise to stay back as they attack the Hoshidans. The Hoshidan royals remark that Camilla’s use of a dragon vein means she’s royalty and the Hoshidan prince Tamuki smirks, saying that he’s always wanted to use a Nohrian royal as target practice.

The two armies of named characters start fighting and a Nohrian general named Hans shows up with an army of reinforcements. He then refers to his own army as cannon fodder and says king Garon sent him to kill them all, because he’s very obviously an evil person. A Hoshidan general shows up and we get some more tutorials as Corrin and Takumi beat up a single redshirt. And then the level just ends.

Corrin and the Hoshidan royals run up to the bridge to help out Ryoma. Xander calls out to Corrin, happy to have found her alive and well. He beckons her to come back to her family, which angers Ryoma, who shouts that Corrin is his sister. Xander counters, saying that Corrin is HIS sister. The other royals argue over which family owns Corrin and Hinoka states that the Nohrians kidnapped her. Xander points out that the Nohrians raised Corrin since she was a child and are her real family. As the two families fight over Corrin, the screen fades to white and we hear voices yelling for Corrin to wake up.

The prologue features some good teaching of mechanics, some bad teaching of mechanics, and an introduction to the game’s plot. It introduces two countries at war and Corrin, a bridge between the two that is caught up in this war. I just have one question.

What even is this chapter? It isn’t in media res, the actual point in the game this chapter is playing off of happens differently. The fact that it cuts to Corrin waking up implies that it’s a premonition of the future, but Corrin can’t see the future in other parts of the game. At least, I don’t remember that ever happening. Sure, this chapter introduces the plot, but it does it in such a confusing way.

Awakening did something similar to this, admittedly, but Awakening is a game about time travel. That scene happened, just in a different timeline. Awakening’s use of media res both set up the plot and helped foreshadow the game’s main twist.

Also, the Hoshidans are allies and the Nohrians are enemies. In a game about a morally grey conflict between two sides made up of real, suffering people, it’s not great to start out by calling one of them evil.

These two traits, aping Awakening without knowing why it worked and failing to be a morally grey story, are going to become much more apparent as the game goes on...

#fire emblem fates #fire emblem #corrin #fe14

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missnmikaelson-main · 4 years

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National Anthem

5. June 25, 2020 Part 2 🌶

“I kind of regret not getting that ice cream,” Cami groaned as they re-entered the building, effectively escaping the sweltering heat.

“It would have melted before we could get back,” Josh shoved up his sleeves, exposing his arms directly to the air conditioning.

“Nothing wrong with ice cream soup,” she grinned.

“Personally I prefer the ice cream cold,” Marcel laughed, “and to finish it cold today we would have had to eat it so fast that we all developed brain freeze.”

“I wouldn’t mind any kind of freeze right now,” Cami let out a wistful sigh.

“I’ll tell you what,” Marcel rubbed the back of his head, “I’ll pick up my files and computer, you get the latest videos to review and Josh can pick up what he needs. Then we head back to the hotel and get a big tub of ice cream.”

“Or we could just jump in the pool,” Cami hummed, already feeling the cold water surrounding her. She had what she needed for the evening so she followed Marcel back to his office.

The open door made her pause, granting a glimpse of Kol inside, pacing back and forth with a thick folder.

Marcel barely got out a greeting before a fist collided with his jaw, impact knocking him into a wall where he fell.

“What the hell?” Cami slammed the door shut, bracing her back against it.

Marcel climbed back to his feet, rubbing his face.

She saw it a spilt second before it happened and could only watch as he punched Marcel again. She jumped between them before he could go for a third and held him back with hands on his chest.

“Kol?” Her heart beat loudly in her ears.

“You had no right.” His words were cold and quiet in stark contrast to the wild rage that left bruises on Marcel’s face. “You had no right to dig through her life.”

“I had every right,” Marcel grunted. “She’s spending time with you. We needed to know everything.”

“Elena’s an open book you bloody idiot,” he spat over Cami’s head. “I have known her since I was seven years old. There are no skeletons in her closet and no embarrassing relations.”

“Really?” Marcel scoffed. “So I suppose you knew about the illegal activity surrounding her birth?”

“What the hell are you on about?” His eyes narrowed.

“Read the file. At the back,” Marcel rolled his neck. “There are no records of Miranda Gilbert being pregnant with her, and dozens of doctor’s reports for her brother. Somebody falsified her birth certificate. For all we know she’s not even American. She could be a foreign spy for all anyone knows.”

“Are you crazy?” Kol pulled out the papers. “I’ve known Elena since I was seven years old.”

“I’m not saying she is one,” Marcel sighed, “I’m saying it’s a conclusion people will jump to. False documentation and a reputation as a respected journalist working her way up Capitol Hill. It doesn’t look good.”

“I don’t care how it looks to you or anyone else,” he stuffed the pages back into the folder. “Stay the hell out of her past.”

He shoved away from Cami and wrenched open the door.

“Where are you going?” She turned to Marcel, inspecting the damage.

“I’m gonna go and make sure she’s alright because she ran out of here in tears before I could stop her,” he seethed, cutting his eyes back to Marcel. “I suggest you make this right soon, before I get the urge to blacken your other eye.”

++++

She hugged the hotel pillow to her chest and stared at the desk in the corner through tired eyes. She felt dried out, drained of everything but the tight ball in her chest.

A single page fluttered in the air conditioner’s blast, flapping noisily against her open laptop.

That stupid note bared her deepest fears. She could see them now, laid out at her feet. As a potential embarrassment with who knew how many relatives waiting in the woodwork she wasn’t good enough.

Not that she had thought she was good enough before.

She was a reporter and that made her as far from First Lady material as possible. Not that she had been thinking about being First Lady; it was just a side effect of her other fantasy that involved Kol and a white dress and mischievous eyes in an impossibly small face.

But she wasn’t good enough for that.

She was a giant question mark, and who was left to answer it?

Water leaked from her eyes into her hair.

So much for being cried out.

She closed her eyes and saw it again. She heard the scream and rush of water, felt the ice spread through her veins, sensed the darkness closing in. And then she remembered waking up in the back of an ambulance.

They were gone.

They couldn’t answer.

They couldn’t tell her anything.

They were gone.

They couldn’t answer.

But maybe someone could.

She fished through her pocket for her phone and forced her eyes open as she scrolled, selecting the direct line they called a ‘lifeline’. Her throat constricted painfully; she swallowed until a little moisture returned to her mouth.

“Hello?” Jenna Sommers voice filtered through her ear.

“Aunt Jenna?” Her voice cracked.

“Elena? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Jenna rattled off question after question. Keys jingled in the background, and she pictured her driving like a demon to get to Texas and her upset niece.

“Was I…” she swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes shut. “Was I adopted?”

Air rushed in her ear as Jenna inhaled quickly. Somehow that was more telling than anything she could say. And then Jenna was talking a mile a minute, trying to explain between dropped apologizes and halting breaths.

Grayson Gilbert doctored the birth certificate when her teenage birth mother left her in his care.

She had been abandoned at three days old. That might have stung more if she were still a teenager, but she couldn’t begrudge the girl for wanting out. What sort of life would she have had raised by someone who probably didn’t want her, and who clearly unable to provide for her?

It still made her angry.

What if Grayson and Miranda hadn’t wanted her either? Where would she be?

Somehow she managed to choke out a second question and avoid the three asking how she had found out in the first place.

“Who… who was she? Where did she come from?”

“I don’t know, sweetie,” Jenna swallowed. “I only ever knew her name.” She breathed it then and the five syllables rattled inside her brain. “Elena?”

“I gotta go.” She hung up, dropping the phone onto the bed. It immediately started buzzing.

She ignored it and rolled onto her side.

The hotel door clicked open.

She hugged the pillow tighter, staring at the flapping page as he entered. There was a moment of shuffling feet while shoes were toed off and then the bed dipped under his weight.

“Jenna’s calling,” he breathed, setting something down on the nightstand.

“Don’t wanna talk to her,” she mumbled with all the petulance of a child.

“Very well,” he said, doing something that stopped the buzzing.

A soft clunk told her he’d put it on the night stand as well. Then the bed shifted again as he stretched out behind her. A strong arm slipped over her side and wiggled under the pillow until his palm pressed flat to her stomach.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he kissed her shoulder.

“You read it?” She released a shaky breath.

“He told me,” he tightened his hold as she pressed against his chest, “after I punched him in the face.”

She wanted to giggle at the image of Kol losing it, succumbing to the base desires he liked to hide, for her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do more than smile.

“Who am I?” The air conditioner made a decent attempt to drown out her strained whisper.

“You’re the same person you were this morning,” he propped up on an elbow when she shook her head. “Look at me Elena.”

She blinked quickly, slowly turning her head. His dark eyes were soft for her.

“You are the same woman you were this morning,” he moved his thumb over her naval. “You’re the same bright, brilliant, bloody curious woman you were this morning. This doesn’t change that. You’re still my best friend. You are still Elena Gilbert.”

“But I’m not,” her lip wobbled.

“You are,” he insisted. “You are compassionate and fiery, and the best woman in my life - don’t tell my sisters.”

That drew a giggle. She sobered quickly.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You made a reasonable assumption, darling,” he dipped down and kissed her cheek. “It’s not like I haven’t asked him to do stuff like that before.”

“You deserve better than me,” she bit her cheek.

“You let me decide what I deserve, Elena,” he tugged the pillow from her hands, letting it thump onto the floor. “If anybody deserves more it’s you.”

He pressed his fingers to her lips when she moved to protest.

“Don’t deny it, Elena,” his thumb swiped at her cheek, “it’s because of me you’re crying. It’s because of me he did it. And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he kissed her brow, her closed eyes and finally her lips, pouring his apology into the slow movement of his mouth.

She rolled onto her back as he shifted, hovering above her body. Her hands grasped at his shirt, tugging up until she could feel the powerful muscles in his lower back.

Kol broke away, resting his brow on hers. “Tell me what you need love. Do you want me to fly Rebekah and Caroline here? I’ll have them in this room by nightfall.”

She shook her head and sniffed, certain she looked absolutely disgusting but unable to care or feel self conscious.

“I need to feel normal,” she chewed on her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure when exactly he became her normal, but there was the truth. “Make me feel normal,” she fumbled at his belt buckle. “Please, Kol. I don’t need Caroline and Bekah right now; I need you.”

She needed to feel him pressed against her body, inside her body. She needed the comfort that came from being with him.

“Are you sure?”

She pushed at his chest and stood from the bed, wiping one hand across her cheek as she turned to face him. Her fingers worked at her buttons, clumsy and slow; there was nothing remotely sexy in the way she pulled off her clothes.

“I might not know where I came from,” a tear dripped from her chin unto her breast. “I might have doubts about who I am,” she let her blouse fall away and reached for her skirt’s zipper, “but I know what I need right now.”

He stared at her for a moment before he rose in a fluid motion and circled around the bed. She watched him shed his clothes and drape each piece in a careless pile on the armchair.

By the time she unhooked her garters and rolled the silk tights off he was naked.

And maybe she wasn’t totally disgusting because he was already half hard.

Without her heels she was too short to kiss him without making him stoop, so she guided him down until he sat on the edge of the bed. Lifting one leg and then the other she straddled his waist and held his face.

His hands came up to rest on her hips.

She kissed him once on the lips and then moved to nibble on his earlobe before searing a path down his neck to his shoulders. She snaked one hand down, gently stroking him until he reached his full length.

His fingers sought out the points he knew would make her moan.

Leaning back a few inches she lined him up and sank down. There was a little discomfort but she was still wet enough that she could ignore it.

His lips explored her smooth skin. Moving up from her throat to her face, he kissed away her tears.

That simple act made her want to cry some more, but she didn’t.

Her heart sped up as she moved with the aid of his hands gliding gently up and down the length of her back. He directed her hips to twirl and she moaned at the sensation when his hard length stirred her insides.

The coil in her belly tightened. Her leg muscles trembled with each downward thrust, and when he added that little swivel her vision threatened to black out.

Somehow she held it together and drank in the intimacy of the moment, the way her curves fit to the contours of his body, the brushes of his lips against every inch of flesh he could reach.

“I’m close,” she shook with need, walls starting the familiar flutter. “I’m so close.”

“Cum for me then, love,” he drew her lips back for a long kiss, pausing only to murmur soft words against her mouth. His thumb found her clit and pressed down.

Her abdomen quivered, pulling taut, before the pressure released. Her entire body tingled as her vision finally went black. When she came to her senses again she felt Kol’s drugging kisses across her jaw and his hard length still inside her, stretching her wide.

“You didn’t make any plans for the evening, love?” He nipped at her ear.

“I… I have some work to do,” her chest heaved, hard nipples brushing against him on each inhale.

“You can do it later,” he lifted her bodily and laid her out on the bed. “I have no intention of making this quick.”

“You never do,” she sighed, gasping as he lowered his body over hers.

“I need to show you how important you are,” he murmured against her breast, trailing his lips over her flat belly. He positioned his body low, hooking her thighs over his shoulders. “And I did promise to wrap these enchanting legs around my head.”

She breathed his name while pushing her fingers through his hair. “I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

“You will.” He took her hands away and threaded their fingers together, holding her hands below her risen thighs and smiled, dipping to run his tongue through her folds. “I promise.”

She held tightly to him, grounded to the hotel comforter by his hands and mouth. She lost herself in the euphoric sensations, submitting to three earth shattering orgasms before she tugged him back up.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of flesh on flesh as they fell into the timeless dance. Eventually she found herself on her side playing with the fingers across her belly.

“Do you feel better?” He breathed, deep and even against her back.

“No,” her soft smile dropped to a frown as she remembered the events leading up to the marathon of love-making. “I don’t feel better, but I feel…” she chewed her bottom lip and rolled over, wrapping her arm around his waist. “I feel... safer?”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he smiled. Their skin stuck together, sweat from their actions acting as a glue. “Should we adjourn to the shower, and maybe I’ll continue to make you feel safer again.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she dropped her head to the pillow, “but if we do that I’m afraid we’ll be in the shower all afternoon and I really do have to get some work done.”

“Okay,” he nodded, inhaling slowly, “why don’t I take a quick shower and you can get that work done? Then after you can take a shower while I order us some dinner and shred that file. I hear there is a Thai place a couple of streets over thats to die for. How does that sound?”

“Like you just might be perfect,” she blinked.

He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m not perfect, love,” he got to his feet, smirking down at her, “a perfect man would shred it all. I have every intention of keeping a couple of those pictures.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take some?” She rolled her eyes, pretending to lift away the sheet.

“I’m not much of a photographer,” he backed towards the ensuite. “Besides thievery is more my style.”

“I concede. You’re not perfect,” she let her eyes flicker over his body, “but the view certainly is.”

He laughed and slipped into the restroom.

She stretched when he was gone and got up, retrieving an oversized t-shirt from the closet. The first time she wore it he objected to the ACDC tee, but dropped the topic when she admitted it was one she had stolen from Jeremy and not something from an ex-boyfriend.

She almost wished she hadn’t told him right away and let him robe her in one of his t-shirts instead.

With Jeremy’s shirt on she sat down and booted up her computer. There wasn’t a whole lot she had to do, but the deadline loomed for her articles submission.

Before she could hit send a window popped up on her screen. She glanced over her shoulder where the shower ran and estimated enough time to answer what was sure to be a freak out call.

“Hey, Caroline.”

Caroline’s blonde curls filled the screen. She saw the outline of a house behind her shoulders and decided she must have propped her phone on the low brick wall outside what had to be the Mikaelson mansion.

“Are you alright? Your article is due in like four minutes and you always have it in before noon.”

“I was just about to send it.” Elena split her screen so she could see the email and clicked the appropriate button.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Caroline persisted. “You’re never late, or near late Elena. What gives?”

“I was just busy,” she shrugged.

Caroline went quiet and leaned closer to her camera. She could feel the way her friend scrutinized her through the connection and resisted the urge to fidget. Any movement might draw her sharp eagle eyes to other parts of the room.

“You look upset, but also something else.”

“Something else?”

“Yeah, you look drained like you’ve been crying and relaxed like you just had an awesome massage.”

Elena shifted slightly to the left and prayed Caroline didn’t see her flush.

Blue eyes narrowed.

“That bed is all mussed up.” Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Elena Gilbert; were you ‘feeding the kitty’?”

“You did not just say that?” She forgot her mortification when she laughed.

“You were,” Caroline jumped. “Come on, spill, who’s the boy?”

“Care, I’m thirty-one. There is no ‘boy’.” She rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she sighed, “who’s the man?” She cringed, likely unable to believe she had uttered those words and become a walking meme.

“That’s my business,” she shook her head.

“Well, you don’t want to talk about what’s bugging you, so tell me about the guy, or the girl, or whoever fed your kitty.”

“You need to come up with a better euphemism,” Elena groaned.

“I like mine. So, which is it gonna be?”

“I don’t want to talk about what’s bugging me Care,” she should have known her friend would see it in her face, “I’m not ready. And I’m not really obligated to tell you about my sex life.”

“I’m here whenever you want to talk, and of course you’re obligated,” her voice rose to a shriek.

Elena fully expected Caroline to go on about their friendship and how she always told Elena about her sex life, but the blonde fell silent. At first she thought it was a delay, but then she noted the way her blue eyes grew to the size of saucers.

A squeal broke up the silence and Caroline jumped, hands dragging towards her mouth.

“Oh bloody hell.”

Elena’s mouth popped open, reflexively she slapped at the keyboard until the call ended but a single look at Kol - head in one hand - told her it was too late.

She attempted a smile that felt more like a grimace.

“So,” she chewed her bottom lip, “how long before everyone we know hears that you’re walking around in a towel on my webcam?”

“It’s Caroline,” he blew out a rush of air. “I give it an hour before we’re bombarded with phone calls.” His eyes flickered to her buzzing cell phone. “Speaking of: why is it you don’t want to speak to Jenna?”

“Because she knew,” she closed her computer. “Are you upset that everybody is going to know?” She knew Caroline wouldn’t tell anyone that would spread it to tabloids. They didn’t have to worry about paparazzi hounding them.

“No,” he shook his head. Bending down he gave her a quick peck on the lips. “Take your shower love. Would you like me to answer Jenna while you’re in there? I can tell her you’re not ready yet.”

“Would you?” She swallowed.

“Of course, darling.”

++++

Caroline burst through the mansion doors in a flurry of blonde curls and grey cashmere, shouting as she went. The click of heels raced to meet her in the grand ballroom.

“Red alert, Bex! SOS! Red Alert!”

“Caroline, calm down.” Rebekah rushed over, grabbing her friend’s flailing arms.

“How can I calm down?” She shrieked. “This is huge news. Life altering, mind-blowing news. They’re doing it, Bex! Don’t you understand? THEY ARE DOING IT!”

“Who’s doing what?” She sighed. Knowing Caroline it could be any number of high profile celebs, or someone in town having a torrid affair.

“Elena and Kol,” she threw up her hands. “They are doing it. I caught them. He fed her kitty!”

“What?” Rebekah shrieked. She thrust her hands into her hair, groaning loudly.

“Did I hear that right?”

Caroline whipped around to see Finn leaning in a doorway.

“Kol and Elena are together?” He repeated, the beginning of a smile on his lips.

“Were you not listening to her outdated sex references?” Rebekah shook her head, grimacing as Caroline repeated herself. “You need to start saying something else, like ‘fucking’, or just stick with ‘doing it’.”

“So they're together,” Finn grinned, crossing the floor to his sister, “and Elena’s birthday was just a few days ago.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Caroline frowned.

“It’s the bet, Caroline.”

++++

Marcel rubbed the back of his neck after knocking on the door and waited. As the seconds ticked by he worked his sore jaw and considered the best thing to say, but when the door swung open on a shirtless Kol every thought flew out of his head.

He gaped for a moment, glancing beyond to where Elena sat curled in a chair wearing a man’s shirt and little else.

Some of Kol’s clothes poked out of the open closet beside a handful of summer dresses.

How long had they been sharing a room?

How had nobody noticed?

“Did you need something, Marcellus?” Kol’s voice lacked any warmth.

“I came to talk to Elena,” he cleared his throat, dragging one foot along the floor. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Elena, love,” he stared Marcel in the eye, “Marcellus would like to speak with you. Should I let him in, or break his nose?”

Somehow Elena managed to curl tighter into her chair. The sight of the confident young woman broken stabbed at his gut. With a jolt he realized what exactly had caused it. The bright woman he had come to know wouldn’t cower over credit scores or stolen photographs; that woman would scream and kick, and maybe break his nose for herself.

It was the birth certificate.

It was the connotations that came with it.

“I think that silence can be interpreted for a broken nose,” his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t,” Elena whispered. “With the way my days going somebody will take a picture.”

“I’ll just have to do it later then,” he gripped the doorknob. “Good evening Marcellus.”

“Wait,” he slammed a hand against the wood, holding the door from closing completely. He could just see her as she hugged her legs to her chest and blinked at the carpet. “I came to say I’m sorry, and that I’d like to fix this. I don’t know how yet.”

“You’re good at sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, aren’t you?”

Marcel thought she was going for bitter, but her voice wobbled around the words. Somehow that made him feel worse.

“I’m excellent at it,” he swallowed.

“Isobel Flemming.”

“What?” His question was echoed by Kol, and the door opened as he turned around.

“Isobel Flemming,” she repeated, slightly stronger. “You wanna fix this? Put that talent to use.”

++++

@kol-and-elena-fanfiction @elejahforever @elejah-wonderland @cry-btch @geekofmanyfandoms @morsmornte @xanderling @bellemorte180 @iw1shiknew @blndbandt

#kolena #kol mikaelson #Elena gilbert #Camille O'Connell #caroline forbes #Rebekah Mikealson #marcel gerard #national anthem fanfic

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fashionfiestashop · 3 years

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Til Death Do Us Part Dog Lovers Vintage Retro T-Shirt

It is prone Q1 on our anti Q and a Til Death Do Us Part Dog Lovers Vintage Retro T-Shirt to ensure there is no promotion of violence you see that they’re trying to insinuate that you went on is it is promoting violence which is another mainstream media bullshit talking points when you see them engaging in censorship and using mainstream media talking points as their excuse then you know side there on this is why I’m moving my march from tea spring to a different platform as soon as I find but for now you can get your emergency spring now twitter Facebook histogram mainstream media they’re all engaging. The consequent golf or was it going to happen some other way if he had that attention will happen no matter what with whenever there is no answer whether we will Santos is discovered now that he has essentially caused the end of everything there will be nothing so he will be alone forever is no point having your ultimate power is like stuck their right the only way he can actually effectively matter again is my stock was himself to use the power to repair the universeand and bring it back into existence so but he won’t exist with the new rule that you kids come back come back from death but respect universe eventually he’ll just come back somehow was then owes you will be a godly more but he’ll just be back right except he was the only guy in believes that like if he does bad because he’s part of the creation itselfand because he’s a person with a personality was like a beginningand an end that like that will be the one exception to this reignite universes of fans were right as he had to be outside of it created yet so he can also be in the why it has to be our current continuity because if that were the case that means that Dan is never existedand so that any store within usand it doesn’t happen right but that isn’t the case because a course for starlet is in continuity in the stores that happen in the course merely following the steps back so you don’t but the front of the level of about whether or not like you should sacrifice yourself if you know can never existed no one or not alluded to say I have the I am I am God of the entire universe I will destroy everything in order to re create everything I do give up the power why your God well will because that is what it takes to reignite it because I look to the powerand I aghast of how work in the hotel will it take to destroy everything won’t it to pick up our but it didn’t beat him at that point he saw that all he sucked everything into him yet you actually kill everything you wantedand so he immediately resurrected I guess right or is knowing it from him all the will be over there he’s over here he’d like to it’ll take everything that is him to do it so actually not a good way no so anyway at a more lifelike will all go back in my room so I remember alland is that enoughand doesn’t know you suck you care about that as well here are some panels you know I’m not the only one was spared by your wrathand then death appears a little depth is here to get death escaped wrath maybe was in the room without warlock or maybe deficit outside of all this death was within vessels is meant to so death was watching little girl call warlock moreover Gabe is I technically desk that has to exist anywhere but yeah probably feels like I’m warlockand more will die even outside of the universe so you definitely happen so you anyway so death is thereand Adam warlock’s like you know if you make this trip it basically says come in mind that areand then death shows upand she forms into a beautiful womanand she says thank you to vandals this to talk to me directly she never does that you never done but then she leans inand kisses himand then we like this was the gesture the deaf one from the mall right not killing universe allows primary impressive it was the sacrifice right that he owned willing to die he askedand so he’s like okey doke he like how ironic that my power Avenue really ironic that like my destiny turned out to be a universal healerand so that he expels the powerand then everything is as it was only then owes his dadand that plant that he went to to chill with time convinces the planet that he went to when he was thought that infinity gauntlet Emma Gardner is his cowl is left there the global Santos mask now more picks up is like good on you Santosand then he leaves that’s normal BMV it’s like the end of the status quo that you know marble to be which is the death of the revolving door right but it’s also not trueand he is violating Mr marble still back more woman or whatever else Normal delivered while the more was a different Design of housing in which he broke it knows wonderment Unser wonderment what do you want to come back one more time but now it’s only the original wonder man before he died right you get here. He said that it makes me smart so it’s smart to pay for our military smart not to pay for veterans it’s smart not to pay for teachers all of us who do pay for those things I guess were stupid and the last thing I’ll say ready entitled to last one has never been signed has had to give Donald Trump his tax returns to show he was qualified to be vice president Donald Trump must give the American public’s tax returns to show that he’s qualified to be president and breaking his promise Elaine I have to respond to the leaders Donald Trump his file over hundred pages of financial disclosure which is what the law requires that he can review that and he’s going senator you are going to release the audit first overreaches your tax returns on a huge act since Carol Kennedy for responsible for your current dollars per year your administration do first where it protects us a security which is one of the greatest programs that the American government is ever done it happened at a time when you would work your whole life

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dopescotlandwarrior · 4 years

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Unforgettable-Chapter Seven

Also on AO3 A special thanks to @statell for all your help

Chapter Seven

Geneva looked over the high sign-in counter and round blue eyes in a gorgeous face stared back.

“May I help you?”

“I need to see Jamie right away.”

“Let’s get you scheduled for next week sometime. What is a good day for you?”

“You idiot, he’s my fiancé for Christ’s sake. Is there a patient with him now?”

The office manager cut Geneva off as she came through to the back office and would not let her pass. I’m sorry miss, doctor Fraser has never mentioned your name and I am not in the mood to waste time with your pushy attitude. Either you leave on your own or I throw you out. Your choice.

Geneva sneered at the woman who was at least six inches shorter and hadn’t more than one hundred pounds on her.

“Jamie!”

Geneva tried to walk passed feeling no more than a brush of the manager’s foot between her ankles and within seconds she was laying on the floor and the manager had the heel of her shoe millimeters from her eyeball.

“You crazy fucking bitch, back off me or pay the consequences.”

“Ok, not heavy in the brain department since I am ready to take your eye out and you are giving me orders. I pity people like you. Here is a favor, you get your flat ass off the floor and I hand you back your shoe outside. If doctor Fraser needs to speak to you, I’m sure he will call.”

An hour later the manager placed a stack of files on Jamie’s desk and stared at the haunting picture that hung directly across on the other wall. The girl leaning against the scrub sink was beautiful, lost in her thoughts. It looked like a black and white picture at first, but a band of light illuminated her face showing her porcelain skin and extraordinary golden eyes.

Jamie laid prone behind the rifle and swept the night scope across the land in front of the barn. He was laying out a map in his head to get them across the border, but it was a very long way on foot. He was so lost in thought he didn’t hear Claire crawl across the wood floor until she leaned into him putting her head on his upper arm. He wrapped it around her and kissed her. She rolled to her back and squeezed into his side before falling back to sleep.

Despite the trouble they were in, low water supply, dwindling food, and the expected raid on the barn, Jamie watched the sun push up into a purple and pink sky. It took his breath away.

“That’s a beauty,” John whispered into his yawn. “Give me Lucy. I get nervous with you touching her everywhere and I ‘d be scared shitless if you had to shoot her.”

Jamie rolled his eyes and slid the rifle and stand toward John. Jamie was boots on the ground, hand to hand combat and never found much value in a gun. Especially since he was a terrible shot. It was Jamie’s hands that grabbed the target and yanked him or her out of hundreds of near-death scenarios. He never quit. If he couldn’t get to the target, he would create a way in. His most important mission, until this one, was pulling his commander out from under the noses of his Arab captors just hours before his execution. Jamie had been directly under the floor of his cell for three days chipping away at the floor surrounding the drain, but leaving the tiles intact. It was risky and he had to listen to Dougal get the shit beat out of him night after night, but he kept at it.

When it was time, he shattered the tiles and pulled Dougal into the hole dropping him into the river of piss and feces that ran under the prison. Dougal ran as best he could and collapsed when they emerged behind the prison. Jamie hoisted the man across his shoulder and ran with him for two solid hours to rendezvous with the chopper. He dove into the craft pulling the commander into a seat and buckling the harness. Jamie assessed the injuries mid-flight and when Dougal opened his eyes, he saw the man that wouldn’t quit, his savior.

John looked at Jamie, “we’ve run out of time friend, we need to go and you know it, do you have a plan?”

“I know only that the enemy has laid low waiting for reinforcement to arrive. By the time they hit us they will have all the best technology and weapons to make short work of it. And yes, it’s time to go.”

Jamie looked down at his communication device and punched in the code he had tried several times a day for the past five days. When the response came back, he jumped almost a foot in the air and rubbed his bleary eyes.

“Jesus! They’re comin in hot, hold position, one hour! Thank Christ.”

Claire rubbed her eyes and squinted at the sun coming into the upper window. Jamie repeated the news to Claire and she scrambled away to tell the others. Three happy men shared the last of the food with Claire. Jamie watched them together and was happy she had these friendships in this hell hole.

When the shooting started, they were well out of range. Why announce you’re here and waste the bullets John wondered. Jamie was next to John with his field glasses sweeping the vegetation.

“Two o’clock! Where the hell did they get that?”

John looked through the scope and saw the grenade launcher. He had one shot before the barn would blow up with them in it. In the last fraction of a second, he changed targets and sent a bullet into the grenade blowing up the men and the gun.

Jamie watched the ground in front of the barn and shook his head. “It looks like the ground is movin. They’re comin! Take cover!” Jamie scooped up Claire and set her behind the bales of hay. The bullets would be coming through the walls when they got a little closer. John was getting as many as possible but there were too many. Within minutes the walls of the barn were splintering as bullets came through. It was deafening and absolutely terrifying. Jamie pulled on John’s sleeve yelling for him to take cover. When he didn’t move, Jamie used his strength to pull him behind the hay.

Jamie pulled Claire into his chest and turned his back on the bullets. The walls, hay, and his dense body would shield her, in the beginning. She will still die when they come up the ladder, guns blazing. Jamie would have a surprise for them, he thought, squeezing the grenade in his hand.

The first shells launched by the Blackhawk helicopters blew a large divet in the ground and sent bodies flying into the air. Large bullets from both helicopters pushed back on the rebels until there was enough room to land the military transport helicopter between the barn and the Rebels. With the Blackhawks pointed nose down, they kept the bullets raining on the rebels giving cover to the bird on the ground.

Jamie shouted to the men to run and they piled into the open side door. Jamie held Claire and she pushed him away.

“I can run Jamie,” and she bolted toward the chopper. The Blackhawks above continued their assault until the transport was off the ground and a safe distance away, then they sped off leaving over one hundred men on the ground staring after them.

Jamie looked up at Dougal with a huge smile on his face. They nodded to each other.

“Thank Christ.”

Jamie put a headset on to talk to the commander. “Blackhawks?”

“This turned into a combined military rescue and you and John were never there. The doctor and two of the nurses are American, hence, the Blackhawks. It was leaked to the American press that the surviving medical personnel were pinned down by rebels that took the hospital. Christ, after that it was a stampede to see who could get down here the fastest.”

Dougal reached for a side pocket and handed papers to Jamie.

“We prepared a statement for each of them. Make sure they memorize them in the next thirty minutes.”

Everyone was reading the statement they would have to make in the military debriefing and then the press, but first they would be swept into a private room in the airport, where Dougal would join others and put the fear of God into the four of them about exposing the real heroes that saved them.

John was in the corner cradling Lucy as he slept. When the transport landed, Dougal told them to follow the escorts. Their worried families had been flown to Mexico to rendezvous with them.

Claire suddenly understood, she was expected to go with the others, but she had no family or friends here and she wanted to stay with Jamie.

“Jamie!”

Cutter leaned down to her ear and said, “there is no Jamie on the helicopter sweetheart. It won’t be long sweet pea and you can fly to Scotland.”

Dougal flew Jamie and John to a remote section of the airport, shook their hands, and they walked away. A suitcase was provided to carry John’s rifle back to the safe house. Jamie turned around and looked directly in the commander's eyes and nodded his thanks.

Twenty minutes later a taxi rolled up on the safe house and two filthy, starving, exhausted men went inside. Dougal had dropped off supplies. There were porterhouse steaks two inches thick, a bowl of salad, garlic bread and a casserole with microwave instructions. A bottle of good whisky was opened and poured into two glasses.

John had Lucy broken down and was cleaning each piece meticulously. Not a word was spoken between the two men because no words were necessary. They saved four people, killed at least fifty, and narrowly escaped with their lives, just like so many times before.

Jamie stepped off the plane in Scotland and tried Claire again, it went straight to voice mail which was now full because he had left so many messages. When he dropped into bed and stared into the darkness, he remembered holding her in the bushes with gunfire all around them. Where are you Sassenach?

“Welcome home Doctor Fraser. I trust you had a pleasant trip?”

“Yes, thank you. Will ye let the staff know to come back tomorrow? Thank ye.”

Jamie stared into Claire’s eyes in the picture feeling his chest tighten, hearing his own words, “I expect her to wave goodbye at the Mexican airport and follow him again.”

When he was ready to leave in the evening he stopped in the front office and measured his words carefully.

“How did ye know where I was? How did ye know to tip the American’s off about the nurses?”

The manager turned a murderous look at Jamie but something in his face made her stop.

“Your kitchen table had the whole story. The Honduras map, your code notes, your laptop with search history. It was all very sloppy doctor, a terrible breach of protocol. I imagine you will be retired from the reserves and your military career will end. I have been reassigned, I leave in two weeks.

Jamie nodded his head and walked toward the door. “Well, thanks for gettin me out of there, good night.”

Jamie walked into his kitchen and was stunned to see Geneva sitting at the table. He saw his key next to her purse and dropped it in his pocket. He poured two whisky’s and sat across from her with questioning eyes.

“What are ye doin here lass?”

She looked at him sharply, “what do you think I’m doing here?”

Jamie was not in the mood for this game. He had made his intentions clear on two occasions and she seemed not to listen and continued to act like his girlfriend.

“We tried to find our way to one another but we dinna have a foundation of mutual interest, trust, support, and tolerance. It wasna there and that makes a long- term commitment impossible. I wish you the best and hope ye have a happy life, truly. But it wilna be with me.”

He stood and pulled gently on her elbow, guiding her to the door. Drive safely, Geneva. The door closed and he sighed deeply, hoping it was finally over with her. He poured another whisky.

The next two weeks went by in a blur and Jamie just powered through it, knowing his emptiness would fade in time and he would feel normal, young, strong, and invincible, again. Claire’s picture in his office tormented him but he refused to take it down. One day he would, but not today.

“Excuse me! I am so sorry about this, but I am here to see Jamie and I don’t have any money for the Taxi.”

The manager looked up into golden eyes and black curls falling in every direction. She gasped as her wicked fast brain connected the dots.

“Yes of course.” She pulled a twenty out of her lab coat and handed it to her. “Will this due?”

“Right this way dear.”

She led Claire into an examination room and looked at her lovely bare legs, high heels, tiny shirt, and jeans jacket. Her excitement was palpable and the manager smiled to herself as she closed the door.

“Doctor you have a lady in room three, she asked for taxi money when she got here, and she is very anxious. You better hurry before she starts kicking the door. I’ll be right in with her chart.”

Jamie tapped on the door and walked in feeling her body ‘s impact and her arm come around his neck. She kissed him hard, melting into his arms.

“Sassenach. What happened to ye?”

“Our phones were taken and replaced with new numbers within twenty-four hours but there was no trace of you in my phone or Joe’s. Surgery on my shoulder, ten days in-patient, four of those in ICU from reaction to anesthesia. Released at noon yesterday and went to a dress shop and straight to the airport.”

His mouth closed on hers and they kissed, repeatedly as Claire cried and Jamie smiled. He pulled her into his office and heard her gasp behind him. She was staring at the picture and pulling out a Wired magazine from her purse. The same picture was on the cover and it was named “The Little Nurse in Honduras.”

“I’ve never felt so famous and no one knows my name,” she laughed.

They sat on the couch knee to knee and Jamie feasted on her bright face and happiness. He didn’t want to spoil the mood, but he would lose his mind if he didn’t ask her.

“What are yer plans Sassenach. Can ye stay for a little while.”

“I’m applying for a job actually and I don’t know where in the world it will take me, but it starts here in Edinburgh.” She pulled an add page from her purse and read the add to him.

“Wanted: girlfriend and professional fan, must like hor de oeuvres and whisky, dancing at the club, romantic dinners, and camping. Must….”

Claire was pulled to her feet and kissed so sweetly, touched so lightly she was ready to lose her mind. She looked up with smoldering eyes that were telling him what she needed.

“I’m asking for the night off tonight, pizza or something easy.”

“Done.”

She was moving toward the door, “If I say uncle, I will never ask again.”

Jamie lunged for her once he understood and she slipped out his door giggling.

Jamie grabbed the pizza and broke land speed records getting home. Since hearing the word uncle, he imagined Claire on his bed, naked, reaching for him. Instead, he saw her across the street handing tools to the neighbor while he worked on his car. Oh God he thought, she had no way of gettin in the house! Claire ran across the street smiling wide, so happy he was home.

“I’m sorry for the oversight Sasse”.

Claire stopped his words with a hard kiss on her tiptoes as she pushed him backwards toward the door.

“Lucky bastard,” was mumbled by the neighbor as he dropped back into his engine.

When the door was closed, pizza dropped on the kitchen counter he turned on her and kissed her to the bedroom where frantic stripping led to frantic licking and sucking from each of them. When Jamie sent her into her first orgasm, she pulled on his shoulders making it clear she wanted him to pound into her. Jamie gratefully shed his restraint and pushed into her soft wet pulsing pussy. He felt her body stiffen and a painful gasp followed.

“Sassenach, what is it, what’s wrong?”

“Oh my God, that fuckin hurt!”

She pushed her fingers into her sloppy wetness and looked horrified. Then her eyes got bright like she remembered something important.

“You’re a pussy doctor! What’s wrong with it?”

Jamie had a feeling the pain was due to lack of use, but he didn’t know how to ask her without prying.

He smiled wickedly, “this problem will resolve quickly if ye let me help ye, but first, I need to take a look.”

He pushed her legs open and pulled her into a gasping, needy, trembling state and then pulled her down for a come fuck me kiss that almost finished her off. He rolled to his side, face to face with her pulling her leg over his hip and entered her slowly, an inch at a time. He kept up the intense kissing and felt her lower leg push against his back sending him deeper into her. When he pinched her nipple, her leg slammed him to her cervix and Jamie growled into her face. He let her take him as she wanted and when he finally let himself go his climax shook him to the core.

After a renewing shower, they sat down to eat and talk about the fourteen days they were apart.

“Did Cutter ever tell ye how he escaped?”

“They sent three teenagers into the hospital to count the bodies and make sure they were dead. The boys were only interested in the narcotics they could steal so while they stuffed their pockets Cutter got up and ran. He was never shot, he just went down in a pool of blood.”

She told Jamie about meeting Cutter’s wife and the mothers of Joe and Kevin. She stayed with Joe’s family when she wasn’t in the hospital and cried herself to sleep each night.

“I need to find a home. Get brave and put down roots but I’m afraid of putting pressure on both of us to find a comfort zone with each other. Edinburgh is where my friends are, where you are, where I feel most comfortable right now. I want to find my own place to live, work at the hospital, and go out with you. That is what I want.”

Jamie was reminded of her honesty and ability to ask for what she wanted. Every word made sense to him and he would be so happy to have that place to start from.

“How is it that God gave ye such a rockin body and a brilliant mind Sassenach? You must have gone through the line twice which means yer a smart lass, aye?”

Later, with all the lights in the house turned off and two bodies in his bed he waited for her to say or show how she wanted to sleep. When she pressed her back into his chest he smiled and wrapped her in his warmth to last the whole night through.

The next week was the most delightful Jamie could remember. Claire was so easy to live with and surprised him with delicious meals at night and a spunky attitude in the mornings. When the weekend approached he had a surprise for her too.

“Sassenach, it’s Friday, I can get home early and take ye shoppin for clothes and shoes. If ye want, we can have dinner and play pool for a while.”

Claire was over the moon and jumped into his truck when he came by to pick her up, bursting with happiness. Jamie pulled her from one store to another and her bags and boxes mounted between them in the truck.

“What is yer favorite outfit Sassenach. Put it on, please? Yes, right here in the truck, I promise I wilna look.”

When they got back in the truck after dinner Jamie wanted to stay out for a while and teased her into a game of pool. On the way into the club, his stomach was churning, hoping her friends came through for this spontaneous welcome home party. Claire heard shouts and whistles as they came through the door and she looked up at a table full of her friends. Geillis and Laoghaire ran to her, arms wide, and the hug-fest was on.

Jamie loved seeing Claire so happy and did his best to get to know the people in her life. He watched her turn down offers to dance all night and was thrilled she stayed in his lap like she was staking her territory. At midnight, she was saying goodbye and thanking everyone. Jamie had been in a deep conversation with Rupert and Angus popping his head up when he heard they were leaving. He let her lead and when they waved goodbye she was in a happy mood covering him with kisses all the way home.

Claire was still into tender lovemaking but said the pain was getting better. They made love every night and he waited for her to want more but she seemed content for now. He waited for her to push away from him afterward, but she hadn’t done so yet. He was happy in the moment. Knowing she would have her own life and home soon, he enjoyed every minute while he had it.

Claire made a huge breakfast on Sunday morning. She had important questions to ask Jamie and thought a full stomach would help. She watched him sip coffee and read parts of the paper to her. He glanced up at her and dropped the paper.

“What is it Sassenach?”

She looked at him like she was trying to talk herself out of asking, then launched into the tough discussion.

“How long have you been a secret soldier?”

Jamie looked at her and knew instantly he would tell her whatever she wanted to know.

“I was eighteen when I joined. I had been to the recruiting office because I heard some branches of the military pay for medical school, and that’s all I wanted to do with my life. I was invited to join a black ops group and I was promised undergraduate and medical training after five years. I accepted and never doubted my decision, it was the only way for a farm boy to become a doctor.”

“Why would they pay for college after five years?”

“The lower the chance of survival the higher the pay Sassenach. We had the best shooters, the best fighters, the best recon, infiltrators, code breakers, pilots, and hand combat soldiers. They all became rich if they lived. I was released from duty five years later and shed the soldier's skin like I was molting. I dinna think about the military the whole time I was in school, but I had agreed to two missions a year after my residency. So I knew that was comin.

“For how long?”

“Until I no longer had medical clearance. Lost my vision, or chronic injury, something that made me unfit.”

Claire couldn’t help the tears because she was so afraid for him. How could she attach herself to someone that had such a low chance of surviving his commitment? She was in love with him and the thought of living without him was no longer an option. She would lose her mind when he left, two times per year.

Jamie gave her a moment to consider what he said and his heart broke when she gave in to her tears.

“Sassenach, I am going to be booted for going to Honduras. I lose my pension, bonus, and mission pay which equals more money than I can make as a doctor.” He waited, “it’s over Sassenach. My military career is over.”

Claire’s head popped up and her glassy eyes stared at him, wondering if she heard right.

“What?”

“I’m not a soldier anymore. Being released from my unit would have killed me before Honduras. Now, it doesna pain me much because I see other things in my life that are more important. Things that I never thought I would have because of my soldiering.”

Claire stood up and dropped herself on his lap, face to face. “Do things have a name soldier?”

He brought his warm hand up her leg and cupped her butt, smiling at the sensation he felt.

‘It’s still a covert mission and I canna speak of it, sorry.”

He grabbed her hair, forcing her head to drop back and bringing his lips to a millimeter of hers.

“That’s enough talk of a life in the past Sassenach. I am in need of yer body and yer wee noises.”

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed where he bent her in the most erotic positions, making her wait for release until she tried to take control. Her wrists were above her head before she knew what was happening and he held her this way for a torturous seduction that made her forget time and space. When he released her hands, she brought them down to hold him and kiss his face as she opened her legs and pressed him to her. Jamie had given her an express pass to the wild side and here she was holding him, pressing her face into his, and kissing like an angel instead of a wanton she-devil. He pressed his forehead to hers and every stroke said I love you, I want you, and we belong together.

Claire opened her eyes and looked at the empty bed. Pulling Jamie’s robe on she wandered into the living room where Jamie was reading.

“Will you take me to get a paper today?”

Jamie pulled his keys out and offered his truck for her to use. Claire held the keys with a worried look on her face.

“Do ye have a license Sassenach. Do ye drive?

“Probably.”

“I have a better idea lass, let’s go drive so ye can get a license, when yer ready, and have more independence. Wouldn’t that make ye happy Sassenach?”

With the housing ads folded on the seat and forgotten, Claire drove the truck around the stadium parking lot with the biggest smile Jamie had ever seen. It was a delightful way to spend Sunday afternoon and it would forestall her finding her own place to live for another day. Jamie smiled and decided that was just fine.

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zoequeenz · 4 years

Text

Extreme Aggressor (Part 1)

A/N: Hi, so here is my Criminal Minds rewrite that I started a few years ago. I only have the first three episodes written and uploaded on my Wattpad and Quotev and I thought it would be interesting to try Tumblr out. Hopefully y’all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Seattle, Washington

034321

Z4SALE: I’ll send you a picture of the car…

Z4SALE: New Paint. New tires. Not bad, huh?

HEATHER: Why so low on the price?

Z4SALE: Moving. Must sell ASAP. You up for a test drive?

Heather though nervous really needs that car. She quickly grabs her red umbrella and goes to the meetup spot. The red Datsun Z pulls up and honks twice to get her attention. She smiles impressed. The man gets out of the car to introduce himself. Due to the pouring rain the man has his hood over his head.

“Hey.”the seller says.

“Wow!” Heather says with clear amazement in her voice.

The man runs over to shake hands with Heather.

“Hey, I’m Heather.” She states.

“Nice to meet ya.” The man remarks.

Heather runs to the driver’s seat while the seller gets in the passenger’s spot. Once they are both in the car Heather takes off.

“It’s a 2.4 liter, 6-cylinder engine.” The seller notes in a flat tone.

“With Hitachi side-draft carbs.” Heather mentions while smiling.

“That’s right. Wanna take a look under the hood?” The man chuckles.

“Yeah!” Heather declares.

They pull over and get out to look under the hood.

“You know your Z’s. I’m impressed.” The man congratulated closing the hood of the car.

“You should have your mechanic check it out anyway.” He continues.

“Okay.” Heather says in a small voice.

“How ‘bout I leave you my number and we can set it up?” The driver tells Heather.

“Thank you.” Heather replies as he opens the door to the car so he can drive her back to her office.

As she gets in the driver removes the inside door lock and Heather is locked in the car. She points signalizing the way to go.

“So it’s just...right up here.” Heather pointing to the right.

The driver doesn’t stop.

“Oh! That was..”Heather chuckles.

“Hello! There was the right.” Heather attempts to explain.

But the man continues to drive down the street.

“Uh, maybe just...pull over here, and we can try a U-turn.” Heather says in a nervous voice trying to make the man to drop her off at the meet up spot.

As the man continues to drive and ignore Heather she starts to get distressed.

“What are you doing?” Heather questions becoming more and more uncomfortable.

The man continues to drive and ignore Heather. Heather is starting to become even more scared.

“Okay. Stop the car. Pull over now!” Heather demands in a firm voice.

The man continues to drive. Heather looks out her window then looks down and notices that the inner door lock is gone and that it is lock. She turns to look at the man with fear in her eyes. The driver hits her in the face knocking her out and continues down the road.

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Aaron Hotchner’s POV

Washington, DC

“How ‘bout Andrew? It’s Greek for ‘valiant’.” Haley suggested.

Haley and I are trying to pick out a name for our new baby. We know it is a boy, the only problem is we can’t agree on a name.

“Let’s call him..Sergio.” I suggest with a smile on my face.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Haley chuckles.

“Butch?” I throw out.

“How about Donald?” She asks.

“Hans.” I say quickly.

“No! Wait, wait. Um...okay. Gideon.” She states.

“Not a chance.” I say walking over to her.

“It’s Hebrew. Look what it means. It’s perfect. Gideon Hotchner. Haley says trying to persuade me.

“No.” I say raising my eyebrows.

“Yes.” she repiles.

“No.” I tell her moving closer.

“Yes.” she declared.

“No.” I murmured kissing my wife.

“Gideon.” She ended.

My phone rings. Both Haley and I already knowing what that meant we kiss and hug just as I get a fax. When I get the paper it says missing person with the picture of Heather Woodland.

Derek Morgan’s POV

(At the bar with three women at a table.)

“It’s the 1940s. He put bombs in train stations and movie theaters.” I question the three women.

“Uh, the “Mad Bomber,” George Metesky.” The woman in the blue shirt said.

“Nice. The winners sit. Losers, drink.” I exclaimed in an impressed tone.

“Hold on. Metesky wasn’t a serial killer. None of his bombs ever killed anyone.” The woman in the red dress adds.

“Well, you think all we do is serial killers? Trust me, we cover the whole spectrum of psychos. We profiled the “DC Sniper,” the “Unbomber.” We do terrorists, arsonists-” I explain before I get cut off.

“Supervisory agents trying to get trainees drunk?” The woman in the red dress questions while nodding.

Then my cell rings. It’s from the BAU. The woman in the striped shirt looks over my shoulder at my phone.

“Wow. Behavioral Analysis Unit. You work with Gideon? Were you with him in Boston?” She woman asked me.

I look back and answer “ I was supposed to be.” I turn back around to answer “Yeah this is Morgan.”

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Jason Gideon’s POV

(A Projection of various of victims)

“Anyone recognize these faces?” I ask the class I am teaching.

“Victims of the “Footpath Killer.” I female student answers.

“That’s what Virginia newspapers are calling him. We refer to him as the UNknown SUBject or Unsub.” I tell the class. As agents we don’t like to give the Unsub a name it just doesn’t seem right.

The lights come back on in the classroom. I keep on explaining how we figured it out as pictures of the victims flashed on the screen behind me.

“I told Virginia PD we’re looking for a white male in his 20s… who owns an American-made truck in disrepair. Works a menial job. I told ‘em you find him… don’t be surprised to hear him speak with a severe stutter.”

“Not to sound skeptical, but come on… a stutter?” She questions.

“Where’d the murders occur? Hiking paths. Isolated. If I’m a killer who has to use an immediate application of overpowering force, even out in the middle of nowhere, I lack confidence. I can’t charm them into my car like Ted Bundy did. I can’t because I am ashamed of something.” I tell the class trying to get them to understand how I came to this conclusion.

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Persephone Chase’s POV

I’m sat at my desk filling out some paperwork when my best friend Spencer Reid comes up to my desk.

“Spencer I have told you this a thousand times, you can’t keep showing me physics magic Hotch already warned you once.” I tell him before looking up.

“Actually Persephone we have a case.”he tells me.

I look up and notice a two files in his hands. He hands one to me and I look it over. It talks about the disappearance of a woman named Heather Woodland.

“Hurry we have to go get Gideon.”he tells me as he waits for me to get up.

“No, you need to get Gideon you just don’t want to go alone.” I state.

“ I hate that you can read me like that.”he laughs.

As we walk down he gives me more information on the case. Once we get to the classroom Reid opens the door and taps the file with his hand to gets Gideon’s attention.

“Excuse me.”Gideon dismisses himself from the class and comes with us to be briefed.

“They’re calling him the “Seattle Strangler.” Spencer informs.

“Four victims in four months.” I add in.

“He keeps ‘em alive seven days.” Spencer continues.

“The handle serves as a crank.” I finish.

“Allowing him to control the rate of suffocation.” Gideon tells us.

“To prolong it?” Spencer asks.

“To enjoy it. Seattle’s hit a wall.” States Gideon.

“He gets pleasure out of suffocation?” I ask out loud.

“I would assume so Chase.” Gideon answers.

“Physical evidence is nonexistent. There are no tangible leads.”Spencer says just as we arrive at an office.

“And another girl missing.” Gideon says grabbing the photo from Spencer.

“I looked the case file over. I’ll get some thoughts to you ASAP.” Gideon tells us as he stand behind a desk.

“You’re gonna be with us in Seattle ASAP.” Hotch says entering the room with Morgan right behind him.

“Hey Little One. How have you been?” Derek asks me.

“I’ve been good, lots of paperwork it’s like I never leave the office.” I tell him while pulling him into a hug. He then turns around to show Gideon a picture of the victim Heather Woodland.

“22-year-old Heather Woodland.” He says handing Gideon the picture and taking a step back.

“Before she left for lunch, she downloaded an email with a time-delayed virus attached. The killer’s virus wiped her hard drive and left this on the screen.” Hotch informs us handing the message to Gideon.

They look at each other for a while before Gideon walks over to the wall and begins to read “For heaven’s sake, catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself.” When he looks up we all look over at a picture on the wall. It says the same thing and under it, it reads “ William Heirens, Lipstick Killer, 1945.”

“He never keeps them for more than seven days, which means we have fewer than 36 hours to find her.” Hotch points out.

“They want you back out in the field. Are you ready?” I ask him remembering why he took a six month leave in the first place.

“Looks like medical leave’s over, boss.” Spencer adds.

“They sure they want me?” Gideon questions.

“The order came from the director.” Smirked Hotch.

“Well, we’d better get started.” Gideon says blankly.

As we drive to the airport I get in a car with Spencer and Gideon. It is silent for most of the ride which makes me uncomfortable because is seems too quiet. Spencer looks back at me and notices my discomfort.

“Hey Persephone, do you think it’s weird that we don’t have nicknames for each other.”Spencer asks me.

“Why would you ask me that?” I ask him.

“Well don’t best-friends give each other nicknames?” he asks me.

“If you want nicknames then we’ll have nicknames.” I declare smiling.

Spencer turns around smiling. He has told me of his high school days and they were bad. I wish I could’ve been there to be his friend but sadly I lived in Indiana. A small town but a good place to grow up because it was small and everyone knew each other.

We get to the airport runway in front of the jet and jump out to meet Hotch and Morgan. We walk towards the plane and get ready to go to Seattle.

“Joseph Conrad said, “The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.”

Hotch and a female agent exit the other car and head to the plane with us.

“This girl may only have 36 hours to live. We’re not asking for a judgement of Gideon. We want an assessment. We want to know you’re there to step in if he can’t perform. Are we clear?” she asks Hotch.

“Of course.” Hotch states.

He then joins us on the plane. Hotch comes to sit with me and Spencer. As we take off I look around. There weren’t many girls on the team which kinda sucked. No one to talk to about girl stuff. Our team has always been like this, well I have Garcia but she doesn’t come to the field with us she is a technical analyst for the team. After we’ve been up in the air for a few minutes Spencer begins to read the profile from beside me.

“His first victim was 26-year-old Melissa Kirsh. Stab wounds, strangulation.” Spencer told us.

“Wait,wait. Back up, back up. He stabbed her...and then strangled her to finish her off?””

“Why would he stab her then strangle her? The stabbing itself should’ve killed her if he left her there.” I state.

“Other way around. Why do you think he started using the belt with the second murder?” Gideon asks.

“Strangulation with your bare hands is not as easy as one would believe. He tried, probably found that it took too long…” Spencer tells us.

“So he stabbed her instead.” Derek finished for Spencer.

“And realized it would be hours cleaning up blood.” Hotch adds in.

“Next time, our boy’s got a method-- the belt.” Derek shares.

“He’s learning, perfecting his scenario. Becoming a better killer.” Gideon finishes.

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Heather Woodland’s POV (Victim)

Where am I? Why is it so dark in here. There is tape over my mouth and eyes so I can’t see or speak but I can tell I’m in a wire cage when I feel around. I’m able to move my hands because the man who took me didn’t tie me up. I touch the tape on my face. All of a sudden I hear a voice that makes me gasp.

“What did I tell you about the tape?” here asks in a mincing voice.

He is getting closer to the cage I can hear his footsteps. He smacks the cage and I scream. I can’t see or speak in this state I am very vulnerable. He reaches down and unlocks the lock but leaves the chain where it is.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I sob.

He then removes the chain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I sob again through the gag.

The door squeaks. “I’m sorry.” I sob waving my hands in front hopping it would provide me some protection from my kidnapper.

He grabs my wrist pulling me towards him with struggle due to the fact that I’m trying my best to stay in the back of the cage. He gets out nail clippers and begins to clip my nails. He continues to cut while I cry out.

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Persephone Chase’s POV

We have finally landed and are currently driving to the FBI headquarters here in Seattle. I’m sitting next to Spencer when he turns to me and asks me a question.

“Have you thought of a nickname yet?” Spencer asks me.

“I have not, I am having so much trouble with it.” I tell him.

“Take as long as you need.” he repiles.

“Why do you want nicknames?” I ask.

“Well….”Spencer starts out but we pull up to the building and he rushes out of the car.

Odd, Spencer is never this nervous around me. He is an awkward person but ever since we started working together he became more comfortable with me. He grabbed what he needed and started to walk. I quickly got out and grabbed the last of what was needed and followed the team in. We have to put our bags through metal detectors as Gideon picks his up Derek nudges Spencer and I.

“He never stands with his back to a window. When I was between him and a doorway, he asked me to move.” Derek told us.

“So.” I said not understanding what he was applying.

“That’s hyper vigilance. It’s not uncommon in post-traumatic stress disorder.” Spencer tells us while Hotch catches up with us.

“Just how much disorder are we talking about?” Derek asks.

“Morgan, it’s been six months. Everything’s okay.” Hotch tells us calming me down more.

To be completely honest I’ve been worried about how this new case would affect Gideon. He has a soft spot for the team I know it and most importantly me and Spencer, but more for Spencer. He is a very good guy and I don’t want what happened to him six months ago affect his work. I know he needs time but you’d think six months would be enough. We walk to the bull pin a.k.a the place where all the agent’s desk are. Hotch introduces us.

“This is Special Agent Gideon, Special Agent Morgan, our expert on obsessional crimes, Special Agent Chase, and Special Agent Reid.” Hotch tells the agents of Seattle.

“Doctor Reid.” Gideon clarifies for Hotch.

“Dr. Reid, our expert on, well, everything, and after two years of busting my butt in this office, I hope you remember me.” Hotch jokes making everyone in the office chuckle, believe it or not he does have a sense of humor.

Gideon looks at the boards they set up then says.

“He’s willing to travel with the body.”

“Then he drives a vehicle capable of concealing one.” Hotch adds.

“One in 7.4 drivers in Seattle owns an SUV.” Spencer tells us. “Explorer with tinted windows.” Derek adds.

“Windows that keep whatever is hidden in your car away from public view.” I say.

“Explorers rate higher with women.” Spencer recalls.

This entire time Gideon has been glued to the board with the pictures of the victims. He looks at each board with each victim.

“But how do we know it’s his car?” Derek asks.

“Ted Bundy drove a VW Bug.” answering his rhetorical question.

“What about a Jeep Cherokee?” Hotch questions.

“Jeeps are more masculine.” Spencer tells him.

“We all know how an Unsub feels about asserting his masculinity.” Gideon says turning to face us.

“When did the Bureau become involved in the case?” Hotch asks.

“ After the fourth body. He dumped that one out of state.” an agent tells us.

“On purpose.” Hotch tells Gideon.

“If so, knowledge of law enforcement does suggest a criminal record.” Spencer says.

“Not always, it could just mean he knows the cops are catching on and he is trying to get them off his trail.” I say.

“Or that he watches television. May I?” Derek as extending his hand out to take a file.

“So you wanna see our suspect list?” asks another agent.

“No, we won’t look at a suspect list until after we come up with a profile. It keeps our perspective unbiased.” Hotch tells him.

“When do we sit down your task force?” asks Gideon.

“Four o’clock.” the agent responds.

FOUR..four. How are we supposed to create a profile before four. I haven’t done much field work in a while in rusty.

“An accurate profile by four o’clock today?” Derek questions thinking the same thing as me.

“That’s not a problem.” Gideon says.

Gideon walks towards the board and we all follow. I’m a bit nervous I know that I can do it, it’s just that I am a bit rusty. Like I mentioned before I have been doing desk work for a while, the field is a stranger to me at the moment. I guess Spencer noticed my discomfort and took a hold of my hand. I looked up at him and smiled. He always knew how to make me smile.

“Agent Gideon, where would you like to start?” Hotch asks him as he walks up to the board with victim number two Anne Cushing and he points at a photo and says.

“Let’s start at the site of the last murder.”

NEXT CHAPTER

#criminal minds #criminal minds series rewrite #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x OC #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid series #best friends with a genius profiler

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marvelsbestsuperheroine · 4 years

Text

New York is a Lonely Place

Prompt: I don’t know if you’re writing Ironwidow any longer but I realllyyy wanted to read a period drama with Tony Nat in the 60s or 70s? Or something along that line. Thanks in advance

A/N: Hello, there! I’m so sorry this took me so long. I went on vacation and then I got sick and then I had to catch up with life and then I had to do research because I don’t know much about those decades. This takes place in the early 60s. I hope you like it and apologies once again.

New York City was a lonely place. So many people who didn’t care enough about others to even glance their way, too focused on their own downtrodden-ness. It was the perfect place for a Russian spy to go about her business and follow everyone else’s.

During the war, Natalia Romanova had not felt the loneliness that others had described in overheard conversations and intercepted communications. She had been in her element, focused, single-minded, content. But then she had come to America. Then something had gone horribly wrong in her mother country. She lost all contact with her superior officer, waited for days, weeks, months. She never heard from him again.

Stranded in a foreign country with no new orders, Natalia continued with her routine. She observed, she followed, she took notes. She filed away all the information she could on her target, waited for the day to be given permission to finish it.

The papers piled up. She bought more filing cabinets. She rented a new apartment. She bought a big storage locker.

She had been following genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Tony Stark for 15 years before he finally caught her. And that was only because she let him, so tired was she of this stupid game, of her stupid fixation. She was meant to kill him but she never received the order. She’d been waiting for the right moment, holding out for the faintest sign of Russia trying to contact her. She told herself that that was the reason she had never taken initiative.

But she had always prided herself on not being just a cog in a machine. She wasn’t the machine. She was the whole damn gun and she would fire when it suited her best. Her S.O. had known and understood that. She wondered vaguely what happened to him.

So why was Mr. Stark still alive? She asked herself this question as she stared him right in the eyes, his knife pressed gently against her throat, her back bent over a table in his spacious loft.

“Who are you?” He asked, brows furrowed in confusion and anger. The hand that held the knife was unsteady. She could feel the vibrations against her skin. His other hand had one of her wrists pinned to the table, as if that could stop her. Even that hand was delicate, avoiding putting too much pressure.

“I’m a Russian spy,” she said, plain and simple, in perfect English. No Russian accent.

Stark blinked. “You- you are? I mean- why are you following me?”

Natalia blinked calmly back. “I was waiting for the right moment to kill you. But that moment never came. I have been following you for 15 years. The war is over. We are at peace. You Americans have your own troubles, of course. The drugs, the protests, the conflict in Vietnam. I was supposed to receive an order but something went wrong back home and I lost all communication. The order never came. So I never killed you. But I kept observing, kept waiting. Fifteen years and now we are old and I am tired of waiting.”

Stark blinked again. His skin seemed to drain of colour, his hands shook even more harshly. “Fifteen years... Why so long?”

Natalia shrugged, unconcerned by the knife ready to pierce her veins. “I am a patient woman, Mr. Stark. And besides. I like New York. It is lovely at night. But it is, as they say, a lonely place.”

She couldn’t see his eyes in the dark of night but she could feel the way he shifted his stance, the way his grip on her loosened. “What did you mean to do, when you came into my apartment just now?”

In the adjacent bedroom, the television was still playing, casting its flickering white light and broadcasting static-y music. The Beatles, Natalia figured. She glanced at the doorway. Inside, the large bed was illuminated by the television, glowing like an invitation.

“I came to meet the man I know everything about but have never spoken to,” she replied honestly. “I did not come to kill you, Mr. Stark. I came to you because I have no mission anymore. I have nothing. And as I said: New York is a lonely place.”

Her heartbeat never wavered, never skipped. It pulsed beneath the dull edge of metal twice, thrice, four times. He let go and pulled back, stepped back some more. He looked so awkward, dressed in his pajamas and holding a clean kitchen knife. She almost wished he was still on top of her, still pinning her down.

He set the knife on the counter in the kitchenette, just across the way from her, and turned on the lights. They were bright and harsh. Obviously he did not feel the same.

“Would you... Can I offer you a drink?” His hands fidgeted perpetually, twitching and rubbing and tapping.

She hopped onto one of the bar stools at the island. “Vodka. Please.”

He hesitated, whispered “fuck it” and then proceeded to grab two glasses from the shelf. “Can I at least know your name?”

Now it was her turn to hesitate, but only for half a second. “Natasha. Romanoff.”

If he noticed that her name wasn’t Russian, he didn’t mention it, for which she was grateful.

“And you know my name.” He popped open a bottle of vodka and poured. “Apparently.” He screwed the lid back on. “So why not kill me? You must’ve had the opportunity sometime in the last 15 years.” He slid a glass to her and then came around the island to sit on the stool beside her.

She shrugged. “I did not see a need to. I know everything about you. Your public face, your private face, your interests, your hobbies, your secrets. I know you fund charities anonymously, which ones and how much. I know you tinker with cars in your many garages. I know exactly how much money you have at the bank, how much you’ve taken out, what you’ve spent it on. I know you see lots of women in lots of places but you are always courteous. I know how good you are in bed, how often you think about sex. I know that despite everything, despite my mission to kill you and despite my breaking into your home, you are thinking about taking me right now, on this counter.”

She watched his adam’s apple bob up and down, heard the squeak of leather beneath his bum as he squirmed beneath her penetrating stare. She watched him throw back his drink, shake his head, sigh, then reach for the bottle to pour a second glass. Natalia downed hers as well and held out her own for a refill.

He obliged. “How did you get in here?”

Avoiding the topic. Alright. She would humour him. For a little while. She had waited this long, what was a little longer?

“Through the window.”

“We’re on the top floor.”

“And?” Now she smirked at him over the rim. When she set the cup down again, it was empty and stained with bright red lipstick.

He eyed it thirstily. “I need better security.”

“You do,” she agreed and poured herself a third.

Not to be outdone by a woman, he chugged his as well.

“If you know me so well then you know my vices,” he said. “My weaknesses.”

“I do.”

“Be honest with me. Did you poison this somehow?”

She chuckled. “No, Mr. Stark. If I were here to kill you, it would be much quicker than that. And less terrifying. For you.”

“Right. Great. Fucking fantastic.” He polished off his third. Or was he on his fourth now? He was losing track.

“I know so much about you,” Natalia continued. “It’s only fair that you know things about me.”

His eyebrows raised and he turned to face her fully. He gestured for her to go on.

“I was born in Stalingrad in 1930. In 1931, my parents died in a house fire. I was given to my uncle, a high-up director in the KGB. He raised me to be the perfect spy, put me through a rigorous training program called The Red Room. I was taught how to manipulate, how to lie, how to kill. At 16 I was the best in the school. They graduated me early and put me in the field. My English was the best so they sent me to America undercover. You were my first and last assignment. I had only been watching you a few weeks when everything went dark. I had no more communication with Russia, not even my uncle. Everything I tried failed. There wasn’t even anything in the news to tell me what might have happened.

“I was a skilled girl but young and naive and without direction. When I wasn’t watching you I was studying you. When I wasn’t studying you I was sleeping. Eventually I knew everything there was to know. That’s when I got sloppy. I ate out. I drank out. I danced. But I never formed connections, never made any commitments. I moved from place to place, worked where I could, stole where I couldn’t. I was never tied down to anything in case I heard word, in case I got the order, in case I needed to go back.

“I have been living in fear of going back, I realize now. I enjoy your music, your fashion, your ways of life. Women are demanding more rights. Men are more carefree. Americans are open-minded, they are passionate, they fight for their rights and the rights of others. I have been following the news and I am most impressed by some of the more political figures. And your sports are enjoyable. And I can watch them on the television. Your country focuses too much on money and is very rowdy, but you are also free in many ways. Emotionally, physically, sexually.”

She placed a hand on his thigh and slid upward. He had been drinking all through her story. She knew he could hold his alcohol but she wondered if he would even be conscious for what happened next.

“I have wanted you for so long.” She climbed into his lap. He did not stop her. Instead, he grabbed her waist and held her there, as if afraid she would fall off, as if afraid for her safety.

“In the Red Room, they also taught us how to please, how to tease, how to make the most of everything. I can make you feel things none of those other women have.” Her voice was a whisper now, a breath on his neck before she placed gentle kisses along the tendons. His head fell back, his mouth fell open. “Would you like that?”

“Y-yeah,” he could only stutter.

She pressed the lightest of kisses at the corner of his mouth. He was still as a statue.

“I will hold you to that.” Then she stepped off of him and back. “Thank you for the drinks.” She left out the front door this time, figuring he wouldn’t make her go out the window.

Tony Stark blinked and she was gone, melted into the shadows and the sound of her heels against his wooden floors echoing in his head.

New York was a lonely place indeed.

#ironwidow #iron man #black widow #tony stark #natasha romanoff #avengers #marvel #fanfiction #prompt #1960s au #mcu

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jay-and-dean · 5 years

Text

Captive Chapter 4 : Tapes

gif by @justjensenanddean

_Dean x Reader_

Summary :

Dean Winchester is an enemy.

Every man of letters and hunters are enemies.

During the Great Purge in Europe, when every european Men of Letters allied to eradicate monsters once and for all, using hunters as their cold-blooded hounds, long before the BMOL took an interest in USA, they killed my mother, and made me go through hell. I killed so many of them I lost count, and lived a life on the run. Until one day I heard about American Men of Letters extinction, and decided to try and find peace there.

That was without counting on the exile of some BMOL, and the existence of the two best hunters of the world.The fisrt time I saw Sam Winchester, I almost killed him, and Dean has me now…

He is going to kill me, right ?

***CAPTIVE MASTERLIST***

____________________________

Future warnings : Violence and captivity, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Chapter Warnings : Violence, Swearing, Smut, Fluff.

Words : 7.2k

NOTE : I highly recommand you listen to this song before or at the end of the chapter to enjoy it fully.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Ro3OYiIERA

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4. Tapes

Tape 1

Dean’s Pov

A man in a suit appears in front of the camera. Behind him, some kind of lab, but with supernatural symbols everywhere.

"Oh no..." Y/n whispers.

"You know that man ?" I asks.

She just nods. She's shaking so bad... I take her hand in mine under the table.

The man has a file against his chest like it was very precious. He gives the date and the time of the day.

"We are here because the council refused our project... Anyway, this is an opportunity that will never be repeated." He seems beyond upset. "Fortunately some of us seem way more aware of what it could represent." He pulls on his sleeves and Y/n jumps a little. "We are doing it anyway. We are creating it... In this file you'll find the names of the people involved in the project and the proceedings. This has to be perfectly secret, because our leaders don't approve this experiment and would get us executed for it."

"That explains why they don't want anyone to find the tapes" Sam says. "It's compromising."

The man gets a photo of a womanout the file and shows it to the camera before sliding it inside the file again.

"This girl is the perfect subject. She's young, attractive, perfectly healthy and she needs money enough to do this. We already prepared her. She's ready."

"This is my mom..." Y/n says sadly, her eyes piercing the wall. “I remember her now.”

I press pause, seeing how hard this is for her. Sam takes the file and opens it.

"It says here that they... Wow..."

"Tell me" she says.

"They opened her to carve symbols on her bones, and tattooed her under her hair. Nothing could be seen... Then they send her to seduce the Target. I don't know what..."

"My father" she cuts him. "They didn't kidnapped me... They, fuck, they created me. I’m a…"

Her voice breaks with my heart. She lets go of my hand and rubs her face.

"Y/n..." I say but when my hand reaches for her she flinches.

"Do they say who the Target is ?" she coldly asks Sammy.

"No..." he looks through the file. “No, they don’t but he seems to be a big deal…”

She gets up and takes the file from Sam’s hands.

She’s shaking so hard photos and papers fall.

“Y/n… Calm down” I say taking the pieces of the file that fell and touching her wrists.

She looks in my eyes. There are so many emotions there that I can’t read them.

“We will understand eventually. But we can stop for today if you want…” I say bending my face closer to hers.

“No…” she whispers. “I need to know why they…”

“As you can see the subject succeeded” the man says approaching Y/n’s pregnant mother. “The Target were reached and never knew. The baby seems to be a girl but the powers she will have will make her useful anyway…”

“Please…” the woman sobs.

“The subject is becoming reluctant…”

“My baby she… I can feel her…”

“Of course, woman, you are 6 months pregnant ! So, today we are going to put the subject through a little more tests and…”

“No, please, you hurt her” the woman sobs and the man roll his eyes taking a long needle.

Sam accelerates the video. He’s right. This is a long succession of torture on a pregnant woman, only needles and tears.For the way my brother swallows a lot, I know he’s nauseous.

When I turn toward Y/n, something has change on her face, it’s like she didn’t feel anything at all anymore.Her eyes are blue again, perfectly stern, her fist clenched on her thighs. She’s wearing that armor again…

The second the baby is born, the Men of Letters take her and her mother screams a harrowing scream. This is barely tolerable.

The man in a suit has to raise his voice to be heard above her supplications until one of them injects something to make her fall asleep.

“The baby is perfectly healthy. Her skin is already cleaned and clear, she didn’t cry at all and just coughed. Her navel is already healed and formed. She weights 7,7 pounds…”

While he continues describing Y/n, someone brings her in front of the camera. She’s pretty, way to pretty for a newborn. They already tattooed her…

The woman, Y/n’s mother, ran away and the Men of Letters went crazy. Tape 2 is all about finding her. She managed to elude all their men and the leader of the operation thinks maybe the baby helped…

Y/n is still perfectly impassive. I try to touch her hand again but she doesn’t let me, moving just an inch to make me understand. Sam looks at mewith a questioning look on his face. I don’t feel like having one of our silent talk right now, so I just stay silent, both with my mouth and my body language.

Three years pass during tape 2. Three years searching the mother and the child…

…Then they find them.

They find them and interrogate the mother in a white room for hours. Sammy press play from time to time, allowing us to catch up with what they’re saying but always speeds up when they’re beating and threatening her. They want to know everything the baby did when they were gone, every people she talked to…

Then they kill her. A nod. A bullet in the head and she’s gone.

Y/n still doesn’t move. Her eyebrows just frown unperceptively when they execute her mother like it was nothing. I have to look away for a second, my head full of her scream when I stabbed her thigh, of the bright red of her blood flowing from her head… How could she let me touch her, kiss her… I am not worthy of feeling the way I do for her.

Tape 3

“The child responds to Y/n, because the subject didn’t follow the protocol and gave her a name. She seems incredibly strong and smart, but she was spoiled and overprotected. For now, she keeps crying and refuses to eat. Blood tests came back with interesting results. Food deprivation doesn’t seem to affect her and some of the hormones are missing, her leucocytes are different…”

Y/n is three, her long baby hair falling on her back. My heart shatters looking at her cry for her mother, she’s perfectly innocent, she is a treasure. Big tears roll on her baby face while a dozen cold men examine her from every angle…

They left her alone in the dark, we can hear her yell on the next room while the man talks to the camera. He coldly enumerates what the girl can and can’t do with a disappointed voice.

“Obviously the precautions we used for her powers not to surpass us worked too much. There is no sign of telekinesis or super strength. She is a disappointment, but with the proper training, she can be useful…”

I want to tell her she’s not a disappointment, this is the only idea I have. But how could I ? I don’t even know her ?And I acted exactly like they did.

Sam stops the video.

“Keep going” she orders coldly.

“There is a lot of photos of your back, a lot of x-rays of it. Do you know why they insisted on it ?” Sam says going through the file.

“No” she states.

Tapes 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11.

I can’t stand it. I have to look away. When Sam wants to stop the tapes she whispers “keep going” through her teeth. Her eyes on the video like she needed it, glued to the nightmare her childhood was.

There was no joy or friend, no love, no cuddles. Y/n had to read when she was 4, fight when she was 5. Her fifteen-hour days were full with trainings and lessons, after that, she was locked alone in an empty room.

The first time she had to kill, she was seven. The starved werewolf dug his fangs in her flesh but she didn’t turn, she managed to kill him firing a gun bigger than her forearm with tiny trembling hands.

I suggest a pause, a snack, anything. But her only response is pressing play again.

They made her drink vampire blood and she spent three days puking her own blood, yet she didn’t turn. They stabbed her with angel blade and with normal blades, it made no difference, she still bled and suffered. I fucking did that too…

Something changed on her face between tape 6 and 7. That look on her face she has right now, like nothing matters, appeared.

Then she became “out of control”, as they said.

The first time she was 9. She sat during her boxing training and staid on the floor, her legs crossed, even when they yelled at her. When they started beating her, she didn’t move. When they electrocuted her to make her move she stayed on the floor coughing blood, until the leader came in and carried her on an isolation room, in the dark.

She stayed silent for two days, then she started becoming mad. After 5 days without any human contact, sound, food or any stimulation, she stared begging.

But she didn’t stopped here… She killed her teacher. During her daily 3 hours of general learning, she was electrocuted every time she gave a wrong answer… Until that day she took the electric stick and poke him to death with it.

Her isolation was even longer and she started begging after 4 days.

Then she stabbed her fencing instructor when he landed his hands for the third time on her ass to show her a movement. Creepy son of a bitch…

She didn’t begged at all in the isolation room, and almost starved to death. That’s when they called him.

“Mister Ketch as a really good reputation and will be the one deciding how to handle that wild animal for a while” says the leader of those sons of bitches and younger Ketch enters the room.

“She’s a child. You need to break her with child things” he just says.

Then they introduce Y/n to a young boy. They explain her she obviously needs a friend and leave the boy in her room. He’s confident, kind and explains her he will train with her. At first she seems to hate him, but she's so lonely.

Y/n clenches her jaw, something catches fire in her eyes. I open my mouth to ask her something, but what ? What can I say ? Sammy looks at the images religiously, trying to understand everything, thinking hard, like this was a case, like this was about finding the bad guy and stopping him.

I can’t. I can’t think about all of this as a case because something is liquefying my guts. I just can’t look at her anymore, she’s suddenly too impressive, too beautiful, too dangerous. My mind superimposes images of her beautiful face in bliss when I make her come and that little girl’s terrified look, I can’t proceed anything anymore and for a moment I wish I never knew her because my all world and convictions are blurry and messy now.

She never truly trusted the boy, but he was the first to play with her, talk to her about kid’ stuffs, smile at her… So when he finally made her talk about her hopes and dreams of freedom and denounced her… She broke indeed.

Tape 10 is about her being so obedient it is scary. She kills and learns everything she’s asked to, she hears about Demons and Lucifer. She is taken on missions out of the lab and the results are described as impressive.

In my peripheral vision, I can see a little smirk appear on her face. And I understand this will be over soon…

“The girl is growing. Her body is changing with puberty. No signs of rebellion in a long time but her eyes stay blue all the time now. We hope this change presages further transformations. No sign of wings yet.”

Wings ?

Sam presses pause and turns toward her, she doesn’t move but I can see her eyes fill up with tears.

“Your dad must be an angel” Sam states. “They carved and tattooed symbols on your mother and you to prevent angel radio to hear your creation…” my brother thinks out loud and she still doesn’t move. “I understand now. The enochian symbols holding you down during your development reduced you’re father’s angelic influence more than they anticipated. They wanted their own malleable Nephilim…” he moves the sheets of the file like they suddenly were decrypted.

“Can I go back to my room ?” she mutters and I’m surprised by her need to ask.

“Of course, Y/n…” I start but before I can add anything she rushes out of the room, toward the dungeon.

I get up to follow her but Sam puts a hand on my arm.

“What is it between Y/n and you ?” he finally asks like I know he wanted for a long time.

“Nothing” I lie, unable to find words to define what is happening.

“Dean, I was right… She’s not a monster, she needs our protection. They won’t stop until they have her. Powerful people are implicated.”

“I know” I nod.

“Hey, Y/n…” I say, entering the donjon.

She’s sitting on that damn mattress, her knees in her arms.

“You know this is not your room. I- I gave you a room, remember ?”

She doesn’t answer so I sit next to her. I want to touch her so bad.

“They will not get you. Sam and I... we’re protecting you” I whisper, trying to reach her hand.

She avoids touching me again and her rejection makes my heart sink, I guess I had it coming. So I stop moving and wait for anything to happen. I won’t leave her side, that’s the only thing I know for sure.

“You don’t have to stay here” she whispers.

“I want to” I say. “Y/n, I’m so sorry…” I try but I feel tears spring in my eyes and sobs close my lungs so I stop there before it shows.

“I- I prayed…” she suddenly breaks, her voice like she was younger, her face devastated. “I spent nights, entire nights, praying, begging… I… Angels couldn’t hear me. Angels never heard me. They…” tears flood her face. “They even took that from me. I- I spent those fucking dark nights dreaming about angel wings, imagining an angel entering my cell and wrapping me with his wings. When I was cold and scared... This was my secret to hold on… How ironic this is, Dean? This is a fucking joke… My life is a joke…”

My own tears run down my cheeks and for a second I wish I had wings to wrap her in it. But I don’t, so I open my arms. She hesitates a second and finally lets herself fall on me, clinging to my shirt. When I close my arms around her, I try to make it as enveloping and reassuring as I can. It’s like I was opening my very soul to let her climb inside it to hide.

“You’re not a joke” I say but every time I come up with something to say it sounds weird. I bite my tongue when my voice wants to add “angel” mindlessly.

“I had this dream…” she sobs against my chest. “That even if the world was cold and crazy, g-good existed, like pure and warming good… That angels were watching over me.”

I could tell her that angels are mostly dicks and that this was one of my biggest disappointment too, but what would be the point ? She already knows anyway, there are no more dreams to shatter…

About an hour later she stops crying. I feel her body weight lean on me more and more. She’s exhausted. Sam checked on us two times, and had a light smile seeing her nestled against me.

“Let me take you to a real room” I whisper.

I get up taking her in my arms, without even asking her if she can walk, I just want to carry her. In the hallway I try to walk straight as I nuzzle in her hair and she keeps clinging to my shirt.

I put her down on the bed but she starts to sob again.

“I won’t leave you” I state, knowing what is frightening her so much now I’ve seen those tapes. “I’m here.”

I take my shirt off and lay beside her. The instant I’m within easy reach, she grabs my neck and hides her face against my chest.

I open my imaginary wings and welcome her inside my heart again.

Reader’s Pov

How could I have slept under those circumstances ? How could I ? Sleepless nights after sleepless nights I came to the idea that any small tremor could take rest away from me. But here I am, waking up, after all I’ve been through.

Dean is everywhere. His body big enough to wrap me like a blanket, his smell strong enough to swathe me entirely… His soul too big to stop at his contours and his essence too bright to be contained by his skin.

He’s sleeping but his arms are still warily covering me. I think about what he said about staying with me and, even if I don’t believe him, I hold on to this idea with all I am.

He woke up, get up and made coffee with that same kindness. At first the loss of his contact was almost painful but never left my side, allowing me to keep my eyes on him, to keep holding on to the strength emanating from him. Sam was already in the kitchen and was dressed like yesterday. He didn’t sleep.

“Did you sleep ?” he asked.

“Thanks to your brother” I answered while Dean gave me food.

“Can I take a shower ?” I ask out of habit.

“Yes, of course” Dean says and I think about the last time he took me to the shower.

I want him with all I am, whatever the fuck this could be exactly. But I won’t tell him…

He lets me shower by myself, and I can’t say I’m happy to be alone. I hurry up to join them because being far from Dean is like I was naked and exposed, and because I know Sam wants to talk to me…

“So get this” the tall hunter says sitting in front of me in the library. “When you rebelled and burned down the GHQ, the leader” he puts a photo of Mr. Martin in front of me. I shiver. “…wasn’t there. I think he’s the key. I think we can end all this with him.”

I nod and see Dean sit next to me.

“You won’t run all your life, angel” Dean says and I can see him biting his cheek for calling me that.

Is this what they call love ? Is it possible that I fell in love with a hunter ? One more irony in my senseless life. I look at him and try to figure it out. I think he is beautiful, but love isn’t limited to that, isn’t it ?

“Y/n ?” he says. “You okay ?”

I can’t help myself, I have to know if I love him, because it would be a disaster.

I bend to gently put my lips on his. Forgetting about Sam and the whole world. He is surprised, his breathing stopped, his eyes widen. For a brief moment I focus on the softness of his lips and how I love his smell. Then I break the kiss.

He looks at me with an intensity that makes me want to do it all over again.

“What… Why…” he tries, looking between Sam and me.

“I needed to understand something” I shrug.

“Did it help ?” he says in an exhale.

“No” I say turning to Sam.

His books and pieces of the file in his hands, he looks at us with a shocked expression. When I take a deep breath and try to focus on that mess again, Dean bend on me and puts a light kiss on my neck before standing up to leave the room.

“How do we find him ?” I ask.

“What is it between Dean and you ?” Sam cuts me.

“I don’t know… Nothing I guess. We just… I…”

Sam laughs.

The young boy, Jack, came back. The brothers consider it wasn’t dangerous anymore to be near me. He was happy to see me healed, his bright smile warming me up.

They explained me he was a Nephilim too, the son of the archangel Lucifer, and asked him to take a look at me. It was strange talking to him, because we are so different ; I don’t feel at all like a Nephilim, I feel like nothing.

Jack never let me alone that evening, and we decided to spend the night talking, as we both didn’t really need to sleep. Sam wanted to do research all night but I convinced him to sleep a little. Dean disappeared in his room…

Morning is here now and I miss him. Jack insisted in showing me a movie but I can’t really concentrate, I have flashes of those tapes and since I heard the hunters getting up, I can’t wait to join them. Right after the movie, I tell Jack I need to see the guys, and go.

Two days pass. I get used to be a guest more than a prisoner slowly, using the washer to alternate between my jeans and the pants Dean gave me, taking food from the fridge. But I still make myself inconspicuous, not daring to talk too much or to move to places they didn't show me. Jack is with me most of the time, he seems so relieved to meet someone of his "own kind" like he says. I don't feel like that. I don't feel like an angel at all like I don't really fit in mankind. The only place I seem to belong is in Dean's arms, but I don't want to bother him, so I stay away.

After my coffee, I get out of the kitchen because neither Sam or Dean is here. Jack said Sam wanted to talk to him and he just left, it is so easy to lose sight of everybody in that maze. So for the first time I wonder, hoping I'll meet Dean somewhere.

It is strange going free inside their home, and I can’t help but entering the dungeon to think a little. Everything disappeared ; the mattress and every signs of my detention was taken away…

“I’m sorry” I hear behind me.

When I turn, Dean is standing in the door frame. I feel the urge to run to him and let me wrap his arm around me but I fight it. I don’t know what to say so I just nod.

“We have a case” he adds. “It is important, people are being killed… We can’t take you with us.” I nod with a strange ache in my heart. “Men of Letters are still looking for you, you’ll be safer in the bunker.”

As I don’t answer he sighs and takes a step closer.

“You won’t be alone. I called Cas, he’ll stay with you until we come back.”

“Okay…”

“He’ll be there in a few hours, Sam is doing some shopping, do you need anything ?”

I shake my head.

“I told him not to buy you eggs” he smiles.

I try to smile back but I know it is sadder than I expected it to be.

“Y/n… I hate what I did to you” he whispers looking down.

“You offered me your protection” I say taking a step closer. “You fought for me… No one ever did that.”

He shakes his head and bites his lower lip, like he refused my words. Then he just turns around and leaves. I stand there, thinking of his kisses on my neck, of him being gone soon…

Unable to resist anymore, I start running. I almost get lost in the bunker but I keep hurrying to find him in this maze, opening every doors. I cross the kitchen two times, realizing I’m going circles. I run silently in that sweatpants of his, barefoot in this place I still don’t know at all. Then I find him. Room 11.

I run toward him ignoring the surprised look on his face, and jump on him, wrapping my legs around his waist.

I kisses me right away. His strong hands grabbing my thighs, his tongue claiming my mouth. It feels like he had waited for this as much as I did. I wrap my arms around him eagerly, stroking his hair and neck.

With his foot he pushes the door closed, walks to the bed and lets me fall on it gently. But I never let go of him and take his body with mine.

“Are you sure you want me ? After all I did to you…” he whispers in my ear while I kiss his collarbone as I can, pulling at his t-shirt.

“One more…” I moan, lifting my hips to join his crotch. “Please just one more…”

He groans and kisses me again. Lying above me, he starts rubbing himself against me and I moan again. His hands leave my side to slip under the flannel I wear.

“You need clothes…” he pants taking it off. “You need underwear because knowing you never wear it is making me crazy…”

His hand go south, tugging at the cord holding my pants. Looking deep inside my eyes, he slips his hand in it and caresses me right where I need him so much.

“Do it” he murmurs and before I can understand what he wants, my back arches with ecstasy. “Yes…” he moans catching one of my nipples between his teeth gently.

“Dean…” I whimper overwhelmed by everything he does.

He lets go of my nipple and of my pussy, his huge hands taking both my side he stars kissing every inch of my skin, even the scars I hate.

On his way down he takes my pants down and keeps kissing me. His stubble scratching the inside of my thighs. His mouth is burning and his kisses are hungry ; I can feel his teeth now and then sending Goosebumps all over my body. I want him everywhere, I want him around and inside me.

He straightens, taking my leg with him and keeps kissing my calf. He is perfect standing there, strong and beautiful. Looking at me, he takes his clothes off and I can’t hold back a moan when I see his body appear in front of me. I can see the scars and I can see the freckles, the muscles of his stomach trembling... every inch of his skin makes my mouth water.

He lets himself fall back on me and attacks my throat with wet kisses.

“That look in your eyes…” he groans. “How can you want me so bad…”

We’re both naked now for the first time, and the intimacy of it is making me dizzy. My hands roam his back like they could taste him, my legs spread wider to invite him.

“Dean ?” Sam suddenly says outside the door.

“Shit… Yeah Sammy?” Dean pants and he gets up quickly, blocking the door with his naked body right before his brother tried to open it.

His muscles contracts and his cock is hard as steel, I rub my thighs together, making Dean bite his lip.

“Don’t come in, I’m naked”

“What ? Dean we’re going on a hunt in less than two hours ! What are you doing naked ?”

“Porn” he says shrugging.

“Naked ? …You know what please don’t explain. Have you seen Y/n ? Is she okay about staying with Cas ?”

I can’t wait, seeing Dean naked, having time to look at him makes my body burn and juice tickle my ass cheek. Amused by his lie about porn I let out a obscene moan and catch one my breast in my hand while the other wonder south to finally graze at my clit. Dean’s eyes widen and I see his cock twitch.

“Shit !” he groans.

“Dawn Dean you could at least stop when I’m talking to you !” Sam yells.

“Y/n is okay…” Dean half states half moans when I let my head fall on the pillow and sweat breaks out my skin.

“Gross ! I’m out !” Sam’s voice moves away.

Dean takes three large steps toward me and when I feel the mattress sink I squeal. He seats before me on his ankles, takes my thighs and rises them up with my waist like I weighted nothing to reach his face without any hesitation.

Before I can understand what he’s doing, his tongue is on my pussy and my blood go down in my head, making it pound.

“F-fuck” I mutter.

His lips close around my clit and stars appear in my vision. He moves his arms to take my ass in his hands and I let my legs fall on his shoulders.

He eats me out like he was starving, tongue as sensual as a love kiss. I can’t make a sound, panting, I close my eyes and let him have me, let the world burn all around. The pleasure so intense and quick my legs try to close around him.

Then I can’t breathe anymore. For a second I might have died, toes curling and fist grabbing his sheets… I let out a silent plead before he puts me down.

When he is back above me I cling to him with my legs, my arms and my mouth, pushing on my feet to get friction. I taste myself on his mouth and scratch his back even if he’s not doing more than kissing me for now. I manage to rub my pussy against his cock and that coil grows again so fast.

His kisses are blurry and he misses his target half of the time, kissing my cheeks and nose. Then he lets his head fall on my neck.

“Wait…” he pants.

“What is it ?” I ask rolling my hips to reach his cock.

“No !” he flinches away. “Wait a second angel…”

“Are you okay ?” I suddenly worry.

“Yeah… I-I’m okay” he’s shaking. “Just don’t move for a second.”

Just then I understand what is happening.

“You almost came…” I smile, kissing his temple.

“Don’t make fun of me, you are too sexy” he winces.

“I’m not making fun of you, Dean. Never… This is the hottest thing ever.”

Shit I think what I feel is actually love...

“I almost came before it even started, this is not sexy…” he groans starting to kiss my neck again tenderly.

“You wanting me, being turned on so much, is the hottest thing in the world” I moan.

“No, this is…” he enters me and I can’t hold a scream.

I clutch him and let him fill me physically and spiritually. He kisses me while he thrusts inside me and I can feel him everywhere.

“More…” I beg unfocused. “Dean… More. Please…”

I don’t even know what I’m asking exactly, I just try to hold back the love words forming on my tongue.

He, on the other hand, seems focused, his face his now hidden in my neck and his thrusts are steady and firm. One of his hand is bruising my thigh, keeping it above his waist, the other is in my hair, tangling with them. I feel him so deep it's overwhelming, each time going deeper when I thought it wasn't possible.

“Y/n…” he moans. “Need you to come angel” he says with a pleading voice.

I take his head in my hands to make him look at me. He’s so perfect. His eyes close and his thrusts firm up, I can’t hold back anymore and whimper his name while my pussy flutters strongly around him. He bites my neck when his cum fills me up and nothing else matters anymore.

He barely takes time to recover and gets up a few minutes after, sweaty and breathing loudly. He kisses my lips three times in a row with a soft smile. I watch him put his boxers and jeans back on and sigh louder than I intended to.

I'm still a monster, and he's still a hunter...

“I have something for you” he says giving me a phone he took from his nightstand. “You can use it only to call Sam or me... for now.”

I take it and sit, feeling his cum run out of me. I squeeze my thighs like I was trying to keep a part of him inside and mutter a “thank you”. Then I get up to get dressed.

“Text me your size, I’ll buy you clothes and shoes on my way home. I thought about going to your place to get back your things but I think this is dangerous for now…” he kisses my forehead. “Don’t run away okay ? Don’t take risks.”

He takes me in his arms before I can pick the flannel I wore. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

“Dean ?” I whisper, still in his arms.

“Yeah ?”

“Don’t take risk either. Please come back.”

Castiel arrived just when Sam, Jack and Dean were about to leave. I tried not to show how sad I was, how anxious. Dean kissed me on the head like he liked me a lot, but also like nothing had happened between us.

And silence fell on the bunker. A heavy, harrowing silence.

I am eating in the kitchen, I cooked but then I remembered Castiel doesn’t eat. He is kind and came with me in the kitchen so I am not alone.

I look at him wondering… He is an angel, a true angel, like the ones I prayed to when I had no hope left. But I don’t talk about it and swallow the thousand questions I have.

I spend the first night exploring the bunker, grimacing at the Men of Letters symbols, smiling at the S.W and D.W carved on the table. Castiel showed me everything but he stayed silent most of the time like he had a thousand questions too. When I have registered all the rooms, I start to read the books of the library but I already know most of them.

Is everything okay ? You didn’t call me, Dean sends me and I can’t stop smiling.

I tell him everything is fine but this is not entirely true, I’m lonely again, and bored… And I miss him.

I am watching the last tapes when he sends me another text :

The case seems more complicated than we expected… Another victim already. Don’t forget to eat and sleep. If you like ice cream, there is some in the freezer.

As I write back, the awful sounds of bullets and supplications don’t distract me. On the screen, the little girl I was is slaughtering men, watched by security cameras. She’s a killer, her eyes blue and her hands bloody. She just had enough. She just decided to rebel, in an instant, after a joke, not even after a punch or a kick, but after one more degrading joke.

Hi Dean. I love ice cream but I already ate a whole cereal box. Call me if you need help. That might surprise you but I’m actually a good hunter…

A man empty his gun toward the girl but she is too swift and the instant he realizes he has no more bullet she digs a large piece of glass in his neck.

I know, you’re probably better at hunting than me, angel. But for now your job is staying safe, and eating Sammy’s precious cereals sounds like a good plan.

The alarm is deafening now, and red lights are glowing everywhere. The thirteen years old girl takes the gun from the man’s hand and wipe it on his pants for it to be less slippery with all that blood. She puts it in her pocket, ignoring the strangling man at her feet, holding his neck.

Oops, it was Sam’s… Don’t tell him.

The little girl kills three more men before she finds bullets for her gun, then she’s unstoppable.

He told me, Sam sends me.

Traitor… I send Dean with a loving smile on my lips, currently indifferent of the violence invading the room.

“This is impressive” Cas suddenly says, making me jump. "You truly are a warrior, Y/n."

I take a look at the screen at the moment the thirteen years old girl starts to spill gas, alcohol and other chemicals she found in the lab everywhere.

"I needed to get away..." I say low.

"What happened next ?" he asks, sitting down.

"I ran. I ran and I stole from shops to get food. Then some of then found me and I killed them. It basically never stopped. Until Sam..."

"You were hiding again..." he says with that low voice.

"I had a job in that diner... I even had a coworker with whom I drank a beer some days. And I had a home. A shitty one but, well, I had a bed of my own... When Sam and Ketch broke into my home that night, I really thought I would never have that again, you know."

"Sam and Dean like you. Trust me this is going to be way better now... You could find a family."

That night I can't sleep, although I need to. I just feel so cold and my angel dreams doesn't work anymore. Out of habit I start to pray, but the irony of it just makes me want to cry. After a while, I get up and walk inside the bunker with no real goals. Trying to forget how painful it feels to know your are just a project, a creation.

Room 11.

I push the door and his smell welcomes me. I stay a few minutes in the door frame, looking at the weapons on his walls, at his headphones on the nightstand, and at the clothes on his chair. Needing his presence so bad, I take off my shirt and take one of the flannel he wore and didn't wash yet to wrap myself in it. It is the red and black one, my favorite.

I wake up curled up on his bed and decide to stay here just a little longer...

A little longer turns to all day and the night after that. When my phone lights up I don't even know how long I've been here.

Hey Y/n, are you okay ? Sam asks.

Yes, why ? I just send.

Cas says you stay in bed all the time.

My heart sinks, I hope he didn't tell them I was in Dean's room all this time.

I'm sorry

You don't have to be sorry. We're just worried about you. You've been through a lot, Sam answers quickly.

I didn't sleep the first two nights, just needed to catch up. Are you two okay ? I lie.

Cas is in the library reading and smiles kindly to me when I enter it. I have to stop being like that, staying alone all the time.

"Sorry I left you alone... I'm just not used to have people caring" I say and he nods softly.

"I'm here for you, not the other way around, Y/n"

"The bunker is so empty without them... I mean, I... No offence" I stammer.

"Don't worry, it is indeed... What could warm it up ?" Cas says closing his book.

He stays silent for a moment and I look down. I can't believe than man in front of me is a real angel.

"Music I guess, I wasn't allowed to listen to music back there... Since that day I rarely turn it down..."

"Music it is then, is there something you want to hear now ?" Cas smiles.

"You're an angel ?" I finally dare to ask.

"Yes"

"You're a real angel..."

"I am, Y/n. But I am not your father, I wasn't in Earth when you were..."

"I don't care about my father" I cut him. "I just need to see your wings. Please I..."

Dean's Pov

When Sam opens the door a loud music welcomes us, a soft guitar warms my soul instantly. I didn't know the bunker had such a sound system. Maybe there is something magic because it's like being at a concert.

As I walk down the stairs, I see something beautiful. So beautiful I just frown and stop moving : Cas and Y/n and slow dancing in the library, his large transparent wings wrapped around her body.

On her tiptoes, she cling to Cas' neck, her naked legs stretched to my oversized red flannel on her ass. The dark wings seem to keep her warm.

Her eyes are closed and she didn't see us enter, nor hear us because of the loud music coming from everywhere.

Jack opens his mouth to say something but I cut him. I need to watch a little longer... Just then I realize the lyrics might break my heart for good.

Waiting on an angel One to carry me home Hope you come to see me soon Cause I don't want to go alone I don' t want to go alone

Now angel won't you come by me Angel hear my plea Take my hand lift me up So that I can fly with thee So that I can fly with thee

And I'm waiting on an angel And I know it won' t be long To find myself a resting place In my angel's arms In my angel's arms...

I didn't know I could be jealous of Cas' wings one day but right now I just want to be what she needs. This hunt wasn't enough to make me forget how much I want her... My heart is aching, my eyes are wet...

Angel, baby, don't break my heart...

Reader's Pov

I squeeze my arms a little more when Ben Harper's words hit me hard again. I spent nights humming this song to myself when storms were raging, when my neighbors were fighting violently again, when I couldn't get rid of the smell of blood on my hands. When I was hungry and scared and oh so still little... I never shared it with anyone, so when I met a real angel I thought this could be nice to feel that serenity for real. But this is not the right angel...

"You're thinking about Dean aren't you ?" Cas murmurs in my ear and I feel tears roll on my face when I close my fists tightly.

I nod, lowering my face on his shoulder surrounded by those actual wings I waited for all my life... And once again I imagine something impossible... I imagine I'm somewhere else.

In my angel's arms

In my angel's arms...

***FEEDBACK IS EVERYTHING <3***

@tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @animegirlgeeky @thefaithfulwriter @parinarain

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #smut #fluff #supernatural fanfiction

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uzumaki-rebellion · 5 years

Text

“Stark’s New Intern” Chp. 2

youtube

"Ridin' 'round town, they gon' feel this one Ridin' 'round town, they gon' feel this one Ridin' 'round town, they gon' feel this one Ridin', ridin' 'round town, they gon' feel this one (oh) (Got my, got my, got my, got my eyes open) (Got my, got my, got my eyes open) (oh) (Got my, got my, got my, got my eyes open) (Got my eyes open)…"

Tyler The Creator – "Igor's Theme"

Tony put a mark on his back.

Erik spent the rest of the morning orientation in the Stark Industries offices feeling like a target. He wasn't trying to be like Tupac with all eyes on him, but that's what happened after the Big Boss put him on blast.

The interns were divided up into groups of twenty and given a physical tour of the headquarters. He was separated from Giselle and Curtis and herded along with his group to visit the on-site cafeteria first. From jump, he was inundated with questions from the other interns as they walked from tour site to tour site, and he was already mentally drained by the time they broke for lunch. They were not allowed to eat in the cafeteria just yet and were given meal cards that could be used outside of the building where a plethora of restaurants and fast food places were within walking distance in downtown Los Angeles.

On an elevator, a cute Filipino girl with honey-brown skin stuck close to him asking about what he would study at M.I.T.

"Bioacoustics," he said, keeping his eyes on the lights of the elevator floors they were cruising past. Eighty floors. Stark's was the tallest building in Los Angeles, beating out the U.S. Bank Tower by seven floors.

"Interesting," the woman said.

Erik peeped her name tag. Maria Alvarez. Spanish colonized name, Filipino-American roots.

"What's interesting about it?" he threw back out her.

He could feel the ten other interns on the elevator with them eavesdropping on them. All white guys except for three other white women and a Nepalese woman who attended Oxford. He only knew this because she was bragging about it every chance she got when she was near him.

Bitch, no one cares…

Erik's eyes went back down to Maria. Pixie haircut. Heart-shaped face. Eager brown eyes that twinkled. A people pleaser vibe wafted off of her.

"Just interesting. I've never met anyone who studied that before. What made you choose that?"

The elevator doors opened. Thank God.

The interns surged out into a larger sea of interns gathered in the lobby and heading out to have a meal. They were given ninety minutes for lunch. Time to walk, find a spot, eat, socialize, digest, and have time to walk back.

"Erik!"

Giselle was waving at him and he was happy to see her. He felt Maria sticking to his side as he maneuvered through the throng of people to get to a familiar face.

"Hi," Giselle said looking at Maria hovering near him.

"Hi, Maria," she said pointing to her name tag.

"Giselle," Giselle said pointing to hers.

"Can I hang out with you guys? I feel very overwhelmed and don't do well by myself," Maria said clutching her handbag.

"Sure. What are you guys up for? The Stark App listed about twenty spots ten minutes from here," Giselle said.

"Five Guys Burgers—"

"Phở-," Maria said.

"Hold up, how you gonna invite yourself to eat with us?" Erik said glaring at Maria.

"Who said I was eating with you? Maybe I'm going with Maria," Giselle protested.

Maria smirked and Erik stared at Giselle.

"You called me over here," he said feeling perturbed that they were still standing in the thick of the crowd.

"Yeah, to say hi and ask how the tour was for you," Giselle said, "Phở sounds great, Maria."

Maria held up her micro cell.

"Five-minute walk from here," she said.

"Cool. So, would you like to join us, Erik?"

Giselle's lips had a pouty curve to them and Erik found himself staring at them and wondering some things he shouldn't.

"There's a burger place right in the same food court," Maria said holding her cell up to him.

Erik glanced around looking for Curtis or anyone else that may have a taste for red meat. The interns were filing out of the building like rats jumping ship. It was best to make a power move before there were long lines for food.

"Let's go," Erik said stalking past the two women and leading them toward the exits.

Outside, the Los Angeles smog kept the heat hanging down low and Erik was ready to climb out of his suit and hit the hotel pool.

"Did you guys hear what went down earlier?"

Erik was glad to hear Curtis' excited voice swooping down on them as he walked over with a white guy who had a jubilant smile on his face when he saw Erik.

Erik and Curtis shared some dap and he gave a head nod to the white guy named Owen from his nametag.

"Five interns got cut already—" Curtis said.

"Cut?" Giselle asked.

"Yeah. They were pulled aside right after we left Stark—"

"I was near them when they were removed," Owen said.

"Hey, this is my roommate Owen," Curtis said, "tell them the rest dude."

Owen's hands went out like he was telling a scary story around a campfire, his sandy-brown hair slicked into stylish professional spikes and tapered around the sides. A Malibu Ken if Erik ever saw one.

"Check this, we were finishing the last of the group divides and none of these guys were placed with anyone. They're standing around looking confused like they missed their names being called or something, but then this huge guy shows up, um, Hogan, that was his name, and he pulls these guys away and takes their intern badges away from them. They are escorted by security out of the room. It was crazy."

"But why were they kicked out? Were they told right there?" Maria asked Owen.

"No. Everyone is pretty nervous about it. What if Mr. Stark is doing a ten little Indians thing—"

"That's racist dude," Erik said.

The tone in his voice made Owen tight-lipped.

"Racist? How is that racist? It's just an expression-" Owen said perplexed.

"And it's still racist. Like Indian-Giver. Spirit Animal-?

"Dude, how is Spirit animal—"

"You not Native, so you don't use it," Erik said stepping closer to Owen to punctuate his point.

"You Native or something?"

"Got Native family, so I don't let shit slide—"

"Please, can we save the PC talk for later. Finish about the guys being kicked out," Maria said, her face pinched like she was scared to lose her place among the interns too.

"That's all we know so far," Curtis said.

"Let's go get some food. Maybe we can find some people who can give us more details," Giselle said. Erik could see the worry on her face too.

They all walked to a stoplight at a one-way street surrounded by the mass of interns chattering away and laughing.

"Damn!" Curtis shouted as a chrome and black Lagonda Vision pulled up in front of them. The driver's side dark tinted window rolled down, the beginning of Al Green's "Love and Happiness" blasting out from inside the vehicle.

Tony Stark glanced over at them, dark shades gleaming.

"Stevens, get in," Tony said.

Erik closed his eyes for a second and once again felt the tension of being singled-out from the group. Curtis nudged Erik to move forward.

"If you don't get in that whip," Curtis whispered to him from between gritted teeth.

Erik made the walk around the front of the car to the passenger side. It felt like it took him twenty years to make it inside the ride because all the eyes that watched him made his stomach churn again. He opened the door and climbed in. Tony barely waited for him to close the door before he had his foot on the gas and the deep rumble of the ultra-luxury car sped them away from the plebeians.

"We're having lunch at Durangos," Tony said, turning down his music.

"Why you put me out like this?" Erik said, annoyed as he watched Tony speed through downtown L.A.

"Put you out?'

"Yeah. How am I supposed to fit in if you keep separating me from the pack? Shits not cool, bruh."

"You speak to adults like that with that potty mouth, kiddo?"

Erik curled his lips and glanced out of the passenger window.

"I singled you out because I needed to let the other interns know that I won't tolerate disrespect or racist behavior—"

"Racist behavior?"

"I had five interns dismissed because of you."

"What did I do?"

Erik's eyes glared at Tony hard. Tony pushed his dark glasses to the top of his head.

"You did nothing but be brilliant. And word got to me from last night that there were some young men making comments about you and some other interns who are not my hue. Calling you all forced diversity quota recruits, a minority pity party to make myself look good. I don't accept that type of bullshit in my world—"

"Language," Erik said giving Tony a sly look.

Tony glanced over at him as they idled at a red light.

"I put your picture and your stats out there to let any other privileged asshats know that you set the standard. That way any other little punk with that hate in their heart would know that they need to get their act together and that they are not the only talent out there. Capiche?"

"I hear ya," Erik said focusing his eyes back toward the windshield.

"You have your big boy pants on. You can handle the scrutiny."

"But why not let me have lunch with everyone else?"

"Because you're not like everyone else and they need to know that. Chill. I know what I'm doing."

"I hope so. Will you replace the guys you dumped?"

"Maybe. But it's good to let the others stew. Tighten up the ship a bit. It forces people to reevaluate how they arrived here."

"Are you going to tell the others why?"

"They'll figure it out. The grapevine is on fire as we speak."

"Good looking out then."

"I have a reputation too, not always the best in the public, but the last thing anyone can accuse me of is being a racist or grooming them. I can be an asshole, but I'm an asshole to everyone from every walk of life."

Tony zipped the car into a valet carport.

"You like lobster?" Tony asked.

"Who doesn't?"

"People with allergies to shellfish. Keep up Stevens, what's wrong with you?" Tony said winking.

Erik stepped out of the car.

"Welcome back Mr. Stark," a thin Black valet said taking Tony's keys.

"Hello, Marlon. This is Erik. Get used to seeing his face."

"Yes, Sir," Marlon said jumping into Tony's car and whipping it away down the street.

"Yeah, I need to talk to him about that speeding," Tony said watching his car disappear.

Erik followed Tony into Durangos and the hostess at the door lead Tony right away to a private seat in the back.

Tony immediately reached for the wine and spirits menu.

"You drink?" he asked Erik.

"I'm nineteen."

"I didn't ask for your age, I asked if you drank."

"I could go for some Henny," Erik said reaching for the other drink menu.

Tony slapped his hand.

"What's wrong with you? You’re underaged young man. Shameful!"

"You got jokes," Erik said leaving the drink menu alone.

"I'll get you a Shirley Temple. More your speed—"

"Tony!"

"And here we go…" Tony said slipping his drink menu in front of Erik's place setting.

A severe-looking slender blonde with sharp features and a nasal-sounding voice stomped over to Tony's table.

"You are so predictable," the woman said as a scowl spread on her face.

"Hey Pepper. Have you met Erik? Erik this is my assistant, Pepper Potts."

Erik allowed his eyes to flick back and forth between them.

"W'sup Pepper?" Erik said.

###

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

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#killmonger #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger imagine #tony stark #black panther fanfiction #black panther fanfic #stark's new intern

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victorianoir · 4 years

Text

The Detective and the ManFatale, Part 4

Onward!!!! Part 4!!! The end of the ManFatale arc!!!! If you’re like “WTF is this?” you can read all of it by going to my MASTERPOST for The Detective and the Tech Guy. If you want to read this chapter on fanfiction.net, you can do that by clicking >THIS<.

Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He'd just had to steal a parking spot from a little old lady who was just barely able to see over her steering wheel, and he felt bad about that, he really did. But it meant he was able to catch up to Sarah fast enough to be able to see her enter the office building she'd told him about earlier.

Just like she'd said, the building was off of Melrose, in SoHo. But he didn't follow her inside. Instead, he moved behind a short palm that was planted in a courtyard off to the side, complete with benches and planters. He leaned against the trunk of it and stared at the entrance.

He was old hat at this now, after a few days of tailing that asshole Fake Cartwright. Robbie. Pfft.

Maybe tailing his girlfriend while she was working wasn't the greatest thing he'd ever done in their relationship, granted. And she would probably be so mad at him if she knew he'd gotten in his car and followed her as best he could without getting too close, knowing she was way too smart to let herself be followed as closely as he wanted to. He'd nearly lost her a few times even, but he'd gotten back on track eventually, not wanting to be directly in her line of sight because she was a damn detective and she knew what his damn car looked like.

But it scared him to death hearing her yell, the dial tone…Seeing those papers scattered over the floor as though she'd had the file in her hand when Not-Cartwright had broken in, grabbed her, and yanked her out. God, the things he'd been unable to keep himself from imagining on the way there.

And then when he saw she was safe, when he held her in his arms, having to watch her leave again to go someplace potentially dangerous, and with no cell phone, no way to contact him, or more importantly, the police. That mean Detective Casey guy. God, that guy was a jerk. But at least he'd be able to back Sarah up if she called him, if she was in danger.

So Chuck had done the only thing he could think of to make sure she was okay. He'd followed her. He did have a cellphone. And a vested interest in her safety, damn it.

And he was going to watch those doors like a hawk. If this Jerald Brown fellow wasn't the upstanding tech guru Chuck had always figured he was in spite of never meeting him face to face, Chuck would take him down himself. He'd played flag football in junior high P.E. He knew what he was about.

He waited, waited…waited some more…

Until he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. He ducked back behind the palm tree as best he could and watched as the man he now knew wasn't Robert Cartwright strolled up the sidewalk towards the building, in his off-white suit, pale pink tie, suede shoes. A chill went through Chuck as the man stopped and took his sunglasses off, peering up at the very same building Sarah had just gone into to meet the man this imposter hired her to investigate.

His phone was in his hand immediately. He didn't have a direct line to Detective John Casey, but all he had to do was press three numbers.

There was no reason why this man should know what was happening in there. There was no reason why this man should know about this building in the first place, unless…well, unless he knew. Had he followed Sarah, too? Or had he followed Brown?

How did he know?

Oh God. God, Sarah didn't have her cellphone. And now he was going up the steps. If Chuck followed him, he wouldn't be able to stop him. This man was a seasoned criminal and possibly a killer. He definitely had a weapon.

God, he was opening the door.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"There's a woman being attacked inside of an office. A man went in there and he's attacking her. He has a weapon." He gave the address, told the operator she needed to hurry, and he hung up again.

It killed him, absolutely destroyed him, to move away from the building. He felt like he was dying as he spun on his heel and sprinted back to his car. He was leaving her in there, alone, and he was so terrified he was on the verge of a breakdown. He was angry with himself, sick with himself, and still he got into his car, turned it on, and with only a half glance back at the building his girlfriend was currently inside of with an angry, potentially murderous conman, he sped away from her.

God, he hoped he was doing the right thing. He hoped to any deity that was listening that he was doing the right thing.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Sarah's hand twitched automatically, ready to draw and put this imposter on the ground with a hole in his chest, but before she could do anything else, there was a loud bang and the arm of her chair exploded in splinters.

She yelped and fell out of the chair onto the floor, holding her hands up, her life having just flashed before her eyes.

That had been an extremely precise shot, not meant to hurt her…a warning that he would hurt her if she gave him any sort of reason to. He'd just missed her but she had scratches on her wrist and the back of her hand from the splintered wood exploding next to her.

"Stand up, kick your gun over here, Miss Walker," he demanded coolly, the South African accent gone. His American accent sounded practiced, too, however. "And then keep your hands in the air. You move wrong and I'll shoot you between the eyes. I've got nothing to lose now. Don't think I won't shoot a pretty girl…"

Sarah stood up and carefully went into her holster, pulling her gun out, setting it on the ground and sliding it across the tile floor to the conman.

"You stand up, too, ya fat fuck," the imposter said to Brown, reaching behind him to shut the door as much as he could with how he'd broken the handle getting in.

The private investigator and ex-Pinkerton detective felt anger start to rise inside of her. Not only did this fucker take a shot at her, he was going around calling good men 'fat fucks' too? She clenched her jaw, unable to help herself.

"You think you're a big boy now that you have that gun pointed at us," she said, keeping her hands up. But God she could feel that knife at her hip, and the ones strapped to her thigh and her fingers itched for them. But the only safe thing to do was to throw verbal barbs at him, so she kept going. "You can insult Mr. Brown when you've got a gun trained on 'im, but I bet just a few days ago, you were kissing his ass, weren't you?"

"Who the hell do you think you are, bitch?" She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Sarah Walker, private investigator. Without those legs, you'd be working at an Abercrombie & Fitch spraying perfume at teenagers."

She inwardly smirked. He might be a dangerous conman, and a smart enough criminal to have gotten away with his ruse for this long, but he hadn't done his homework apparently. He had no idea she'd been a Pinkerton detective. He had no idea whom he was dealing with.

"You picked the wrong P.I. to hire, Cartwright," Brown said, his voice a little shaky as he stood behind her, still at his wife's desk. "She's not just good at her job, she has a moral compass, and a nose for sniffing out criminal lowlifes."

"I did all right, didn't I? Who's standing here with the gun?"

"What are you gonna do?" Brown asked, seeming to gain a bit more confidence now. "Kill us?"

"Yes, actually. I am. Nobody knows we're here." That was true, Sarah thought miserably. Chuck only knew that she'd gone to an office building in SoHo off of Melrose. There were a handful of them. And he'd have no way of knowing if something bad was happening to her. God, she wished so hard for his paranoia, his idiotic jealous paranoia, that worried crease he'd had between his eyebrows…Please, Chuck… Maybe she could telepathically project terror at him and he'd feel something. They were close enough, emotionally bonded, weren't they? She'd never been so connected to anyone else in her entire life. Wasn't that how that weird crap worked?

Please, please, please, Chuck…

"What did you do with Cartwright?" she asked. If she could just get him talking, she could stall whatever it was he meant to do with them.

"I didn't touch the rat bastard. It wasn't me," he groused. "Wish it had been. He was a lousy piece of shit by all accounts, swimming in his money, an asshole to everyone, greedy."

"So he is dead, then. Who did it if it wasn't you?"

"He's dead. There was a storm, destroyed his boat probably. Found some wreckage where I was in Point d'Esny. Also found his body. Nobody else was on the beach so I took everything I could carry, took his body out onto the water, and dropped it with a bag of sand. Got rid of his boat altogether. Wasn't until a few days later I found out he was a Cape Town big shot. But he was a recluse, too. Nobody ever really saw him much at all. Perfect opportunity for me." He shrugged, and Sarah watched for any opportunity she might have to catch him off guard, but this obviously wasn't the first time he'd held a gun on someone. And she was sure this wouldn't be the first time he'd killed either…if it turned out he got that far.

And oh God, what would she do if he started shooting to kill?

"How did you even pull this off?" Brown asked.

"Easy. When the guy was alive and had less dead-bloat than he had when I found 'im, we looked pretty similar I guess. His IDs all worked long enough for me to forge new ones. Nobody asked any questions when Robert Cartwright showed up in Los Angeles for business. The checks all worked, the bank tellers all let me walk right in, the credit cards worked. I've made a fortune off of this guy, all because he was a shitty sailor."

He kissed the tips of his fingers.

"You're deplorable," Sarah said.

"Mmhmm. Deplorable enough to kill you two so I can get away with it all."

Brown cursed. "You aren't getting away with a damn thing!"

"I am. I've already destroyed any records that I was ever here. I've sold most of his African possessions, withdrawn every last cent I could from the banks. After I'm gone, they'll probably file a missing persons report." He chuckled and grinned a now twisted version of Alain Delon's smile. She wished she could apologize to the French actor for ever thinking he was similar.

This asshole wished…

ManFatale, Chuck had called him near the beginning of this damn job. She'd made fun of him then, but now she saw just how right he was. There was a good chance she was dying here today, in this office with the knitted pillows. Underestimating this bastard was her downfall.

"You don't think they'll dog your steps no matter where you go?" she asked then, starting to let anger overtake her fear. She liked anger better. It was better than giving in to despair, despair that she'd seen Chuck for the last time not an hour ago, climbing into his fuel-efficient car, after trying to make her take his phone. Maybe if she'd taken it, she could've secretly hit the emergency button on it.

What was he going to do?

What would he do if she died here today?

Oh, God…

No. Anger. Anger was better.

"I've covered my tracks."

"You haven't covered shit. The FBI, the CIA, the NSA, they've all got guys who find pieces of shit like you every single day. You aren't getting away it with no matter what you do to us," she hissed through her teeth.

The imposter angled his gun down suddenly and shot, sending a bullet clattering into the ground at her feet. She screamed and clasped her hands to her mouth, jumping away. He raised the gun and shot again, hitting the desk right next to her hip and she fell to the side, onto the floor. Brown knelt down behind her, a protective move, but this time the bullet that came from the imposter's gun was true.

Brown hit the tile hard, a hole in his shoulder as he cried out in pain.

Holy shit!

Now there was fear inside of her. Abject fear as she acted fast, grabbing Brown's hand and making him press it against his wound. "Just hold it…press down, you'll be okay…"

"Get up," the imposter growled at her, stepping closer. She ignored him as she tried to help the injured man. "I said get up!" he yelled this time, grabbing her by her hair and yanking her to her feet.

She heard sirens in the distance and she knew as his eyes darted to the side in momentary worry that this was her one and only chance to get herself and Jerald Brown out of here alive.

Sarah Walker, P.I. struck fast. She swung her left arm around, clamped her fingers around his wrist and pushed the gun away from her temple where he'd been holding it. He pulled the trigger, breaking the window behind her, and the sound of it startled him enough that she was able to bring her knee up and back and slam her heel right between his legs.

He yelled in pain as she snapped the arm that had the gun down across her knee, hearing the crack of his bone breaking and the clatter of the gun hitting the floor. She kicked it away as he fell hard onto his back and she crawled onto him, slamming her fist down into his face, over and over and over and over again until he put his non-injured arm up and begged her to stop.

Just then the door burst right off of its hinges, police officers racing inside.

"GET ON THE GROUND!" an LAPD officer barked, and in spite of the fact that he might not be talking to her, she crawled down onto her knees and put her hands behind her head. She didn't know who or what had brought the police here but she wasn't about to be shot for trying to explain right away when they were attempting to take control of the situation.

Once the yelling stopped and the police had clambered over to Brown who was still conscious but whimpering, an officer grabbed her by her arm and hoisted her up. "My name is Sarah Walker, private investigator. That man broke in while I was in a meeting with Mr. Brown and held a gun on us. He shot him. Tried to…tried to shoot me, too." She was breathless, and she realized that in spite of being in scenarios with guns, bombs, and other terrifying situations, this had been one of the closest shaves she'd had.

And she had a lot more to lose this time.

She had to press her lips together and blink a few times to keep the rush of terrified tears at bay.

"All right, miss. Just come over here and sit in this chair. Your name again…?"

"Sarah Walker," she murmured, trying to take deep breaths. "I own Walker Investigative Enterprises. I've-I've got a P.I. license."

The two officers exchanged flat looks. "A P.I., huh?"

This had been too traumatic for her to find the willpower to give them dirty looks for that.

"Get an ambulance here, we've got two men in need of medical attention," one of the cops said into their walky-talky. "One gunshot wound. Another with abrasions to the face, broken arm."

Sarah thought about how badly she wished she could've given him more abrasions to the face, and she thought maybe she was starting to feel more like herself now that the danger had abated. Though her ear was ringing bad from that gun going off so close to it.

"You're Sarah Walker, that's Jerald Brown…and who is this guy?" The cop gestured to Fake Cartwright.

Paramedics rushed in then, tending to Brown first and getting him lifted onto a gurney.

"A criminal," Sarah said. "If you look up Robert Cartwright, you'd find this man's picture. But he-he isn't Robert Cartwright."

"Huh?"

She explained the situation to them for the next three minutes, accepting the strong coffee one of them gave her, and the blanket the other one wrapped around her shoulders. She didn't know when she'd begun to shiver. And it wasn't from the cold.

As she realized she was just barely keeping from slipping into shock, suddenly there was a shuffling of people at the door and Detective John Casey was there, his hulking figure taking up the entire doorway practically. "Whatever she said about him, it's true," he said, pointing over her shoulder. "Cartwright's an imposter." He pulled his badge out as he walked into the room and flashed it at the officers. "I'll handle the questioning from here, officers."

They both nodded and moved away.

And that was when she looked up to see Chuck step out from behind the detective, his eyes finding her immediately.

"Sarah…"

"Chuck!"

She left the coffee and the blanket behind, surging to her feet just in time for his body to crash into hers, his arms so strong as they folded her up against him, so warm and safe and everything she'd needed the moment this had all ended.

Sarah felt her boyfriend's lips against her hair, and then her temple, and her cheek, and he just held her so tight. She didn't ever want to let go. Ever.

And she heard him curse, his hand coming up to brush over her hair. "Are you okay?" he asked finally. "Did he hurt you? I'll kill him."

"Maybe not the smartest thing to say in front of the LAPD, idiot," Casey grumbled from where he was standing over Chuck's shoulder.

She ignored him, though, burying her face in Chuck's neck and letting herself cry just a little. She'd been so scared she'd never see him again. So scared she'd never feel this. Or eat one of his waffles he made that were never thick enough or cooked as much as she wanted them to be because he didn't put enough batter in, and didn't leave it in the iron long enough. Because he was too impatient, like a little boy.

"I'm okay," she gasped out, trying to hold back still and not doing a great job of it. "I'm okay. I love you."

"I love you, too," he said immediately, holding her even tighter, pressing his lips against her temple and keeping them there.

She finally pulled back, letting him cup her face and kiss her properly, and then he kissed the remnants of the few tears she'd shed away. "What—How?" she asked.

"I…" He winced. "I was worried. Super, super worried. I had this weird feeling in my gut letting you drive off to this meeting with no cell phone or anything. So I…gah, I followed you. I know you—you probably…" He huffed at her impatient look. "You're right. Let's table that. I was waiting outside, 'cause I'm your man and I wanted to have your back in case things got cray. But then while I was waiting, I saw that fake-ass mother fucker walk up with his cheesy as hell B-List sunglasses and that shit-eating smirk, and I knew right away that you were in trouble." A smile began to grow on her face as she watched him start to get riled up now as he told his story. "I was going to run after him and strangle him or roundhouse kick him in the jaw or somethin' but then I figured I'd most likely get shot and you'd never forgive me if that happened. So I called 9-1-1 instead and got in my car to come find Cas—Casey—Detective Casey." He cleared his throat at the glare the older man sent him.

"You're insane," she breathed, swallowing another sob and throwing her arms around his neck, letting him lift her enough that her feet were dangling a few inches off the floor, and they stayed like that for long enough that Casey finally cleared his throat.

Chuck set her down and she resisted the urge to kiss him again, longing in her gaze as she peered up at him for a moment…And then she turned to John Casey and nodded.

"Yeah, well…S'a miracle we even got here when we did what with this moron driving like a fuckin' grandma."

"What?!" Chuck spun on his heels to face the LAPD detective. "That's not even true! I was going fast! Things were whizzing past my window!" He let go of her arm with one hand and mimicked swishing his hand back and forth past his head manically.

"Right. Sure. Walker, I'm gonna need you at the station. Your secretary here only gave me the highlights. He can't talk and drive at the same time." Casey turned and headed for the door.

"Are you serious right now?" Chuck asked, his pitch getting a bit higher. "Secretary? How many times do I—?" They both began to follow after him then, Sarah's fist twisted in Chuck's sleeve, pulling him along. "Oh. He's messing with me, isn't he?"

She heard the amused grunt from the cop as he pressed the button to call the elevator, and she saw the small smirk on his face. It made her feel so glad to be alive.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

It had only taken twenty minutes for Detective Casey to eject Chuck from the room where he'd taken them for questioning. She'd had to watch as he interrupted one final time—"Sarah, tell him about…"—then Casey's patience, which had been wearing thin already no doubt, snapped. He stood up, grabbed Chuck by his arm, and escorted him out of the room, shutting the door in his face.

She'd had to smirk inwardly at the cute, offended sounds of confusion that her boyfriend made until he was locked out on the other side of the door where he could no longer interrupt.

Casey'd finally sat down across from her again, and she'd told him every last detail she could, even letting him have the files she'd kept in her briefcase that she'd had during the meeting with Brown, in case he'd needed convincing.

"So what made you so sure of Jerald Brown that you ended up focusing most of your efforts on investigating your client, rather than investigating the guy he was paying you to investigate?" Casey asked, forty-five minutes into their meeting.

"Part of it was the fact that I spent three days tailing him, going through his background, his financial records, combing through his personal life, and I'd found absolutely nothing to make me think he was anything other than a good businessman, and a good man in general. Not that he was without faults, but none of it was illegal or reprehensible. No illicit affairs, no fraud, nothing untoward." She shrugged.

"And the other part?"

"Chuck insisted he was a commendable man."

Casey scoffed. "You took him at his word?"

"I always do," she said, holding her chin high. "He knows who is who in his own industry, and he's a commendable man himself."

"Don't get defensive, Walker."

"I did my homework. And on the other side, I had this guy who, for all intents and purposes, was very smooth, seemed to know just what to say to every question or comment I had during our meetings, and…this was the key…the more time I spent in these meetings with who I thought was Robert Cartwright, the more I got the feeling he wanted me to find something wrong."

Casey grunted, thunking a pen against his chin a few times, thoughtfully. Then he narrowed his eyes. "I get where you're going. Instead of wanting you to just check and make sure this potential future business associate was on the level, and being relieved when you kept coming back with confirmation that he was, Cartwright seemed like he was digging for some dirt on him instead."

"Exactly. It was sneaky. And it made me super suspicious."

"Hmng," Casey tossed the pen on the table and pushed his chair back. "Don't blame ya. That was pretty good work, Detective. Don't take this the wrong way," he started, which was always a stellar way for another person to start a statement, she thought wryly, "but I'm curious as to why ya didn't just take the money and let this lie."

Sarah crossed her arms and stood up from her chair, nibbling on her bottom lip. "I'm not that kind of P.I., Detective Casey. I want to make a living off of this P.I. business I'm building, but not at the expense of innocent people, and not to aid and abet criminals. I'm operating on the right side of the law."

"So no adultery cases, huh?" He grinned a bit lecherously and she glared at him.

"If someone comes in offering me the right amount of money to try to catch their partner with someone else, depending on the person and the case, I might accept. But what business is that of yours?"

"It ain't. Lighten up. Yeesh." He held his hands up defensively, one of the gestures that infuriated her the most when men did it at her.

"Is that all you need from me?"

"Yeah. But make sure to stick around for a week or so while we work on this case. We may need the FBI in on this if he's committed crimes like this before, and they'll be bringing the South African and Cape Town authorities in, I'm sure."

"I will," she said, getting up and walking towards the door. "Oh. Here." She came back and set all of the work she'd done down on his desk. "I'm sure you folks'll need this." He deserved the snarky smirk she sent him, and the look on his face told him he probably knew he deserved it, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud ever in a million years.

"Thanks. And uh…make sure you take care of that hand. Don't think I didn't see you trying to hide the scratches. Was that his face that gave you those?"

She looked down at the scratches on the back of her hand, and now on her knuckles from his face, just as Casey surmised. "Yes and no. His face, but also, he shot at the arm of the chair where I'd just been and the wood sort of exploded and caught me."

Casey winced. "You gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Just a little home first aid is required. Nothing deep."

"Good." There was silence between them then as she nodded and went for the door. "Walker."

She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, her hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

"We've got officers watchin' him now where he was admitted to the hospital, and when they've set that arm and gotten his face fixed up," she noticed a particular thread of pleasure in his smirk at that, "they're takin' him to his own cell here where I'll question him personally while we wait for FBI to send someone. That is to say…you did some damn fine work."

She smiled. "Thanks. Oh. Did Jerald Brown…?"

"He's gonna be fine. I'll email you where they took 'im if you want to visit tomorrow. He'll be kept at the hospital for a few days."

"Good. And yes. Please do. Thanks."

He nodded and she stepped out of the room, finding Chuck sitting a bit dejectedly in what she thought might be a perp chair at the end of someone's desk. Thankfully, whoever's desk it was seemed to be gone for the day.

She gestured for him to followed her with a flick of her head and a smile when he lifted his chin from his chest and met her eyes.

And she clung to him as best she could while still being able to walk to the elevator.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

She was quiet the whole ride back to her apartment, curled up in his passenger seat, having kicked her heels off and pulled her legs against her chest, her forehead leaning against the window as she gazed out on the late afternoon street.

And the sun had finally set, the sky still light out but darkening by the time he pulled into a parking spot in her apartment complex. They'd left her car in free street parking where she'd left it before her meeting with Brown a few hours earlier and they'd get it later, tomorrow most likely. She hadn't seemed as worried about it as she was about finally going home, so he'd promptly driven her from the police station to her place with no stops in between.

Now they sat in the comfortable warmth of his car, the engine off, silence permeating…

Until Sarah turned to look at him, smiling softly, and then she reached out and took his hand, not looking away for even a moment as she breathed a quiet, "Will you stay with me?"

He felt everything inside of him crumbling and never in his entire life had he ever wanted to protect anything or anyone as much as he wanted to protect Sarah Walker. Not trusting his voice, still shaken up from what had nearly happened, he nodded vigorously instead, and she smiled a bit harder.

They got out and headed up to her apartment, his arm around her shoulders the whole way, and he used his key to let them in, turning on the lights for her as she tossed her purse onto the entryway table and kicked off her heels again, shrugging her jacket off.

It was then that he saw her hand. There were bloody marks on the back of it, cuts on her wrist, and red welts with dried blood and most likely bruising underneath on her knuckles.

Nothing else mattered as he made a beeline for her and gently picked up her arm, cradling her hand and wrist in his comforting grip. "Sarah…"

"I know, I know…but it's fine. I've had worse."

"You've let this go for hours."

"I've had worse, Chuck. It's okay. I'll just ice it—"

He shook his head vehemently and pulled her through her apartment to the bathroom. "You have first aid?"

"You know where it is from where you burned yourself on the coffee pot."

"Oh…oh yeah. Um…remind me, though."

Seeing blood on her hand, her own blood, knowing she'd been hurt, knowing she could have been worse than hurt, was starting to catch up to him suddenly. And he was trying so hard not to let her see. He didn't want her thinking he was going to be a basket case about her chosen profession. That every little cut she got made him crazy and sick with worry. But this had felt like a big deal. A really big deal. And he had no idea what would've happened if the police hadn't shown up, if he hadn't called them.

"Hey," she breathed suddenly, and he cursed himself a little, knowing he'd let it all show on his face anyway. "Hey, look at me." She cupped his face and forced his gaze to hers. Her blue eyes reassured him immediately and he had to resist the urge to melt into her, hold onto her for dear life. "Chuck, are you spiraling because of this?" she asked, presenting her injured hand to him.

He nodded, putting his hands on her hips to keep himself steady.

Her good hand stroked his jaw and his eyelids fluttered. "Please don't. I'm okay."

"Help me maybe not spiral by telling me where that first aid kit is and I can clean you up a bit."

"It's right here, in the cupboard under this drawer." She shifted to bump her hip against the drawer she was talking about. "But…before you do that, would you mind if I took a shower?"

He shook his head and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead, a slow, long kiss. He understood the request at a deeper level, but he wouldn't say it out loud. She needed some time alone after everything. She'd almost been killed, watched Brown get shot right in front of her, and had cops swarming her, and finally the questioning at the station and being trapped in the car with him as he drove her home.

"Thank you. It-It'll be a quick one." She slid past him, dragging her fingertips over his abdomen as she went to the shower and turned on the water.

"Take your time, baby. I'll have a martini ready for you when you're done." On second thought, as she gingerly started to unbutton her blouse, he waited for her to realize he was still there and turn to meet his gaze before he said it again. "Take your time."

Understanding dawned on her features and her shoulders drooped a bit. He thought her chin might have quivered and he just turned on his heel and left before he was tempted to gather her up in his arms and hold her some more. She needed to be alone for a bit, though, so he went into her kitchen and started preparing a few martinis, two to start with, one for each of them. He didn't know how many of these she was going to need, but he'd make her as many as she asked for.

And he waited, enjoying the texts Ellie had sent him throughout all of this, the one about Clara pushing herself up to sit for a few seconds before falling again. The look she gave her mom like she didn't know if she should cry or not. It warmed him from the inside out. And he'd been so cold before. Unable to get rid of that terrifying sensation he'd had when he'd screeched to a halt next to the office building, seeing the police cars haphazardly parked, lights still blinking, the ambulance there, someone being wheeled into it…

He'd seen it was Brown, that he'd been shot, and he tried to tear into the building, only to have Casey and two other officers have to grab onto him and nearly take him down to the ground. When they got him to stop, Casey barked, "He's with me", and he yanked on Chuck's tie, pointing in his face with a "Slow down, kid".

That was all it took for him to gain control, afraid this detective might knock him out altogether if he didn't take a breath. And he let Casey take point, shaken to his core until the moment he stepped into the room and saw his very own detective sitting there, alive, no bullet holes in her like the man downstairs'd had.

He felt a chill go through him as he stood there peering out into the courtyard of Sarah's building, watching an older woman take down a few shirts she'd hung on a clothesline and toss them into a basket. Her tabby cat made a figure-8 around her legs in the meantime, finally following her inside as she hobbled up the steps and into the building.

Chuck let himself get lost in everything for a few minutes, going through all of the worst scenarios that thankfully hadn't happened. Sarah was alive and well, currently in the shower, washing off the remnants of her harrowing ordeal.

He'd heard everything that had happened to her in Mrs. Brown's office while she told the grumpy detective—before said grump kicked him out. He supposed he couldn't blame the guy for it, though, because he'd caught himself interrupting too often. No matter how many times he apologized, he never learned, and his punishment was sitting out by himself for the remainder of the conversation.

But Sarah had been shot at multiple times, and every time Not-Cartwright had purposely missed her, his intent being to scare her. That made Chuck Bartowski angry. There was an extra level of pathology to lord your power over someone in that way, terrifying them before you kill them, making them suffer… It made him feel so disgusted, and then he thought Sarah must have come into contact with psychopaths like this guy before in her line of work.

She was an incredible bad ass, the coolest, strongest person he'd ever met. And he was sure no matter how often she'd come face to face with these crazy assholes, it didn't make being shot at any easier to handle, especially when it was so cruelly done to terrorize her. By the shakiness in her voice when she'd told them about him shooting her chair and then at her feet, and finally at the desk next to her hip, before sinking a bullet into Mr. Brown, the man she'd been attempting to protect, Chuck could tell it had gotten to her. Genuinely.

Maybe he shouldn't announce it in front of the LAPD, but deep inside, Chuck wasn't sure he'd be able to hold himself back from murdering that guy if he'd had a crack at him when he first got into that room and saw Sarah there, her face so pale, the blanket around her shoulders, the bun she'd had in her hair when he'd seen her last half pulled out… He'd discovered later that the man had grabbed her by her hair and yanked her up to her feet by it.

Chuck thought he'd like to do the same to him, but instead he'd pull his spine right out with one hard yank. Mortal Kombat style.

"Thought I'd bring the first aid kit with me because I already know you'll refuse to take no for an answer."

He spun on his heel, letting the curtain fall back into place and cover the window to see Sarah had wandered in, her step light like a cat's so that he hadn't heard her come in. Granted he might've also been a bit distracted.

But then she set the first aid kit on the table and frowned deeply. "What's wrong?"

"Huh? Wrong?"

"You turned around and looked like a rabidly angry gorilla or something for a second."

He just shook his head and sniffed in amusement. "It's nothing."

"Chuck…"

"I was thinking about what he did to you, and maybe imagining myself doing one of the Mortal Kombat fatality moves on him. That's all." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, slowly wandering over.

She widened her eyes. "I don't know what those moves entail but you said the word fatality, so that sounds a little serious, buddy."

At least that shower had made it so she seemed a little more like herself. Less shaken, more settled. The almost-unnoticeable shiver she'd had before was gone.

"It is. I have to be honest with you, Sarah. Part of me is angry with myself that I didn't just follow him and body tackle him into the ground then and there."

Her eyes flashed, concern and even a bit of frustration in her face. And then she put her hand on his chest, her fingers curling against his shirt as she shook her head. "Chuck, don't say that. Please never do something like that. He had a gun. He would've killed you."

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

"I-I'm not trying to make it seem like you're weak or incapable, baby. I'm really not. Just—Listen to me. I'm trained in combat, I have extensive training and years of experience using guns. I had a gun with me, as well as the knives I always have strapped to me. Hey, look at me. Please." She put her good hand on the side of his face and pulled his eyes back to hers. "I was nearly powerless in there. He had me, Chuck. If he hadn't slipped, let his guard down for that one second…" Her voice drifted off. "My point is that someone trained, like me, could have easily died doing whatever it is you might've done in that moment instead of what you ended up doing." She stroked her hand through his curls. "Which was the right thing."

"I know." He gently slid his hand around her waist and pulled her a little closer. "It just felt…terrible. Watching him go in there, knowing you were about to have him burst in on you. And knowing now what he ended up doing, that you were hurt and Brown was shot. What if I could've stopped all of it?"

"What if you couldn't have but you tried anyway and ended up being shot yourself?" Her eyes searched his. He couldn't come up with an answer to that. "What would I do, then? What would I even do if you were shot, Chuck? I can't even begin to think…" She let out a harsh breath, shaking her head. And he held her tighter.

"I ran away from you. I left you behind."

"You saved my life," she said in a much steadier voice, her features hard, willing him to understand. "What you ended up doing wasn't just the right thing, Chuck, it was incredibly brave."

He winced a little. "It didn't feel very brave."

"You could've let your worry for me, your fear, overtake you and you could've run after him, tried to stop him, and ended up getting all of us killed…but instead you called the police, knowing that they'd have more of a chance of stopping him than you ever would. And you went to get Casey involved, which…" She paused. "Why did you get Casey?" She blinked, her brow furrowed as though the question had just struck her at that moment.

Chuck swallowed thickly. "I was afraid they'd believe the wrong person unless you had someone they trusted vouching for you. And I knew Casey would be the perfect person to be there for that."

She beamed at him so suddenly that his heart felt like an insane amount of weight had been taken off of it. And then she hugged him tightly, and he hugged her back similarly. "You're brave and brilliant, Chuck Bartowski."

He felt so much pride in that moment, hearing how proud she was of him, how grateful she was, how impressed she was, in her voice, feeling it in the way she squeezed him, kissed his cheek.

"And you're a bad ass and the best, Sarah Walker. So I guess we make a good pair. Maybe I can be your assistant."

"No," she giggled, kissing his cheek again and then pulling back. "I will let you take care of me, though."

"Oh, gladly," he said with as much warmth as he was capable of, and then he gently pushed her to sit in the chair at the table and went to grab a bowl, putting some warm water and soap in it, then wandering back with that and a cloth in hand.

He scooted close to her and let her drape her hand over the bowl as he silently cleaned the cuts that didn't look so bad now that she'd showered. She only winced a little at the cuts on her wrist when he was gently rubbing ointment over them, and then he wrapped a light bandage around all of it.

"I look like the bride of Frankenstein's monster," she said with a giggle once he finished.

"She wishes," Chuck answered, watching as Sarah turned her arm a bit to look at his work. "What?" he asked when she gave him a quiet, searching look.

"You did a pretty good job here, actually."

That made him smile. "Listen, I grew up with a big sister who's wanted to be a doctor ever since she found out what a doctor was. Do you know how often I got wrapped up in bandages through all the years I spent under the same roof as her?"

She laughed. "Was it often?"

"Often enough." He chuckled. "She got better at it when she was actually in med school and I guess I picked up some things, little tricks of the trade. Don't ask me to stitch a wound shut, though, because I will faint."

Sarah snorted. "That's cute."

"Is it?" he drawled dubiously. He got up then and straightened his back, feeling a few pops, then put the bowl away, the bandages and the first aid kit, and when he came back out, Sarah had finished her martini.

She held the glass up towards him and pouted a little.

"Another?" he asked, receiving a smile in return. He chuckled and took her glass, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then went back to the kitchen to make her another. "Hey, you want a flavor in it this time? Maybe some lime? I saw a lime in your fridge."

Sarah was standing next to him suddenly—those cat-like silent feet of hers—and he nearly jumped. "Sorry. Didn't mean to sneak." He shrugged at her wince. "You just…You've never put flavors in a martini for me before. It's always just been a traditional, perfectly dry martini. What's gotten into my Chuck?"

"If you want me to make it like I always do, I can." He shrugged again. She was looking at him steadily, that look of hers that saw right through him. And he sighed. "It has nothing to do with the martini, but-but I guess today sort of put into perspective for me that you're not…"

"What?"

"Immortal. Indestructible." His throat was dry then and he looked away, swallowing.

"Did you…think I was? Like some kind of comic book character?"

"No. Of course not." He sniffed in amusement. "But what you do is dangerous and it's something I'm going to have to come to terms with. I hadn't before this because I guess I…haven't had to yet. But I have to now."

"Chuck, I'm okay."

"I know you are. So am I. We're okay. And that's not something that's gonna change, no matter how many ManFatales try to take you away from me."

Sarah smirked at that and gave him a side-eye. "No fucking way anybody is taking me away from you. And vice versa," she added, pointing at him a bit threateningly.

"I didn't just mean romantically." He chuckled. "I meant…uh…you know."

"Oh." She sobered significantly. "That, too. And yeah…maybe this time we can try some lime in the martini. I have some pineapple slices, too. Maybe some of the juice…?"

"Splendid idea," he said, giving her a warm smile. And they stood side by side as he prepared more martinis for them to enjoy.

They eventually found their way to Sarah's bed, stretching themselves out over it and leaning back against her headboard. She'd since fallen asleep, her harrowing ordeal earlier on in the day knocking her out soon after she curled herself up on his chest.

He just held onto her, looking down into her face. She looked younger when she was asleep, so at peace, without any worries to speak of. But then his eyes latched onto her wrapped hand and wrist that was slung over his chest and he frowned.

She was a private investigator. And as awesome as it was, as hot as it was that he was dating someone so damn cool, he couldn't let himself forget how serious it was, too. How serious it could be. He'd never want her to give up what she wanted to do, who she wanted to be, so that he had better peace of mind when she went to work, the way the boyfriend of an accountant might. His girlfriend wasn't going to stop being a private investigator, whether he was awful enough to want her to or not.

And so…Chuck Bartowski was determined instead to support her. To be here on the hard days like today. To protect her when she needed him to. To bandage her cuts, hold her, make her martinis, and let her fall asleep in his arms.

Because being with Sarah Walker, P.I. was so much better than being with some accountant who sat in an office all day. The worry, the nerves, the adrenaline, and even the fear, were all worth it because she was worth anything and everything.

This was her, he realized, looking down into her face.

These cases with genuinely bad dudes wanting to do her harm because she was good at her job, because she was working to take them down, were all part of what made her…her. The danger, the chase, the high stakes…that was all part of her.

He loved her.

That included everything that made her who she was. That included this. And those moments of fear, the danger…

No matter what this career of hers brought them, this wouldn't ever change. He was ready for the bumps and bruises he'd get in the meantime himself. He was ready for the hurdles and hardships ahead. He thought he was ready for just about anything.

Because this was their life now.

And he wouldn't trade it for the whole universe.

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starberry-cupcake · 5 years

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mommakittysworld replied to your photoset “Rachel Chavkin receiving the Tony Award for Best Director of a Musical...”

I wouldn't watch a film that was directed or produced by a woman just because I dont think I'd be interested in it. I like horror. The more disturbing, the better. I just dont think most women have the right personality to create a good horror film. I hate comedy, and especially romance. My tastes aren't very feminine.

Ok so, I received this reply on my post about Rachel’s speech on the Tonys. I’m going to block this person outright and I won’t engage in any type of conversation with them. However, I want to post this reply with two intentions:

1) I appreciate when blogs I follow show these kinds of behavior toward their content so that I can block them and not have to cross paths with them in the future. I highly advice you not to engage in conversation with them, not even to dissent, but if you find their answer as insulting as I did, you might want to block them.

2) I am going to take this opportunity to talk about a very favorite subject of mine: women in horror. Here is a list of several women who have created content in the realms of horror in the past or who are doing it today, from various standpoints, with various origins and for very different tastes, as well as a selection of examples of their work (there’s so much more they’ve done!). Tread with caution because horror is not devoid of triggers. Whatever I haven’t seen or read in this list is at least included in my to-watch/read lists. This person might not appreciate them, but I know someone out there will.

Ann Radcliffe (writer)

The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794)

Mary Shelley (writer)

Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (1818)

Charlotte Perkins Gilman (writer)

The Yellow Wallpaper (1890)

Daphne Du Maurier (writer)

Jamaica Inn (1936), Rebecca (1938), My Cousin Rachel (1951), The Birds and Other Stories (1963)

Shirley Jackson (writer)

The Haunting of Hill House (1959), We Have Always Lived in the Castle (1962), The Lottery and other Stories (1949)

Joyce Carol Oates (writer)

Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? (1966), Zombie (1995)

Alejandra Pizarnik (writer and poet)

The Bloody Countess (originally called: La condesa sangrienta) (1971)

Anne Rice (writer)

Vampire Chronicles (1976–present)

Debra Hill (writer and producer)

Halloween (1978), The Fog (1980), Halloween II (1981)

Angela Carter (writer)

The Bloody Chamber (1979), The Company of Wolves (1984)

Susan Hill (writer)

The Woman In Black (1983), The Mist in the Mirror (1992)

Kathryn Bigelow (director)

Near Dark (1987)

Narumi Kakinouchi (mangaka)

Vampire Princess Miyu (originally called: 吸血姫美夕) (1988-2002)

Mary Lambert (director)

Pet Sematary (1989)

Marina Sargenti (writer and director)

Mirror Mirror (1990)

Fran Rubel Kuzui (director)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992)

Jennifer Lynch (writer and director)

Boxing Helena (1993)

Laurell K. Hamilton (writer)

Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter (1993-present)

Tananarive Due (writer)

The Between (1995), My Soul to Keep (1997), The Good House (2003), Trial Day (2003), Aftermoon (2004), Ghost Summer: Stories (2015)

Octavia E. Butler (writer)

Bloodchild and Other Stories (1995), Fledgling (2005), also has a lot of sci-fi themed books

Kei Fujiwara (writer and director)

Organ (originally called: オルガン) (1996)

Kelly Link (writer)

The Specialist’s Hat (1999)

Mary Harron (writer and director)

American Psycho (2000)

Guinevere Turner (writer)

American Psycho (2000)

Karen Walton (writer)

Ginger Snaps (2000)

Linda Addison (poet)

Consumed, Reduced to Beautiful Grey Ashes (2001)

Ann Hui (director)

Visible Secret (originally called: 幽灵人间) (2001)

Marina de Van (writer and director)

In My Skin (2002)

Elizabeth Kostova (writer)

The Historian (2005)

Helen Oyeyemi (writer)

White is for Witching (2009)

Karyn Kusama (director)

Jennifer’s Body (2009)

Diablo Cody (writer)

Jennifer’s Body (2009)

Gemma Files (writer)

A Book of Tongues (2010), A Rope of Thorns (2011), A Tree of Bones (2012)

Tiffany D. Jackson (writer and director)

So I Married A Vampire (2010), The Field Trip (2011)

Seanan McGuire (writer)

Feed (2010), Deadline (2011), Blackout (2012, Feedback (2016)

Asa Nonami (writer)

Body (originally called: 躯) (2012)

Jen Soska & Sylvia Soska (writers and directors)

American Mary (2012)

Lauren Beukes (writer)

The Shining Girls (2013), Broken Monsters (2014)

Melissa Hunter (writer, director and actress)

Adult Wednesday (2013-2015)

Axelle Carolyn (writer and director)

Soulmate (2013)

Jennifer McMahon (writer)

The Winter People (2013)

Marisha Pessl (writer)

Night Film (2013)

Jennifer Kent (writer and director)

The Babadook (2014)

Kelly Sue DeConnick (writer), Emma Ríos (writer and illustrator) & Jordie Bellaire (colorist)

Pretty Deadly (2014-2016)

Ana Lily Amirpour (writer and director)

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (2014)

Julia Penner (writer)

Stage Fright (2014)

Leigh Janiak (writer and director)

Honeymoon (2014)

Krysty Wilson-Cairns (writer)

Penny Dreadful (comic books and tv series) (2014-2016)

Diane Ruggiero-Wright (writer)

iZombie (2015-present)

Agnieszka Smoczyńska (writer and director)

The Lure (2015)

Anna Biller (writer and director)

The Love Witch (2016)

Julia Ducournau (director and writer)

Raw (2016)

Sarah Adina Smith (director and editor)

Mother’s Day segment in Holidays (2016)

Mariana Enríquez (writer)

Things We Lost In The Fire (originally called: Las cosas que perdimos en el fuego) (2016)

Mariana Travacio (writer)

Flowerbed (originally called: Cantero) (2016)

Issa Lopez (writer and director)

Tigers Are Not Afraid (originally called: Vuelven) (2017)

Jac Jemc (writer)

The Grip of It (2017)

Carmen Maria Machado (writer)

Her Body and Other Parties (2017)

Emma Tammi (director)

The Wind (2018)

Teresa Sutherland (writer)

The Wind (2018)

Nicole Snyder (writer)

The Perfection (2018)

Stacie Passon (director and writer)

We Have Always Lived in the Castle (film) (2018)

If anyone wants to add some more to this list, you’re welcome to do so. I absolutely also recommend, if you’re interested in the subject, following @horrorladies ♥

#long post #but absolutely worth it #women in horror #reply

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newagesispage · 4 years

Text

MARCH 2020

PAGE RIB

The Stones are touring the U.S. again.

*****

Paul Reubens is touring with Pee Wee’s Big Adventure.

*****

Al Franken is touring.

*****

Keenan Thompson and Hasan Minhaj are bringing comedy back to the White House Correspondents dinner on April 5.

*****

Days alert: There is some casting news but most of this won’t show up until the fall. Word is a couple of newbies will be Remington Hoffman who will play Li Shin, son of Mr. Shin and Emily O’Brien may join the cast. Nadia Bjorlin (Chloe) may be on her way back. Let’s bring the original Phillip back for her!!! Brandon Barash (Stefan) will return as well as Louise Sorel ( Vivian )and Alison Sweeney ( Sami). Judi Evans is headed back. Will she play Adrienne or Bonnie?? It looks like Casey Moss (JJ), Freddie Smith (Sonny), Chandler Massey (Will) and Galen Gering (Rafe) mill head out for awhile.

*****

It looks like Friends freaks will finally get their reunion on HBO. I am glad they aren’t bringing the characters back and are just getting together to talk about their time together.

*****

Downhill hit theatres on Valentine’s Day with Will Ferrell, Julia Louis- Dreyfus and Zoe Chao. The film was written and directed by Nat Faxon and Jim Rash.

*****

The more I see of it, the more I LOVE Stumptown, the best show that nobody seems to know about. Please renew ABC!!!!!

*****

So.. Rush Limbaugh got the Medal of Freedom. Oh my.

*****

Shadow Inc. owned by former Clinton and Obama staffers made an app that thoroughly fucked up the Iowa caucus. It was good at calculating the results but not delivering them. And hey.. Wolf Blitzer, stay off the phone with people that are trying to get those results. Let them just do their job!!

*****

Brooklyn 99 is back and Vanessa Bayer is there!!!

*****

Rod Blagojevich is out and hitting every show that will have him. Trump pardoned him along with 10 other criminals including Ed DeBartolo Jr., Mike Milken and Bernard Kerik.

*****

Forty thousand kids won’t get free lunch because Trump threw them off food stamps. The two usually go hand in hand. Getting food stamps automatically sets a kid up for the free lunch program.

*****

Over 1000 former DOJ officials have asked Bill Barr to resign.** 70 former Senators have written an open letter to congress to tell them they are not fulfilling their congressional duties.**” Yoo Hoo! Bush, Clinton, Carter, Obama, you’re up.” –Patricia Arquette

*****

Pete Davidson and Kaia Gerber have split.

*****

Indiana Beach is closing after 94 years.

*****

Denny Hamlin won the 2020 Daytona 500.

*****

Can’t we get some real gigs for Rainn Wilson and Curtis Armstrong? Ok, so Cyrtis Armstrong was on Stumptown so thank goodness for that! They can do better than Dominoes and Little Caesars ads. And how funny is it that Dominoes, known for its very Chrustian owners use a Risky Business ( a film about prostitutes) ad for their product. Hmm.

*****Hey.. Comics, quit bringing up Trump and his former womanizing. It didn’t work with Clinton and it won’t work here. People just don’t seem to care. Focus on the real damage he is doing.

*****

Scary Clown is working on opening nearly a million acres of land in Utah for energy exploration that had been a National monument. Redford and Romney can’t be happy about that.

*****

A new animated series from a brand new production company owned by Natasha Lyonne and Maya Rudolph looks promising. Look for The Hospital.

*****

Southern Illinois University is giving Bob Odenkirk an honorary degree.

*****

Ukranian immigrants Lt. Col. Vindman and his twin brother are out. Ambassador to the EU Sonland is out.

*****

The Democrats had a debate on Feb. 7 . At Andrew Yang’s first chance to speak, he rehashed his stump speech. I mean, c’mon give us something new. There really seemed to be a restrained nervousness on the stage that night. Klobachar seemed too needy but she got great reviews. Biden called Buttigieg ‘a friend ‘ a couple of times. Mayor Pete did quite well. ** Deval Patrick is out** Andrew Yang is out.**Michael Bennet is out** Another debate was on Feb. 19.** Bloomberg/Yang? Is this true?

*****

Check out the new series, Hunters. It is awesome, funny and terrifying!

*****

Dozens of Native American women and girls have disappeared from Big Horn county, Montana over the last few years. The victims were later found dead and Trump has put a federal task force together.

*****

Grassley and Wyden are trying to get lower prescription drug prices but Moscow Mitch won’t bring the proposal to the floor. Others are looking to get some traction on HR3.

*****

JSW Steel has sued the Trump administration for refusing to exempt it from paying the levies on slabs of steel that the company imports.

*****

64 women have filed sexual harassment or discrimination lawsuits against Mike Bloomberg. I’m not a fan of the guy but it does seem sort of coincidental. It does not seem to matter cuz all his ads seem to be working, he is picking up steam. Tom Steyer is gaining a bit of momentum as well.

*****

The corona virus has brought us Covid 19. 600 people are being held in quarantine camps that the military has set up. Italy has new cases and the disease is spreading. Scary Clown is trying to spin it all.

*****

ICE is being sent into sanctuary cities to cause trouble for immigrants.

*****

You have to check out Horse girl with Alison Brie, Molly Shannon and Matthew Gray Gubler on Netflix .

*****

Rapper Larry Sanders AKA LV is letting us in on a miscarriage of justice he has had to live thru. LV, best known for his work on Coolio’s Gangsters Paradise, was approached by police and later put on the Calgang database. The practice put about 80,000 mostly African Americans on a sort of gang list. In a 2016 audit it was found that there were many inaccuracies including the names of babes who could not possibly be gang affiliated.

*****

Nature does not need people. People need nature. –Harrison Ford

*****

The Clark bar is back. The roll out has started in Pittsburgh and will soon spread across the country.

*****

Scientists have found some turtle fossils that are the size of a car in South America.

*****

U can donate to the Trump campaign and may win a yaqut and hunting trip with Don Jr. The Beach Boys will perform.

*****

The Oscars were held Feb. 9. Brad Pitt and the production design team won for Once upon a Time in Hollywood. Woo Hoo! Word is that Pitt has hired a speech writer to write his acceptances. JoJo Rabbit won for adapted screenplay. Little Women won for Little Women and Toy Story 4 for animated film. Laura Dern won best supporting actress. Renee Zellweger and Joaquin Phoenix too home the top actor prizes. Parasite surprised everybody and won best pic and got Bong Joon Ho a best director statue. My best dressed were Billy Porter, Antonio Banderes and his date, Janelle Monae ( her opening seemed to make some in the audience uncomfortable), Robert DeNiro, Laura Dern, Diane Ladd, Geena Davis, Regina King, Charlize Theron, Adam Driver, Joanne Tucker, Cynthia Erivo, Scarlett Johansson, Natalie Portman and Kathy Bates, I don’t know what Kristen Wiig and Idina Menzel were thinking. Wiig always has a unique style so I have to admire that. ** The ratings were down. I have heard people saying they just don’t watch award shows or late night shows anymore because they are afraid things will get political. Funny, that is part of the reason I watch!

*****

Tom Papa was pontificating about a real dog show that should have REAL dogs. It would make a great weekly show with people bringing on their dogs.

*****

The goalies of the Hurricanes were out of commission and David Ayres, the Zamboni driver was brought in to help and the won against the Maple Leafs. Woo Hoo!!

*****

Hooray for New Hampshire and their use of paper ballots. Things in the campaign got a little shook up with Bernie taking the top followed by Pete and Amy.

*****

2 years of research in Canada has brought the announcement of a new discovery. Skull fragments that were cleaned and collected about 10 years ago have been named Thanatotheristes or the reaper of death. The discovery helps us all learn more about the early times of Tyrannosaurids, a sub group that includes T.Rex.

*****

New Jersey has a ban on self- serve pumps and another state is talking about getting in on the action. The gas station attendant act has been proposed in Illinois.

*****

Van Jones was right when he said we shouldn’t give Trump any press coverage for a week. He would hate it. Trump loves the old adage of bad publicity is better than none because he just must have attention. It would never work for they just can’t resist.** Joe Mcguire is out after he warned of Russian interference. If you want to keep your job in this administration, do not tell the truth. Now at the Department of National Intelligence is Johnny Mcentee , a 29 year old former football player who worked on the campaign. He immediately called department heads and said he wanted lists of never Trumpers in their offices. ** And who is in charge of weeding out the people in the government who may be disloyal to Scary Clown? Well, it is none other than Virginia Thomas, wife of Supreme Court justice Clarence. She calls it the list of snakes. Trump is now saying he even wants liberal judges on the Supreme Court to recuse themselves when it comes to “Trump related cases”. It just keeps getting worse.

*****

Trump had fun in India. He should, his business has 5 projects going there right now worth 1.5 billion.

*****

Harvey Weinstein was found guilty of rape and criminal sexual assault. He was not found guilty of all the charges that included predatory behavior.

*****

Andrew Yang is a new correspondent at CNN. He tells us that he is getting word from former donors that Bloomberg is calling those big donors. Allegedly he is telling them they do not have to donate to his campaign because he can afford his own campaign but he still won’t forget them. He would like them to save their money and not give money to other democrats running either.** And I am so sick of talking heads trying to tell us to play it safe. We are not as stupid as we look, thank you!! ** Now there is a firestorm about Bernie telling the world that the education program that Castro implemented was a good thing. I understand the anger and it could not have come at a worse time and he did it to himself. BUT.. We are adults and we have to be able to talk about things as they really are, not in sound bites. Castro sucked and history teaches us that bad people do good things occasionally and good people do bad things once in a while. ** It seems that everyone was in agreement that we would all gather behind the winner of the democratic campaign to beat Trump. Suddenly when it could be Bernie, everybody is bitching.

*****

This month held 2 more Democratic debates. The Nevada debate got pretty heated. I see that Mayor Pete and Bloomberg are lefties (left handed that is). Pete always looked poised and articulate which I appreciate and he got in a good one when he mentioned that the party should choose someone who is actually a democrat. Bernie seemed a little rattled by that. Later Pete really dressed down Amy Klobuchar and made himself look like a dick. Joe Biden jumped in with his credits occasionally but often seemed a bit lost. He slammed back that they were all talking about the health care plane he helped to create and that he himself had dealt with the Mexican President. His name came up after it was mentioned that Amy could not remember the President’s name. The gloves were off with Bloomberg as Elizabeth Warren called him out on Billionaires and NDA’s. I loved the interaction but realistically Mr. Mike can’t just release people from agreements they made in an NDA, especially if it did not involve him. Bloomberg sounded pompous and clueless about the world outside of his company. He got a moan when he said he couldn’t exactly use turbo tax and when he said he may have told a few jokes that women didn’t like. He brushed off his taxes much like Trump does. The former mayor of NY called out socialists as communists. Klobuchar had the best comeback of the night when she was told her health care plan could fit on a post it. She proclaimed that the post it was invented in her state of Minnesota. Again, there were people shouting from the audience as Joe tried to talk. C’mon give everybody an equal chance.

*****

The South Carolina debate was fiery as well. The CBS debate was hosted by Gayle King and Norah O’Donnell. Bloomberg was booed right off the bat about Russia helping Bernie but he late had many cheers. He and Biden and Steyer had some real support there. Tom Steyer was actually quite impressive and seemed well spoken. He was the only one who brought up the impeachment. He had a great point that we all know that republicans who did not convict Trump are complicit in the Russian meddling. Then he ruined it all by being alarmist with his fear. He warned us off the former republican and the socialists. I loved Bernie’s ideas about small business’s getting in on the marijuana business and not letting big corporations taking it over. He is also the only one in debates that I have seen consistently bring up Native Americans. Biden again kept jumping in to tell us that he did this or that. Amy disagreed about a bill he claimed to have written. Warren said “dig in” numerous times. She went for the jugular with Bloomberg when she said a former female employee of his said to “kill it” in response to her pregnancy. He denied it but it sure is memorable. She did make great points that he has given much money to Linsey Graham’s campaign as well as other republican runs including against her. BTW he also gave 2.3 mil to Rick Snyder, the Gov of Michigan after the water crisis was well known. I love that Amy is always saying that we shouldn’t fight amongst ourselves but she just does not have the votes so she needs to go. Bernie got some boos about guns for he seems the softest in that area.

*****

Joe Biden won the South Carolina primary in a big way.

*****

Dick Van Dyke, Sarah Silverman and Public Enemy among others will be at the Bernie Sanders rally in L.A. on March 1.

*****

Just think what the 400 million that Bloomberg spent on his campaign could have done for the debt of the average American. Instead of a campaign for a presidency that he can’t win, he could have helped so many get a leg up.

*****

I don’t understand why “respected” journalists like Chuck Todd don’t throw W H reps off the set when they disrespect him or his colleagues with fake news jabs.

*****

Bob Moore of Bob’s Red Mill is giving his company away to his employees. Now, that’s a boss!!

*****

Bone, Thugs and Harmony have made a deal with Buffalo Wild Wings to rename themselves Boneless thugs and Harmony. The publicity stunt is to promote boneless wings.

*****

NASA is hiring.

*****

Scotland has made feminine sanitary products free!!

*****

Is this true? There were pigeons in Nevada with MAGA hats glued to their heads??

*****

The final Criminal Minds has aired. CBS often aired double episodes which made it seem like they really wanted to get rid of it. Kirsten Vangsness and Erica Messer wrote the final episode which seemed to give special attention to Penelope and Reid as they were the originals. The other characters seemed a little overlooked but they all had happy endings. Where was Reid’s new girlfriend? I was hoping to see Shemar Moore but it was great to see Reisgraf and Howell which are old favorites.

*****

Animal Kingdom returns to TNT on May 28.

*****

So there is a bit of a mess with the Roger Stone sentencing. Trump is hopping mad about the long sentence recommendation, Barr is said to be pretending to spar with the Prez, the DOJ is backing down and people are resigning.

*****

R.I.P. Shirley Jean Cade, Robert Conrad, Katherine Johnson, Lyle Mays, B. Smith, A.E. Hotchner, Bashir Jackson, Ja’net Dubois, Pat Agee, victims of the Molson Coors shooting and Orson Bean.

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