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noshitbarnes · 1 year

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Anti-Hero: Chapter 6

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: After being experimented on as a young child and given abilities, Daniela has become a highly skilled member of the Avengers, and has even been assigned to mentor Peter Parker. Little does she know that the happiness she’s been able to find will become threatened by the very people who started her on her path long ago.

Warnings: blood, gunshots, angst, protective Bucky, language, eventual fluff

Word Count: 5,527

Notes: I got carried away with this one, so it's a bit lengthy! Just let me know what you guys think!

anti-hero masterlist

THREE MONTHS LATER

Daniela had been training Peter for the past three months and he had been doing splendidly, she was really impressed with his progress! Not just that, he has doing superb in his classes as well, his first semester of college was over and he decided he wanted to continue going, he said it was the only thing that made him feel like a normal person. Tony and Steve were more than happy to let him keep going, they were happy to let him live as normal as he wished, within reason, he of course was still needed as an Avenger. During the past months, Daniela hadn't gone on any missions, she wasn't deemed needed, so she was starting to get a bit stir crazy herself, and had been spending much of her time in the gym and underneath her favorite tree.

“Velikov!”

Daniela stops her punching at the bag and looks up, “Yeah, Cap,” she stands back and begins to unwrap her hands, “what’s up?”

“Got a mission we need ya on,” he walks over with a file in his hands and nods at Peter, “gonna bring Parker along too.”

“Really,” Peter jumps off the treadmill at the sound of his name and makes his way over excitedly, bumping into Daniela, “am I really ready?”

Daniela laughs at his excitement, “I think so, you’ve been doing really well!” She hugs his shoulders and he hugs her back, tightly.

Steve smiles, “Yeah, I’ve heard nothing but good things. I think this would be a good mission to get you started.” He shifts his body weight and crosses his arms, “SHIELD located a small base outside Munich, we’ve been ordered to go in and find out what kind of intel they have. Apparently, they’re doing some high level weapons research.”

“So who’s all going besides us?” Daniela asks while tossing her wraps in a nearby trash can.

Steve closes the file and answers, “Everyone. Don’t know what kind of weapons they have and it's a decent sized place, so it’s all hands on deck.”

“Awesome,” Peter grins and looks to Daniela, “I get to use my new suit!”

**********

Everyone had loaded on to the Quinjet by now, Steve had finished going over the plan for the fifth time, and Daniela was finishing checking her gear. She snaps her trusty knife into place on her side and turns to Peter, “Alright, Parker,” his mask goes up around his face and he turns to face the solider, “you know what you’re doing out there? Stay back, web’em up. I don’t want you getting too close yet.”

Peter sighs heavily, “I know, I know. Stay hidden, use my webs, I got it.” He crosses his arms, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry so much.”

She rolls her eyes, “I worry about everyone, Parker, which now includes you.”

Tony walks up next to Daniela, in his Iron Man suit, with his face plate down so that she could see his face, “You do?”

She nods and smiles genuinely, “I care more than you guys realize.”

“Alright,” Steve chimes in, placing his helmet over his head, “wheels down in five, you guys ready?”

**********

Peter, Sam, Hulk, Wanda, and Daniela were outside, taking out the agents that were guarding the base. Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Natasha were all indoors, gathering intel, and killing any stragglers that had made their way inside to find cover. Tony and Natasha were busy trying to decode the intel that had been left on the computers, trying to make sense of it, while Steve and Bucky were busy hunting down the remaining hiding soldiers.

“Romanoff,” Sam shoots a pair of soldiers while stabbing another in the throat with his knife that was in the opposite hand, “you got a squad coming up outside that door, you better hurry up!”

“Shit!” She hisses through the coms.

Sam and Daniela were trying to keep their eyes on everyone, it just came natural to them to take on the responsibility, but it was always difficult. There were so many people running and flying, bombs and guns going off, while also trying to keep themselves alive, it took all of their energy. Daniela was doing her best to stay close to Peter, still not completely sure that he would be okay, it was her protective nature. Suddenly, Daniela notices out of the corner of her eye that Parker was too open and had attracted the attention of a sniper in the adjacent tower.

“Parker, you got a sniper on you.” Daniela says calmly over the coms, but he doesn’t answer, so she raises her voice, “Parker, are your ears open?”

Peter turns to face the now irate woman, tilting his head, “Wait, what?”

She hisses under her breath, “For fucks sake." She leaps over a large log that separates them and tackles him to the ground, just as the gun goes off, “Damnit, Parker,” she groans and rolls off of him, “pay attention!”

Peter grabs his arm and groans himself, the wind knocked out of him, “Sorry, sorry!” He then turns his head to look at her, “Shit, Dani,” he quickly crouches lowly next to her, “your leg!”

“What about it?” She sits up on her elbows and looks down at her right calf, blood covering the ground around it, “Oh fuck.” She looks up at the sniper tower and then pulls Peter back to the ground, just as a bullet misses and impales the tree directly behind him, “I fucking hate snipers.” She looks to Peter and nods toward the tower, “He’s still watching us.” She puts a finger to her ear and talks into the coms, “Someone take care of that tower, please!”

“Already on it!” Sam says and makes his way over to the tower, taking out the soldiers there, “All clear!”

“Thanks, now um,” Daniela chuckles into the coms, “I may have gotten my ass shot.”

Everyone hears Tony's laugh come through clearly, “Someone shot you in the ass?”

“I fucking hate you.” She rolls her eyes and Peter laughs while holding his stomach, causing Daniela to shake her head, “I was saving Parker and got myself shot in the process.”

“Damnit, Velikov,” Bucky hisses, gun shots raining in the background, “you were suppose to be careful!”

“Why so upset, Barnes?” She furrows her brows, while bringing up a hand to impale an incoming soldier with an ice shard, “I’ve gotten shot plenty of times.”

“Too many times really.” Natasha interjects, "You've become predictable."

“Like you’re one to talk.” Daniela takes a quick look around before sitting up to inspect her leg further, “It went all the way through, so I’m just gonna cauterize it and be done.”

Daniela takes a deep breath while looking down at her calf, cauterizing a wound is never fun, it hurt like a bitch. After pulling out a lighter, she looks to Peter, “Parker,” he looks up from the wound and into her eyes with concern, “mind not watching? It’s not pretty.” He nods and turns away.

She takes another deep breath, then brings up her left hand and wiggles her fingers gently at her leg. As she does so, water begins to flow from her finger tips to the wound on her calf, flushing it of any dirt or debris, the pain of the water causes a slurry of cuss words to rush from Daniela's lips. Gritting her teeth, she lights the lighter, a flame emerges quickly, and she places it on the entry wound. As soon as the flame hits her skin, another string of cuss words fly out of her mouth and she clutches the dirt under her left hand. Once removing the flame, she does the same thing to the backside of her calf, making her cuss more. She let's go of the sand in her hand as she puts out the lighter, “Well, that fucking sucked.”

“Alright,” Sam came over the coms, “Wanda got the last of the guys out here, so when you guys are done in there. We can leave.”

“Get her and Parker to the jet, Sam,” Steve answers, “we’re clear in here too.”

“Can do.” A moment later, Sam lands a few feet from Peter, “You just can’t stay outta trouble can ya, kid?” He shakes his head while his wings retract back into his suit.

“Who me?” Peter tilts his head confused, “I didn’t get shot,” he points to Daniela, “she did!”

“While saving your ass.” She snaps back and Peter looks to the ground, “A little help, Sam?” She reaches out her hand and Sam walks over, grabbing it, “Fuck, this is some bullshit.” He slowly helps her up and she winces a bit as she tries to bare weight on it, “Yeah, you’re just gonna have to help me walk.”

Sam wraps Daniela's arm around his shoulders and secures his other arm around her back so that she wouldn't fall. Peter quickly stands up next to the pair and takes Daniela's other arm placing it around his own shoulders, “I’m sorry, Dani, honest!”

She rolls her eyes and winces a bit as they begin to walk, “It’s fine, kid, as long as you’re not dead. My leg’ll heal.”

The three slowly make their way back to the jet and find that the rest of the team was already there, “Shit,” Bucky rolls his eyes and walks over to them, “is it that bad?” He gestures for Peter to move and takes his place next to Daniela, helping her to the jet.

She takes in a deep breath as Bucky wraps his vibranium arm around her waist and helps her walk up the ramp to the jet, “Not really. Didn’t even feel it until Parker said something.”

“You got her?” Sam says looking to Bucky who nods, “‘K, I’m gonna take my gear off then.”

Daniela nods to him, “Thanks, Sam.” He waves in return.

Once Sam lets go, Bucky pulls Daniela closer to him, securing her to his side, “So it went clean through?” She nods as the pair make their way to the bed that was saved for the wounded, “You cauterize it then?” Bucky gently helps her lay down and then crouches down so that they are more eye level.

She raises an eyebrow and sits up on her elbows to look at him, “Did you pay no attention to what I said over the coms?”

“I was busy trying to kill people.” He says flatly.

“Alright.” She sighs and looks into his eyes, they were concerned but had a ting of anger, “But yeah I cauterized it already, so Helen can clean it or whatever when we get back.”

He nods and focuses his attention on her leg, running his hand over the wound lightly, making her wince a bit, “You were suppose to be careful.”

“Barnes,” she raises and eyebrow at his overt concern, “would you rather Parker be dead?”

“Of course not,” he slowly rubs her cauterized wound without looking at her, “don’t want you dead either.”

She tilts her head, confused by the sudden somberness, “I’ve gotten shot before.”

Which was true, she'd gotten shot so many times over her long life, she'd lost track of how many times she'd been shot. She had a few scars from the more severe wounds, some still ached when it got cold, like her shoulder, but the most important part was that she was still alive. She'd been very lucky in that regard. Bucky's sudden worry for her was strange, he'd seen her come back from missions all shot up and in the hospital too, so this wasn't something new for him.

Bucky looks back into her eyes, “Not while I’ve been on a mission with you.”

“Um,” she furrows her brows, “you know I would take a bullet for any of you.”

He sighs and nods slowly, “I know.”

She wanted so badly to ask what was going on in his head, but before she could, Tony walked in, “Dani, you need to stop getting shot.” He walks up next to her bed and crosses his arms, “How’s she looking, Barnes?”

“She looks great.” His face suddenly returns to it’s normal self, “Her leg too.” He winks, while patting her knee and then stands up, “I think she’ll live.”

“That’s good,” Natasha was the next to walk in, “I’d be lost without her.”

Bucky looks to Natasha and smiles, “We all would.” He then turns his head and furrows his brows, “Want me to send in Parker, so you can scold him?”

She shakes her head, “Nah, let him stew a bit,” she lays back down on her back, “I don’t feel like yelling at him right now.”

“I’ll do it,” Tony says clapping his hands together, “kid needs to get yelled at by someone other than you.”

Daniela smiles through closed eyes, “Finally.”

**********

After the jet had landed, Bucky had dropped her off at the hospital and promised to send someone to check on her later. As much as Daniela wanted Bucky to stop by himself, she knew he needed some time to himself after the mission, he always did, even if it was just a few hours. Currently, Helen was looking over Daniela's leg and shaking her head, disappointed that she once again got herself shot.

"Alright, Sergeant," Helen says as she starts to put gloves on, "I'm gonna have to open this back up and clean it out.”

The morphine that Bruce had given her during the flight had started to wear off, so she she was starting to feel more pain in her calf, “Really,” she looks down at her leg, "is it that bad?”

"No," Helen brought a stool over to the side of the bed near her feet, "but I don't want it to get infected.”

"Alright," she sighs, "whenever you're ready doc.”

Helen begins by cleaning Daniela's leg with iodine and then injecting it with some lidocaine, in order to numb it before making an incision. She leans back in her stool and gets out her tray of supplies, "So how's training Peter going?”

She lays her head back on the pillow, "Oh other than taking a bullet for him, not too bad,” Helena laughs, "he's a good kid. I just need to train him a bit more apparently.”

"Well, hopefully you won't have to take anymore bullets. I'm tired of fixing you up." Helen sighs, waiting on the lidocaine to start taking effect, "Seems like you and Natasha are the ones who get sent here the most.”

“Well, it’s been a solid," she pauses thinking to herself, "three months since I’ve had to be in here.”

She smiles, “Only because you haven't been on a mission." They both chuckle, "And I was hoping it would be longer, as much as I like to see you, the less I see you the better.” She makes a small cut on Daniela's leg, "Can you feel that?" Daniela shakes her head, "Alright, let's get started then.”

**********

Half a hour later, Daniela's leg was all cleaned up and as good as new. She still hated Helen's regeneration technology, it freaked her out. After living so long, Daniela had seen many changes throughout the decades, technology was one thing that was still difficult for her to wrap her brain around, but she did her best to keep up. She read a lot, talked with Tony and Bruce, Vision had been helpful too, but it was still overwhelming at times.

Once the machine had finished, Tony clears his throat to make his presence known, “Is she gonna live, Helen,” he leans against the doorframe, “or do I need to inform the team that she’s a goner?”

Daniela chuckles, "I'm gonna outlive you, Tony."

He chuckles and walks inside, "Not if you keep being so reckless.”

"It was either I tackle Spiderboy or him take a bullet in the head." She sits up slowly, "I decided his life was more important than mine.”

Tony shakes his head and hands her a green colored drink, "I wish you valued your life a bit more.”

She takes a drink and smiles flatly, "I'll work on it, sir.”

Helen walks up on Daniela's right and begins to bandage her calf, "I'm gonna need you to take it easy today and tomorrow.”

She watches as Helen wraps her calf, "So bed rest?”

"Yeah, that would be best.” Helena says as she helps Daniela up off the bed, "You had an extensive injury and your leg needs time to heal.”

"Lord," Tony says taking her arm from Helen, "how are you gonna do that? You're shit at relaxing.”

Daniela glares at him, "Could say the same about you, Tony.” They both laugh as she takes another drink from her cup.

"How's it feel?" Helen asks.

Daniela puts some weight on it and shrugs, "It's okay, I'll manage.”

"In 30 minutes that lidocaine'll wear off, so you'll feel more sore then.” Helen turns to Tony, "Help her back to the common area, it’s a bit of a walk." Daniela rolls her eyes as Tony helps her out of the room and down the hall, toward the living room of the compound.

As the pair make their way down the hallway and up the stairs toward the living room, Daniela's mind starts to wander. There's one thing that's bothered her since her arrival at the compound and she's never been able to get a straight answer from Steve, so naturally she decides to ask Tony, "Can I ask you something?”

Tony nods next to her, “Always.”

"Now, don't go judging me for what I'm gonna ask,” he laughs as she glares at the stairs, "it's always bugged me, but lately it’s really been bothering me. Why did you guys have Barnes train me?” She pauses as they finish going up the last of the stairs, “I always thought you'd have Rogers do it since he was the one who brought me here.”

Tony furrows his brows together and was quiet for a moment, thinking to himself, "It wasn't completely my decision.” She looks to him and he shrugs, "Rogers thought that it would be good for Barnes to have something to do, to get him all normalized. Plus, it would get you both outta your comfort zone a bit." Daniela rolls her eyes, "You gotta admit it worked, you guys get along great. He seems to like you better than some of us. He trained ya real good too, you've helped him out as well."

Daniela scoffs, "How exactly have I helped him? All I did was give him a huge scar and then I had to walk on eggshells around the guy for at least a month.”

"Yeah, you guys really need to kiss and make up.” She sticks her tongue out in disgust and Tony chuckles, "He's over it, ya know, has been for awhile. It’s been almost two years, so you should get over it too.”

"How, Tony?" She reaches out and takes his hand, the lidocaine in her leg beginning to wear off, "I lost control of my temper and he suffered for it. I may be a bitch, but I'm not completely heartless.”

He grabs her hand to steady her, "And here I thought you had no soul.”

She laughs sarcastically and rolls her eyes, "Very funny, I'm being serious.”

"Same here." He stops just short of the entry way to the living room and lowers his voice, "I know it's tough for you to be open with people, but maybe try? Barnes cares about you, ya know. You two have grown close over the past few years, at least give him a chance. You might be surprised what happens if you do.”

Tony meant every word of what he said. He really wished Daniela would give Bucky a chance, in more ways than just forgiveness. He sees the way they look at each other and he can tell there's a spark there, he just can't believe that the pair are too dumb to see it in each other. Bucky may not be Tony's best friend, but he did want happiness for the soldier. Daniela on the other hand was one of his favorite people and if being with Bucky would make her happy, then he may just have to help nudge them together.

Daniela crosses her arms and leans her back against the wall, “Well, we um, we’re closer than you realize.”

A huge grin spreads across his face, completely proud, “Oh yeah, do tell.”

Her face turns red and she chuckles from his excitement, “God, you sound like such a teenager.”

He rolls his eyes, “Just tell me.”

She shakes off the embarrassment and points a finger at him, “If you tell anyone what I’m about to say, I will destroy your suits.”

“Oh yeah,” he raises a challenging eyebrow, “I’d love to see you try, babe.”

“Is that a challenge, iron maiden?" Tony laughs at the name and she continues, "I’ll freeze everything, make it look like Christmas down there.”

“God, I love you.” He smiles big and Daniela blushes at the floor, “Anyway just tell me! I won’t tell a soul.”

She shakes her head, “It’s not that big of a deal. You know how I get with storms and how sometimes I need someone to help me. Well, on a few occasions Barnes has been that person.”

His eyes widen in shock, “No shit?”

Her eyes narrow in return, “What?”

He shrugs, “Just never figured you two for thunder-buddies.”

“Nothing happens!” She laughs while Tony wiggles his eyebrows, “You've help me out before, Tony! You know how bad my PTSD can get, but it doesn’t bother him at all. The thunder just,” she takes in a deep breath, “it reminds me of tougher times and for some reason he makes me feel safe.”

Tony smirks, but then eventually smiles, “That’s adorable.”

“And this is why I didn’t wanna tell you.”

**********

“She's alive!” Sam announces as Tony and Daniela enter the living room. She looks around to see that everyone was lounging around on the various couches and chairs around the room, "Thank God because Parker was freaking out!”

Peter glares at him, “Was not!” He gets up from his seat and hops over to the soldier, “So does it hurt? Are you gonna be okay? Do you have any stitches?” His eyes grew wider with each question, "Am I still an Avenger!?”

"Dear God, stop!” She groans as Tony laughs next to her, "Too many questions, Parker, at least le'me sit down first.” Tony takes her to one of the couches and purposefully sits her down beside Bucky, who looks her over a bit, clearly assessing to see if she really was alright. Daniela smiles flatly at him and he nods his head in a mild greeting. Peter then plops down next to her and she half smiles at his energy, "First off, Parker, of course you're still an Avenger," she chuckles weakly, "that wouldn't even be my call that's more of a Tony and Steve thing.”

"Mr. Stark said it was up to you," he furrows his brows and tilts his head like a confused puppy, "and that I had to wait for you to get back from the med bay to know my fate." His eyes trail over to Tony who was trying to hide a smirk— but failing.

Daniela groans in frustration, ”God, Tony! You said you were gonna talk to him, not scare him!”

"I specifically said I was gonna yell at him," he raises his hand defensively, "because you didn't feel like it, so I did exactly that.”

“He sure did," Steve shakes his head, "scared the life outta the kid.”

Tony glares at the solider on the couch next to him, "He deserved it! They could've been killed! I'm not having that shit on my watch!”

"Anyway," Daniela says closing her eyes for a moment, "moving on.” She opens her eyes again, looking to Peter, "I think it's safe to say you're grounded for a while. No more missions until I say so.”

“But—" he stammers.

"No buts, Parker,” she crosses her arms, “Tony’s right, you could've been killed. You weren’t paying any attention to long range threats and you were lucky that I was!” She sighs exasperated, “It’s already difficult for me to try and keep an eye on everyone while we’re out there. I can’t do that and babysit you! I have to trust that you can take care of yourself first and you’re definitely not there yet.”

Peter hangs his head, "I'm sorry.”

She frowns a bit, feeling a tad guilty for being so harsh, but she meant it. She couldn’t keep an eye on the team and then constantly worry that he might be off somewhere getting killed. He was doing such a good job training at the compound, maybe she jumped the gun too soon in thinking he was ready for the field. She's never trained a special solider before, so maybe she needed some pointers. She blamed herself really, the soldier is only as good as their commander.

Daniela sighs and places her hand over his, "Look, I'm not saying never again," he looks up and meets her eyes, "you just need more training. It's my fault if anything.”

The last statement caused Bucky to elbow her side, which earned a glare from Daniela, "It's not your fault, Velikov.” She removes her hand from Peter's and crosses her arms, "The kid wasn't paying any attention and got you shot for fucks sake.”

“Barnes—”

"Stop defending him." He glares down at her, "You're right he needs more training, but that doesn't mean you failed. He needs to take responsibility too.”

"Okay." She says slowly through gritted teeth, "My apologies, Barnes,” he narrows his eyes at her, "it was both our faults then.”

"At least you're both okay," Steve interjects before the argument escalates, "this is how we learn. Now, Velikov, go get some rest. I think it's safe to say you've earned it.”

She sighs heavily, "Alright, Cap.”

She moves to stand up when Bucky beats her to it, offering his hand, "Le'me help ya, okay?”

She pushes his hand away and stands up on her own, "I got this.”

Bucky scoffs next to her, "Stop being so damn stubborn for once.” He takes her arm and she takes a deep breath to calm her growing temper, “And stop giving me that look," Daniela raises a challenging eyebrow at him, "I'm not gonna tolerate it." She laughs dryly and looks at the floor while everyone goes quiet, expecting her to go off on him.

However, Daniela was use to this kind of treatment. By no means was he being hateful, this was his version of tough love, it helped her actually. Daniela preferred it to being babied, which is probably why they got along so well, she would rather people be honest and blunt, than tip-toe around her feelings. Bucky seemed to understand that after their first month of training together. During that time, Daniela and Sam ended up having a huge, stupid fight. Afterwards, she went to the gym and set Sam's favorite punching bag on fire then sat on a bench to watch it burn, while drinking a bottle of his favorite vodka. Eventually, Bucky showed up because FRIDAY had told him what she was doing, surprisingly he didn’t seem too shocked. He just walked in, grabbed the bottle from her, took a drink, and proceeded to tell her to take the stick out of her ass and put out the fire. Bucky usually put on a much nicer demeanor around the group though, not everyone understood their relationship.

"Damn, Barnes,” Sam says, "since when are you so hard on her?”

"He's always been this way,” she glares at Bucky, but still accepting his help, "he's just usually better at hiding it.”

He chuckles at her, "Well, I'm full of surprises too, ya know.”

Daniela rolls her eyes as they walk down the hall away from the team, "I guess so.” She winces a bit when she steps wrong and she holds on to him tighter, "Okay, maybe I did need your help..." Her sentence trails off as she stops to gain her composure, resting her head against his bicep. The lidocaine had almost completely worn off at this point and she was really starting to feel the toll the bullet took on her calf.

He nods, "It's almost like I knew you would.”

She scoffs and lifts her head back up once more, "You think you know me so well, Sergeant.”

"That's because I do.” He chuckles as they make their way down the hall again, "By the way," his voice drops a bit causing a knot to form in her stomach, "stop calling me Sergeant. I know why you're doing it and it's starting to get on my nerves. I’ve told you a million times to call me either Bucky or Barnes.”

Without looking at him, she responds, "I'm just calling you by your rank.”

"You do it sarcastically.” He says as he helps her around the corner, "I know you hate taking orders from me,” Daniela sighs and continues looking ahead, "can you please get over it? We're on the same side.”

She purses her lips, "I'll work on it.”

He nods a thank you, "Why does it bother you anyway?"

It wasn't a big deal as to why it bothered Daniela and it wasn't anything personal either, it was just an issue that she was still trying to work through since becoming an Avenger. In the past, women weren't allowed to join the Marines, let alone be active duty and hold high ranks, so it meant a lot to her when she could finally join and fight alongside other soldiers. When she was promoted to Sergeant, she had her own squadron that she was in charge of, they were so loyal to her, and she missed them dearly. Leading people wasn't originally for her, but she grew into it after fighting and living for so long and so she loved it now, to be able to have people depend on her and trust her like her boys did back then, there wasn't anything like it. Now however, things were different. She was in charge of one person, a kid, her shadow. She loved Peter, but he was no soldier and it was frustrating beyond belief that he almost got himself killed. Nothing against the people at the compound, but she did hate taking orders from so many of them, she still wasn't completely use to it, but it was her issue, nothing anyone else could fix.

She groans in frustration, “It’s just—” she stops to lean against a nearby wall, “Barnes, I’ve been through a lot throughout my life and I’m trying to move on. Maybe some day I’ll tell you my story, but not now, I just got shot. Plus, I’m just not ready yet.” She bites her lip and crosses her arms, “If it makes you feel better, it’s nothing personal, honest."

“Okay,” he sighs heavily, “but if you actually want to talk. I’m here.”

She closes her eyes, “I know, you always say that.”

“‘Cause I mean it.” He smirks, “I mean, you’ll come find me during thunderstorms and you'll stay the night in my bed. We talk about all kinds of things too, so sometimes it's hard not to take it personal.”

She shakes her head and opens her eyes, “I’ve told you before I’m not good with emotions and sharing, so I dunno—”

“You just need someone,” he smiles, “I get it.”

She closes her eyes and sighs, “Can we drop it now ‘cause it's getting weird." She opens her eyes to find Bucky's expression had softened greatly and he was looking at her strange, “What?"

“Nothing," he shakes his head, “um,” he runs his flesh hand through his hair, "come on let me help you back to your room.”

She doesn't move and he looks to her curiously, "Are things gonna be weird between us now? Like, if there’s a thunderstorm, do I need to find Tony?”

He narrows his gaze and she smirks playfully, knowing her statement would cause him to get upset, “I’d be offended if you did that.” Daniela chuckles and he shrugs, “I just don’t want you to think that just because I’m your superior you can’t tell me things.”

She takes his arm that he offers, “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”

The rest of the walk, the pair are silent, mostly because neither know what else to say. What Tony and Daniela had discussed earlier that day made her head a bit foggy and she still didn't know how to be honest with Bucky yet. They'd always had a good friendship, sure they were hard on each other, but she still deeply cared about him. She figured it went the other way too, but he was a hard person to read, maybe some day she would get the courage and ask.

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dontcare77ghj · 3 years

Text

Inked

Natasha x reader x Wanda

"You know those cause cancer, right?" Mal asked, entering your office. "And you're gonna stink out your office."

"The window's open." You shrugged, exhaling slowly and sending the smoke out the open window. "And you and I both know, cancer isn't something I'm scared of."

"Yeah, yeah, death licks your boots." Mal rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of blue hair out of her eyes. "Anyway, I'm going on break, Blaine's with a customer, and we've got a walk-in."

"I'll handle it." You promised, putting out your cigarette. "You going to pick up Erin?" You asked the younger girl.

"Yeah, I'm gonna drop her off with a neighbor. May offered and wouldn't let me refuse." She told you.

"Well, here. Get Erin something sweet for me." You said, shoving a twenty into her hands.

"Y/N, I can't." Mal started, trying to give you the money back.

"I insist." You cut her off. "I want to be her favorite aunt." You shrugged, forcing her to curl her fingers around the money. "Go, get your kid, and give her a hug for me."

"Will do, boss." She nodded before leaving.

"Hi, welcome to SkinPolish. How can I help you?" You asked, entering the main room to see the back of a man. He was looking over the walls of the store but turned at your entrance.

"Just so you know, I'm not here to get stabbed a thousand times," Clint told you with a grin.

"I think your day job provides you with enough of that." You joked, wrapping your arms around him. Clint chuckled as he returned your hug, pulling you close. "It's been too long, geezer."

"I know, you've got at least four more tattoos since the last time I saw you, you hoodlum." Clint teased you.

"It's been two years, Clint. Some of us had to change our identities." You reminded him, pulling back. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help." He told you.

"Blaine, watch the shop." You said without taking your eyes off the man before you.

"You got it, Y/N!"

"Follow me." You told Clint. You led Clint out of the front of the store and into your office. "Clint, I left when SHIELD fell. I handed in my clearance and took off." You said, lighting another cigarette. "I'm not doing any more work for them."

"Don't be like that." Clint groaned, sitting on your desk.

"First off, get the fuck off my desk. Where are the manners Laura shoved down your throat? And secondly, I can't come back. Fucking HYDRA was running SHIELD for years, and none of us knew. All our information was in their hands. Who knows what they took? I have people I care about, Clint. I can't risk anyone's lives." You told him.

"I'm not asking you to do anything for SHIELD. I'm asking you to help the Avengers." Clint explained.

"Even better, a more public job." You scoffed. "Clint, we're friends. We've been through a lot. I get why you're here, but why the fuck would I risk the people I care about for another mission?"

"Argentina." He said simply.

"That is a dick move, and you know it." You groaned, finishing your smoke.

"I do know it, but I have to use it. We need your help." Clint said, rising from your desk to stand in front of you. "We need your help, kid. I wouldn't be asking if I had another choice."

"Fine." You relented after a minute. "When do you need me?"

"Tomorrow," Clint told you. "I'll pick you up." He added before going to leave.

"You don't know where I live." You protested.

"Yeah, I do." Clint corrected you. "I'll see you at nine." He said, and with that, he was gone.

"Fuck me." You sighed, rubbing your hand across your face.

"Remind me why I agreed to this again?" You asked, watching as the Avengers Compound grew closer through the window.

"Because you love me," Clint responded cheekily.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." You rolled your eyes. "You never even told me what I'm needed for."

"Briefing's in half-hour," Clint told you. "Which gives you enough time to get acquainted with everyone." He added as the car slowed to a stop.

"You know how I feel about crowds of people."

"It's not a crowd. It's the team and Maria. You're fine, kid, I promise." He said.

"Fine, let's get this over with." You sighed, unclicking your belt.

"Avengers!" Clint called as the two of you moved further into the maze of a building. "I have a surprise for you all!"

"Is it a unicorn?" A male voice asked as you both entered what looked to be a meeting room.

"Even better. Gentlemen, and Wanda,"

"Smooth Barton." A redhead coughed.

"This is Y/N L/N." Clint continued his introduction. "A specialist in all fields, especially disguise, and the only reason we might do our job today."

"Oh, so I'm doing your work for you again, Barton? Nothing's changed, I see." You commented.

"Hey! That's not true! Name one time that's ever been true!"

"I can list fifty off the top of my head." You said, raising a brow at him.

"I can add sixty-seven to your list." The redhead piped in. "Natasha Romanoff." She introduced herself.

"Pleasure Agent Romanoff." You smiled. "C'mon Barton, formal introductions, please."

"Yeah, Barton. Introduce us."

"Y/N, this is Tony, Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Wanda." Clint gestured. "Are you all satisfied?"

"Not particularly, since you still haven't told me what you need my help for." You said, crossing your arms.

"You haven't even told her that. Jesus Barton." Wanda snorted.

"I was getting to that. I was waiting for you all to meet." Clint whined.

"Well, we're met." You said, taking an empty seat beside Natasha. "C'mon, what am I doing here?"

"There's a gala tonight," Natasha said, handing you a file. "A man named Jayden Reeds is going to be in attendance. Reeds has stock in several large companies, but that's just a front. Reeds actually has ties to HYDRA and deals in human trafficking. From what we've gathered, Reeds kidnaps people who will seemingly not be missed. They're then delivered to HYDRA bases around the world and never heard from again."

"Am I here to kill him? Because I can get behind that." You said, shaking your head.

"Wait till you hear the rest," Clint told you.

"There is a possibility Reeds also has his own collection. He's been spotted with several women who have all disappeared shortly after."

"What's the connection between them?" You asked.

"They're all French brunettes."

"So let me guess, my job is to go undercover tonight and see if he takes the bait. And when he does, I bring him in."

"Bingo Boingo," Tony told you.

"Well, I guess I better find a long sleeve dress. Oh, and maybe a wig."

"You know, if I didn't know better, I would have assumed your accent was real myself," Wanda commented later that night.

The mission had gone as smoothly as could be. Reeds had fallen for your act believing you to be a young French brunette on vacation in America's busiest city.

You hadn't even needed to corner him as he'd followed you into a woman's bathroom with two other men.

You hadn't given any of them a chance to move or say anything before you had them unconscious on the ground.

Now you were heading home, still decked out in your gala gown, with Natasha, Wanda, Clint, and Tony.

"It's not that good. No matter how much I practice, even my Italian's better than my French." You shrugged.

"Not that good?" Tony snorted, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. "Sweetheart, if I weren't engaged and I met you in Paris, I'd take you back to Hotel Plaza Athenee and show you a time."

"Cute, Starky boy, but you're not my type."

"I'm everyone's type."

"Sorry, hon, but I like women." You told him. "This is my stop." You added as Tony pulled over.

"You live here?" Natasha asked, looking around the neighborhood in distaste. You could understand her aversion to the area. Any one of your neighbors would move in an instant if given the choice.

"Yep." You said, unclicking your belt. "Been here since SHIELD crashed."

"Did SHIELD pay this bad?" Tony questioned you.

"SHIELD pay wasn't great, but it was something. I saved most of it, but a lot of it went to making sure Y/N Smith, the tattoo artist from the wrong side, wasn't connected with Y/N L/N, SHIELD agent." You shrugged. "Didn't see a point in moving after." You added. "This was fun. We should do it again sometime." You said, sliding out and holding the door open.

"We'll give you a call if we need someone to do all the work for us." Clint nodded.

"Great. Come by the shop if you ever want a free tattoo. Clint knows where it is."

A part of you was sure you wouldn't see any of the team again. They led much more busy lives than you did, and their schedules were forever changing.

So imagine your surprise when Natasha and Wanda entered your shop the next day just to simply chat. And they continued to do so for a week. Sometimes Clint would come, Steve had popped in for a few minutes while on a run, but Natasha and Wanda visited every day.

On the seventh day, the two came in at one in the afternoon with Tony.

"Hey, Tony. I didn't know you were coming to lunch with us." You said, continuing to lock up the shop. "I'll be ready in a couple minutes."

"Great, but there's been a slight change of plans," Natasha said, watching you closely.

"As long as foods still involved, I won't be too bothered." You shrugged.

"Food is involved. It's just going to take us a while to get to it." Tony cryptically informed you.

"Guys, I'm running on twenty minutes of sleep and caffeine. Please, no cryptics." You sighed, narrowing your eyes at the three.

"Relax, we're not trying to hurt your head." Tony chuckled. "We have something to tell you."

"But first, step this way, away from any possibly hidden weapons," Natasha said, gesturing you forward. "No-one should get a knife to the head because they shocked you."

"Haha." You rolled your eyes, walking forward. "For the record, I did that once. And Clint caught it." You added. "What did you three do?"

"Technically, Tony did it," Wanda said, pointing a thumb at the billionaire.

"Real smooth, Sabrina." Tony scoffed. "Alright, yes, I did this, but I did it out of pure kindness."

"Did what?"

"I've had all your stuff moved out of your apartment. I've had it moved into a spare room in the Compound," Tony announced.

"Put it back, Tony." You demanded, crossing your arms. "My things aren't yours to touch."

"You live in a shitty neighborhood." Tony defended himself. "You have eight security systems of your own just to keep yourself safe. You won't find a new place of your own volition, so I found one for you."

"Tony, you moved my things into the Avengers Compound." You sighed. "I'm not an Avenger."

"Yet." Tony cut you off. "You are more than qualified to join the team. The way you helped us the other night, the way you took those men out and got the information quicker than we would have done. You can be an Avenger."

"I'm not risking those closest to me." You shook your head. "I gave up Y/N L/N when I left SHIELD. I have people in my life now, civilian people, who could get hurt because of me."

"Than don't let them," Natasha said. "I've been through your records, know how many people you helped and protected. Protect those you love just as you did all the strangers. You can still lead this life as well as one where you can protect people again."

"At least try temporarily," Wanda suggested. "Give it a month trial period and see if you can remember what it feels like. If it doesn't work out, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. And if it does work, you can join our team. Please." She added, giving you puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. A trial period." You sighed, pushing your hair back. "But no more using those eyes. It's evil, and you know it." You said, pointing at the witch.

"Yes, she does." Natasha smiled, putting her arm around her girlfriend's waist. "C'mon, there's a car waiting to take us back to the Compound."

"Where Tony ordered lunch," Wanda added, putting her hand out to you to take.

"At least he did one thing right." You joked, taking her petite hand.

"Hey!"

You had been staying at the Compound for almost a month. There were four days before the end of your trial period, but you hadn't made your decision yet.

There was still a part of you that thought it would no longer be safe for the civilians in your life if you joined the team. If you entered the Avengers, you might have to give up this identity and everything and everyone that came with it.

But there was something about being around the team that ignited a spark within you. A spark you long thought had burned out. You longed for adventure, for that adrenaline rush that came with being undercover and the pride you felt at helping someone.

You were torn between two worlds. Torn between two personalities.

"Jesus Christ, you smell like an ashtray," Natasha complained as she suddenly appeared by your side. You snapped out of your daze just in time to see Natasha take the smoke out of your hand and take a drag for herself.

"Didn't know you smoked." You commented, watching her exhale the smoke slowly.

"I don't. Not anymore." Natasha shook her head. "Just couldn't resist."

"Don't expect me to kiss you until you brush your teeth," Wanda said, skipping into the room and crossing her arms as she stared at the two of you. "I want a tattoo." She announced, staring you dead in the eye.

"Okay. Do you want me to find a parlor for you in the morning? I have a couple friends who owe me a favor or two." You suggested.

"No, I want you to do it," Wanda told you firmly. "As soon as possible if you would."

"And you're sure about this?" You asked, raising a brow. "You're sure you want a tattoo and that you want me to do it?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Alright, then. Follow me." You said, leading the two back into the Compound and into your room.

"You have a gun and inks in your room?" Natasha asked, looking your makeshift parlor over.

"Yep. Set it up the night I arrived, gave myself this the next." You said, lifting your shirt to reveal the healing tattoo on your hip.

"Geez, you know most people drink a bottle of scotch to welcome themselves to a new place? Not give themselves a tattoo." Natasha informed you.

"Probably." You nodded, beginning to set up your station. "Okay, Wanda, what did you have in mind?"

"I want the words, 'Ty namnogo bol'she' to wrap around my wrist," Wanda said, tracing around her thin wrist with her finger.

"Alright, I can definitely do that. But you might have to write it down for me. My Russian's not that great." You informed her.

"We'll have to work on that," Natasha said as Wanda began to write it down.

"Alright." You began after Wanda handed you the spelling. "Let's get started."

"I love it." Wanda smiled, watching as you gently wrapped her wrist. "It's perfect."

"I like to do my best." You grinned, putting the last of the tape down. "Make sure that stays moist. And do not scratch it under any circumstances." You instructed her as you began to shove your equipment away in plastic tubs.

"You need a better system," Natasha commented. "Yours is kind of a mess."

"I'll update my system when I change this room around." You said, looking around the nearly bare room. Everything you owned was in plastic tubs or bags. You hadn't been bothered to unpack yet.

"Does that mean you're planning on staying?" Natasha asked. "Have you made your decision yet? To join the team or not?"

"Not yet. I'm still trying to decide." You sighed, leaning against the wall. "I like not giving a shit. I like waking up in the morning and paying too much for a shitty cup of coffee. I like going to work and being around people who've never had to see the shit we have. I like not having to feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but I miss it.

I miss being a part of a team. I liked saving people. I enjoyed going on missions, creating new personas to get what I needed done. I miss being around people who've seen the shit I have. Who know what the weight of the world feels like.

Now I don't where to go. What I need more in my life." You told them.

"We told you, you don't need to pick one world," Wanda said, standing from her stool. "You can still save people and drink over-priced coffee. You can still be with people who share your trauma and be with those who don't. You don't have to pick one world."

"Can we help your decision along by us asking you out to dinner?" Natasha asked, breaking your pensive silence.

"Excuse me?" You asked, for once being taken aback by another person. "I think I went temporarily deaf there. Can you repeat yourself?"

"Let us take you on a date," Natasha repeated slowly. "We were thinking about dinner and wine and then a night at the opera." She said, causing your nose to scrunch up without thought.

"She's kidding." Wanda giggled. "Actually, we were thinking we get a couple beers, order a pizza, and watch a movie in our room."

"Can I pick the movie?" You asked her.

"With your crappy taste, no." Wanda shook her head.

"Okay, now she's kidding," Natasha said, taking three steps forward to stand beside her girlfriend. "Of course, you can pick the movie."

"And this wouldn't hurt your relationship?" You asked tentatively. "I wouldn't ruin what you already have?"

"You could only add." Wanda smiled.

"So, what do you say? You wanna go on a date with us?" Natasha questioned you.

"I'd love to."

"Go away.” You groaned, rolling away and under the covers into Natasha’s body.

“Wakey, wakey. Up and at ‘em you two.” Wanda ordered, pulling the blankets off the pair of you.

“Wanda!”

“Both of you will forgive me when I tell you I have coffee.” Wanda rolled her eyes, sitting on the bed beside you.

“The overpriced kind?”

“What other kind is there?” Wanda asked. “C’mon sit up or no coffee for either of you.”

“Alright, alright, we’re up.” Natasha said, sitting up with you on her chest. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I love you.” You groaned after taking the first sip of your steaming beverage.

“Are you talking to me or the coffee?”

“Can’t it be both?” You shrugged before grabbing her hand and kissing her palm softly.

“As long as there’s love for me too, it can.” Natasha told you.

“I love you too, Nat.” You promised, kissing her collarbone.

“After today’s meeting, I want you to give me a tattoo.” Natasha announced. “I don’t care where is is, but I want ‘YA zasluzhivayu lyubvi’.” She told you.

“Alright then. I like this plan.” You smiled, looking up at your girlfriend. “You know I think I’m due for some new ink myself.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can choose for me.” You shrugged. “I trust you both, always.”

Once, you left SHIELD and it’s lifestyle behind. And then one day Clint Barton walked into your shop and brought you back into it.

He brought you back to the life you missed and brought you to Natasha and Wanda.

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Text

switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 1

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

relationship: fem!OC/Spencer Reid

word count: 3.4k

hi all! welcome to my new story.

I've never written a baby Spence fic before, but I'm gonna try my best. I just wanted to get something out of the way before the book starts:

aside from the fact that it's young Spencer, this book isn't placed in a specific season. I might pull cases from different episodes, but the characters will remain the same. I've included Emily and Rossi as characters because I couldn't bear to have a story without either of them (wouldn't want to subject any of you to a Prentiss-less world).

that's pretty much it. I'm glad you're here. if you wanna read my other stories, my masterlist is here.

happy reading :)

"HA!" I slap my hand down on the pile of cards and slide it towards me, organizing them in a neat pile with a smug expression.

"this game is a sham." Spencer sighs, reaching for his book.

"you're just mad you lost." I raise an eyebrow and shuffle the cards again. "you don't wanna play another round?"

"why would I? the only skill this game requires is fast reflexes." he runs hazel eyes down the page with an alarming quickness. I scoff at his disinterest.

"maybe if you trained those reflexes as much as you trained that big genius brain of yours, you'd get a leg up." Morgan teases from his spot next to me. Spencer glances at him with a frown, his cheeks turning a light pink, before looking to me. I throw up my hands.

"he said it, not me." secretly, I smile at the fact that Derek is backing me up.

"I could beat any of you in poker." Reid defends.

"easily. it helps that I don't even know how to play." I slide the cards back into the holder and cross my arms over my chest with a sigh.

"you don't know how to play poker?" he's shocked.

"I told you, I hate card games like that!" I emphasize. things like poker, blackjack, anything that involves multiple players, I usually don't enjoy much. Emily glances up from her case file with a tiny smirk.

"why?"

"I'm a sore loser." I admit, averting my eyes. there's also the risk factor involved, which includes giving up coins or pretzels or peanuts if I lose. I tend to cling tightly to all three. Prentiss lets out a laugh and Spencer flips the page of his book.

"and winner, apparently."

"you're sassy today, aren't you?" I grin at him, pleasantly surprised.

in the month I've been working here, I haven't spoken to Spencer very much. he's been polite and I've gotten to know his intellect quite well, but he doesn't spend a lot of time with us outside of work. when we go out to get drinks, he either declines or heads home before we can even ask, a bag full of books pressed to his side.

I think he just takes a while to get comfortable around new people-- that's what JJ said when I asked why he seemed to be avoiding me. the fact that he played cards with me today felt like a victory in itself, so I'll take what I can get.

Spencer doesn't reply to my dig, only crosses his long, narrow legs and settles into his book.

"we should start briefing before we land." Hotch and Rossi walk over from their spots at the front of the plane to sit on the couch by our table. I nod eagerly and watch as Emily flips open her laptop to FaceTime Penelope about the case.

the first couple cases were more difficult than I expected because I had never worked in the field before joining the BAU, but I'm starting to get used to flying around constantly and examining actual dead bodies. working sex crimes meant I spent most of my time in front of a computer screen or just staying in the office. this is incredibly different-- which I'm starting to find might not to be a bad thing.

"--the virus killed her hard drive and left that on the screen." Penelope explains, referring to the picture of Heather Woodland's computer.

"'for heaven's sake, catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself'." Morgan reads the message aloud from the case file. the words feel familiar in my mind and I try to remember where I've heard them before.

"that's exactly what William Heirens left behind." Spencer sparks the memory. I sit up straighter.

"the Lipstick Killer?" my fingertips trace over the case details. it's a weird aspect of the murder to emulate, especially because he didn't even leave the message in lipstick. I guess he's not really concerned with that; based on the unsub's previous victims, we have just under 36 hours to find her.

"his first victim was Melissa Kirsh, 26," Reid scratches his nose as he reads, frowning so hard that I start to think he'll form permanent wrinkles. he's got such a baby face, it's almost funny. "stab wounds, strangulation."

"so he stabbed her first, and then strangled her to finish the job?" Morgan repeats.

"what's with using a belt for the second murder?" Emily flips through the papers, confused. Spencer stiffens in his spot as he realizes this is the perfect time to share his freakishly expansive forensic knowledge.

"strangulation with your bare hands actually isn't as easy as you would believe. he probably tried it, found that it took too long, then stabbed her. and blood takes a long time to clean, so he decided a belt would be more efficient."

"he's perfecting his method." I can't tear my eyes away from the photos, despite the roiling sensation they put in my stomach. even with the things I've already seen, I don't think I'll ever get over photographs like this.

"we'll be landing soon and then we're meeting up with the Seattle field office. be ready to split up once we hit the ground." Hotch snaps shut his case file and stands up, breaking off to go sit alone. Rossi takes note of the old card deck that sits on the table.

"poker?" he looks between the four of us.

"nope." Emily chuckles.

"this one doesn't know how to play." Morgan gestures to me, causing Rossi to turn to me.

"were you raised in a barn?" he asks in his usual manner of speaking: blunt sarcasm with a hint of mockery. I frown sarcastically.

"something like that."

"at some point this week, we'll sit down and I'll teach you." he gets up, pats my shoulder, and walks over to join Hotch. I lower my voice once he's far enough away.

"is he actually gonna make me do that?"

"you don't know Rossi." Morgan shakes his head slowly, slides his headphones back on, and sinks into his seat.

"I'll join and bring JJ with me." Emily winks at me reassuringly, noting the tapping of my nail against the surface of the table. Rossi is a legend in the field and I've read all of his books, but didn't want to freak him out by telling him so. it was embarrassing enough when I met him and got tongue-tied while shaking his hand. he's got an elusive energy that intimidates me, and I'd prefer not to showcase that by humiliating myself with poker.

instead of dwelling on thoughts of how I'm going to fail in front of my idol, I open up one of my books and try to pass the time.

...

while I'm writing some notes on one of the many white boards scattered throughout the field office, I realize that I'm one of four other women in the room, including Emily. she's talking to Hotch and another agent at the opposite end of the room; Reid is unpacking his signature book bag and seems deep in thought. Rossi is reading a document. everyone around me seems to be in a hurry to do something, and I begin to feel dumb.

"you okay?" Morgan asks me. I realize that I've been standing with my marker hovering over the board. my fingertips press into my temple before I turn to him.

"yeah, definitely. just thinking." my mind travels to the map we've got pasted up and the red marker lines that Spencer has already created with the geographical profile.

"looks like we're getting the classic Seattle treatment." Derek points outside to the rain pelting the windows, streaming down the glass and distorting the glow of the city outside. it's gloomy today, with a slight chill running through the streets. I nod and turn back to my task, suddenly realizing something.

"he's willing to travel with the body." I mutter to myself. Morgan steps up next to me, crosses his arms across his chest.

"he must drive a vehicle that can conceal one, then." he glances over to Hotch to see what the unit chief has to say, but Spencer speaks up first.

"one in seven point four drivers in Seattle owns an SUV." it's like a flip switches at the mention of a statistic, diverting his attention from something nebulous in his mind to the tangible case. he's a little similar to a robot.

"an Explorer with tinted windows?" Morgan speaks again as he looks over the case photos.

"those rate higher among women." Spencer again.

"sure, but how do we know it's his car?" I wonder.

"what about a Jeep Cherokee?" Hotch chimes in, almost startling me with the deep register of his voice. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I think on it.

"Jeeps are more masculine." Reid comes close to me in order to examine the picture I'm holding. he smells like clean laundry and some nice soap scent that I can't place. maybe it's the gel he uses to slick back his hair. no cologne or aftershave. I don't think he'd need to shave, what with his smooth baby face.

Spencer has some special quirks that make him a little more interesting. he usually avoids physical contact with other people-- doesn't shake hands-- but at other times, he doesn't seem to have self-awareness. like right now, where the shoulder of his red sweater is just barely touching mine. I hand him the picture and step away.

"unsubs love to assert their masculinity."

Hotch nods along, encouraging me to share more of what I'm thinking. after swallowing down a lingering nervousness, I tap the push pin marking where the last body was dumped. "he dropped her out-of-state, so he probably has a previous knowledge of law enforcement. maybe he's got a criminal record?"

"good, Williams." Hotch praises me. my fist clenches triumphantly at my side as he turns to the agent who has been watching us intently. "when do we meet with your task force?"

"four." the man replies. I balk at this, my posture shifting. the shortest time constraint I've ever had here has been a full day. it's already one in the afternoon.

"you want an accurate profile by four today?" I glance between Morgan and Spencer, but the latter is rocking back and forth on his heels with his eyes glued to the white board. Morgan doesn't seem put off by it.

"we can do that." Hotch scowls, snapping shut the case file with a finality that tells me we're about to split up. "Dave and Morgan, head to the last dump site. Williams, Reid, I want you to talk to Heather's brother and try to find out what you can about her life. Prentiss and I will stay here in case of new developments."

I nod curtly, grab my jacket, and glance over at Spencer. he runs his hand over his hair, although I can't imagine what there is to smooth down, then walks over to me.

"you ready to go?" I ask, brandishing the file. he and I have only done two interviews together; I spent most of my beginning weeks working with Emily to get a feel for the job. both times with the boy genius have been fine, if not a little awkward.

he nods in answer to my question. "would you mind driving?"

"no license?" I tease to lighten the mood, but he doesn't get the joke. instead, he frowns at me with something of a distracted expression, adjusts his bag.

"no, I don't like driving in the rain."

"oh," I recover quickly and put a friendly smile on my face. "no problem."

"thanks." he walks ahead of me and I cringe at my own behavior. he acts so differently from earlier on the jet that I start to wonder if I did something wrong. maybe he's just in his head or something; I know I would be if I had an IQ that enormous.

when we get to the house of Heather Woodland's brother, a gorgeous golden lab greets us in the entryway. she puts her paws up on my legs and I reach down to scratch behind her ears with a smile on my face.

"Sandy, calm down." her owner grabs her collar gently to calm her. "sorry."

"no, it's fine, I love dogs." I wave it off and step inside. Spencer is eyeing Sandy warily, but she seems just as eager to say hi to him as she was to me. when she lets out a singular, enthusiastic bark, he startles.

"Mr. Woodland," I suppress my laugh by changing the subject. "I'm Special Agent Williams and this is Special Agent Dr. Reid."

we shake hands, my colleague giving his usual wave and polite smile. the interviewee takes in Spencer's appearance. I know what's coming.

"you look too young for medical school." Woodland says to Reid. this has happened a couple times since I joined the team, but Spencer never seems to mind. if anything, he lights up at the opportunity to share the reason for his official title.

"they're PhD's. three of them." he gives a little smile as we walk into the house, me shaking a few stray raindrops from my hair.

"so... are you a genius or something?" Heather's brother leads us past the hallway into the living room, which is unkempt and littered with pictures, catalogs, and toys. he must have kids in school right now. that would also explain the breed of dog.

"I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified."

"he's being modest," I glance over at Spencer. "Dr. Reid can read 20,000 words a minute-- he's definitely a genius."

Woodland stares at Spencer for a second as he tries to fathom the speed at which someone's mind would have to turn in order to process all that information. I still can't imagine it. Spencer's eyes avoid Woodland's shyly. instead, he watches me as I pet Sandy.

soon after, we ask him about Heather's personality and tendencies. her brother is more than willing to give us all the information we need. I'm surprised, however, by my partner's ease at wandering around Woodland's house, flipping through the magazines on top of the TV and reading the spines of books on shelves. he's quite conspicuous about it.

about halfway through my mental list of questions, Sandy keeps jumping up and wagging her til.

"I'm gonna take her to the backyard quick," Woodland tells us. "one second."

he ducks out of the room and I wait until I know he's out of earshot before sidling up beside Reid.

"there's an immediate relationship established between a buyer and a seller," he tells me, holding up a Datsun Z catalog. we know that she was in the market for one. "if I want to coax a young woman into my car..."

"offer her a test drive." I finish his sentence. of course, within ten minutes of sifting through this woman's house, Spencer has figured out the ruse used to lure her. Woodland returns a moment later with a smile, but we tell him that we've gotten the information we need before leaving.

in the car, Spencer theorizes about the unsub's mental condition as I try to navigate traffic in the storm. thunder rumbles overhead, occasionally sending a vibration through the car. my knuckles tighten around the wheel a bit. I also hate driving in the rain. his rambles fills the silence, however, and somewhat soothe my nerves.

"he doesn't have the MO of a paranoid psychotic. dumping the bodies out in the open, with a weapon nearby... that doesn't align."

"he covers their eyes with duct tape multiple times over, though. he knows he's going to kill them, but he doesn't want them to see his face?" my fingertips drum over the wheel nervously.

"what's wrong?" Spencer asks suddenly, glancing at my hands and then at my face. I still my movements at the change in subject.

"huh? nothing. I just don't like driving in the rain, either."

"oh. I'm sorry." he straightens a bit in his seat. the apology surprises me a little, but he seems genuinely sympathetic. I guess I really don't know him that well.

"it's cool."

we fall into an awkward silence and I bite my lip. we should get back to talking about the case. heaven knows Spencer has more facts to spew, more theories to share about this unsub. anything is better than the gap in conversation. I open my mouth to say more about what we learned at the house, except Spencer speaks first.

"so... how are you liking working here?" he asks awkwardly. it takes a second for the question to register with me. he sounds uncomfortable whenever we're alone and that makes me uncomfortable in turn. where everyone else was quick to include me in their jokes and discussions, Reid always sounds like talking to me exhausts him. it's obvious that he's socially awkward. there's no judgement from me; I'm just surprised that he's pushing to talk about non work-related subjects.

"I like it," not really an accurate summation. I don't think a heart-to-heart is exactly the right move when talking to him. "a little stressful, though."

"you worked in sex crimes before, right?" he looks out the window. there isn't much to see except for the rain-blurred skyline. I nod.

"yep."

"that sounds... hard." he shifts in his seat as he tries to come up with more points of conversation. it's kind of endearing, honestly. I throw him a bone.

"so is profiling."

"why'd you switch?" his eyes flit over to mine as he quickly adds, "if you don't mind me asking."

I take a second to come up with an answer. of course, there's the classic response: I've always wanted to help people— which isn't wrong— it's also not the whole answer. all through college and the Academy, I had my head focused on one thing. I could interview killers and get inside their heads, but there's something entirely different that you don't get from pure research. and one person inspired that in me before I had finished high school.

"don't tell him I said this, but I really wanted to work with Rossi." I say in a hushed tone. there's a slight smile on my lips because I haven't told anyone on the team in fear of being teased. I don't think Spencer is likely to gossip with Rossi about me, though.

"really?" now he sounds surprised.

"I've read all his books and I've been to a couple lectures. he doesn't remember me, evidently." the thought is more funny than embarrassing. he spoke at my college a few years back and I recall being on the edge of my seat, trying to come up with the courage to ask the questions that filled my head. I was too shy.

"does he know you're a fan?" Spencer loosens up a bit.

"nope," we pull off the freeway as we near the field office. I stop at a red light and look over. "I didn't want to embarrass myself with the whole 'your work changed my life' spiel."

at this, Spencer lets out a short, nervous giggle. it's a nice sound, that laugh. it makes me smile when he seems to relax in his seat.

"that's exactly what I did." he says. I frown.

"you told him his books changed your life?" I blush as I realize I just inadvertently made fun of him.

"I, um... well, I got excited to talk about his research." he averts his gaze again and his cheeks turn a slight pink. there's a dimple in his cheek, I notice, that keeps tugging upward. this is my first time having a non-forced moment with Spencer alone; a wave of satisfaction washes over me as I realize the potential for another friend here.

"trust me, I get it." I laugh. we pull into the parking ramp for the field office and I find a spot by the door. Spencer hoists that bag into his lap and runs his hand through his hair. when I pull the key out of the ignition, he waits for me to get out of the car before we start walking toward the door.

it's small, but I appreciate that he doesn't run off without me. we don't talk as we walk, our footsteps echoing along the cement walls.

oh my god first chapter holy fuck! it's short, but I don't wanna overwhelm. I'm so excited for this book!

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #dr. reid #criminal minds #mgg #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #friends to lovers #BAU #slow burn

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sstarcry · 3 years

Text

Into the fire chapter 1

The once bright white room i had been confined to became shrouded in darkness. I recognized a voice coming from the hall, the voice that belonged to carlos. I watched as my cell door opened, I hid further in the corner, not wanting to be poked and prodded again for the third time today. A mop of messy black hair came into my vision. It wasa carlos.

“It's okay, I'm here to get you out. I'm not letting them turn you into one of those things. But we have to move fast.” he said, hoisting me up off of the floor.

Could I really be getting out of this hellscape? He quickly grabbed a small bag from one of the lockers as we ran.

“Carlos? Why save me?” I asked, my voice strained after not talking for years.

“You deserve a future, not torment. I refuse to let them take you to South america. There's a rescue team headed our way.” he said, pulling me up the stairs of a clock tower. The city looked different. Cars were on fire, and it smelled of death and decay.

“Jill? Are you okay? I'm back and I have him with me. We can get out of here as soon as they arrive.”

That was over 20 years ago. In Raccoon city.

“Kole, are you even listening to me?” Chris, or captain redfield, asked me

“Yes sir, sorry sir.” i said still looking at the table below my arms

“Chris calm down. The kids been through hell, show some sympathy.” Jill said, giving him a smack on the back of the head. “I know you're bad with rookies but c'mon, he's only 28. He got out of Raccoon city with Carlos and i. God knows the horrors he's seen.” she said, ushering me out of the conference room.

“Are you okay?” she asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Im fine, it's just. Been 23 years since then and I can't shake it. I'm sorry.” I said looking down.

“Why don't you go sit with Leon in his office? He needs the company, even if he says he doesn't.” she softly spoke, rubbing my shoulder.

“I'll see if he’ll let me.” I said turning away from her.

“If he says no, tell him he’ll have to deal with me.”

“Thanks Jill, really.” I said, offering her a small smile.

I hesitantly knocked on his office door, still shy even after knowing him since he got back from Spain in ‘04. “Leon? Can I come in?” I asked behind the closed door.

“Sure thing kid.” he said as i opened the door “You okay? You seem lost.”

“I'm surviving, just memories y'know?” I said sitting in my usual spot in the corner chair beside him.

“I heard Chris from here. I dont want you to take this mission. Its too much like raccoon city, and I don't want to put you through that again. Okay?” he said, turning away from his pile of paperwork to look at me. “I still can't believe that you made it out. Hell, I'm still in awe of your resilience. And carlos’ dedication to get you out.” he said, placing a hand on my knee. “Stay in here as long as you like. I’ll be doing paperwork but if you feel like talking, just speak up okay?”

“Okay. thank you.”

Almost as soon as I finished my sentence Chris barged in.

“Kole, what are you doing. Were supposed to be leaving for Delena in 20 minutes.” he practically yelled at me

“I'm not letting him go. It's too similar to Raccoon city. That's an order Redfield.” Leon said, looking at the boulder of a man. “Besides, I'm sure you've got this handled. I'm not letting him go through what i did.”

“Just because he's still young doesn't exclude him from his duties, Leon.” Chris said with unwavering intensity.

“But he's still a DSO agent, so what I say goes in case you forgot. So get out of my office Chris.” Leon said, waving his hand in the direction of the door.

By the time they finished their conversation I was shaking, memories flooding my head of the cruel basement of umbrella. “It's time for your treatment, Kole. Follow Wesker.”

“N-no please no.” “grab him. And don't hurt him too bad we still need him alive. This is Austin, subject 0-009 is showing resistance.” “P-Please dont hurt me. I-i’ll be good promise…”

The room felt like it was closing in and the air became harder and harder to breathe. I felt a whimper escape my throat as I curled up into a tighter ball.

“Kole, hey. It's just me, Leon. It's just us.no one else is here.” I could barely hear him over the sound of them. “Wesker, put him in the room. We need him to be calm for this one.” “Yes sir. C'mon kid, don't make this any harder than it has to be.” “Wesker, please don't make me sit in the room again…” I said as sobs racked my body.

“Hey, hey now. Look at me.” Leon said, placing both hands on my shoulders and giving them a small rub. “I need you to breathe. Wesker isn't here. He got what was coming to him. I promise.” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “Shhh it's okay. I'm here now. And I won't let anyone hurt you, okay?”

“O-okay.” I said, mimicking his breathing, still shaking.

“Dont worry ill talk with Chris when he gets back. I hate seeing you this way.” he said, placing a kiss on the top of my head and rubbing my back. My grip on him got tighter as he rocked us back and forth. Soon my breathing evened out but his grip on me didn't falter. “I'm gonna make a quick call to Hunnigan and have someone do this paperwork so we can go home okay?”

“Okay, as long as we can cuddle for the rest of the day. I'm just drained.'' I said leaning into his chest as he picked up the phone on the desk.

“Anything for my baby.” he said before dialing Hunnigan. “Hey Hunnigan, I'm gonna need the rest of the day off. Yeah it was another bad one. Alright thanks.” he said into the receiver then hung up, helping me to my feet. “You ready to go baby?” he asked, standing up and grabbing my hand.

“I guess so.” I said following him out of the office and into the elevator. “Sorry for being a pain in the ass.”

“You are the furthest thing from a pain in the ass. Now Chris on the other hand.” He said with a light chuckle, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You, my sweet boy, are absolutely perfect in my eyes.” he softly spoke before kissing my forehead. “I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”

“Wow Leon, getting soft?”I asked him as the elevator doors opened to the car park. “Who'd've thought that it'd take a traumatized man to make you soft hm?” I asked him as we approached his car. Usually he'd ride the ducati but it was raining so he left it at home.

“I get that Chris is pushing 50 but he doesn't have to play the grumpy old man act.” Leon said opening the car door for me. “At least Jill keeps him in line.”

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my throat. “Damn babe tell me how you really feel.” I said watching him put the key in the ignition, cranking it. “But you aren’t exactly wrong.”

“Besides, he shouldn’t be that harsh on you. I've told him once before not to do that but I have no problem reminding him. Well, let's get home before the storm gets any worse.” he said exiting the parking deck.

The ride home was mostly silent, minus the soft music coming from the speakers and the occasional boom of thunder. I'm surprised that he still listens to the playlist I made him a few years back.

As we opened the front door we were greeted by our two cats, Ghost and Monty. “Hi boys, did you miss us?” I asked them, getting a loud meow in response from Ghost. “C’mere buddy.” i said picking him up and walking to our shared bedroom.

“You sure have a way with animals” Leon said as he took off his shoes, then followed closely behind me. “Don’t let them take up all the space in the bed will ya?”

“No promises. They have a mind of their own.” I said putting Ghost down and proceeding to take off my work clothes. I looked over my shoulder to see Leon doing the same.

“Cmere.” He said, opening his arms wide. I returned his embrace as he slowly walked back to the bed, pulling me down with him. “Move kitty. I want to cuddle with him, not you.” He said getting a meow in response.

“I don’t think he liked that Leon.” I said resting my head on his chest allowing his heartbeat to calm me.

He chuckled and pulled me closer. “Eh, he can think what he wants.” He said kissing my forehead. “Besides, the second the storm picks up again, he’ll be scurrying under the bed.” Sure enough, bright flash of lightning came through the window followed by a loud clap of thunder. I watched as ghost went from enjoying the pets Leon was giving him to running as fast as he could to get under the bed. “See?”

A small laugh escaped my lips as I watched the whole thing. “What can I say? He’s just a ScaredyCat.”

“Hey, I’m the one who makes the bad jokes!” He said pulling me up on top of him.

“Well looks like I just beat you to the punchline then.” I said sitting up slightly to look at him. His icy eyes held a gleam of happiness in them, a rare sight for him. His hand came up to caress my cheek and pull me into a sweet kiss.

“How did I get so lucky to have this. I thought for the longest time that I’d never feel slightly normal but I wouldn’t trade this for the world.” He said, carding his fingers through my short hair. A hum of content left my throat as I laid my head back down on his chest, just savoring the moment before something inevitably interrupted it. And to my surprise, I was able to drift off into a peaceful sleep as his hands rubbed patterns into the small of my back

Tag list

@thatgoblin @void-of-anarchy @questionedturkey

#leon s kennedy #resi #resident evil #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #Leon s Kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader

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masonscig · 3 years

Text

water

wayhaven summer fic #5

pairing | nate x ramona

word count | 2.1k

warnings | mention of sex, an innuendo

author’s note | i tried to figure out how to get around nate’s aversion to water, and i hit a wall so... i dug around it and decided to write an actor!au !!!! i’d seen a comic months and months ago by @/pvnkvampr and another one that i can’t seem to find again, but i wanted to take that and apply it to nate and ramona! nate’s the type to fall in love with his costar after years of working together and you can’t convince me otherwise. also, to clarify !!! the beginning of the fic is supposed to be like nate x ramona’s romance route so any of the exposition centered around their relationship being fleeting/him being deeply in love with her is nate the character rather than the actor! (you’ll see lmao i’m definitely overexplaining) this is a bit of a stretch bc they’re on the water... and ramona drinks water. but whatever it works !!!!!

•─────────────────•

She was standing on the edge, looking out at the glimmering water, the sun, high in the sky, skipping off of each wave like a smooth rock.

The wind whipped her hair, tossing her short curls until they were unruly, and she was smiling.

Her grin was wide, eyes closed, as she inhaled, drinking it all in – the sunshine fueled her.

Half of Unit Bravo were under the deck, quietly stewing in annoyance. They’d given up complaining to Ramona, though. Frankly, she didn’t care.

Farah was passed out on the floor underneath a sliver of shade at the top of the yacht, chest heaving as she slept soundly. Ramona had taught her how to swim earlier, and she’d used all of her energy flailing around determinedly in the relentless July rays.

Nate watched her as she held her arms out to her sides, fingers outstretched, chin tipped towards the sky.

She was unbridled joy held together by the strings of her bikini, and she radiated a warmth that could rival even the summer sun itself.

So unrestrained that changes didn’t phase her – most conflict rolled off her shoulders in a way that startled Nate, a being who’d existed for hundreds of years and had seen the best and the worst of it.

Nothing baffled him more than this part of his existence.

The way love fell into his lap and he didn’t have to try anymore.

But despite it all, he’d deluded himself into thinking it was permanent – they were permanent. And they weren’t. And that was okay.

“Oh, you’re back!” She grinned, stretching her arm out until her fingertips grazed his bare arm, her palm warm against his skin. “I was wondering what you were up to.”

“I had to do a quick wellness check of our crew –”

“– Oh my god, are Adam and Morgan still seething down there?–” She asked, cutting him off with a laugh.

“– Very much so, I’m afraid,” he said, his mischievous smile betraying his tone.

“I thought a tiny little shindig would be better than a huge shebang, you know?” She turned in his grip, back against the railing, his arms curled around the bare skin of her waist.

“You’re still trying to stump me? Give it a rest, love,” Nate laughed into the thick mess of curls at the top of her head, pressing a kiss to her sun-warmed strands.

“I will say a phrase you don’t know and then you’ll owe me some juicy Agency secrets,” she giggled, snaking her arms around his neck.

“Like what?” He asked, lips straining at corners, his grin threatening to falter.

“Like how the hell does Morgan wear jeans and no underwear? That’s something I can’t for the life of me wrap my mind around,” she all but shuddered.

“That’s an answer you’ll have to coax out of her, unfortunately.” He said, a bit distracted.

“You know you can keep your Agency secrets, mister secret agent. I have no need for ‘em,” she stuck her tongue out, still stained bright red from the margarita she’d finished hours before.

He must’ve looked puzzled, because she continued, inching in closer until he could feel her everywhere and it wasn’t in the least bit appropriate.

“We both know you have even juicier secrets to spill,” she said, before leaning in to whisper the last bit, her fingers tangled through his hair.

“And I’ll lap up every last drop of ‘em,” she murmured, kissing his earlobe.

The pads of his fingers were sunken into the flesh of her hips, and he tried desperately to anchor himself to spare the others, but he couldn’t get a grip on anything but her warm, warm, sunkissed skin –

He blanked.

His thoughts were scrambled and he couldn’t form words. Couldn’t recall the words he needed to say. But he could see the paper so clearly –

“Line?” He mumbled, feeling her go limp with disappointment in his arms.

Farah groaned from across the deck.

“Cut!” The director yelled, and all but stormed over to him. “What happened out there? You were on a fuckin’ roll! The chemistry was insane. God, I wish you could’ve been watching –”

“Don’t make him feel like shit over it, Craig,” she gently warned, stepping forward just a bit until she’d angled her body between them. “I flubbed my lines all last week and he was so patient with me.”

Craig sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, the wrinkled skin between his brows crinkling even further. “Alright, alright, I get it. Not gonna hound you over one take, but I need you to get it in gear, man. We’ve only got a couple more hours of sunlight in this godforsaken shitheap, and we’ve gotta wrap this part up so we can film the sunset kiss –”

“I understand. I won’t mess it up this time,” Nate promised, glancing over to his co-star with an apologetic smile.

Ramona shrugged, waving his statement away. “It’s fine, seriously. I’m totally okay with running that again.” “Speak for yourself! I’m dying out here,” Farah called from across the deck before turning back to the hair and makeup people, pursing her lips for more lip balm and sunscreen. “Please get it right this time, Agent Sewell.”

“That’s just the name of my character –”

“I’m well aware of that,” she yelled, cutting him off. “Method acting. You get it.”

His co-star shook her head, patting him on the back. “Don’t mind Miss Hauville. She’s just upset she was dragged out here to lie down on a hot sundeck like a dead body for half of an episode.”

He laughed at that, relieved that his co-star was keeping things light.

Truth be told, he’d had a rough time getting his on-screen family to cooperate with him, much like the character Nate Sewell.

Adam’s actor was a notoriously nice guy, but he had a knack for intense method acting, so he’d been a stoic asshole for months – there was no getting through to that guy when he was in filming mode. Morgan’s actress was a bit of a wildcard. She was fucking the executive producer and everyone except Craig knew it.

Farah’s actress was arguably the biggest success of them all – she was constantly booked and busy and effortlessly making headlines. And it was becoming increasingly obvious that she was only there as a favor, not because she wanted to.

She was a film star who never touched TV, but hell, she was half the reason millions of people tuned into the pilot episode.

The Wayhaven Chronicles wouldn’t be the same without her, or Ramona’s actress, the fan favorite. Yeah, she was the protagonist, but the cast, crew, fans, and everyone alike loved her.

And he had a bit of a crush.

He was aware that on set romances usually fell apart before they could really begin, but he couldn’t help it.

Not only did he spend nearly all of his free time with her running lines and hanging out in her trailer, but to make matters worse his character was canonically falling for hers, and… he found himself enamored with her, too.

He’d never admitted it out loud, and probably never would, but it was getting harder and harder to push those feelings away when they had to share an on screen kiss.

Season one wasn’t too bad, considering they were just testing the waters to see who the fan favorite love interest was out of the four of them, but by the end of it, social media had all but rioted to lock in the “Natemona” romance plot.

And there they were, well into season two, a handful of kisses shared (a lot more than that considering the reshoots and the practicing) and a plot decided.

And he was into her – way more than he’d like to admit.

The rest of filming went pretty smoothly. He got over his nerves and kissed her like a champ, and they got patted on the back for their realistic chemistry by all the execs and producers on set.

When they finally broke for a quick food break, she followed him to his trailer.

“People are gonna eat this episode up, huh?” She asked, closing the door behind them and grabbing a water bottle from his fully stocked mini-fridge.

“Surely they will,” he agreed, stepping around her to grab his salad from the fridge. “If they were rallying for the relationship before, they’ll be vindicated this episode.”

She laughed into the rim of her bottle before chugging it. “So why were you frazzled today? Something at home?”

He eyed her, raising a brow.

She held her hands up in mock surrender, before plopping onto the couch across from him. “You don’t have to answer, dude, I’m just lending my ear.”

He chewed thoughtfully, trying to choose his words wisely. He swallowed, took another bite, chewed.

His mind was just as blank as the deck scene.

He shook his head before setting his food down. “I’m sorry I’ve been off today.”

“I don’t care if you’re not feeling like yourself. It’s normal to have an off day. I just wanna know if you’re okay,” she said with a tenderness that he’d never heard from a co-star before.

“To be quite honest, you’ve been distracting me,” he admitted, timidly.

She pursed her lips. “What can I do to fix it?”

He squirmed in his seat. God, this was a lot harder than he thought it’d be.

“It’s, uh, nothing you can really fix. It’s all me.”

“Well, what can I do to help?”

He shook his head again, glancing away from her.

“Look, I know Craig’s been rough on us this week, but don’t let it get to you. We can practice more –”

“It’s not that, I promise.”

She waited, sensing that he had more to say. He took a deep breath, then continued.

“It’s something I don’t want to admit to you. It’s embarrassing.”

“Honey, my last job involved waxing places that would make your grandmother gasp. I promise nothing phases me,” she joked, running a hand through her hair.

“There’s… quite a few lines Nate says this season that I’ve resonated with,” he started, trying to figure out what he was gonna pull out of his ass.

She sipped her drink, waiting.

“Things like… ‘I care for you, Ramona’ and, uh, ‘You’re important to me’,” he said, twisting the ends of his summery button up shirt between his fingers.

“Yeah, same here. We’ve become really close –”

She stopped abruptly the moment she noticed the look in his eye. And the subtext hit her like a truck.

“The things Nate feels for Ramona… I find myself feeling for you,” he admitted, hesitantly, looking anywhere but her face.

“If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I’ve just developed a bit of a workplace crush that I can’t quite shake, and that’s my fault –”

She stood from the couch, and he glanced up at her, finally, nervous to see how she’d taken it.

And before he could register what was happening, her lips were on his – a sweet tender kiss.

One that, scarily enough, felt exactly like the last time they’d kissed. And the time before that. And the time before that. And the time before that.

When she pulled away, she cupped his cheeks with the softest touch in the world, gazing down at him with an expression like she’d gotten the best news of her life.

“Those kisses weren’t just practice to me, either,” she whispered, stroking the pad of her thumb across his stubble. “I just wasn’t sure if you felt the same.”

He blanked. Again.

He couldn’t find any words, so he did what Nate would do. What he wished he’d had the courage to do for over a year.

Gently enclosing his arms around her waist, he tugged her down to the couch with him, planting kisses across her face, cheeks, nose, lips, over and over and over, revelling in the broken giggles that erupted from her.

Maybe allowing the essence of Nate Sewell and how he loved pervade his life over the past year and a half of filming was the right step. It’d gotten him the girl, after all.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #nate sewell #twc detective #my fic #wayhavensummer #nate x ramona #detective ramona guerrero

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vintagedolan · 3 years

Text

hiraeth: initial concept

*this is a concept train!! in short, that means you all send in asks and tell me what you wanna see! so feel free to send me in whatever you want to see happen (it would be awesome if you guys send them kinda in order of plot like not jumping way ahead or anything if you know what I mean hehe. anyways, hope you enjoy, and here is my askbox for concepts!! love yah!*

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1: The Valley Isle

“What makes Hawaiian shaved ice Hawaiian? Isn’t it just ice and syrup?”

“Well, every morning we go out and collect water from the waterfall in our backyard, and then we freeze it into ice cubes shaped like the islands, and then we shave each one special into our various menu sizes.”

“Really?!”

“No. Your total is $5.47.”

Koa looked up from the syrup station, reaching over and smacking Kahua’s arm.

“Dude. Do you want to get fired?” She kept her voice low so it didn’t travel past the window.

He just laughed and grabbed the banana syrup, finishing off the mound of ice and sticking a spoon in the side before passing it out the window to the woman who’d asked the question.

“Yes. My master plan is to get in trouble, blame it on you, get it put on your permanent record so you lose all your future jobs and have to stay here with me forever.”

“You act like you aren’t going to also be in LA in literally three months.”

“And you act like you aren’t leaving me here on this rock, alone, for three months,” Kahua countered, turning to switch out the withering ice block from the machine.

Koa looked out over the rainbow of syrups, taking in the view.

Her and Kahua had been calling Maui a rock for years - since third grade, to be precise. She didn’t say it often, and especially not to any tourists who were coming to visit. To them, Maui was paradise. Tropical, perfect weather, perfect beaches. Koa could see it. She understood the allure. But when she thought of her paradise, it came in the shape of a bustling city, of opportunities and new faces and places.

LA.

Kahua called it the haole’s dream. The white girl’s dream. Didn’t matter how many times he complained about being on the same island his whole life, he never really wanted to leave it. The fact that Koa wanted to was seen as borderline criminal by half her ohana, but she pushed their comments and insults aside.

There were only two opinions that she really cared about anyways.

First was Nahele; her older brother. She didn’t have to ask him what he thought - he’d moved to Texas as soon as he could, started up a food truck in Austin, named it 808 GRINDZ and brought every hawaiian cooking method he knew along with him. He’d been making a life for himself ever since then, and he was ecstatic when Koa told him she was moving. The thought of having family on the mainland, even halfway across the country, was comforting enough.

But the most important one? That was Amosa.

Amosa, who called her when he knew she’d be walking to her car after she clocked out.

“Hi Dad.”

“Kaikamahine, my girl. How was your shift?”

“Busy, but it was fine. They gave me a card for a free small everyday that you can have, but you gotta get the sugar free syrup when you use it.”

“Yeah yeah,” he laughed. Even over the phone, Koa could hear the waves in the background, and she knew where he was before he said it. “Come to the dock.”

“Did you book another tour?” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

“Come to the dock,” he said, his quiet way of saying no. “I’ll see you soon. Aloha wau iā 'oe.”

“Love you too.”

The drive to the boat dock was short, and the parking lot was busy as ever. Koa passed the bigger boats, with their names in fancy script screen printed on the side. Their buoys and extra snorkel gear, the bars nestled in the middle of the deck, an extra incentive for the tourists to book with them. Everyone loves a mai tai after all.

The Honu Nai sat at her spot on the dock, the farthest to the left. She had three years on any other snorkel boat out there. Her bow was worn, paint sanded off by the salt and sun over time and travel through the waves. But the little drawing of the smiling turtle still shone through on the side, despite the fact that Koa had painted it almost 10 years ago.

Over the edge, Koa could see her father. He was cleaning, like usual, organizing all of the extra gear that he had on the boat. The kids section was scarce again, all the smaller sized wetsuits, snorkels and fins barely taking up a rack. Koa knew why - if there was ever a kid on his snorkel tour who couldn’t afford their own gear, he’d ‘lend’ it to them. Every kid deserves to see the underwater world, he would say. It changes you, shows you what life is really about.

Koa had been in the ocean since before she could walk. If she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, she was one of two places; either diving under a wave somewhere, or writing in her notebook. Or, one of her notebooks at least.

“No book today?” He asked when she jumped aboard.

“Already packed them up.”

Amosa couldn’t think about the suitcases in her room without the tears starting to form. He blinked them away and looked out to the sea of blue.

“Did you pack your snorkel gear?”

“Dad. You know I’m not going to see shit in the ocean in California,” she sighed, moving over to him and putting an arm around him.

“I know, I know. They have sea lions I’ve heard. Maybe they’ll be friendly.”

“I’ve heard they stink.” She laid her head on his shoulder gently, closing her eyes when he kissed her head.

“Well. We have 5 hours until you have to get to the airport, and I say that’s just enough time for one more run, hmmm?”

Koa didn’t want to. She couldn’t think of many things worse than having salt all over her skin for a 6 hour plane ride. But the excitement in his eyes was irresistible, so she simply nodded and offered him a smile, letting go so he could get them on their way out to the reef.

She sat on the bow as they headed out to sea, closed her eyes and soaked in the spray off the waves. Her dad laughed when they hit a particularly big one, cutting through the crest so much that it splashed up onto the deck. He used to do it on purpose when she was a little girl just to hear her giggle and have her running back to him.

They made it to their favorite place quickly, and Koa didn’t hesitate to put her mask on and get to work. She took the line and dove over the side, tying it to the anchor hook under the water before coming back up. Amosa dropped the ladder for her on the back, but she didn’t need it. She was watching the reef.

Moorish Idols. That’s what she wanted to see. They were second only to green sea turtles - honu in Hawaiian. But they were the most beautiful fish, with their delicate top fin that tapered off to a tail. She was always excited to find one and show the kids on tours. All she had to say was look for Gill from Finding Nemo and they were able to spot them. She floated for a while, watching the fish dart around, even spotting a small reef shark about 15 yards to the right before she decided to climb back in to see her dad.

He passed her a towel and smiled at her as she sat down. All he could do was look at her for a moment, taking her in. His baby girl, on the boat she’d practically grown up in for the last time in a while.

He put on his brave face, and forced his biggest smile. “You ready to go out there?”

Koa sighed.

“I don’t know how to tell.”

“You’ll do great. You’re capable, and it won’t be long until you’re writing your own books instead of writing for these… whatever boys.”

“Dolan. Their names are Ethan and Grayson Dolan.”

“Well, like I said. Soon it’ll be your stories out there instead of someone else’s, with your name instead of theirs.” He said it with such certainty that she couldn’t help but believe him. Maybe it was the salt water left over in her eyes, or the glare of the sun off the ocean, but she began to tear up.

“Thanks for always supporting me dad. It means the world. I’m sorry I have to go so far away, I wish I could stay.” It was true - she just needed the money from the Dolan’s to get herself started, and then she’d come back, help her father.

Amosa smiled.

“Kaikamahine, it’s just an ocean between us.” He reached out for her cheek. “And we know the ocean, don’t we.”

“She’s an old friend,” Koa said, her heart tight in her chest.

“Exactly. Now c’mon, let’s get you home and on your way.”

Across the ocean and 3 hour time change, Grayson Dolan was pacing.

“It’s gonna be fine.” Ethan said.

“Shut the fuck up Ethan,” Grayson said.

That was the extent of most of their conversations over the last three days. Actually, that’s how all of them had been since Ethan had signed a deal with their agent for a ghostwritten book about their lives.

“It’ll get more people connected to us, the right people-”

“Has it ever fucking occurred to you that I’m tired of that shit? That I’m tired of people prying into my fucking life? What if I don’t wanna connect with anyone else, what if I just wanna be left the fuck alone? But no, now we’re gonna have some fucking stranger asking us a million fucking questions and digging for information in my own fucking house where I just wanna exist.”

Ethan didn’t have an answer for that. He’d fucked up, and he knew it. But he also knew that he signed a contract, and there was no backing out of it now. Grayson rubbed his hand over his eyes.

“When does the writer get here?”

“She flies in tonight.”

“Fucking fantasic. Can’t wait.”

With that, Grayson walked back to his room, leaving his twin alone in the living room with his hands in his pockets.

#hiraeth #IM NERVOUS

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unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix · 3 years

Text

Truth and Awakenings Ch. 8

Summary: A Jemily rewrite of certain scenes in 14x15-15x03, with a few additional scenes :)

Chapter summary: JJ and Emily are together and the team finds out once JJ returns to work. Oh and there’s a bit at the end of this chapter that you may be glad I put in :)

Read on AO3

@jemilyisms @binariesarebullshit @bridget19

Over the course of two weeks, JJ and Emily’s relationship as a couple began to grow as they worked through their insecurities together. It wasn’t much of a change from when they were friends because they were already so close, but it was one of their starting points as a couple. They had grown closer and became more sure of themselves because of the other person.

As for JJ’s nightmares, Emily had eventually offered her to see a therapist, and JJ agreed on one condition: that Emily be there right next to her. So, Emily complied and promised to hold her hand every time JJ felt nervous about something, which had gone that way for the first few sessions before JJ was ready to go alone.

Emily and JJ had also started to make their relationship official, and Emily saw she had more time with the younger agent and made frequent visits to her house often. They both have discussed how they were going to let the team know, but decided to keep it a secret from them for a little bit, possibly a week or two after JJ’s return to the BAU.

JJ told her she was going to check with the doctor before heading to work and Emily agreed, knowing that they couldn’t be seen going inside the FBI building together without grabbing the other person’s hand.

“Alright, Agent Jareau. You are cleared for work,” Dr. Hsu said, writing a form for JJ and tearing the edge off from the pad to give to her. “As much as we love having you as a patient, I’d advise you take it easy and be careful out there.”

“With this job, that’s impossible,” JJ joked, taking the paper. “Thank you so much, Dr. Hsu.”

“Oh, and tell Agent Prentiss I said hi,” Dr. Hsu said, giving a big smile. “She’s a really nice woman. I’m happy for you both.”

JJ blushed at the mention of Emily. “Thank you. I will.”

Back at the BAU office, Emily was busying herself with paperwork and case files on her desk. She took a sip of her coffee and tapped her pen on her current file. Her eyes drifted over to the second cup on her desk, the corner of her lips curling up to a small smile. Emily had gotten coffee for JJ and herself as a little gift for her girlfriend’s return to the office. Fortunately for her, she had entered the office first, so she wouldn’t have to deal with anyone’s questions about why she bought two cups of coffee unless she really needed that much caffeine.

There was a light knock at the door and Emily’s head shot up, seeing it open to reveal a giddy blonde sliding through the crack of the door. Another smile graced Emily’s face when the guest closed the door.

“Hey, you,” JJ said, approaching the desk and rubbing her hands together in excitement of seeing her girlfriend.

“Hey.” Emily stood up and pulled her by the waist, brushing blonde hair aside to give a short chaste kiss. She felt a soft hand at the back of her head and JJ prolonged the kiss for a few more seconds. JJ moved back to press her forehead against Emily’s, still resting her hand behind her head.

“I missed you," Emily whispered, and reached behind her, breaking the small moment and handing the item to the younger woman. "And I got you coffee."

"Ugh, thank God. I needed this," JJ groaned and tilted her head back, taking the cup. She pecked Emily's lips with a smile, "Thank you."

Emily nodded. "I figured you might need it when you start working irregular hours again," she joked. JJ hummed in agreement, taking a sip of her coffee. The gray-haired woman rubbed her index and middle fingers along JJ’s hipbone, letting them rest there. “You ok?” she softly asked.

JJ took a deep sigh and looked at her feet. “Um, yeah. Yeah, totally fine,” she replied with a firm and closed-mouthed smile.

Emily frowned and lifted her other hand up to stroke the blonde’s cheek with her thumb. She chose not to say any words, but JJ knew exactly what she was asking. She turned her head to the left to kiss Emily’s palm, looking back up at Emily’s eyes.

“Thank you,” she softly said. “For being there for me.”

“Always.”

JJ leaned her head closer to connect their lips. She sighed against Emily’s lips, resting a hand on her shoulder. Emily broke the kiss to carefully take the cup of coffee from JJ’s hand and set it down on her desk. She gave a quick kiss and held both of JJ’s hands, rubbing reassuring thumbs on her knuckles.

“Will and I discussed you maybe easing back into things slowly,” she said, nervous that her girlfriend was going to get mad at the both of them for doing that.

“Emily, I’m good to go. Really,” she chuckled. “I even brought a permission slip from Dr. Hsu. And she told me to say hi for her.”

Emily gave a small smile, "Thanks to her, I got my girlfriend back." She pressed a gentle kiss on the blonde's forehead and JJ closed her eyes at the touch. JJ didn’t want to admit it out loud, but that simple gesture gave her more reason to trust the other woman with her whole life.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt again,” Emily softened her eyes. “Promise me, no jumping out of helicopters-”

“-only as a last resort,” JJ finished with a smile and planted a long kiss on her lips. “You have my word.”

"Do you mind giving me your word again?" Emily asked with pleading eyes. JJ chuckled and gave her a short kiss.

"Another one, please?"

A kiss.

"Again, please?"

JJ pecked her cheek this time. "You know, if you keep making me promise, we're not gonna be able to leave this office."

Emily nodded, “Exactly.”

JJ shook her head and kissed her forehead. "I'll see you in a bit." She took her cup of coffee and closed Emily’s office door. She made her way towards the roundtable room, a hand in her pocket and stifling a grin creeping onto her face. Luke and Tara came into the bullpen together and watched as the blonde agent walked to the roundtable room. Tara turned her head back to Luke and raised an eyebrow.

“How much do you wanna bet she has a thing for Emily?” she said, nodding towards JJ.

“Oh-ho, no,” Luke waved his hands in a refusing manner and turned his focus back on his desk. “I am not wasting my money on some silly bet.”

“What? Afraid you might lose?” Tara crossed her arms over her chest and smirked.

Luke scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. “No, come on, that’s ridiculous. JJ’s married and Emily’s got a boyfriend. You don’t think they’d cheat, do you?”

She sighed and frowned, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know, I guess not. Doesn’t sound like them. But you can’t deny there’s something going on. Maybe something happened when JJ was injured.”

“Are you suggesting a reverse Florence Nightingale effect?”

“No, no. It’s something else.” Her eyes glanced back at Emily’s office door. “It looks longer than just when she got shot.” She smiled back at the man next to her and nudged his arm, “Come on. You’re a profiler. What’s your take?”

“I think they’re just really close,” Luke simply said. “There might’ve been something before, but it’s all over now.”

All Tara did was raise one eyebrow at him. She didn’t believe that he didn’t see anything between the two women. They seemed way too obvious to be hiding some sort of harbored feelings for one another. Even Tara herself thought they hooked up at one point before with some of the things she’s heard about Emily once she joined the team, especially from JJ’s point of view. Surely, Luke had to have noticed something as well, right?

“Alright,” he sighed, preparing to make the bet with her. “How about this? If you’re right about JJ and Emily, I owe you a bottle of scotch.”

“Hmm, I was thinking how much money, but sure. And if you’re right and there’s nothing going on, then I'll fix that old car of yours.” She extended a hand out to shake Luke’s. “Deal?”

“It’s on,” Luke chuckled, shaking her hand. They walked up the stairs to the roundtable room to see how JJ was doing, and were met with the blonde sitting down, back facing them.

“Hey,” Tara greeted with a smile, opening her arms to hug JJ. The other woman looked up from behind and gave a smile in return.

“Hi,” JJ accepted the hug and pulling away a few seconds after. She turned to Luke and gave him a hug also. “How are you guys?”

“How are we? How are you?” Tara asked, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. “We’ve missed you being here.”

“I missed being here with you guys, too. How crazy was the month I was gone?” JJ smiled, putting her hands on her hips.

“It’s been pretty hectic, so not that far from the usual,” Luke said.

Spencer, Penelope, and Rossi came into the room on cue and lined up to greet JJ with ‘welcome back’ hugs. Emily came in last and JJ’s smile became brighter and her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree once she felt the older woman’s hand squeeze her bicep as she passed by.

Tara and Luke sat down next to each other, and Tara gave him a knowing look. Nudging his arm, she whispered, “You better get that corkscrew and glasses ready.”

Luke shook his head, not believing her quite yet, but the woman was determined to get to the bottom of the nature of JJ and Emily’s relationship and that good bottle of scotch Luke was offering. Tara pulled out a deck of cards from her pocket she had snuck in before going into the roundtable room.

“Looks like we’re not busy today, so how about a nice game of poker to pass the time?” she suggested, earning a round of cheers and applause from the others.

Everyone got ready to play a game of 5-card draw, as announced by Tara, with a bowl of jelly beans Penelope had stocked in her office as their betting chips. Emily and JJ sat across from each other, with Emily sitting next to Tara and JJ next to Luke. This gave Tara an opportunity to see how Emily and JJ interact with one another, and to prove to Luke there was something a little more than friendship happening between them.

It got to the last round of the game, with everyone’s card hands folded and JJ and Emily left with theirs. JJ tapped her five cards a few times before pushing her jelly beans in the middle of the table. As she pushed her impromptu “chips” towards the middle, her eyes made her way up Emily’s face, a slow eyebrow raised at her before sitting back up. Emily raised her own eyebrows in return.

“So, what do you think, Emily? Is the blonde bluffing?” Luke broke the silence.

Emily didn’t answer right away and tilted her head to the side, squinting her eyes at JJ. The blonde curled a finger at the edge of her cards and chewed the inside of her lower lip, eyes flickering up and down before staring straight into Emily’s eyes. JJ had to stop herself from smirking. She knew she had Emily wrapped around her finger, even if she didn’t know what Emily’s cards were.

Emily lifted her eyebrows and gave a humble smile, pushing her jelly beans in the middle. “I’m going all in.”

It seems that everything was forgotten to both JJ and Emily, even the people around them had not been a second thought at that moment.

Luke was beginning to regret his deal with Tara as he watched both Emily and JJ's body language. The way JJ looked at her with almost predatory eyes and how Emily tried to keep her cool. Tara felt nearly satisfied with herself and confident that she was going to win her bet with Luke. Rossi hid a smile behind his hand, and Spencer looked back and forth between JJ and Emily, both wondering if the women said anything to each other yet. Penelope tapped on her pink octopus mug with her long colored nails, watching the suspense and sensing the sexual tension between her two best friends with a smirk.

“Alright,” Tara announced. “Emily, you’re up.”

Emily placed down her cards facing up: 7, 8, 9, 10, a Jack, all of different colored suits.

JJ quirked a corner of her lips and bit the inside of her cheek, hiding her mirth. Emily looked across from her, half regretting her decision and half amused at whatever her girlfriend was playing at, yet her facial expression remained neutral.

“Ooh! A straight from the boss!” Tara smiled. “JJ, how about you?”

JJ slowly yet casually laid down her cards facing up: 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, all black spades.

“Oh, and the feisty blonde has a straight flush! That has to hurt,” Tara hollered and clicked her tongue, patting a hand on Emily’s arm. “Better luck next time, chief.”

JJ smiled at everyone before taking all the jelly beans. “Thank you all so much.”

Rossi studied Emily’s wide eyes for a second and smirked, pointing at her with a finger. “I think that Emily Prentiss is speechless.”

“Guess I’m a better liar than you thought,” JJ said, winking at Emily. The older woman bit her lip at the double entendre. A smirk ghosted Tara’s lips when she saw Emily in her peripheral vision. She quietly chuckled to herself at the coincidentally potential irony of Emily and JJ’s card hands.

Tara turned to Luke. “It looks like I’m winning so far.”

The team had been called on a case about a mail bombing in Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennessee, investigating the recent one in Memphis. Their unsub had been sending the bombs in packages offered as “sympathy gifts” and there was a possibility that they were detonated via remote control.

Rossi and Emily had been on the phone with Matt, who was currently helping a pregnant Kristy on bed rest, back at home. They had discussed the possible interpretations of the posthumous messages their unsub had written for the loved ones of his victims.

“So,” Rossi started once Emily hung up the phone. “You wanna talk about you and JJ?”

The unit chief froze and her eyes widened at the straightforwardness of his question. “Wha- I, I…” she opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water as she tried to come up with an explanation.

“Come on, Emily. You and JJ aren’t exactly slick, you know,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “At poker, you two looked like you wanted to jump each other’s bones.”

Emily felt a little awkward having this talk with someone who she saw as a paternal figure to her. She knew that Rossi knew that she was in love with JJ, but how much did he know about where the two women stood in their relationship? She sighed and rubbed her temple, knowing Rossi could see right through her and she can’t back out of it at this point.

“JJ and I have been seeing each other for a while now,” she confessed.

“How long?”

“Since she was in the hospital.”

"Does Will know anything about this?" He raised his eyebrows.

Emily nodded, but didn’t want Rossi to think she was the homewrecker. "He did. In fact, he and JJ divorced a while ago. Actually, two years ago."

"Wow," he said, taking all this information in. "So, she's been hiding her divorce for a long time."

Emily tilted her head in agreement. "She is a better liar than we all thought."

Rossi was glad Emily had told JJ she was in love with her. Finally. About damn time, he thought. He didn’t tell Emily, but he had an inkling that JJ reciprocated those feelings for her. Rossi didn’t know JJ was divorced, but he saw the way the blonde casted longing glances at Emily, especially much after Emily came back from London. He saw the real fear and redness of her eyes when she lied about Emily being dead, and witnessed the stress she had in his hospital room when Scratch took the older woman. Rossi knew JJ was in love with Emily just as much as Emily was with her.

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

Emily, JJ, and Spencer were looking at the laptop screen, watching CCTV footage of their unsub walking out of the victim’s hospital room, escaping from the possibility of the bomb package going off. Emily excused herself to go in the other room with Dave and Fred Kirkman to interview him for more information on earlier events that may have led up to the incident. Before leaving, Emily quickly squeezed JJ’s shoulder and the blonde nodded at her.

Spencer lifted an eyebrow and turned to JJ. She looked at him and furrowed her eyebrows. “What?” she asked.

“It’s just…” he paused and gathered his words for a second. “You and Emily seem a lot closer than before. You guys touch each other more often than usual.”

JJ lightly laughed and patted his shoulder a few times before focusing back on the screen. “We’ve known each other for a long time, Spence.”

Spencer frowned and tried to backtrack everything he had witnessed from the two women, any change that indicated something more than just friends. “Did you tell her, JJ?”

The same question he had asked the blonde at Rossi’s wedding came up again. JJ blinked her eyes and opened her mouth in an attempt to answer. “I…” Seeing as she had already trusted him enough to keep one of the biggest secrets of her life, it might have been best if he knew now. “I did.”

Spencer nodded and looked at the glass door Emily had exited. “It looks like it went well. She hasn't tried to avoid you."

JJ tapped her finger on the laptop and simply nodded. "We're together, Spence,” she finally told him the truth. “She broke up with Andrew when I told her at the hospital."

"He was there when you were shot?"

"No!" She exclaimed and her eyes went wide. "No, she, uh, she told me she'd already broken things off with him before that. We've been seeing each other since then."

Spencer nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm really happy for you, JJ," he gave a small supportive smile. He was relieved that JJ had told Emily of her feelings for her, and that the two women were now dating. Spencer wanted both of his best friends to be happy, and if they were happy with each other, that’s all that matters.

JJ smiled back and put her hand over his. "Thanks.”

Emily, JJ, and Spencer held their guns out and aimed towards their unsub, Shelby Mattson. When confronting him, Emily challenged him to detonate the bomb he had, and JJ and Spencer looked at her like she was crazy. Once Mattson was ready to push the button on the car keys he used to control the bomb, JJ instinctively shot him. Emily and Spencer lowered their guns, and she nodded towards him to untie Laura Kirkman, Mattson's victim.

“You ok?” Emily asked, placing a hand on the small of JJ’s back.

JJ nodded, putting her gun back into her holster. “Yeah.”

While Emily took the risk to challenge Mattson, she was glad JJ shot him before anything happened. The only thing she felt a little guilty about was putting them into danger, especially when JJ just got back to work.

On their flight back, most of the team had headphones on and were asleep. Luke and Tara were sitting across from each other and playing cards. Right next to them were Emily and JJ cuddled up with each other. Emily's arms were protectively wrapped around JJ's body and the younger woman's head perfectly tucked inside Emily's neck, with JJ's soft blue blanket covering them. They both felt at peace, letting sleep overtake them and holding one another.

Tara looked at the sleeping couple on the bench across from her and Luke, and turned to the man with a grin. “Looks like you owe me that scotch. It better be a good one.”

Luke sighed and waved a hand in surrender. “Ok, fine. You’re right.”

Tara tapped her cards together to align them and laughed. “Come on, how could you not tell? They can’t even keep their hands off each other.”

“I believe you. I believe you,” he admitted with a smile and a shake of his head. “Come on, don’t rub it in.”

When they arrived on the airstrip, everyone packed up their things back at the office and went home. Emily walked up to her office to gather her things with JJ following closely behind. Once they were inside Emily's office, the blonde closed the door and pinned Emily against it, crashing their lips together.

“You are so stupid, you know that?” JJ mumbled against her lips, finally getting the chance to tell her alone. “You nearly put us into danger.”

“I’m sorry, JJ. I had to do it,” Emily answered in between kisses. "I- I had to make him believe he was doing everything according- according to plan."

JJ pulled back, breathless, and rested a hand on the door next to Emily's head. “You’re so damn lucky I love you and your beautiful brain too much to stay mad at you.”

“Really?”

The younger agent nodded, leaning in to peck her lips again. “Just promise me, no jumping out of helicopters,” she jokingly repeated Emily’s words back to her.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Emily laughed and pushed her away. She felt JJ’s hand pulling her by the wrist and leading her to her desk, continuing to kiss her. JJ raised her hands up to tangle her fingers in Emily’s gray hair, lightly tugging at it and drawing a muffled moan out of Emily. They didn’t hear a knock on the door and the unknown guest opening it.

“Hey, I heard you…” Penelope let herself in and cut herself off with a gasp so loud that it made Emily and JJ jump away from each other. Their flushed faces told Penelope exactly what happened before she came in.

“Penelope,” JJ awkwardly drew out. Emily patted her own hair down while JJ wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and shoving the other hand into her pocket.

“I knew it! I knew it,” she said excitedly before gasping again. “Wait, what happened to Will and Mendoza?”

“I broke up with Andrew, JJ divorced Will,” Emily answered, rubbing her temple and sighing.

“Ahh!” Penelope squealed and clapped her hands. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for years. Well, I don’t know about the whole Will and Andrew thing, you’d have to give me the deets sometime, but ahh! Let me know when you need help planning the wedding. I have a whole binder prepared.”

“Ok, calm down, Penelope,” JJ laughed. She was happy that their bubbly friend was more than supportive of their relationship.

“And I may need to do an inspection of your office, if I need to,” Emily added, wide eyes in shock.

“Oh, nothing you need to worry about, boss,” Penelope waved a hand at Emily, only to receive a suspicious eyebrow raise from her. She squealed again and walked out of her office with a huge grin on her face.

Emily groaned and buried her face inside JJ’s neck, wrapping her arms around her waist and mumbling, “Is it too late to jump into a grave?”

“Hey,” JJ lightly pushed her head away. Emily finally smiled, and they were both relieved they somehow let the team know about their romantic relationship with each other.

“She’s not gonna tell anyone else, is she?” Emily asked.

“Well, you know Penelope,” JJ smiled. “Remember that bet we had when Tara told her about her brother? And you won.”

“Oh god,” the other woman groaned and shook her head, a small grin coming to her face again. “Anyway, if I recall, you said you were taking me out on a date.”

“Yep,” JJ answered, taking Emily’s hand in hers. “How’s this Saturday?”

“Sounds great.”

“You know, JJ? I thought this was gonna be a fun date, not a workout date!” Emily complained.

It was Saturday and JJ went to Emily’s apartment, bringing her duffel bag of clothes. The door had opened to a confused Emily and soon after, a disappointed Emily, who thought JJ was actually taking her out on a real date. Now, they were in the open space JJ had made in the living room, doing pilates. Luckily for Emily, JJ teased her and said, “Don’t worry, I’m making us do the beginner level.” Even though Emily was complaining, she had to admit, it wasn’t all that bad. If it meant checking JJ’s toned abs out every chance she gets, it was worth it.

JJ sat up and wiped the sweat on her forehead. “I thought it was funny.”

“Babe…” Emily stood up and pouted like a child not getting what they wanted. “I thought you loved me. Why would you make me do this?”

“Heyy, don’t worry, Emily,” JJ stood up to meet her level, placing a hand on her arm. “I got us a reservation somewhere you’d love.”

Emily’s eyes lit up and she gasped. “Will you tell me what it is?”

JJ shook her head and chuckled, making Emily groan in mock frustration. “Come on, JJ. You know I hate surprises.”

“Still not getting anything out of me.”

The gray-haired woman frowned for a moment before a light bulb went on in her head. With a small smirk, she grabbed onto JJ’s hips and slowly pulled her closer to connect their lips together. JJ’s hand quickly flew up to Emily’s hair and tugged on it as she backed herself up to the couch, feeling the back of her knees hit the edge of it. She turned around to push Emily down on the couch and hovered her body over hers, reattaching her lips to Emily’s.

A minute had passed, and the two women were already panting into each other’s mouths and hands begun wandering each other’s bodies. A phone buzzed and Emily groaned against JJ’s lips.

“Mmm, no. Don’t pick it up, babe,” JJ murmured, still kissing her.

Emily snorted. “That’s odd coming from you.”

“I’ve waited too long for this,” JJ reached a hand up to grab Emily’s clothed breast and lightly squeezed it, hearing a choked gasp out of her.

Emily blindly grabbed her phone from the table behind her, tapping her hand until she found her phone and picked it up. “Prentiss,” she breathed out, voice a little huskier than usual. JJ lowered her head to kiss her neck, so that the gray-haired woman could speak to whoever was on the other end.

“Oh. Is now not a good time?” A voice said and Emily heard the little smirk in their tone.

Oh shit. “Matt, hey,” Emily spoke up, clearing her throat. JJ froze and her eyes widened.

“Hey, I was wondering if you were free to help Dave and I with building the crib for our newborn, but I see you’re with someone right now. Possibly blonde, active and fit, a mother of two, and fellow agent, who happens to be your girlfriend?” Matt smirked and jokingly described JJ as if he was delivering a profile.

Emily groaned and JJ awkwardly greeted him on the phone, “Hey, Matt.”

“Did Penelope tell you?” Emily asked.

“Yeah. Well, the whole team, actually.” Another groan came out of Emily, and JJ, as well.

“Ok, I’ll be right there.” Emily ended the phone call. JJ rest her head on Emily’s chest, sighing against it for a moment.

“Looks like you gotta go,” JJ finally said, standing up and extending a hand out for Emily to follow in suit.

“Alright. I thought I was gonna get lucky,” Emily grumbled, fixing herself. “I got all worked up for nothing.”

JJ pecked her lips and wrapped her arms around Emily’s waist. “Don’t worry, after this, there’ll be plenty of time for the two of us. I told Will to handle the boys' sleepover tonight, so we should have some time for ourselves. Alone." She emphasized the last few words with small kisses, leaning up to kiss her ear.

"God, I hope so."

"I know. Me too," JJ kissed her nose.

Emily smiled, “I love you.”

"I love you, too,” JJ beamed back, patting her shoulders. “Now, you gotta go do something.”

“Yeah. Oh,” Emily interjected. “I actually need you to drive me there. There’s a few things I need to buy before I help Matt and Dave.”

Before Emily arrived at the Simmons household, she decided to grab a bottle of wine and some donuts on her way there. JJ raised an eyebrow, asking why she needed to, in which Emily gave no explanation other than “just because”.

“Where’s Prentiss?” Rossi asked Matt, handing him a piece of red wood.

Matt shrugged and looked at the instructions on how to build the crib. “Probably getting things done with JJ.”

“Oh, I’m here,” Emily announced her presence, glancing at the unfinished crib, that was terrifyingly red-colored. “Ooh, but not to work. I put myself on refreshment duty.”

Rossi and Matt just looked at her.

“Oh, what? It’s my Saturday, too! And donuts are an anytime food, if you’ve done pilates with your girlfriend, which I have,” Emily defended with a bottle of wine and a pink box of donuts. She loved saying those words out loud in front of people. Calling JJ her girlfriend.

Matt and Rossi chuckled at the activity choice Emily, or possibly JJ they had thought, had chosen. Both men thought it was code for something more physical than that. Emily noticed the looks on their faces and groaned to herself, knowing what they had thought.

“All right, the kids are off to my mom’s,” Kristy announced, handing an empty wine glass to Emily, whose face immediately lit up when she held the glass. Kristy noticed it in the corner of her eye and thought Emily really did need time to blow off steam from work. “How can I help?”

“No, you’re off-duty,” Emily shook her head, tilting her head when she examined the crib. “Also, the more you look at this crib, the more you might consider a divorce.”

Kristy nodded, “Yeah. I check the color on the web site. It’s called ‘Daddy Issues Red’.” She looked at Matt with a sharp glare, the one Matt was all too familiar with. It was also known as the Stern Wife™ look.

He slowly nodded in defense. “I made a mistake, ok?” Kristy was not amused.

“Babe, it- it’s a good crib,” he sighed, making Emily chuckle quietly to herself. She thought she was going to be bad with JJ, just watching Matt act like this around his wife made things so much better for her.

“Oh, by the way. Congratulations, Emily,” Kristy smiled.

Emily was confused. “What do you mean? You’re the one having the baby, not me.”

“No,” the other woman laughed and her fingers lightly tapped on her swollen belly. “I mean, your relationship. Matt told me about you and JJ."

“Oh my god,” Emily muttered in embarrassment. “I’m opening the bottle now."

Rossi, Kristy, and Matt all laughed. The whole team, including everyone else close to them, were happy for JJ and Emily.

#jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #criminal minds #jemily fic

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after-avenging-hours · 4 years

Text

Virtue & Valor [4]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist

You and your husband have the perfect life. Jobs that you love, a happy marriage, an amazing sex life… You couldn’t ask for anything more. But when something unexpected shows up on your front doorstep that completely turns your world upside down, can your relationship survive the fallout? Or will you have to let your feelings go in favor of the greater good? Letting go of the past can be difficult, especially when the future looks so bleak, but maybe you can figure out how to move forward together. You may just make it out to see the other side.

Word Count: 5814

Warnings: Canon typical violence, strong language, Hydra!Cap is kind of an asshole, this part contains smut (18+), rough sex (still consensual), foreplay of the violent variety, knife play, gun play(kind of?), blood, biting, sass dialed up to 11

“What is the status of our patients?” the disembodied voice fills the space of the lab.

“The memory data transfer has been completed in both patients. Subject Alpha-18 was quicker to respond to the package, but Alpha-19 soon followed suit,” one of the scientists speaks while looking over their computer monitor.

“Excellent. Any change to the subcortical activity?” the voice asks.

“None, yet,” a different scientist responds. “But Doctor, are you sure allowing the Avengers access to the mainframe to give the patients their memories back was a good idea? What if they try to turn on us?”

“Both patients had retreated into the safety of their subconscious. The best way to draw them out is to give them the false hope that there is an escape. The Avengers are mere insects in this world; insignificant at best and a minor annoyance at worst. We still hold all of the control. Run them both through simulation 764-1. Let’s see if there are any changes.”

“Yes, Dr. Zola,” the scientists respond.

It’s fucking cold here. God, do you hate it. Nothing but a barren, frozen wasteland. The stone walls of the facility do nothing to keep out the chill. Your lungs feel like you’re breathing in shards of ice and the cold settles deep into your bones. It’s miserable. But it’s all that you know.

Agonizing screams of pain echo throughout the compound, making many of the soldiers and agents shift uneasily on their feet as you walk past. You don’t pay them any attention and continue to make your way toward the sound. They are just finishing up with the asset as you enter the main space. He’s still strapped into the machine, but it’s beginning to power down.

“Welcome back, Captain.” An older man stands before the asset, looking down at the compliant soldier.

“Ready to serve, Secretary Pierce,” the Captain responds without emotion through panting breaths.

“We have a mission for you. Intel extraction. Agent Valor will accompany you.”

The asset’s gaze briefly flickers to you, “I work better alone, sir.”

Your eyes narrow as you glare back, and your jaw clenches to bite back a retort.

Pierce chuckles without humor. “I’m sure you can make an exception here, Captain. Please, remind me again… when you fell from the train in 1945, who saved your life?”

The asset swallows thickly before responding. “Hydra.”

“That’s correct.” The director begins to pace in front of him. “You were left in the snow to die a long, cold, lonely death. We rescued you. We took you in. We gave you everything. You owe us for that, don’t you?” He pauses his footing and looks expectantly at the asset.

“Yes, sir,” his response is automatic.

The director resumes his pacing. “You owe us your life, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We gave you a purpose. We gave your life meaning. Didn’t we?”

“Yes, sir.”

Pierce comes to a stop once more, directly in front of the asset, looking down at him with authority. “Your work has been a gift to mankind. You’ve shaped the future. We need you to do it again. Will working with Agent Valor be a problem?”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” He steps back and addresses the rest of the room. “Prep him. They leave in 20 minutes.”

You’re already waiting at the back ramp of the jet as the asset walks up, decked out in his black and red uniform. He wears a helmet that covers the top half of his face but keeps that sharp jaw and those plump lips in full view. “Soldat,” you greet, pushing off the wall you’re leaning against to stand straight.

He comes to a stop in front of you and looks into your eyes with cool indifference. “It’s Captain,” he corrects. “I am in command of this mission. You will do exactly as I say, no questions asked. Am I making perfectly clear, Agent?”

You raise a single brow in defiance. “Yes, Captain.”

“Good,” he turns away and moves further into the jet, settling in place at the pilot’s seat.

You slam your fist against the red button on the wall to close up the ramp before moving toward the co-pilot’s chair. You frown at the slight hesitation you feel as you approach the chair. You’ve never been scared of flight travel, so you’re unsure where this apprehension is coming from. You try to push it aside as you take your seat and buckle in.

“This is Captain Hydra, initiating take off,” the asset’s rough voice cuts through the communication system of the jet.

You glance at him from your periphery, feeling a strange tug in the back of your mind because that name sounds so strange coming out of him.

“All clear,” the transmission comes back.

The jet begins its vertical ascent before taking off. The asset remains silent during the entire flight to your destination, leaving you to stew in your thoughts. You can’t seem to understand why the words Captain and Hydra just sound so wrong together.

“We should divide and conquer,” he finally speaks when you’re just a few minutes out. “I’ll drop you on the roof and work my own way in from the ground up.”

You blink in confusion, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “You want to split up? Why?”

He gives you a flat look, “That sounded an awful lot like a question, Agent.”

You grit your teeth and look away, recalling his earlier order. You will do exactly as I say, no questions asked. “Apologies, Captain.”

You unclip the seat straps and stand as he pulls the jet into position over the building. He keeps the jet in stealth mode, although the cover of night also helps to keep you hidden as you press the button to lower the back ramp. You hook a descent line into your utility belt before jumping out the back of the jet and allow the line to safely lower you onto the roof of the building. Once your boots have hit the cement, you unclip the line and watch it zip up into the open back of the jet. Once the ramp is closed back up, the jet is impossible to see. All you can do now is trust that he hasn’t just straight up abandoned you.

You head for the rooftop access door. It’s locked, but that certainly isn’t enough to keep you out. Just a few seconds with a lockpick kit and you’re in. Your steps are completely silent as you walk down the stairs and onto the top floor. You press your back against the wall and peek around the corner to make sure the coast is clear.

It sure as hell is not.

You hold in a gasp and pull your head back. You close your eyes tight and lift a hand to activate the commlink in your ear. “Captain,” you whisper quietly, so as not to be detected by the agents on the other side of the wall. “Captain, do you copy?”

“What?” his annoyed response cuts through the feed.

You’re pretty sure you’ve just felt a vein pop in your forehead as annoyance surges within you. “Rooftop access is a bust, requesting immediate evac.”

“No.”

You clench your fists, wishing you could release a groan of frustration. “Sir, I don’t think you understand. The top floor is crawling with agents. I won’t be able to get through undetected.”

“It’s not a stealth mission. Make it work.”

“Sir, there’s at least thirty of them!”

He’s quiet for a short moment and you think he might be reconsidering for you. “Sounds like the odds are in your favor,” he responds before the line goes dead.

Your jaw drops, “Captain… Cap-” Your release the smallest possible groan you can, the sound vibrating through your body. You’re gonna fucking kill him.

Rolling back your shoulders and releasing a long breath, you mentally psych yourself up for the fight that’s about to breakout.

Darting out from your hiding space, you make quick work of three agents before the rest catch on to what’s happening. Your main goal is to incapacitate, not kill, but they certainly don’t make it easy on you. You dodge flying fists and return them with swift kicks and jabs of your own. You use their numbers against them, by shoving one body back into another two or three.

You manage to get through at least half of them before the remaining agents can get you pinned down. You thrash under their hold like a wild animal, but they don’t give. “Take her to interrogation,” one of the agents commands the rest.

You fight and resist the whole way, but it’s no use. You’ve been captured and now you’re trapped. You’re beginning to wonder if this was the Captain’s plan all along. Just to get you out of his hair so you’re no longer his problem. You’re relieved of your weapons before getting forced into a chair with your hands cuffed behind your back. Once the agents have made sure that you’re secure, they leave the room and lock the door behind them.

You sit there brooding in silence as you attempt to plan your escape. It’s only a few minutes that pass before the lights above you blackout. The red back up power lights begin to flash a second later. The power outage is soon followed by the door opening and a dark figure stepping into the room.

“You smug bastard. You knew there’d be a swarm of them on the top floor!” you seethe as the asset approaches you.

He rips the handcuffs apart with his bare hands, releasing you from the chair. “I needed a distraction,” he tells you casually like that’s all the answer that you require.

You stand and pin him with a glare, stepping close until your chests touch. “If Pierce finds out I was captured, he’ll kill me. You know the fucking rules!”

“Relax,” he scoffs. “They had you for all of 5 minutes and you were alone the whole time.”

Your hand darts forward, fingers curling around the grip of the gun strapped to his thigh before you yank it out of the holster. He remains completely unmoved as you raise the gun and fire. The bullet hits its intended mark; lodged into the shoulder of the agent that was about to enter the room.

“You’re welcome,” you comment, twirling the gun in your hand and slide it back into his holster.

The corner of his mouth twitches; the only hint of emotion on his otherwise blank face. “I heard them coming.”

“Sure you did.” You step around him to head for the door, finishing off the agent with a quick slam of their head into the doorframe, knocking them out. You grab your weapons from the table outside the door and stash them back in their respective places. “Did you get the intel?” you ask the asset.

He gives you a cold stare back.

“Just checking,” you snark with a shrug.

“Let’s go.”

You attempt to reign in your emotions knowing that they certainly won’t be of any use to get you out of here. The Captain takes the lead, traveling down the various halls of the facility as the lights above slowly shift between red and black. You’re both about to turn a corner when the asset stops suddenly and you crash into him. It’s literally like slamming into a wall.

Before you get a chance to go off on him, he’s turning and shoving you backward. One of his hands cup over your mouth to keep you silent. The leather from his fingerless gloves is hot against your lips. He tucks you both into a dark alcove, your back firmly pressed to the wall while he boxes you in with his muscular frame. You feel his thick thigh slipping between yours, his hips pinning you to the wall.

The flashing red lights don’t reach this small corner of space, so you can barely make out the intensity of his eyes as he looks down at you. It’s more of a feeling rather than anything visual, but it sends an unexpected and unexplainable thrill through you. You’re pretty sure he can feel the change in your breathing where his fingers are pressed just below your nose. His response is the barest shift in his stance, but it’s unmistakable when his thigh flexes, pushing forward into your spread legs and against your core.

You curse the clench you feel from your traitorous body giving in to her arousal. It takes everything in you not to fall into temptation and grind against him. You’re pretty sure that it’s not a pistol you feel pressed so intimately against you. Luckily, a distraction comes in the sound of pounding boots headed your way.

You begin to understand what the asset is doing as a group of agents runs passed without even noticing your presence. The two of you hold still until well after the sounds of the agents have faded away. Once the coast is clear, the Captain steps back, his hand slipping from your mouth. You can’t help the small dart of your tongue against your lower lip, the remnant of leather still clinging to the flesh.

“One minute before power and cameras are restored,” the asset’s voice is gruff, but not in the same manner it usually is.

You nod silently, unsure how your own voice will sound after that little episode.

The both of you manage to make it out of the facility without further incident and the asset leads you to where he’d stashed the jet. It uncloaks upon your approach and the back ramp soon lowers. You take your respective seats and the adrenaline high from the mission begins to fade once you’re airborne. You lean your head back against the chair and release a long breath. Now that the danger has passed, you feel some of that anger and frustration seeping back in. You still can’t believe that his plan had been to wave you around as bait.

“There’s a safe house not too far from this location. It’s late. We can bunk there and return to base in the morning,” he tells you, plugging in the coordinates.

You make a non-committal sound from the back of your throat.

You’re out of your seat as soon as the jet has landed, uncaring as the Captain still needs to run through the landing procedure to power down the jet. You’re out the back of the jet as soon as the ramp is down and head straight for the safe house. It’s a quaint little rural cottage out in the middle of nowhere. There’s a hidden panel in the wall which reveals a lockbox with a digital keypad on it. You type in the code to open the box which disables the alarm system and reveals the key for the front door. The asset is beginning to make his way toward the house as you open the door and step inside.

“I don’t know why you’re pouting,” he speaks upon following you inside. “The mission was a success.”

“I’m not pouting,” you glare at him over your shoulder. “And you’re a fucking asshole.”

His eyes narrow dangerously, “I know the real reason Pierce made me bring you. I don’t need a fucking baby sitter.”

You roll your eyes and huff, “You don’t know a Goddamn thing, Captain! I’m not your baby sitter. I was supposed to be your partner and instead, you thought it best to throw me to the wolves! World’s greatest soldier, my ass.”

You turn on your heel with the intention of walking away but barley make it a single step before a grip on your arm forces you to turn back around. The sharp whistle of a knife slicing through the air can be heard before your blade settles at the base of his throat. He doesn’t even flinch, keeping his grip on your other arm, his eyes blank.

“Choose your next words wisely, Captain,” you warn through gritted teeth.

His features don’t change, but the intensity behind his eyes increases as he looks deeply into yours. It feels like he can read your very soul within them. “You’re just as trapped as I am,” he finally speaks with vague realization.

“Yeah, no shit,” you respond sarcastically. “Every single person in that facility is one mistake away from a body bag.”

“Then why stay?” he questions.

“You’re kidding me, right?” you shoot him an incredulous look. “There is nowhere you can run that Hydra won’t find you. And with my damn luck, you’d be the one that they send after me. No offense, but your pretty-boy face isn’t exactly the last thing I want to see before I die.”

His eyes flash with an indescribable emotion before he leans forward into your knife. The blade is sharp enough that it begins to pierce the sensitive flesh of his neck. You pull it back immediately, looking up at him curiously. His large, calloused fingers glide over yours to pull the blade from your hands. He tosses it carelessly to the side, not even watching as it imbeds itself into the wall.

Your eyes dart down to the flash of red that’s beginning to bead up just below his Adam’s apple. One drop is able to build enough mass that it begins to glide down the column of his throat. You’re not entirely sure what possesses you to do it, but before the drop can reach the collar of his suit, you dart forward and catch it on your tongue.

His blood sends a burst of flavor across your taste buds. It’s not the normal metallic tang of sanguine blood. His is almost sweet. It’s electric. You follow the droplet’s trail back to its source and lap over the shallow cut. Your tongue is hot and wet against his skin. You only get one more taste before his accelerated healing closes the minor wound.

When you pull back, you’re not expecting the heated look in his eyes. With just a few quick steps, he has you pinned against the wall for the second time tonight. This time, though, you don’t quite mind it as much. “I don’t think you understand what exactly you’re about to unleash here,” his words come with an edge of danger that excites you.

Your lips curl at the corners and you’re sure that your pupils are blown wide. “Care to enlighten me, Captain?”

His jaw ticks as his eyes flicker between yours. “I don’t do long and slow.”

The tilt of your mouth turns into a full-on smirk. “Well, I don’t submit easily.” You duck under his arm and slide out from where he has you pinned to the wall.

He turns quickly to give chase, only to come face to face with the barrel of a gun. His muscles tense as he pauses. He looks down, noting the empty holster on his thigh before meeting your gaze once again. “You’ve sure got a thing for pulling guns out of holsters that don’t belong to you.”

Your smirk turns into a teasing grin. You slide your thumb across the latch to release the magazine from the pistol. You toss the loaded mag in one direction and check the chamber of the gun before tossing it in another. “That’s not the only weapon I plan on unholstering. But you’ve got to earn it first. Think you can handle that, Captain?”

He shifts on his feet and squares his shoulders. His hands come up slowly to unclip the chin strap of his helmet. Once it’s loose, he hooks his thumbs under the front edge just above his cheekbones before he lifts the helmet up and off his face. He tosses it carelessly to the side, still holding your gaze. His short blonde locks stick up in every direction and the corner of his mouth tilts deviously. “On va voir.”

He makes the first move, jolting forward to try to grab you. You dance just out of his reach with a twinkling laugh. The game of cat and mouse has begun. You kick your leg up when he tries to move in again. He catches your foot and pins your ankle against his side. He continues to keep your leg trapped with one hand while the other slips into the top of your boot to pull out the small knife you keep there. It clatters to the floor and slides across the polished wood until it hits the far wall. He then unties the laces of your boot next. When you feel the tension give against the front of your calf, a swift yank back on your leg is enough to free you from his grasp, leaving only an empty boot in his hands. He tosses that to the floor as well.

Taking a few steps back, you pull off your second boot, so the weight difference won’t throw you off. Both of your socks go next to prevent slipping on the hardwood flooring. The two of you surge forth at the same time, meeting in the center of the room in a flurry of movement. It’s a spontaneous and sporadic sparring session that’s been fuel-injected with carnal sensuality. Every single jab, punch, or kick is swiftly followed by a weapon dropping to the floor. Guns, knives, and grenades are efficiently stripped and carelessly tossed aside. Your utility belts and his shoulder harness are also removed with striking precision.

You hit him across the cheek with your elbow, stunning him temporarily to then hoist yourself across the length of his torso and up onto his shoulders. His eyes flash like a bolt of lightning as he looks up at you, his cheeks framed on either side by your thighs. “Comfortable?” you ask with a teasing grin.

“I’m sure this is something I could get used to.” His hands settle on your lower back. “Though I think we would both be enjoying ourselves better if you had taken your pants off first.”

Your grin turns into a smirk. You lock your ankles around the back of his neck before letting your torso fall back and swing to the side. The momentum of your movement causes the Captain to tip forward and twist until he’s crashing to the floor on his back. In the middle of the move, you uncross your ankles and disconnect from him to land on your feet like a cat.

He makes a nearly imperceptible sound upon impact with the floor and then releases a short grunt when you drop onto his chest. His jaw ticks as he looks up at you once again. “I let you do that,” he responds gruffly.

You hum in amusement, “I’m sure you did.” You sit back on your bent knees and run your hands down the front of his uniform. The thick material and armored plating prevent you from getting a good feel at what lies beneath, but you know it’s certainly a body worth protecting. You shake your head slowly and release a soft tsk as your fingers brush against the red stitching at the center of his chest. “God, this logo is fucking hideous. You would think they’d eventually grow the balls to change it after all these years.”

He chuckles darkly. “You could try sending an email to marketing.”

You keep your gaze locked with his as you reach for one of his hands. You lift it up and unlatch the strap at his wrist to loosen his fingerless glove. Your fingers brush against the tips of his before you’re peeling the leather away. You toss it over your shoulder, tearing your gaze from his to watch your fingers glide over the lines on his palm. Your head tilts slightly as you lean down. Your tongue makes another appearance, licking up the length of his index finger. You nip teasingly at the pad before the tip disappears entirely inside your mouth. Your tongue strokes against the sensitive skin. The asset swears he can feel that same sensation where his cock is still confined inside his tactical pants.

His breathing changes as you slip a second finger into the hot cavern of your mouth. You suck on his digits like a fucking pro. He can even feel the vibration of your moans through your tongue. You’d think he had dipped his fingers into a pot of honey with the way your tongue glides over every single inch of them. Your grip on his wrist tightens as you pull his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop.

It only takes him half a second to roll you both to the side until you’re the one flat on your back. The arousal burning through him lights a fire in his eyes as he looks down at you with a feral look. Lifting his other hand to his face, he uses his teeth to unlatch and pull off the leather material. Bare hands grip the top of your thighs, keeping them spread wide as he ruts his hips into yours.

Your back arches and your eyes fall shut at the barest hint of friction against your clit. The Captain sits up and makes quick work of the top half of his uniform. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as your eyes feast upon the newly bared plains of finely corded muscle. He’s certainly a sight to look at. With a body that appears to have been hand-carved out of marble and eyes as intense as a hurricane, it’s enough to make just about anyone want to drop their panties.

You reach for the zipper on the front of your uniform and drag it down your torso. His eyes zero in on the movement, pupils widening with every inch of your revealed skin. Your thighs clench around his hips and your abs tighten as you sit up until your chest is nearly brushing his. You shrug out of your suit, allowing it to fall off your shoulders and down to your hips. You wear a simple black sports bra underneath.

The Captain watches you with a hooded gaze. “Are you finally ready to submit?”

You push your chest forward, molding your body against his. Your hands settle upon his broad shoulders, gliding over the thick muscles toward his neck. One hand stops right at the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, but the other continues its course up the side of his neck and sinks into the hair at his nape. Your nails scratch at his scalp, causing an unmistakable shiver to run through him. His eyes are drawn to your mouth as you lean in closer. Your nose has just barely brushed against his when your hand tightens into a fist in his hair and you yank his head to the side. “Not quite,” you finally respond to his question.

His breath hisses through his teeth at the sharp jolt of pain against his sensitive scalp, but that soon turns into a loud curse when your teeth sink into the exposed flesh of his neck. “Fuck!” The sting of your bite shoots straight to his cock. It twitches and strains against the confining material of his pants, begging to plunge into the sanctuary of your wet heat. “Did that taste of my blood turn you into a fucking vampire?” he asks with a grimace as you retract your teeth from his skin.

Your tongue laps at the fresh mark. You didn’t even break the skin. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave anything behind that can’t be healed by the time we make it back to base.” You meet his darkened gaze with a sultry smirk.

The air between you two is positively electric. It crackles and sparks like a livewire. It’s hot and intense, and at the same time seems to charge you up until every single molecule that makes up your entire being is vibrating with energy.

With the next heartbeat, you’re flat on your back once more. His mouth is everywhere, nipping at your neck, your shoulders, and your chest. You hear the distinct sound of tearing fabric before the binding feel of your sports bra disappears entirely. You are far too aroused to care. Large hands come up to mold and squeeze your breasts while his lips and teeth mark up your skin.

You’re absolutely shameless in the way your hips rock and grind against his erection. You can feel your arousal soaking into your underwear where the thick ridge of his cock presses against you. Your body is thrumming with pent up sexual need. You are quickly becoming desperate for any sort of friction on your aching core.

Your nails rake down his back, leaving behind angry red streaks across pale skin. Again, the pain surges through his neurons and sends another jolt to his cock. Drops of precum have begun to collect on the front of his boxer briefs. He pushes himself back up, ignoring your whine of protest when his hands leave your breasts. He drags them down your chest and passed the curve of your waist. They then sink beneath the top edge of where your uniform clings to your hips. In one fell swoop, your uniform and panties are stripped from your legs and tossed to the side.

“Hands and knees. Ass up,” the Captain orders in a gruff tone.

You are quick to comply, willing and ready to submit to him. You roll onto your stomach before bringing in your knees and lifting your ass into the air. The hardwood beneath you isn’t exactly comfortable and you know your knees will be bruised by the end of this, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. Your pussy is in complete control now and she’s willing to do just about anything to get her fill on some thick Super Soldier cock.

You resist the urge to look back at him to see what he’s doing. It doesn’t take long before you hear the sound of shuffling clothing as the Captain shoves his tactical pants and boxers halfway down his thighs. If he were trying to go for a little more intimacy, he might’ve taken the time to completely remove the last few pieces of his uniform, but the slick scent of your arousal has hit him like a slap to the face and it is entirely too easy to give in to carnal instinct and take you now.

He spits into his palm and gives himself a few lengthy strokes. The sound is absolutely filthy and conjures all sorts of images in your mind. You arch your back and spread your knees a little wider as you feel him move in close. You don’t care if it makes you seem needy and desperate, because honestly, that’s exactly what you are.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his head lined up with your entrance. That’s the only warning you get before a quick snap of his hips pushes his entire length into you. The impact of his thrust feels like the recoil of a firearm. It's harsh and fast but also sends a thrill up your spine.

He fucks you without mercy like he’s lost complete control over himself. The thwack of his balls fills your ears as they slap against your clit. His hands grip your waist, keeping you in place as your body is left unable to do anything but accept his punishing pace. You’re pretty sure this should hurt, the way he takes you like an animal in heat, but it doesn’t.

Your cunt is so fucking wet with arousal, that you begin to hear a squelch with every thrust. If you weren’t in the middle of having your brains fucked out of you, you might have been a little embarrassed. The asset takes this as a sign to up the pace even more.

One of his hands slides away from your hip and down over your stomach. He hooks his arm around your torso and hoists your body up until your back is pressed to his chest. His unrelenting thrusts never cease. In fact, it appears that he’s able to hit you even deeper from this new position.

“Look at you,” his breath fans across the side of your neck when he speaks directly into your ear. “Such a good, submissive little Agent, taking your Captain’s cock so well.”

The pitiful whimper that escapes your throat would piss you off if you were in your right mind. He angles his hips just right to hit you in that one spot that makes your mind go blank.

“Are you gonna cum for me, Agent?” he asks with a nip of his teeth against your ear.

“Yes, Captain,” you respond through panting breaths.

“Good girl,” he praises in a deep tone that makes your body shiver. “Touch your clit,” he orders next, feeling his impending release starting to build up.

His arms tighten around you, keeping your body pinned to his as your hand slips between your thighs. You gather some of the excess slick right where your bodies are joined onto your fingertips before dragging them over your aching bundle. You flick and swirl over the small bud, vocalizing your pleasure with stunted gasps and tiny mewls.

The Captain releases soft grunts and heavy breaths directly into your ear. They’re the type of sounds that would make you weak in the knees if you were standing. They’re deep and guttural, pouring out of him like secrets slipping out from the cracks of a broken soul.

Your hand reaches up and back, fingers finding their way back into his messy hair. Your touch is gentle this time as you guide his face closer. Your lips brush against his in a slow caress. His pace falters briefly. In the next second, one of his hands has come up to cradle the back of your neck and he resumes his savage pace, kissing you just as fiercely.

He steals your breath and swallows your moans, taking you with a ferocity you’ve never known before. He claims your body as his own and brings you to heights you didn’t know you could reach. Your moans grow higher in pitch and come with greater frequency as the pleasure builds in your body.

Just a few more quick thrusts and one last flick of your finger, then suddenly your vision whites out. You barely feel the strength of his arms tightening around you before you lose all physical sensation.

In the next moment, you’re bolting up in bed, drenched in sweat with the sheets clinging to your damp body. You’re panting for breath like you’ve just run a marathon, and lift a shaking hand to your forehead. “What the fuck was that…?” you ask to the empty room.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #captain america x reader #captain hydra x reader #brain washed!steve x reader #smut is consensual tho

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scientifically-strange · 4 years

Text

Not by Blood

There were a lot of things that Clint thought was weird about the new kid they picked up in Amity Park. Why on earth would a fifteen year old kid, with friends and a family, and school, and normal teenager things want to join the fucking circus of all things? Then again, Clint didn't exactly come from a happy home either.

The kid was running from something, that much was obvious. But Clint knew that it was something he didn't need to pry into.

The kid came in saying he knew how to do the trapeze, and from his first run it was pretty obvious he didn't, but the ringleader wasn't one to turn away a kid in need, so he let Danny in anyway. But until he learned something for the performances, he was stuck helping with the moving and setup. He didn't seem to mind.

He's been with them a week and he's already shown that his scrawny demeanor packed a punch. He was small but he could lift literally twice Clint's weight without even breaking a sweat, and he was like a human air conditioner. When they were travelling through Arizona, half the train car they were in seemed to gravitate towards the kid. Just being around him dropped the temperature by a few degrees. Clint wasn't gonna say he wasn't grateful for it, but the kid definitely wasn't normal.

He hadn't spoken to him yet. Clint preferred to watch from a distance for a while, and it looked like Danny didn't really want to talk about anything anyway. Now, of course he got pulled into conversations about performances, and old friends, and old heartbreaks. But he never gave any details to his life. It was always vague.

But one night, when they had stopped for the night, Clint had found Danny sitting on top of one of the train cars looking at the stars.

"They're beautiful," he told Clint. Clint didn't ask how Danny knew he was behind him. Just from watching him he knew the kid was more perceptive than he let on. He doubted anybody, even Clint, could sneak up on him.

"Sure are," he replied, taking a seat next to Danny. He laid on his back, against the cold metal that he could feel through his jacket, and sighed. Danny was right. The stars were pretty tonight. But Clint wasn't looking at them long. He looked at Danny, who had gained a little bit of visible muscle from all of the lifting and moving. He still needed a sandwich, though.

Danny wasn't wearing a jacket despite how cold it was outside. But he didn't seem bothered by it, either. He seemed content, just starring up at the stars.

"I wanted to be an astronaut," Danny said after a few minutes of just sitting and enjoying the night sky.

"Yeah?" Clint asked. "What changed?"

"Life I guess," Danny said with a shrug.

"I get it," Clint said with a sigh. "The whole running from home thing, I mean."

"How could you tell?"

"Fifteen years old, your whole life ahead of you, and instead of finishing high school you join the fucking circus? Not to mention this is the calmest you've been since you joined us."

Danny let out a small chuckle. "You've been watching me," he told Clint. It wasn't a question.

"Maybe."

Danny sighed, and looked down at him. Even though Clint had been watching him for weeks now, he never noticed how startling his eyes were. They were a bright, icy blue that pierced him in a way Clint had never known before. Even with only the light from the stars, they almost seemed to glow.

Danny stared at him for a long time. So long that Clint started to get a little tired, but he didn't break eye contact with him. He felt that if he did, he'd miss a chance of not only finding out what the kid's deal was, but also missing a chance to genuinely connect with him. This kid was a part of his circus family now. Might as well become his friend or something.

"Why did you join the circus? He asked after what seemed like forever, turning back to the stars.

"Dad was a drunk, and mom didn't have the power to do anything about it," Clint answered. Yeah, it was shitty, and he wished things had been different, but he had made peace a long time ago with it. "My brother and I figured that the best thing to do for us was leave.

"Where's your brother now?

"Dead."

"Oh." Danny was quiet for a moment. "I've got a sister back in Amity. She's really smart. Like, Ivy League smart. Sh wants to be a psychiatrist and help people.

"I hope everything works out for her," Clint said. And he meant it. She was probably running in her own way, too.

"I'll keep you updated."

They sat for a little longer, marveling at the stars some more, before Clint silently got up. He clapped Danny on the shoulder, squeezing it for a moment, before climbing down, and going to bed.

--------

They had a lot of talks like that. For a few years, they would sit at the top of a train car, looking at the stars, and talking about their past lives, before the circus. Danny, Clint noticed, didn't really open up to anybody but him. And Clint felt like he had a brother again. Sure, a younger one this time, but a brother nonetheless. And if anybody messed around with him, they would have Clint to answer to.

Danny was a star now, in the circus as well. He did trapeze and aerial dancing, with the big silks. He seemed weightless, and at peace when he was high in the air. That's probably why he always sat on the train car when he wanted to be alone, or with Clint. Danny didn't just enjoy being high, he found peace in it. It was closer to the stars.

Danny was nineteen now, and he talked Clint's ear off constantly about his sister, Jazz, acing all of her tests at Harvard, and how his two best friends had left Amity. Clint met them once. Sam and Tucker were good, incredibly smart and perceptive kids. Clint couldn't tell if they got it from Danny, or if Danny got it from them, but they've maintained contact ever since Danny joined the circus.

Since he had joined, and started performing more, he had gained visible muscle. He was very lean, and still didn't look very strong, but Clint knew that he could probably bench press the strongman if he really wanted to. And he was still comfortable with the extreme cold, and his favorite place to eat was Nasty Burger. His favorite music was Dumpty Humpty, and he cried for three hours when NASA said Pluto wasn't a planet. Because somewhere deep inside of Danny, he still wanted to be an astronaut.

Clint loved his little brother with his whole being, and would fight anybody who even looked at Danny wrong.

---

One night, while they were parked in the middle of Nowhere, Oklahoma, Danny and Clint went on a hike. And Danny told him something Clint could never forget.

They had stopped by a small bluff overlooking hundreds of trees. It was the dead of night. Danny said he wanted only Clint to know.

"So, five years ago you asked me why I left everything and joined the circus," Danny started, looking at Clint. There was nothing but determination in his face. Clint nodded, a motion for Danny to continue. "My parents are ghost hunters, and they like to invent ghost hunting weapons. Well, one thing they made was a portal. And I got into an accident with it, and...

Danny held out his arms and let the white rings wash over him. It was blinding, so much so that Clint had to cover his eyes. No wonder Danny made him hike all the way out here for something like privacy.

When Clint looked at him again, Danny was standing there, literally glowing. His eyes were a toxic green, and his hair was white. And everything made sense. His fondness for the cold, and heights, and why he's so incredibly strong despite being a string bean. Clint couldn't find any words to say. He just starred at him.

"I told them, he said, his voice echoing slightly, about the accident, and about what it did to me. It turned me half ghost, and they..."

Danny's voice cracked. Clint had only ever see him cry once, about Pluto, but the rest of what Danny was trying to say was obvious. Clint rushed forward and pulled Danny into a bone-crushing hug.

And Danny broke down. He stood there for a long time on the bluff, crying into Clint's shoulder, wondering why his parents didn't love him enough to realize that he was still their son, despite the accident their lab equipment caused. It broke Clint's heart, because he could relate to not having parents who decided that one day they didn't love you. Who decided that one day they were going to take their anger and confusion out on you. Who, in Danny's case, woke up one day deciding to hunt down their own son for something that was out of his control.

They were there for a really long time. But once Danny was done, he turned back to his normal, black haired self and smiled at Clint, who hugged him tight. And Clint felt a familiar feeling, looking into those eyes.

It was like the first time Clint had sat on the train car with Danny all those years ago, and Danny had looked at him with those icy blue eyes. And Clint finally knew the feeling that came with it.

It was kinship.

---------

Three years later, when Danny was twenty-three and Clint twenty-eight, Fury approached them with a job offer. Clint for his marksman skills, and Danny for his ghost powers. Shortly after, they left the circus and joined S.H.I.E.L.D. on a path to help people in need. And they would do it together, just like they did everything together. Because they were brothers, not by blood, and nothing could ever break a bond like that.

As they walked through the halls, Clint with his bow and Danny with white hair, they smiled at each other, and opened the doors to the observation deck together. Fury turned around to look at them.

"Agents Phantom and Hawkeye reporting for duty, sir."

Might fuck around and make this a full length fic lmao

#danny fenton #danny phantom #clint barton #hawkeye #avengers

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forestwater87 · 4 years

Link

Listen, just because this fandom is temporarily dead doesn’t mean my love for Gwenvid is.

Mega thanks to @gwenvidweek for making this happen! We love you, mods!

Gwenvid Week, Day 1: Before Camp/After Camp

David’s always had a soft spot for rituals. They remind him of his mom, of camp -- of all the things that feel like home. They center him, clear his mind, get him ready for the challenges ahead.

He carefully dots the exclamation mark in the sand and takes a step back, tossing his writing stick to the side and putting his hands on his hips. The words written on the shore are a little crooked, the D a little crooked from when a sudden bird call startled him, but as he kicks off his boots (carefully rolling up his socks and smushing them into the toes to keep them from getting sandy) his chest is warm and light.

And lucky for him, because the lake is so cold he nearly jumps out of his skin. Clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, he forces himself to wade out to his waist, and turns back to survey his handiwork. With the frigid water of Lake Lilac leaving his legs numb, the cool breeze making the trees rustle and the air smell like pine needles, and the sun already scorching everything it touches as it climbs into the sky, he reads back the words in the sand, letting his gaze move slow and deliberately over each swoop and wobbly line and tracing their mirror in the calm surface of the lake like sacred runes.

Campe diem. The words that make the summer begin.

Or . . . not quite.

“David!”

The voice makes him jump, but a second later he smiles. “Good morning, Gwen!” he calls, splashing back to shore and subtly kicking away the letters. “It’s nice to see you up so early on such an important day!”

His co-counselor doesn’t look like it’s nice to be up, but aside from a baleful glare she shoots at the sunrise she doesn’t respond. She’s still groggy, dressed in her pajamas with her hair a messy tangle of knots that blend the two tones into a single warm burgundy. The sun makes her glow where it hits her face, warm and lit from the inside like a jack-o-lantern . . . only that sounds a lot less pretty than he intended, so he’s relieved that’s one of the thoughts he didn’t share out loud.

David wonders if people enjoy looking at their best friends this much, or if it means something potentially dangerous. The way he always does when this question occurs, he quickly banishes it from his mind. “How are you settling in?” he asks, fully aware of the answer. They share a cabin, after all, and Gwen’s spent enough years at Camp Campbell to have the routine down to a science; within minutes of hopping off the bus QM rented for the summer, she’s mostly unpacked, changed into her counselors’ uniform, and begun a critical sweep of the camp’s supplies and paperwork.

She makes a noncommittal noise, rubbing the sleep from one eye with the heel of her hand and trying to shield herself from the sun with the other. “Are you ready? The stores are gonna be full of families getting shit for the summer -- it’ll be like Black Friday, so we’ve gotta be in and out as soon as the Tradin’ Post opens unless you’re prepared to deck some soccer moms.”

He resists the urge to smile; she might not believe in the power of the beginning-of-summer rituals, but this optimistic plan for their camping supply trip is as much a staple of every summer as David’s sand writing. “Sounds like a swell plan, Gwen.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she mutters, but he catches a half-smile before she turns her back on the lake. “Come on, get dressed and meet me in the Mess Hall. I’ll start inventory.” As he falls into step beside her, she glances over at him, raising her eyebrows. “Morning swim?”

He shrugs, turning to survey the empty campground. “Basically!”

“Sure. Seems like something you’d do.” She dismisses him with a wave of her hand, already fixated on the task at hand. “Just hurry up so we can get out of here. If you think you’re gonna make me do all the hard jobs by myself, I’ve got a guitar with your face written all over it.”

David laughs before he can stop himself. “There it is,” he murmurs, causing her to glance over curiously.

“Huh?”

“Nothing! I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Might as well start by seeing what food we have, right?” As he ducks into the counselor’s cabin, he catches a glimpse of her hair, glinting like copper in the early-morning light, and his heart lifts.

There it is.

Writing the camp’s motto in the sand and water is important to him, a silly little consecration ritual that marks the line between his life outside of Camp Campbell and the endless, magical months of summer. He’s done it ever since he was a junior counselor; it feels like staking a claim on the only perfect place that’s ever existed, like writing his name on the heart of the earth. Even if he technically owns the camp now -- something that felt too bizarre and wonderful to make sense last summer and if anything is only more strange after an entire year -- no amount of signatures or invoices capture the simple power of the words “campe diem” on Lake Lilac.

But for David, the summer doesn’t really begin until Gwen tells him she needs him. Never in those exact words, of course . . . but he’s gotten pretty good at reading between her lines, and she’s never exactly been subtle.

He tightens his bandanna around his neck, smiling at his reflection. Get out there and help your CBFL, David. Campe diem.

The wheels that help spring become summer begin turning.

---

“Okay.” Gwen groans, rolling her shoulders; there are some ominous pops and cracks, but she doesn’t look like she’s dislocated anything so David assumes everything’s fine. “I’ll “Okay. This is okay.” Gwen runs a hand through her hair, grimacing as her fingers get caught in tangles. She’s still in her pajamas, a smear of dirt along her thigh from crawling around the supply shed, but she’s so single-minded David isn’t sure she’s even aware of what she’s wearing. (He makes a quick mental note to remind her to change before they leave, because when she gets hyperfocused like this, it’s easy to see her blasting down the shelves of the Sleepy Peak Tradin’ Post in bare feet and oversized paisley boxer shorts.) “We can’t afford literally anything we need. Just like every summer. This is gonna be a disaster, but that’s okay.”

He puts his hand on her shoulder, figuring now isn’t a good time for a hug. “It’ll be fine,” he tries. He scans over their shopping list and tries to imagine a way they can stretch their budget to cover it all; then he remembers that he doesn’t know what their budget is, because Gwen takes care of that, and feels a faint spike of panic jam itself between his ribs. “Let’s ask Mr. Campbell if --”

“Don’t even think about it, kiddo. The government already cleaned me out.” Mr. Campbell slouches into the room, tugging at the trapdoor in the Mess Hall ceiling that leads to the attic. “Those brothers found every last hiding place I had. Apparently it’s being used to repay my ‘debts to society,’ if you can believe it.”

“I can,” Gwen mutters, gaze darting around the Mess Hall as though hoping a sign saying “Free Money Here” will appear out of the blue. She hurries into the back room, where they’ve managed to convert a closet into something resembling an office.

David’s distracted by something else, though. “Brothers?” he repeats, hurrying to help Mr. Campbell lower the spring-down ladder from the ceiling.

“Yeah, those suits from Washington. You’ve met them a hundred times -- sunglasses, terrible fashion sense. The secret agent guys.”

“Um, sir --” he’s not supposed to call Mr. Campbell “sir” anymore, since he’s technically the boss now, but it’s a surprisingly tough habit to kick, “-- if you mean Agent and Agent Miller . . . they’re not brothers.”

He frowns down at David, frozen halfway up to the attic like he’s scaling a mountain. “Of course they are! Or are you going to tell me it’s a coincidence that they have the same last name?”

David shrugs awkwardly, kind of wishing he hadn’t said anything. “They’re married, sir.”

“Really?” His brows furrow. “And that’s legal here now?” David nods. “Go figure. Well, good for them.”

Gwen bursts back into the Mess Hall with a scrap of paper, snatching her phone off one of the tables. “Agent Miller?” she says after a moment, and her tone abruptly melts into honey. “It’s Gwen Santos! You know, from Camp Campbell? Yeah, it’s great to hear from you, too! How’s the weather over there?”

The rattling sound of the ladder being drawn back up into the attic startles David, making him jump and glance away from the conversation. He frowns up at the closed trapdoor -- he’s pretty sure Mr. Campbell is telling the truth about his stashes of money, but it’d be nice if he at least tried to help -- then crosses over to the safe in the corner. (It’s empty, of course, but he wants to feel like he’s doing something useful.)

Meanwhile, Gwen’s voice still sounds like it’s made of spun sugar: “Things are wonderful over here! We’re taking good care of everything. Actually, that’s part of why I was calling . . . I noticed Ered’s coming back this summer?” A moment of silence, then a bubbly laugh. “Well, we’re certainly excited to have her here! The thing is . . .”

A few minutes later she ends the call, immediately jumping into the air and spiking her phone into the couch. “That’s how it’s done!” she crows, dancing in a circle. “I -- am -- the -- best!” Each word is punctuated by punching the air, and then she twirls around again.

Her eyes land on David as she finishes spinning. It’s like a bucket of water was dumped on her head -- her shoulders slump, her arms fall to her sides, and it even seems like the brilliant violet of her eyes turns duller.

“Oh. Hey, David.”

He forces a smile, rising to his feet and wincing as his knees crack. “That sounds like good news!” he says, wondering if there’s a way to tell her he doesn’t mind seeing her happy without it making everything awkward and weird.

She brightens a bit, rescuing her phone from where it lodged itself between the couch cushions. “Yeah. Turns out the Millers are really happy with you for taking care of Campbell all year. They’re Venmo-ing the camp some cash. Probably not enough for most of the stuff we need, but we can cut it down to the essentials.”

“That’s amazing!” He doesn’t entirely know what she accomplished, but it sounds encouraging. “Gwen, you’re incredible!”

She shrugs, her cheeks flushing pink. “Whatever,” she mumbles, then raises her voice almost to a shout. “It’s crazy what great things can happen when you’re not breaking the law all the time!”

Mr. Campbell’s voice is muffled by the closed door: “Give it a rest, Gina!”

Gwen rolls her eyes, but her attempt to look annoyed is dampened slightly by the smile that keeps tugging at the corner of her mouth. “What a dick. Come on, David, let’s get out of here.”

When she emerges from the cabin, dressed like a Camp Campbell counselor for the first time this summer, he looks up from his phone with a smile. “Campe diem, Gwen!” he says, giving her the Camp Campbell salute. Her response is just to shake her head, which is about all he expected. “You look great!”

She gives him a strange look as she slides into the driver’s side of the campmobile. “I look like this all the time, David.”

And she looks great all the time, but he knows better than to say that out loud. “Camp Campbell has a Venmo?” he asks instead (he looked it up while she was getting changed).

“Yes, Brother David. It’s one of those boring grown-up things I did while you were playing in the dirt last summer. No need to thank me.”

Well, she said he doesn’t need to thank her, so he chooses not to. That’s just the kind of thing Gwen does, after all, and once again he wonders how they’d get by if she was able to find a better job.

We’d figure it out, he tells himself, looking out the window as the camp falls behind them. But not this summer.

He has one more year of grace, anyway.

She’s here, and he might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

---

Even though Gwen says she doesn’t have any rituals, there are a few things that they have to do every summer, the day before all the campers arrive. Inventory coupled with a panicked last-minute shopping trip is one of them. Listening to strange music at earth-shaking volumes on the drive to and from town is another.

“Yeah, girl, it's true, I'm into you, but these benzos, they got me feeling loose --”

David’s tempted to cover his ears -- it cannot be good for his eardrums; he didn’t even know the volume knob went this high! -- but if he does that, he might block out Gwen’s voice. There are very few situations where she’s willing to sing with an audience, and the car ride into town is one of those rare occasions.

He sits back, watching her shimmy her shoulders in time to the music, painting the air with the hand not on the steering wheel in strange gestures that are half conducting and half gang signs --

“Why don't you come through, before I Goku -- fuck this white pill and go super xan!”

-- and decides, like he does every year, that this is worth the risk of moderate hearing loss.

As they pull up in front of the store (despite Gwen’s dire warnings, the street is as empty always), she switches the music off. David tries to convince himself the ringing in his ears is all in his head, and that he isn’t going to suddenly wake up deaf. He mostly succeeds.

“Okay, David.” Gwen stops directly in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders. It suddenly feels like there’s a snake constricting around his chest, and his next breath stutters and doesn’t seem to pull in enough air. She doesn’t notice, narrowing her eyes at him as though he was one of their poorly-behaved campers. “We have a list.” She waves it between their faces for emphasis.

He swallows, nodding. “We do.”

“We’re sticking to the list.”

David nods, resisting the urge to laugh. “Of course we are,” he says; he hadn’t intended for his remark to sound sarcastic but can’t be entirely disappointed that it does.

“We’re not buying anything unless it’s on this list, got it?”

“Got it, Gwen!”

“Good.” She takes a step back and punches his arm lightly. “Let’s go, CBFL.”

As he follows her into the store, he couldn’t keep from smiling if he tried.

---

“Wasn’t that fun?”

Gwen groans, shoving the last of the bags into the car (David reminds himself yet again to put his reusable shopping bags in the campmobile so they don’t spend another summer gathering dust under his bed) and slamming the door shut. “Swear to god I’m gonna get a leash for you,” she grumbles, putting her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment before starting the car. “I’ll order one from a kink website or something and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

He doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s a close thing. “I don’t think that’s necessary . . .”

“Oh, yeah?” She lifts her head to give him a sideways glare. “How many knives did we buy?”

“Two.”

“And how many knives were on the list?”

Okay, she’s made her point. “But Gwen, one of them is specially engineered for whittling!” He digs through the bags until he recovers it, holding it up to her. “I’ve always wanted to try whittling!”

“‘Specially engineered’ is a bullshit term used to sell stuff to idiots, David. And the other one . . .”

“Is . . . well . . .” Okay, so he doesn’t have an exact use for it yet. But he likes being prepared, and it’s important to have tools on-hand. “The box says you could shave with it! Isn’t that cool?”

She taps on the steering wheel impatiently. “Are you planning on shaving with it?” she asks, deadpan.

“No.” But he could.

Gwen snorts, starting the car. “Well, you’re gonna have to explain to the campers why we’re using the same old watered-down paint as last year.” She pulls an imitation of him that’s disturbingly accurate. “‘Golly gee, sorry about that, kids! But look at this cool knife I got instead!’”

That hardly seems fair, but he doesn’t have a good comeback. Knives aren’t cheap, it’s true, and he hates the thought that the camp will suffer because of him. “I mean, when you put it like that . . .” he mutters, looking out the window to avoid her accusing gaze.

There’s a moment of silence. Then her arm lands heavily around his shoulders, pulling him into a sudden half-hug. By the time he’s registered what’s happening, she’s taken her arm back and gently shoved him back to his side of the car. “It’s fine, David,” she says with a sigh, her face slightly pink. “I didn’t have to buy Nights with the Wolf Queen, either.”

He doesn’t point out that a grocery-store paperback is hardly as much of an expense as two wilderness knives, mostly because he doesn’t want her to realize it herself. So he takes the olive branch and smiles at her before reaching to the dashboard and turning the music back on.

Noise explodes through the car, making both of them jump even though they knew it was going to happen. Gwen’s surprise immediately dissolves into delight, and even though she doesn’t thank him outright, she bobs her head and drums on the steering wheel to the beat, and that feels like thanks enough.

“Robbing banks, knock it off! Not saying thanks, knock it off!”

David perks up, tilting his head to hear better (not that he needs to, since the music is currently drilling its way into his skull). “Hey, I like this one!” he says. Why didn’t they start with this song?

Gwen glances at him for a second before returning her eyes to the road, clearly trying not to smile. “Would it even matter if I tell you this is sarcastic?”

It wouldn’t, and they both know it.

---

David takes a step back, holding up his phone and fiddling with the zoom. This is another important part of beginning the season; the supply room will never be this full or tidy for the rest of the summer, and their hard work deserves to be documented before it all gets undone. “Looks perfect!”

So perfect, in fact, that it needs to be uploaded to Instagram. Right now!

“Yeah?” Gwen huffs, slumping against a pile of unmade tents nearly as tall as they are. She must’ve dragged it out of the shed while he was sharing his photo. “I’m so glad you’re doing the important stuff while I slack off.”

If that’s sarcasm, he chooses to ignore it. “Don’t say that! You’ve done a great job today!” She groans loudly -- so it was sarcasm, good to know -- but takes the other end of the tarp holding all the tents and helps him drag it out to the field. The sun hovers just above the trees, golden-yellow and almost thick enough to touch, and his stomach grumbles as they survey the campgrounds. “Do you want to have dinner first, or . . .”

“Fuck that.” She grabs a tent and slings it over her shoulder. Her face and neck glisten with sweat, and she impatiently brushes the strands of hair that’ve escaped her ponytail out of her face. She looks unkempt and beautiful, like a lumberjack, or a viking. “If I sit down, I won’t be able to get back up. Let’s just finish this shit.”

Her language leaves a little to be desired, but her logic is sound. The tents are meant to be put up by and for children, so they aren’t too difficult to set up, but most of them have taken damage between the last summer and storage, so the process keeps stalling to fix broken rods and quick-sew patches over holes in the fabric (David’s job, mostly; Gwen isn’t much of a seamstress). The air is a gloomy indigo by the time they finish, cooling down just enough to make their sweat-damp clothes miserable. “Why don’t you take the first shower?” he offers as they walk back. “I’ll start dinner.”

“My hero,” she quips, veering off toward the counselors’ cabin. David shrugs off his discomfort and exhaustion, forcing a skip into his step as he heads into the Mess Hall.

This is their final ritual before the campers arrive tomorrow, and he wants everything to be perfect.

---

“Hmm?” He cups his free hand around his ear, gently twirling his stick over the fire. As much as he wants to look over at Gwen, he has to keep his attention on roasting his hot dog. The last thing he wants is to deal with another exploded dinner. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

She snorts and throws a marshmallow at his head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“No, I’m just not sure I heard you correctly! Because it sounded like maybe you were saying you were wrong about something --”

“Very cute,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.

“-- and that, consequently, I was right!” He grins at her, removing his (cooked to perfection) hot dog from the fire and transferring it to a bun.

“Sounds like you’re saying you wanna be hit in the face with a flaming hot dog, Greenwood.”

He leans forward and gently takes the stick from her hand, saving her food from its fiery doom. “I just think it’s swell that you’re willing to admit when you’re wrong, Gwen.”

“Give that back! It’s not done cooking.”

“It’s overcooking!”

“And that’s how I like it!” She snatches back her stick and holds it to the center of the flames, shooting him a defiant glare. A moment later there’s a loud pop; they throw themselves to the ground to avoid the burning shrapnel of the exploded hot dog, which light up the air like fireworks before sizzling harmlessly out in the dirt.

They both sit up, brushing themselves off, and take their seats around the campfire again. David waits a minute before saying, “This might be another good opportunity to practice owning up to your mistakes.”

She shoves his shoulder, laughing. “Let’s see you do it better.”

He does, knowing and not caring that she’s gotten him to do all the work for her. The fire is a lovely contrast to the chilly night, and he feels warm and glowing all over.

After dinner they crowd themselves into one of the campers’ tents, rolling out sleeping bags on the floor next to the child-sized cots. Gwen sprawls out across hers, stretching like a cat. “Hell of a last supper.”

He knows what she means, but he isn’t comfortable sharing her dread over three months of meals cooked by the Quartermaster. At least, not out loud. Instead he crawls back outside, recovering the two steaming mugs he pilfered from the Mess Hall and bringing them into the tent. “Here you go!”

She sits up and takes the hot chocolate, curling both hands around it despite the heat. “Well, since I’m apparently on a roll here,” she says, taking a sip and sighing happily, “I guess I have to admit that this is a really good way to start the summer.”

David quickly takes a drink as well, hiding his smile behind the mug. “So I was right about that as well?”

“Okay, don’t milk it,” she snaps, but there’s no real malice in her voice. She leans back against one of the cots, wincing at the screech of metal shifting, and tilts her head up to the ceiling, as though she can see through the fabric to the stars beyond. “I had a lot of fun today,” she says after a moment. Setting her drink to the side, she tugs the elastic out of her ponytail; in the white light of their lantern, with her hair falling in loose, fluffy waves down to her shoulders, she looks soft and almost ethereal, like a princess in a fairy tale. “Thanks, David.”

She meets his eyes, the light turning them a silvery lavender, and looking at her is suddenly too much so he turns his attention to his drink. “No problem, CBFL,” he says, taking a deep breath and wishing his heart wasn’t beating so fast. He opens his mouth to say something else but it turns out there’s nothing else he has to say so he shuts it again, feeling stupid.

For a few minutes they’re quiet, drinking their hot chocolate in companionable silence. At least, David hopes it’s companionable -- he’s not exactly sure how to measure companionableness, but it seems friendly enough so he’s going to do his best not to overthink it. That’s what Gwen would tell him, he knows, and she has a degree in psychology so she definitely knows what she’s talking about more than he does.

Thank goodness he’s not talking out loud; it’s embarrassing enough that he’s babbling in his own mind . . . oh no, what if he has been talking out loud this entire time? What has he said?!

“David?” His gaze snaps up to her, but she doesn’t look annoyed or creeped out so he probably hasn’t been saying anything too weird, at least, and probably hasn’t been talking out loud at all so that’s good but her expression is alarmingly serious and she hasn’t said anything else and it’s been at least ten seconds that they’ve just been looking at each other but he’s not sure what she wants so -- “Let me know if I’m reading this wrong.”

“Reading?” he manages weakly. He feels strangely disconnected from his body as he watches her set her mug aside and cross the small space to kneel in front of him. Her hand alights on his shoulder, fluttery and weightless as a hummingbird, and she seems a little close and a lot beautiful and if he’s not extremely careful she’s going to figure out all the things he’s put so much work into not letting her figure out -- try not to feel at all, but it’s hard to keep his composure and not look at her mouth when it’s so close and there’s no camp activities or pre-camp activities or post-camp activities to distract them both with, just quiet and breathing and soft white lantern light and her hand on his shoulder, and he’s always considered himself able to multitask pretty well but this feels like too much so he squeezes his eyes shut . . .

The kiss takes him entirely by surprise. One moment he’s bracing himself for a confrontation, questions he doesn’t know how to answer, and the next moment is filled with Gwen -- her lips soft and slightly chapped against his and her fingers tightening on his shoulder and the coconutty smell of her shampoo all around him and he’s a little worried that he’s having a heart attack but gosh, jeez, fuck it, he kisses her back.

And she doesn’t shove him away or demand to know what in the name of fun he thinks he’s doing; she lets out a weak little huff of air that lands somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, her mouth opens just slightly, and she shifts forward, her arms twining over his shoulders. One hand slides into his hair, the gentle scrape of her fingernails shivering from his scalp down his spine, and it occurs to him that he can touch her as well, that he’s not only apparently allowed but actually probably should. Slowly, both so she has plenty of him to stop him and in a futile attempt to stop his fingers from shaking, he lifts his hand to her neck, gingerly cupping around the base of her head and running his thumb along the space behind her ear. She gasps against his lips, but she doesn’t pull away so he assumes it’s a good gasp and repeats the motion, and when her tongue flicks against his bottom lip like a question he opens his mouth, because he’s never been very good at saying no to her for anything and he sure as sugar has no intention of starting now.

David’s not sure how much time passes before she pulls back, but even though he feels cold and bereft everywhere they’re no longer touching it’s probably for the best, because he doesn’t realize how lightheaded he is until he opens his eyes and has to wait for the world to shudder into place. She sits on her heels, biting her lower lip; he lets his hand fall away from her, and in a second they’re disconnected, apart.

“Well.” She chuckles weakly, tucking her hair behind her ears. “That was . . .”

A mistake, his brain finishes, and his stomach drops in miserable anticipation.

In fact, he’s so prepared for those devastating words that he almost misses what she actually says: “unexpected, huh?”

It takes him a moment to register that, to recalibrate, so his response is a bit too late, just a little bit awkward: “I -- definitely didn’t see it coming.”

“That’s because your eyes were closed,” she says with a grimace, like she regrets the lame joke even before she’s finished saying it; but it melts so seamlessly into a smile, small and self-conscious and unexpected and perfect, that he forgets what words are, let alone that he’s supposed to say some to continue the conversation.

With a nervous glance at him, Gwen scuttles back to her side of the tent, picking up her mug of hot chocolate.

“Sorry, was that totally inappropriate?” she asks, responding before he can. “I mean, of course it was, you’re technically my boss, I don’t know what -- I just thought I was -- there were some signals -- weren’t there? Was that . . . okay?”

The enormous stupidity of the question finally surprises him into speaking. “Okay? That was . . .” the best thing that’s ever happened in my life. “Very. Okay -- it was completely okay. Better than okay, it was . . . you know, good. Nice. I’m going to stop talking now.”

Her smile widens, visible even as she covers her mouth with one hand. “Really?” she says, suddenly like she’s blurting it out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He’s so sure that he shuffles forward on his knees, most likely looking like a total idiot, until he’s in front of her again. He doesn’t have the courage to kiss her so he takes one of her hands, turning it over and examining how beautiful it is, how lovely it looks contrasted with his pale fingers. He strokes the backs of her knuckles, marveling at how soft her skin is even after a day of hard work, and tries to remember how to breathe.

Gwen puts her other hand under his chin, forcing him to look up, and kisses him again.

It’s a bit less gentle than the first time, both her mouth and her fingers hot and insistent as they press against him, and he loses his balance, falling onto his back with a small yelp of surprise. She follows him down without breaking the kiss, lowering herself to her elbows and covering his body with hers. He’s distantly aware of a dull ceramic clunk, but he doesn’t really take notice of what it means until a few moments later, when something lukewarm and wet seeps into the hem of his pajama pants.

“Shit!” She rolls off of him, righting the mug of no-longer-hot chocolate and scrambling for the napkins left over from dinner. “Fuck, it’s everywhere.”

He tugs her sleeping bag away from the spill, but it’s already soaked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to knock it over!”

She shakes her head, sitting back and surveying the damage. “No, I think I did it. It’s fine, the dirt’ll soak it up. But it’s gonna bring ants, so we’re going to have to give this tent to the campers we hate the most. I vote Max.”

“Gwen!” He can’t quite make that sound as disapproving as he should. He scoops up the wet napkins and drags her wet sleeping bag outside. “I’ll go put this in the wash right now.”

She glances at her watch, then back up at him. “It’s almost midnight, David. I’m not staying up until that’s clean, it’ll take all night.”

He knows she’s right -- the machine they rely on for the camp’s laundry is the same one they’ve had since he was a junior counselor, and runs extremely slowly -- and disappointment makes his shoulders slump. “We can sleep in the cabin, then. That’s no problem.”

When he returns from the laundry, yawning, Gwen isn’t in the counselors’ cabin like he expected. She’s not by the dying embers of the campfire, or in the tent. The sleeping bag, it turns out, isn’t in there either, nor are the lantern and the mugs of hot chocolate. He opens his mouth to whisper-call her name (it’s spooky with the fire out) --

“David!”

He jumps, covering his mouth to muffle a noise that was definitely not a scream, and turns to see Gwen leaning out of one of the other campers’ tents, half-hidden by shadows. She gestures him over and disappears back into the tent.

Shaking off his alarm, he ducks inside to see Gwen bundled up in the sleeping bag on the ground, with the other supplies well out of reach. “Oh,” he says, not sure exactly what he’s looking at. “Um, should I . . . sleep on one of the cots?” It’d be uncomfortable, but he’d rather shiver through a night curled up on a too-small bed than go back to the cabin alone.

She rolls her eyes at him and wriggles to the side, unzipping the bag halfway. “Get in before you let all the warm out.”

Oh. His face flushes hot and he has to look down at his feet for a moment to compose himself.

Well, he’s hardly going to refuse, is he?

It’s a bit of a close fit, but he manages to slide in alongside her. She turns onto her side, slinging one arm over his waist and resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Is this okay?” she mumbles, already sounding like she’s halfway to falling asleep.

He has to swallow twice before he can answer. “Y-yes. This is fine.” He can already tell that it’ll get unbearably warm soon -- Gwen’s pressed against his side and radiating heat like a furnace -- but her weight on his chest is solid and comforting and he knows he won’t be moving an inch until the sun rises, not unless she tells him to.

She’s quiet for long enough that he thinks she’s fallen asleep.

“Sorry.”

It’s so soft he freezes in the darkness, trying to figure out if that was his imagination or not. When she lifts her head, nothing more than a black vaguely-Gwen-shaped blob, he recovers and says, “Why?”

“I know this whole pre-summer hot chocolate thing is really important to you. It kinda sucks that I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything!” He sits up on his elbows, tentatively reaching out to stroke her hair. His fingertips brush against her forehead and she ducks slightly, letting him pet her hair without poking an eye out. “I know it hasn’t exactly started yet,” he says, flopping back down so she can rest her head on his shoulder again, “but I think this might be the best summer ever.”

“You say that every summer.”

He smiles up at nothing. “And I mean it every summer.”

There’s silence for a moment, then he feels her press a light kiss against his neck. “Call me optimistic, but you might be onto something this year, anyway.”

“Wow,” he says, blowing out a huff of air. “Admitting I’m right three times in one day. I hope it doesn’t keep up like this or I’ll get a swelled head!”

He doesn’t have to see her face to know she’s glaring at him, and that small knowledge makes him indescribably happy. “No danger of that happening.”

“I know.” It’s one of his favorite things about her.

Her breathing evens out as she falls asleep, soft and slightly nasal. It’s another sound he associates with his time spent at Camp Campbell, although never so close, never with her hair tickling his cheek and her hand splayed over his heart like she’s protecting it. He’s used to letting her breathing lull him to sleep from across the room -- but he thinks he could get used to this, if he has the chance.

(He’d like the chance to get used to this.)

David closes his eyes and enjoys the last moments of peace they have, before the kids arrive and the camp explodes into a delightful frenzy of sound and chaos.

Let the summer begin.

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #gwenvid #cc david #cc gwen #gwenvidweek #gwenvidweek2020 #forestwriting

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opheliacassiopea · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER 10.

TW: Mentions of a weapon.

Landing back in Quantico that evening was a welcome feeling, the few hours of sleep you managed to get on the plane making little difference in rejuvenating your body and you were practically on auto-pilot for the short twenty-five minute drive back to your apartment. Typing in your alarm code, you quickly tidy your things away, securing your weapon and your credentials. It might seem odd to start tidying your apartment when your body is aching all over, and you’re practically dead on your feet, but it calms you, tethers you to some form of normalcy. So you cleaned the small amount of mess you’d left in your rush to get to work once you’d gotten the call to come in, you weren’t really a messy person anyway so it didn’t take long. Apartment cleaned, you set about fixing yourself dinner and hopping into the shower, turning the water to the highest temperature, the hot water bringing you comfort, easing your sore shoulder and side as you wash away the stress of the last few days.

Despite how tired you are, you fear that sleep won’t come to you easily, you had a lot to think about, your mind still focused on the case that technically still wasn’t over as the paperwork hadn’t been completed, and of course you couldn’t help but think of Hotch, what had happened between the two of you. Realistically you knew nothing would come of it, but that didn’t mean you could suddenly stop thinking about it altogether, it was incredibly good sex after all, and the sweet moments afterwards were something you couldn’t forget any time soon. Clambering into bed and getting comfortable under the covers, you find that sleep washes over you quickly, leading you into a dreamworld. Many hours later you awaken from a peaceful sleep the next morning, feeling well rested and slightly less sore than the day before and decide to make the most of your morning off, choosing to change the bedsheets and open all the windows to let in some fresh air. Along with the rest of the team, you were having to head into the office later that afternoon to fill out the paperwork for the recent case in Bend.

Much like your appearance, you look pride in your apartment looking the very best it could be, and much like your appearance, your apartment truly resembled you too. It was a fairly decent sized apartment, the reasonably sized living room decked out with fashionable, yet vintage looking sofas and chairs that were situated around the antique coffee table that faced toward the TV. Arguably the best part of the living room was that in the cupboards of the small coffee table, was a small projector that allowed you to play some of your favourite films, or productions of your favourite books and it was something you often did on your days off. Stacks of books, plants and knickknacks lined the shelves that covered many of the walls, all arranged to look neat and tidy, rather than cluttered. The back corner of the room was home to your record player and cart of vinyl's, next to your beautiful wooden piano, plants and candles covering the top. There were many smaller lamps dotted around on the side tables throughout the room, small trails of fairy lights used to accentuate certain accessories.

The back wall of your bedroom was painted in your favourite colour, a deep forest green, your bed placed directly in front of it whilst the rest of the walls were exposed brick, which was the main reason you’d fallen in love with this particular apartment. There was a decent sized wardrobe along with a full length mirror, chest of draws and a small vanity, all home to strategically placed plants, accessories and yet more fairy lights to make the room warm and inviting. You used the smaller box room at the end of the hallway as an office so had decided to keep the colour scheme fairly neutral since it also doubled as a spare room, but was still filled with yet more books and little knickknacks that you absolutely adored and truly made your apartment feel like home and the walls were adorned with your various achievements. Your bathroom could be described as a jungle, multiple plants lived on the window and hung down from the ceiling in macramé pots, loving that it made the room feel more open. The kitchen was relatively simple, a decent sized dining table with benches and chairs always sporting fresh flowers in the middle and the windowsill lined with various cookbooks you’d yet to even open. In short, you loved your apartment, it was your sanctuary, where you felt safest and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride when it came to your home.

Filling the rest of your morning with errands and odd jobs like laundry and food shopping, your morning off scurries by in a hurry and you’re soon headed back to Quantico, ready to speed through the necessary paperwork and potentially catch up on any other administrative tasks you needed to complete. The bullpen is relatively quiet upon your arrival and as you walk through the glass doors, you can already see Reid halfway done with whatever he’s working on, smiling to yourself you stop by the breakroom to grab yourself a tea.

“I’m surprised that you’re here on time, you looked dead on your feet yesterday” Prentiss greets you as you enter, handing you your mug from the cupboard.

“How charming of you” you rebuke, swatting her on the shoulder as you take the mug. “I feel way better after a decent night's sleep” you tell her as you finish making your drink.

Sensing she wants to say something you turn to face her as she begins to speak up. “That case, I know it was your first of its kind and it was pretty intense, I just want to check in with you”. Concern was apparent in all of her features and as always you appreciated how the team looked out for you, for each other.

“Seriously, I’m fine, all good I promise. Not looking forward to sorting out this paperwork, the reports are gonna be much more complicated, and with that being said, we better get a move on” you say as you exit the breakroom and head over to your desk, freshly made tea in hand.

After a couple of hours of completing various forms and case reports, you begin to bring the report you were working on to a close and as you came to the end of the sentence you were writing, you lean back and flick your gaze to Hotch’s office to find that he was already looking at you. Sending him a small smile, which he returns immediately, you dip your head down and continue working the day away, offering to help JJ with some of her extra case consults.

Finally the weekend rolls around and you’re buzzing with excitement, once a month the team meets for breakfast in a local diner and if you’re being honest, it’s one of your favourite pastimes with the team. It’s laidback, it’s easy and you relish in the simplicity of it. It’s not even been ten minutes since you’ve all sat down at one of the large round booths at the back of the diner, conversation flowing; Spencer telling Emily and JJ about traditions for new homeowners, Derek and Penelope swapping office gossip, whilst you’re engaged in a conversation with Dave and Hotch about the upcoming FBI triathlon in a few months when you’re interrupted by your phone ringing.

“SSA Paisley Selwyn” you speak into the phone, wondering why nobody else was taking a phone call, let alone a phone call from a bureau phone number; normally the entire team would receive a phone call if you were all out of the office to inform you of a new case or potential emergency.

“This is Heather Price, Chief of the Crime Translation Unit. We’re in need of a translator for a case we’re working and as a language and linguistics expert, you’d be the perfect fit to help”

she tells you over the phone and you’re slightly unsure, you’d heard of the unit a few times in passing, but never been involved. This might strike an outsider as odd considering as the woman rightly stated, you did specialise in linguistics, but the BAU appealed to you much more.

“I’m flattered, but is there nobody else that can fill in for the case?” you query, you loved your work, but sometimes you needed a break and you weren’t overly keen on leaving breakfast with the team. With such bizarre schedules and hectic jobs, sometimes dealing with unspeakable things, you welcomed any normality that you can find. For that morning the eight of you aren’t FBI agents, you’re just eight friends out for breakfast and today that’s exactly what you needed.

“Unfortunately not no. We’re keen to make use of your profiling abilities too. I’ll see you here in no less than forty minutes” she informs you, hanging up shortly after. Letting out a small sigh, you twist with the two pendants hanging around your neck, you’d been looking forward to this morning since the moment last month's breakfast ended and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by the team.

Seeing your slightly crestfallen facial expression as you place your phone on the table, Derek is the first to question you. “What’s going on, Lee? Who was that?” concern evident on his face.

“Heather Price, she’s requested my help on a translation case” you tell him, looking down at the table as you do and when you look back up, you have the entire eyes of the team focused on you, a range of facial expressions on show; JJ and Emily look slightly surprised, Spence and Dave looked proud, whereas Hotch’s expression never falters, staying stoic as ever.

Spencer’s eyebrows suddenly shoot up. “The translation unit? Isn’t that where Oliver WIlliams works?” he questions and you know he already knows the answer, his voice raising slightly being the dead giveaway and despite your slight annoyance at having to leave you can’t help but laugh at him.

“Don’t act like you don’t already know that, you’re not that smooth, Spence. I’ll tell him you said hi” you tell him, through Derek's confused expression only makes you laugh all the more, clearly he hadn’t been clued in on Spencer’s slight crush. Collecting yourself, you turn your attention to the brightly dressed woman to your left.

Penelope however, looked outraged that you had to leave. “What?! Now?! But it’s your day off, you can’t miss our breakfast, you’ve been looking forward to this for ages! Is there really nobody else they can call?”. Penelope exclaims, waving her hands as she expresses her annoyance at the interruption. Arguably, Penelope valued these outings with the team more than the rest of you might have done, working back in her office to perform her technical magic whilst the rest of you were out in the field, or even another state, left her somewhat isolated and therefore occasionally missing out of the odd inside joke so times like these were perfect for filling her in on any missed gossip and it broke your heart to see her upset at the change in plans.

“I know, I know, sorry PG, we’ll just have to do something another time” you tell her, kissing her cheek as you begin to gather your things in order to leave. Standing up, you bid the rest of the team a hurried goodbye, hearing the end of their conversation as you go.

“How many languages does she even speak? I lose track of her sometimes” JJ questions, though you can tell she’s joking and it’s Reid who answers.

“Three; French, Spanish and Italian. Though if you count sign language, it would be four, which is marginally impressive because statistically speaking..”.

Quickly swinging by your apartment to pick up your weapon and credentials, you decided against changing out of your very casual outfit, this was meant to be your day off after all.

It was an odd feeling riding the elevator to a different floor, nerves building in your stomach for whatever it was you were about to work on. Stepping out of the elevator and taking a deep breath, you’re greeted by who you assume to be the woman you spoke with on the phone. “Unit Chief Heather Price, nice to meet you, please, come this way” she introduces herself to you with a welcoming smile, gesturing for you to follow her to her office.

“As I mentioned on the phone, we’re in need of an translator, specifically for Italian translations. I realise that your primary work for the bureau isn’t in fact translating, but you’ve come highly recommended to us and we think your knowledge of language and linguistics, along with your profiling abilities would prove to be an incredibly useful asset for this case” she informs you, handing you a brown folder that clearly contains the case information that you flip open and start to read over, leaning back on one of the office chairs when there’s a knock at the door.

“You wanted to see me?” the voice questions. Head snapping up from the file in your hand, you see that the voice belongs to a male detective and you immediately placed him to be Oliver Williams thanks to Spencer’s descriptions. He’d confided in you about his small crush during

one of the late night sessions in the library; the two had met around a month ago when the team was working a local case and in order to solidify a theory you and he were working on, Reid had gone to the translation office to collect a transcription manual and bumped into the man and since then the two had been buying each other coffee

“Ah, yes I did” Price tells him, ushering him into the room. “This is Dr Paisley Selwyn, I requested her help on this case as you know”. Pushing yourself up from the arm of the chair, you lean forward to shake his hand and the two of you exchange pleasantries and you can tell that the both of you will get on well as Price starts going over the case plan, explaining that

essentially the two of you would be left to your own devices, taking the lead on the case and she would only be stepping in when it came to the interrogation of the suspect.

Following Williams back out to the larger desk spaces, the two of you begin working the case, starting over from the very beginning, and coming up with entirely new strategies regarding everything from the translations of smaller articles of evidence, to various interview methods and spoken translations. Eventually you found yourself working in a rhythm with Williams, discovering that the two of you had similar methods in translating which sped the process along and soon you found yourself enjoying the work you were doing; applying theories, methods and techniques you hadn’t used since doing your masters degree and it came as an easy reminder as to why you loved working with language. When it came time for the interrogation of the suspect, it wasn’t hard to tell that both Price and Williams were impressed with your translation skills, picking up on the smallest changes and inconsistencies that eventually brought the case to a close at around eleven o’clock in the evening.

Now you were sat with Williams filling out the huge stack of files for the case, because you weren’t officially part of the unit, there was more paperwork than usual and by the time you were both done and finally out the door, it was pushing midnight. Walking to your cars, the two of you conversed like you’d known each other for a lot longer than a day and you called across the car park to him “Oi, Williams, Spence told me to tell you hi” which caused him to smile from ear to ear and blush a deep pink and you smiled to yourself as you made your way home, singing along to the radio as you drove.

A/N: I can’t believe I’ve written 10 chapters of this fic already! Tried making this a slightly shorter chapter as the past few have been quite long. Don’t forget you can follow along and read the story over on my Wattpad: @opheliacassiopea

As always, let me know what you think; any feedback is welcome!🖤

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #fbi #behavioural analysis unit #aaron hotchner #aaron #aaron hotch hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch #ssa hotchner #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x oc

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Text

switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 3

word count: 4k

content warnings: mention of rape and victim-blaming (talking about Clea's previous job in sex crimes— not her personal experience).

masterlist

this chapter is drawn from the season 1 episode 17 episode "A Real Rain," which is supposed to be in New York, but I didn't wanna write about New York so I changed it to Boston.

I drop a second sugar packet into my coffee before taking a tentative sip. my face twists in discomfort. previous to working here, I would bring my own thermos from home and it would last me all day, but I've had to up my caffeine intake to two or three cups.

"you get used to it." JJ walks over to me, steeping her tea. despite the fact that it's early, she's perfectly put together. her hair is tied up and her eyes are sparkling.

"how?" I laugh. she points to the coffee pot, which is fresh and yet somehow tastes slightly stale.

"when you've been up for twenty four hours, you won't care how it tastes."

I avert my widened eyes at this.

"you could do what Spence does and just add a bunch of sugars." she tilts her head towards Reid, who is rocking back in forth in his spinny chair with a huge volume open in front of him. he doesn't even notice us staring at him.

"ew, what?" I giggle. JJ nods.

"hey, Spence!" she calls across the office. his head pops up to frown at us.

"yes?"

"how many sugars do you use?"

"five. occasionally six." he says this without a hint of the shame it deserves. my eyebrows shoot up and I take another sip of the bitter drink, trying to ignore the taste. it coats my tongue.

"see?" she smirks. "just so you know, we have another case. meeting in five." she sashays away to the conference room, leaving me standing there with an overwhelming urge to sweeten my drink. I keep it at three and add a splash of creamer to drown out the bitterness, then walk briskly to my desk to grab a few of my things.

"we have a meeting, Reid." I say across the divider between our spaces. he holds up an index finger, slams the book shut, and grabs his things. I wait for him to get collected before we head up.

"what were you reading?" I ask, peeking at his workspace. books are lined up against the divider, loose papers scatter the surface, and there are three uncapped pens littered about. his disorganization surprises me.

"War and Peace." he replies, checking his watch.

it's not even nine am.

...

I'm staring out the window of the jet while Morgan and Prentiss battle out yet another card game with Reid. there's not much to see until we slice through clouds and fly over Boston, which is glittering in the early light. I sigh and turn back to my book, tucking my legs up beneath me.

"this is not how I planned to visit." Morgan notes, looks through his cards.

"I'm looking forward to seeing Boston." Spencer smiles softly. at this, all of us look up.

"you've never been?" Morgan asks doubtfully. Emily snorts.

"we've never had an unsub there." Reid doesn't seem to think this strange at all. Morgan and I share a glance before he speaks.

"Reid, it's an hour-and-a-half flight."

"I'll show you around if we have some time." Emily smiles reassuringly at the boy genius.

"it's an easy trip, man." Derek chuckles. Spencer isn't bothered by our teasing. instead, he draws another card from the deck and focuses on his game.

"I've never been either." I state. the team turns to me with surprised expressions, causing my cheeks to flush.

"you, too?" Morgan makes a face like I've disappointed him.

"I've been meaning to go." I shrug. "there's an exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts that I wanna see."

"what exhibition?" Spencer doesn't look up from his hand.

"uh, Titus Kaphar." I haven't had the opportunity to travel much, so a lot of the art I've seen has been from a computer screen or in class in college. it would be nice to actually get some experience seeing things face-to-face.

"Shifting the Gaze!" Spencer's face snaps up to beam at me, referencing the piece so vehemently that it makes me laugh.

"yeah, exactly."

"I went to his talk a couple years back."

"no way. really?" I shut my book and lean forward while he nods. Prentiss and Morgan are watching our conversation like a tennis match. while Reid rambles about all the things he heard at the lecture, I listen intently. it's good, because I don't really feel like talking right now; my head is pounding all over again, and this is distracting.

"do you ever go to the art museums in DC, then?" I ask once he's finished. Reid gets this crooked smile on his face like he wants to say a bunch of things, but is holding his tongue. his face is animated when he tells me about the other exhibits he's seen at the Smithsonian and apparently abandons his cards. Prentiss and Morgan have lost interest in our conversation; they start their own game and let us talk for the rest of the flight.

when we touch down, I immediately feel overwhelmed by the crush of people around us. our first crime scene is a taxi cab in Hyde Park, where the driver has been blindfolded, shot in the chest, and stabbed right through his ear. the blade, broken off from the handle, is lodged in his brain.

despite the fact that his kills are violent and seemingly random, the unsub definitely isn't disorganized. he carries his MO out the same way each time, which makes all of us question if we've missed a connection between victims.

"it's possible he's a sort of serial killer groupie." Spencer notes as he examines the inside of the cab, which is splattered with a mix of rainwater from the night before and blood. I shift where I'm standing to try to follow his line of sight.

"what do you mean?"

"Lawrence Bittaker and Roy Norris drove ice picks into their victims' heads and broke off the handle." he explains.

"well, if he's doing that, then he's presenting a mixed profile." I frown.

"exactly."

"mixed profile?" the police officer next to me asks.

"yeah. the fact that this guy is shooting his victims first suggests that he needs a quick and effective means of controlling the situation, which means that he probably doesn't think he can overpower them." I say.

"he could have a physical problem-- or maybe he's just not confident because he's small." Reid is still examining the taxi for any further evidence, but it seems sort of pointless.

"plus, he's organized and hunts at night. that tells us he most likely has a steady job."

"so," the cop stares between us with a perplexed expression. "we're looking for a small, angry white guy with a day job?"

the sarcasm in his voice makes me smile a little.

"I know it doesn't narrow down a lot right now, but we know that this guy isn't blitz attacking his victims. it's more of an execution."

the officer nods at this and my phone buzzes in my pocket. I turn to Reid.

"we gotta go."

Spencer nods curtly, straightens, and starts to immediately walk back to the car. I shake my head at his behavior, then follow after.

...

we get called to visit a new crime scene in the morning, this time in a church. Hotch holds the door open for me and I walk in to see a body laid out in front of the pews. an older woman sits towards the back, comforted by a nun.

"how'd they find him?" Prentiss asks the police chief as she leads us to the victim.

"night janitor." she nods to a man being questioned by cops in the corner.

"did he see anything?" I ask her.

"no, but he remembered a parishioner who was here earlier," we walk past the older woman. she stares at us expectantly as the chief talks. "so there could be a potential witness."

we stop at the body of a priest, his eyes covered and a blade lodged in his skull, unsurprisingly. Emily and I stare down at him, realizing the same thing.

"first public killing." she notes as she bends down to examine his wounds. "he's getting bolder."

"the presentation is just as important as the kill." I join her on the ground, snapping my gloves tighter on my hands and turning his head to the side to get a better look at the blade. semi-dried blood coats the tied fabric around his eyes.

"I'm gonna go talk to that woman." Emily leaves. the crime scene agent crouches down on the ground across from me, and I bite my lip before making a strange request.

"would you mind... sliding that thing out of his ear?"

the agent blinks at me in disbelief, probably not wanting to pry a knife out of someone's head, but nods and does so carefully. I squint down at the wound. then I realize something.

"Reid?" my voice carries across the room. Spencer is talking to an officer when he hears me and walks over.

"this doesn't look like a normal blade, but I don't know what it is." I point at the now half-buried weapon. it sits unpleasantly out, the blood catching warm light. Spencer gets down next to the crime scene agent and examines it more closely.

"this is flint." he says slowly, turning to me with a concerned expression.

"like the stone?"

"flint is the symbol for protection and retribution in Egyptian mythology. with hieroglyphics, they used to display dangerous animals like scorpions and snakes being cut with flint knives in order to render them powerless."

"oh." is all I can manage while I process what he's saying. Spencer waits for me to say something else, but instead I bend my head down to pull back the silk tie.

"there's no way that using flint is a coincidence." I reason. the blood is all on the inside of the tie as well, which gives me pause. Reid recognizes this a second later, his eyes lifting to mine. they look almost brown in the candlelight, flecks of gold sparkling in them while his mind whirs endlessly.

"I'm gonna call Garcia to see if any of the victims have been charged with a crime." he tells me.

"good idea." we both stand, the crime scene agent scurrying off to do something else. I head back over to Emily and hope that we're right about this. flint is too specific of a weapon for it not to be intentional, right?

...

we deliver the profile by the end of the work day, our unsub a serial vigilante with a personal edge to all of his killings. my body is slightly shaky from downing cups of coffee without any actual food, so the promise of eating out after we finish makes my stomach eager.

we go to a Chinese restaurant by the station and keep talking about the case, despite having promised ourselves not to do so. I sit between Prentiss and Reid while I dig into my dumplings. I like listening to them swap theories and past cases, how they weave together all their stories.

"you forgot to add something to the profile earlier today, Aaron." Rossi says as he piles more noodles onto his plate. our attention immediately focuses on the Italian.

"what did he forget?" Prentiss has a ghost of a smile on her face. I've noticed that she tends to speak like she's on the inside of a joke that other people don't understand. the intonation of her words feels like a secret.

"I didn't mention the possibility of our unsub being a cop." Hotch takes a sip of his ice water. there's a moment where we all reflect on this information before Morgan breaks the silence.

"I mean, they do know the system."

"they could easily take matters into their own hands, given what they see every day." Prentiss adds. I nod.

"when someone like our victim is killed, police refer to it as a public-service murder." Reid struggles to get the noodles onto his chopsticks, which I notice but don't say anything about. he tries again, the food slipping back onto his plate. Morgan notices this shortcoming of Spencer's and I see that he's about to start teasing him, so I change the subject.

"I saw a lot of rapists walk when I was in sex crimes," I put down my dumpling while I talk. Hotch watches me intently. I haven't spoken much about my previous job with anyone on the team, especially not him. in fact, he barely knows anything about me. "a lot of the victims didn't feel safe pressing charges, or the juries said they were asking for it. it's enough to make you wanna explode."

"it's a long way from feeling like that and actually committing a murder, though, don't you think?" Emily asks.

"not really." I turn my gaze back to my plate and start to feel nauseous. there's a clinking of plates and silverware as we continue in silence. Emily nudges my arm gently with hers and offers me a supportive smile.

I hear Spencer next to me, getting the attention of a passing waiter.

"excuse me," he says in a low tone. "can I get a fork, perhaps?"

Morgan snickers as the waiter takes off to get the utensil. at this point, there's a palpable tension as we wait to see who makes fun of Reid first. he drops his chopsticks into his bowl with a defeated clatter and Derek gently pushes his knuckles against Spencer's cheekbone.

"having some trouble, kid?" he asks. Spencer smacks his hand away.

"don't be mean." I giggle, reaching onto my wrist to grab a hair tie. "here, try this." I wrap the thing around the end of Spencer's chopsticks so that they're easier to use, handing them back to him.

Spencer tries again and it works-- if not somewhat clumsily. he gives me a little appreciative smile and I smile back before returning to my food, listening to the stories that Rossi doles out. he even pays for dinner despite our half-hearted protests.

the entertainment for the evening is pretty nice, but when I've stuffed myself with Chinese food, Emily leans over to me.

"do you wanna go to that museum you were talking about earlier?" she whispers. I peek at my phone to check the time.

"I doubt we'd have much time before they close, but yeah, definitely." excitement bubbles up in my stomach as I realize I might actually get to poke around for a while. Prentiss throws her napkin on the table abruptly.

"Clea and I are going to the Museum of Fine Arts. anyone wanna join?"

I look around to gauge some reactions.

"I'm interested." Morgan nods.

"I've already been several times." Rossi takes a sip of his drink as he politely declines. Hotch shakes his head.

"I have some paperwork I need to finish."

"again?" Prentiss complains.

"I'll go." Spencer sits up straighter as he looks at his brunette friend, folding his napkin neatly on his plate. my eyebrows raise a little, although I'm not surprised that he'd be interested in visiting any museum. we stand and get ready to go; Hotch warns us to be ready to go at seven in the morning tomorrow. a little weight is lifted off my chest as I realize that there will be some reprieve during this case, and then we're wandering out into the evening air.

we ate dinner sort of early, so the sky is still slightly aglow with a bruised shade, preparing to sink into its favorite darkness. after finding the route to the museum, we hop on the train.

Boston is lovely in the kind of way that aches of neat corners and airy lights. stores crammed with antiques and novelty products line the sidewalks, people wander about as they take in a pleasant night. somehow disjointed and cohesive all at once.

whatever bit of conversation we had on the way dissipates into breathlessness once we get inside the enormous entryway. it's cavernous, extravagant, gorgeous. we flip through brochures advertising different exhibits. Emily raves about Impressionism and decides that that must be our first stop, so we head off with the rest of the museum stragglers who have decided to feed themselves with art until they're forced to leave.

my head is constantly spinning to admire something else in the enormous white rooms. it's a bit overwhelming at some points, what with the gargantuan canvases that greet me at every turn. but it's impressive, too, and I find myself hungrily reading all the small plaques. I venture out of the Impressionism vein and into Korean art, my feet carrying me away from Morgan and Prentiss. Spencer broke off a while ago; to where, I have no idea.

I check out vases and pottery, sculptures, renderings of historical events. images from the crime scenes fill my head intrusively. there's no use in trying to shut them out; they've been in my dreams for a while now, the kind that wake me up in a cold sweat. I haven't told anyone about them— I'm sure others get them, too— and I don't want to seem like I can't handle it. every time I close my eyes, I begin to feel the pressure of a knife against my temple.

"a lot of these are from private collections."

the voice causes me to jump, my skin erupting in goosebumps as Spencer stands beside me. he holds his bag against his side and follows my line of sight to the 18th-century bookshelf screen.

"that's interesting." I reply. what else is there to say to that?

"really makes you think about what other art pieces won't ever be seen by the public." he turns and starts walking onto the next work, seemingly done with this conversation. my brow furrows while I watch him go, his posture miserable as a result of his skinny build. he's quite tall.

"what do you mean?" my voice comes out quiet, but it carries in the otherwise empty exhibit. Reid turns around and stops in his place, allows me to catch up briefly. we start to read another plaque by a silver basin.

"you could have a Cézanne just rotting in your attic and it would never be examined by the right scholars." he shrugs.

"I really doubt there's anything nearing that value in my attic." I laugh.

"you ever seen 'Antiques Roadshow'?" he asks non-sarcastically. I balk.

"sure."

"you never know." he's not a man of many words, apparently. I get his message regardless and we continue to walk, him setting out facts for me in neat rows, simple and easily taken in. he's definitely a know-it-all, but not in the way that makes me want to escape his presence. it's sort of comforting, having someone around who just understands everything. his absolute lack of social graces makes him easy to be around, too; I don't need to force conversation because he doesn't care.

we wind up in the mummy section, where the walls tingle with an energy that could only be described as magical.

"spooky." I nod to the domineering sarcophagus lid of Kheperra. a spotlight illuminates all of its intricacies and I make a beeline for it. Spencer trails behind me and we fall into silence as we peer at the exquisite details. it's intimidating, for sure, hulking and made of carved black stone. "you feel that?" I whisper to Spencer, who is enthralled in the image.

the way the spotlight spills over onto him is interesting; it emphasizes the shadow below his jaw and the delicate quality of his bone structure, his cheekbone prominent at the place where his ear meets his face. his lashes are long and lovely, his Adam's apple poking out of a slender throat. he turns to me with a curious expression.

"feel what?"

"the energy change," I smile. "from the ancient dead bodies."

"it's probably just the dark lighting and the media associations you have with mummies." but his eyes begin flitting about the room in a slightly panicked manner. I feel a smirk tug at my lips as I step closer to him.

"are you scared?"

"no," he scoffs and makes a face like I've made the world's most absurd accusation. "why would I be scared?"

"because we're all alone in here..." I use a lower tone to freak him out a little. "who's to stop them from coming out and... snatching us?" when my hand snakes around behind him to pinch his arm, he jumps.

"what the--" he catches sight of the devilish grin on my face. "don't do that!"

"sorry, Einstein." I laugh and turn in the other direction, him following me to the next piece. Spencer doesn't seem to have more thoughts to give on the exhibition, probably still a little creeped out. part of me begins to feel guilty for startling him, even though he constantly does that to me. his footfalls are weirdly soft.

I wonder what Spencer is like outside of work. what he does when he gets back to his apartment. how could someone like him entertain themselves? maybe he just reads books until his eyes glaze over. he definitely doesn't go out often, but maybe he has other nerdy friends. I hope he does. there's something in his eyes that's too viscous for me to grasp, something swimming and pocketed. I'd like to understand it, although that doesn't seem like a great idea to pursue. he barely gives his closest friends information about his life.

we end up at opposite ends of the room, him still examining an entombed husband and wife couple while I check out a canonic jar. the silence in this room is tangible. I wasn't lying when I felt an energy shift— it's like gold and clay and it smells like cracked cinnamon.

I'm trying to get a better look at the detailing when I feel a cold hand wrap around my forearm, easily encircling it. I jolt.

Spencer stands behind me with a playful smile, like he's quite pleased with himself.

"Reid!" I yank my arm away from his long fingers and see him let out that rare laugh. it's pleasant and fills the room with a warmer light as I rub my arm where his fingers held me. I'm surprised he was willing to touch me at all; it's pretty obvious that he's got a problem with germs, which is understandable.

"who's scared now?" he tries to defend himself with his palms when I reach out to gently smack his shoulder.

"you know, I was starting to feel bad for you." I laugh. he smiles brightly and keeps walking into the next room. I realize that the way we move is like two weighted ends of a string. he drifts out on his own, I follow, and vice versa.

I appreciate that he's beginning to loosen up around me, so much so that he smiles at a joke I make in the English Regency section. we walk quickly to absorb as much as we can before the museum closes, but we still don't get through all of it. Spencer isn't much of a conversationalist, and he doesn't really need to be. he listens to me talk, I listen to his erudite observations, smiling when he uses certain terms that sound like they're from someone much older.

by the time a curator tells us we have to go, we've completely lost Prentiss and Morgan and end up meeting back at the entrance. it's pitch black outside; Boston is still bustling, except my legs are tired and I'm ready to crash in bed. we have another packed day tomorrow.

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #dr. reid #criminal minds #mgg #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #friends to lovers #BAU #slow burn

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stylesluxx · 4 years

Text

cold? chilling? freezing? (V) – s.rogers

[warnings: fight scene and an ounce of tension]

summary: in which y/n is a assassin turned lover | part four | part six

word count: 2,090

masterlist

You and Steve were on a jet, crossing the Indian Ocean going over the plan.

You were still rocking the white and red suit that, of course, went through a few modifications in the last couple of years. Steve wore a dark blue uniform with white and brown details. You remember the first time you saw it.

He had just gotten back to the apartment and was excited to show you. You laughed as he quickly walked into his room and changed. You set your book face down as he walked into your line of sight.

"I like this suit on you, Cap," You smiled at him. "The dark color really fits you."

"Thank you," He nodded happily. "I figured it was time for a change."

"You know, I'm getting a little tired of being Fury's janitor," Steve said, looking down at you.

"Talk to the man in charge, not me," You shrugged. "I'm just the messenger."

Agent Rumlow continued about the mission and you listened intently until Steve started to give out orders.

"Alright, I'm gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Y/N/N, you kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get them out. Let's move," He instructed and you nodded.

You and Steve walked toward the back of the ship as everyone else began to gear up.

"Secure seven."

"Seven secure. So, did you make any plans with your new friend?" You inquired.

"Well, all the guys from my Barbershop Quartet are dead so, we can't hang out with them," He responded sarcastically, making you laugh.

"You really are a funny guy," You hummed and nodded your head as you slipped your fingerless gloves on.

You stuck your hands out toward Steve, like a zombie, so he could tighten the velcro.

"Maybe you can ask out that girl... the uh... the uh girl from statistics– what's her name?"

"Kristen," He answered and tapped your hands to signify he was finished.

You let your hands fall to your sides and watched him out his stupid helmet on. (You were never a fan of it.)

"Yeah her; if you asked her out, she'd probably say yes," You continued, putting a hand on your hip.

"That's why I don't ask," He said and clipped the strap of the helmet.

"Too shy or too scared?"

"Too... not interested," He shrugged.

You sighed and looked over at him as he started walking away. "Captain, this Batroc guy... he's dangerous," You warned him.

You didn't want to make it seem like you were worried about him, which you were, but you knew Steve could handle himself. You knew he could handle himself but sometimes things just go wrong.

"I'll be careful, Y/N. See you in a bit," He gave one last smile before jumping off the aircraft.

"And no parachute," You mumbled to yourself.

Soon after he jumped, you slipped on a parachute and jumped after him. You landed and took the parachute off, catching up to Steve.

"What about the nurse across the hall from us. She seems sweet and she's probably much better at tending to your wounds than I am," You suggested, making him stop in the middle of his stride and turn to you.

"I like when you tend to my wounds," He corrected you and continued to walk away. "Secure the engine room."

You nodded and tried to shake off his words as you walked to the engine room.

He liked it when you tended to his wounds? That was something you'd never forget him saying. If it wasn't obvious, Steve and you became much more acquainted with each other over the last couple of years. He might've been your first real friend that wasn't a family member. He had this homey feeling to him and while you say Steve drags you everywhere, if you wanted to truly be elsewhere, that's where you'd be. You liked being around Steve and you wanted to open up to him, you truly did, but you just couldn't find the strength to.

Telling him anything about you would mean that you'd have to be vulnerable and be able to put your pride aside. Steve was good at that, (at least with you); you knew everything about him. But you don't think you were ready to do that yet.

So, you didn't let Steve's little comment give you butterflies. You didn't want to think deeper into the comment because you knew you weren't ready for that type of vulnerability just yet.

You were walking to the engine room and you easily took out a couple of guards that happened to be in your way.

"Y/N, what's your status?" You heard Steve in your ear.

"I just took out about five idiots, you're welcome by the way–"

You saw another man and kicked the back of his kneecaps making him fall to the floor. You grabbed the back of his hand and slammed it against the ground, knocking him unconscious.

"Make that six, Captain. Oh, wait."

Two more came out and you quickly took them out with a few kicks and hitting their heads on metal poles.

"Seven and eight. Engine room secure," You confirmed and walked away from the bodies sprawled on the floor.

You walked over to a computer and took a USB from out of your pocket. You connected it to the computer and began extracting data.

"Y/N, Batroc's on the move. Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages," You heard Steve but ignored him, continuing the extra mission Fury gave you. "Y/N!" He panted.

He was silent for a while but you heard grunting and groans outside of the room you were in.

"Uh, this is awkward," You mumbled as Steve burst through the door and punched Batroc in the face.

You turned back to the computer and continued to look through all the files that would be of use to S.H.I.E.L.D.

"What're you doing?" Steve asked.

He got up from the floor and walked over to you, panting tiredly.

"Um maybe you need to do some breathing exercises, Cap," You teased and ignored his question.

"Rumlow needed your help. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oooh, are we swearing now?" You questioned and raised your eyebrows in shock. "I'm just backing up this hard drive if you must know."

"Our mission was to rescue hostages," He countered.

"No, that was your mission. And it looks like you've done a beautiful job."

You went to walk by him but he grabbing your arm roughly and pulled him back.

"You just jeopardized this whole operation."

"I think that's a bit dramatic. Et je ne savais pas que tu parlais français." (And I didn't know you spoke French.)

You heard him earlier talking to Batroc and it genuinely surprised you. Steve could do a lot of things and he could do them all well, but this was a surprise.

Before we could respond Batroc jumped up and ran out of the room, but now before throwing a bomb your way.

Steve hit it out the way with his shield and grabbed you by the waist. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his neck tightly before he jumped up on the tables. You took your gun out and quickly shot at the window so Steve could easily jump through it.

You groaned as you landed on the ground and looked over at Steve guiltily.

“You okay? You hurt?" He asked and looked over at you, assessing your body.

You shook your head and looked over at him to make sure he was okay.

"I'm okay," He told you as if he knew what you were doing but you just nodded. "Et juste un peu," He answered your question from earlier. (And just a little bit.)

He stood up from his spot on the floor before reaching a hand out to help you up.

—

You were back at The Triskelion in D.C. and you followed behind Steve into Fury's office.

"You just can't stop yourself from lying, can you?" He immediately hounded the man sitting behind his desk.

"Captain–" You tried to stop him but you were interrupted.

"I didn't lie. Agent Y/L/N had a different mission than yours," Fury countered.

You sighed and walked over and placed the USB on his desk, giving him a look to let him know Steve wasn't letting this go easily.

"Which you didn't feel obliged to share."

"I'm not obliged to tell you anything."

"We all need to be on the same page. Those hostages could've died, Nick. Y/N could've died."

"But I didn't," You said gently and stopped yourself from reaching over to touch his hand.

"I sent the greatest soldier in history to make sure that didn't happen," Fury argued.

"Cap, I'll see you back at the apartment," You told him before walked out the office and back to the main entrance where a car waited to take you to your residence.

—

You took a shower and switched out of your uniform and into a pair of leggings and an Iron Man t-shirt. You got Steve and yourself the same shirt because you knew he and Tony weren't the best of friends and you'd get a good laugh out of it. You would usually switch into it when Steve was annoying you but this was your last clean shirt.Steve had given you a call and told him to meet you at the museum. He liked going there to get some peace of mind and you enjoyed his company so why not go. Him going to the museum was like going for a walk in the park.

You made your way to the museum and you saw him waiting at the entrance for you.

"Captain," You smiled.

"Y/N/N," He greeted with a big smile. "This shirt again? Really? What did I do this time?"

"Nothing," You laughed. "It's my last clean shirt."

You walked by the airplanes which you looked at miraculously as if you haven't seen them 10 times by now.

"You know, you know everything about me and I know nothing about you," Steve spoke up.

You had been walking around for maybe 30 minutes now. Steve knew you didn't like to just walk around and look. You liked to look at the captions on the plaques and you wanted Steve to give you any more background information he could think of. You've probably heard it all by now but you liked it and you knew it made Steve happy. If it made Steve happy, it made you happy, but you were genuinely interested in what he had to say.

"You know enough about me," You sighed and looked up to him, crossing your hands over your chest. "Instead of getting close to me, you should be getting close to that agent down the hall."

"Agent?"

"The nurse girl. The only other blonde on the floor," You tried to explain.

"She's not an agent," He said, looking at you perplexed.

"So naïve, Mister America," You tutted jokingly. "I'm fairly new to S.H.I.E.L.D., so they don't trust me to look after you. Not that that's why I'm here, I mean you literally won't let me leave," You nudged him and giggled. "But she's in that apartment to specifically look after you."

"She told you that?"

"No, but I'm not an idiot. It's not weird to you that she's out there whenever you're out there?"

"Maybe it's just a coincidence," He shrugged.

"If you said 'oh maybe she has a crush on me,' I would've maybe entertained that thought but no. It's not a coincidence," You shook your head.

He looked over at you, eyeing you, as if not believing you.

You sighed and kept walking. You looked at a video of Steve and his friend that he calls "Bucky" laughing. You looked at it longingly; this was the hardest part of the museum for both you and Steve.

You knew Steve missed his friend and that upset you but it also reminded you of your past life. The way Steve described it, he and Bucky were practically brothers.

You felt Steve's eyes from on your back and you let your body relax.

"I had two sisters. One and Sixteen. Céline and Emilie," You said while looking at the video of Steve and his friend laugh again. You turned around to face him, his face soft and vulnerable. "I'll see you at the apartment."

[AN: ummm I wrote two more parts today but like I’m feeling a little unenthusiastic and I want to be done already lol. ALSO, I wanted to add how the reader says “apartment” instead of “home” because she just doesn’t feel that connection to that space and yeah. I just wanted to make that clear]

[tags: @thisartemisnevermisses @thatoneperson5000 @capstopavenger]

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fablesrose · 4 years

Text

Of Kings and Shadows XXIX

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shallow breaths. No sudden movements.

I gently placed the last card on the top of my card house. It obviously wasn't as elaborate as the ones I made in my head, but it was still an impressive feat. I was surprised that my hands weren't shaking as I balanced it there. I sat there and admired it for a moment before I blew it over again.

"That was a lot of work to just blow away."

I turned as the doors opened smoothly and Loki walked in.

I smiled in greeting, "It's not like I haven't done it before. Why don't you come in here and help me if you wanted to see it up so much?"

He chuckled as he sat on the ground across from me. He was wearing plain socks, black pants I couldn't tell what the material was, and a grey t-shirt. His hair was in his usual loose waves. Every time someone walked in it reminded me of the loose jumpsuit I was wearing over the safety measure metallic suit. My hair was usually in a mess despite my attempts to tame it with my fingers.

"You know we aren't allowed to be in there Y/n."

I scoffed playfully, "Pfft, whatever, who's gonna stop you?"

"I would prefer if neither of us got into trouble with Fury."

"That's fair."

I gathered the deck of cards they had given me and started to shuffle them. "Wanna play some cards?"

A while later I was staring at the cards in my hand. I only needed one more card and I was sure to win. Loki had won the last three rounds. I was starting to wonder if he was cheating. Or I was really bad at cards. Maybe both. I waited anxiously for Loki's answer to my call. He had a very good poker face, it was impossible to read him. We didn't have any chips, but we were betting our reputations over this. Who would win, a god with abilities beyond the imagination, or the girl who didn't have control over her own limbs and was secluded for nearly seven years? I don't know, it's a tough call. After what felt like forever of looking over his cards he opened his mouth.

"Go fish."

"Dang it!" I flattened my hand out to him for a landing strip to teleport a card to. He had the deck next to him on the other side of the glass.

"Do you have an eight?"

"Fuck. I quit." I tossed my eight over towards him and he teleported it between his fingers before it hit the glass.

He smiled, "What would you like to play next?"

I let him take the rest of my hand so he could shuffle the whole deck, "Uh... Poker?"

He didn't get to answer when the outer door opened again and Steve walked in.

"Hi Steve."

"Hi Y/n."

I turned my head towards Loki and started a circle, "Hi Loki."

He matched my movements and expression, "Hi Y/n."

He then tilted his head back towards the still standing Steve, "Hi Steve."

Steve looked only a little amused, "Hi Loki."

There was a pause before I gestured to Loki who was shuffling the cards subconsciously, "We were about to start poker, would you like to join us?"

He shook his head, "I don't play."

Loki didn't look up from the cards, "That's bullshit and we all know it."

Steve sighed and sat down at an angle to face the two of us, "I didn't bring anything to bet."

I very loudly grabbed at the fabric of my jumpsuit where pockets would have been and snapped it against my leg. I didn't open my mouth but my face was formed where I hoped it said, "What's your point?"

"I'm just here to fetch Loki for an upcoming mission meeting."

"Steve, you are no fun whatsoever! It's just a game of cards." I gave him an almost-pout as to not look too pathetic.

He chuckled half-heartedly, "Sorry about that, but it doesn't change the fact that the meeting is in fifteen minutes."

I sighed dramatically, "Fiiiinnnee, go to your stupid, boring meeting and leave me here all alone you absolute jerks."

Both men stood up with a laugh, "Now now my dear, I doubt you will miss our company too terribly." Loki smiled as he gave back my cards. I thankfully caught them mid-shuffle and began to entertain myself.

I smiled up at them, "Well when I get out of here-"

"If."

I stuttered at the interruption, "Wha- what?"

Steve looked at me sympathetically, "If you get out of here. I- I want you out of here as much as any, but... You know how Nick can be."

The smile once on my face faltered, but only for a moment, or so I hoped, "Right." I gathered my thoughts again, "If I make it out of here..." I tried to say any of the number of ways I could have finished that sentence: we'll have so much fun, I'll mix up those horrid meetings, you'll never be rid of me, but they all died on my tongue. The sudden thought of being locked in this god-forsaken cell that haunts my dreams. I hated to admit it. Luckily so far I had only woken silently, my mind the only thing screaming. A sense of speechlessness from the dread and despair almost kept me from saying goodbye.

I smiled a little wider, "Of course, have fun at the meeting!" I waved as they walked towards the door.

Loki held a look of concern but walked out quickly and stiffly.

I turned back toward the cards that were stacked perfectly still in my cupped palm. I tried to shuffle them again, but the trembling from my fingers caused me to miss and the cards all scattered to the ground. I didn't even try to collect them again. Just one word echoed in my mind. One word to turn my world sideways.

It hadn't even occurred to me. It was always a matter of when.

When I could get out of this cell.

When I could hug my friends.

When I could start living a life.

All of that was shattered with one tiny, two lettered word:

If I could get out of this cell.

If I could hug my friends.

If I could start living a life.

So, as what was left of my mind was as scattered as the cards spread across the floor, I too spread myself across the floor.

I stared at the perfectly white ceiling. Who knows? It might be the last thing I ever see.

A/n: If you enjoyed it consider leaving a comment and a reblog?

Tag list:[OPEN] @kitkatd7 @snarky--starky @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm

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valeriethepussycats · 4 years

Text

Assemble

Chapter 9

Pairing- Loki x Reader x Steve (one side)

Warning- cursing

Your thoughts and other characters are in italics.

Fury gathers Tony and Steve back into the briefing room everyone there has a look as if in a daze. A look of numb shock is shown on their devastated faces.

“These were in Phil Coulson's jacket.Guess he never did get you to sign them.”Nick throws Coulson's Captain America trading cards on the table towards Steve. Steve picks them up, stained with blood.

“We're dead in the air up here. Our communications, location of the cube, Banner, Thor and I don’t know if Y/n will recover from this....I got nothing for you. Lost my one good eye. Maybe I had that coming.Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number though, because I was playing something even riskier.” Nick told Steve and Ton. “There was an idea, Stark knows this, called The Avengers Initiative. The idea to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes.”

Tony gets up and walks off, not wanting to hear it anymore.

“Well, it's an old fashioned notion.” Nick finished.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Thor walks out far into the meadow. He looks down. Mjölnir.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Banner wakes up, in human form with Y/n words echoing in he’s head. He looks around and sees he is in a pile of rubble and looks up at the open ceiling he crashed in and is completely naked. A Security Guard stands there, amazed. “You fell out of the sky.”

“Did I hurt anybody?” Bruce asked coming to.

“There's nobody around here to get hurt. You did scare the hell out of some

pigeons though.” The Security Guard answered.

“Lucky.” Bruce replied.

“Or just good aim. You were awake when you fell.” The Security Guard told Bruce.

“You saw?”

“The whole thing, right through the ceiling. Big and green and buck ass nude. Here...” He throws Banner a pair of big pants. Banner pulls on his pants. “I didn't think those would fit you until you shrunk down to a regular size fella.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you an alien?”

“What?” Bruce asked.

“From outer space, an alien?” The Security Guard wondered.

“No.” Bruce answered.

“Well then, son, you've got a condition.” The Security Guard disclosed.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Barton is strapped down. Natasha watches over him as Barton tries to shake off Loki's mind control.

“Clint, you're gonna be alright.” Natasha told him.”

“You know that? Is that what you know? I got...I gotta go in though. I gotta

flush him out.” Barton stated.

“We don't have that long, it's gonna take time.” Natasha stressed.

“I don't understand. Have you ever had someone take your brain and play? Pull you out and send something else in? Do you know what it's like to be unmade?” Barton questioned.

“You know that I do.” Natasha replied.

“Why am I back? How did you get him out?” Barton asked.

“Cognitive recalibration. I hit you really hard in the head.” Natasha answered.

“Thanks.” Barton stated then Natasha unfastens the restraints. “Tasha, how many agents?”

“Don't. Don't do that to yourself, Clint. This is Loki. This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for.” Natasha explained.

“Loki, he got away?” Barton wondered.

“Yeah. I don't suppose you know where?” Natasha asked.

“I didn't need to know. I didn't ask. He's gonna make his play soon though. Today.” Barton answered.

“We gotta stop him.” Natasha declared.”

“Yeah? Who's we?” Barton questioned.

“I don't know. Whoever's left.” Natasha replied.

“Well, if I put an arrow in Loki's eye socket, I'd sleep better I suppose.” Barton remarked.

“Now you sound like you.” Natasha sits next to her partner and friend.

“But you don't. You're a spy, not a soldier. Now you want to wade into a war. Why? What did Loki do to you?” Barton asked.

“He didn't, I just...”

“Natasha.”

“I've been compromised. I got red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n is in Coulson’s office or more like he’s room trying to calm the raging storm inside of her revenge and anger is never a good combination with her. She Angrily swipeseverything off of his desk breaking the laptop. Automatically feeling guilty Y/n been down to pick up the laptop and sees a briefcase under the desk Curiosity taking over her she pulls the briefcase out and sees that it has her name on it.

“What are you?”

Y/n opens the briefcase and see A sticky note that says play me. Y/n then moves the sticky note and play on the video. At first all you could hear is rumble and the screen is black. Giving up on the video Y/n moves to pick up the stuff she knocked off the deck.

“You should cover up because it’s going to Rain.” Said Coulson’s voice.

Y/n turns to look back at the briefcase and see Coulson on the screen.

“No um time to bundle up because it’s going to rain no. Ohhh how about the Red Wing Black bird soaring through the sky. Get it because of the color of the wings it reminds me of you and the Phoenix....The point is I had this uniform made for you because your a hero and every hero needs to dress the part and have a name. Now go save the world.”

The video stops an a Second part compartment from the briefcase opened up revealing a bodysuit that’s Blue, Red, with a Yellow. It’s like Funky and Radiant. The base of the suit is blue and it’s had a red vertical line going down the middle and two yellow diagonal lines on each side of the vertical line, and the sleeves and legs have the same design as the stomach but the sleeves go all the way down to Cover the two middle fingers. The top of the suit makes an ‘x’ separate each side of the chest, leaving the neck and a little cleavage showing.

Oh Phill this is beautiful

When Y/n turns the suit around to look at the back she see a Metal plate on her upper back.

What are you for?

Just as the thought ran into Y/n’s mind a small Wood sheath attached to the Metal plate. Y/n gaps in shock. She knows exactly what that is

Y/n goes to pull the handle of the Sword out of the Wood sheath and see a small dagger that slowly start to unfold into a 65 cm Katana Sword.

“Oh my god...how could he had this made.” Y/n wondered as a slow smile creeped on to her face. She knew she could do it and so did Phill.

Red Wing has a nice ring to it

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Tony look at the hatch. He stands not saying a word. Steve walks in.

“Was he married?” Steve asked.

“No. There was a uh...cellist, I think.” Tony answered.

“I'm sorry. He seemed like a good man.” Steve answered.

“He was an idiot.” Tony remarked.

“Why? For believing?” Steve asked.

“For taking on Loki alone.” Tony stated.

“He was doing his job.” Steve voiced

“He was out of his league. He should have waited. He should have...” Tony said looking at the spot where Coulson die.

“Sometimes there isn't a way out, Tony.” Steve started.

Tony walks away from Steve. “Right. How did that work for him?” Tony asked sarcastically

“Is this the first time you've lost a soldier?” Steve asked.

Tony turns around sharply. “ WE ARE NOT SOLDIERS! I am not marching to Fury's fife!”

“Neither am I! He's got the same blood on his hands as Loki does. Right now we've got to put that aside and get this done. Now Loki needs a power source, if we can put together a list...” Steve trailed off.

“He’s in Manhattan and if I’m not mistaken I think he’s at your tower Tony. It’s the only power store in Manhattan that I can think of.” Y/n chimed in.

Tony and Steve turns around and see Y/n standing in the door waring a black and white suit.

“Y/n.” Steve said staggered.

“What do you think Phil had it made. I’ve never had a suit of armor before but this is kind of bad ass.” Y/n proclaimed while she was checking herself out.

When Steve saw Y/n’s suit he had to check himself. He know of Y/n’s powers before the rest of the team so he knows if he let’s he’s mind wonder it would go to ungentleman like place and Y/n could pick up on that and he doesn’t want to make things awkward between them. Steve can really see Y/n being an important person in his new life. Steve clears his throat then asks. “Where you going?”

“To stop Loki but first I’m gonna find Thor.” Y/n answered.

“What about Banner?” Tony asked.

“I sent Bruce to Manhattan.” Y/n answered.

“Are you sure your ok to do this?” Steve asked in a concern voice.

“Yes. Im 75% sure I can do. I just had to take some time to clear my head because before fighting Loki To keep my emotions in check.” Y/n answered.

“Or you’ll go Super Saiyan got it.” Tony remarked.

“I am so sorry about that...” Y/n trailed off.

Steve waves his hand. “It’s ok we understand anyone would be upset finding out that kind of news.”

Y/n smiles at Tony and Steve then opens the hatch. Clueless to what’s going on Steve and Tony backs up from the hatch.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tony questioned.

Y/n smiles. “You guys need to suit up I’ll see you there.”

Y/n jumps in the hatch then it closes behind her. Steve and Tony look at the hatch wide eyes and their mouths slightly open.

“Did she just?” Steve asked.

“Yes. Yes she did.” Tony answered.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Erik works around the CMS device that has already been set-upon the rooftop of Tony's tower.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Steve walks in full uniform. Natasha looks at him, unprepared.

“Time to go.” Steve announced.

“Go where?” Natasha wondered.

“I'll tell you on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?” Steve asked.

Barton walks out of the restroom. Looks at Cap. “I can.”

Steve looks at Natasha and she nods her head to confirm Barton's on their side.

“You got a suit?” Steve asked Barton.

“Yeah.”

“Then suit up.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n is flying in the sky searching the ground to see where Thor landed until a massive lightning bolt all most hits her, Y/n flys out the way and looks down and see Thor.

“Really you couldn’t killed me!” Y/n shouted as she flys down to Thor who is standing in a meadow of flowers.

“I know about Phill.” Y/n said with a hint of sadness.

“I’m sorry. I know he meant the world to you.” Thor said as he gives Y/n a hug then placed his forehead on her for a moment of silence.

“I’ll deal with Loki I gave you my word.” Thor declare.

“What happens if you get hurt?” Y/n asked.

“You will not risky your life me Y/n not again.” Thor disclosed getting upset for his friend.

“I won’t but I won’t yet you get hurt knowing I can help...come on I know where Loki is.” Y/n voiced leaving no room for an argument.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Captain America pulls on his Helmet and Shield. Tony welds his Iron Man helmet. Light slips down over Iron Man's eye holes. Black Widow attaches a glove gauntlet with her rounds on her wrist and a blue light charges. Hawkeye slips on his quiver of arrows.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Cap, Widow and Hawkeye walk towards and into the Quinjet. A Young Shield Pilot looks and stands in their way.

“You are not authorized to be here...” The Pilot stated.

“Son... just don't.” Steve told the The Pilot.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Fury looks the window of the ship, contemplating. Agent Hill

walks up to him, knowing. “Sir.”

“Agent Hill?”

“Those cards, they were in Coulson's locker, not in his jacket.” Agent Hill disclosed.

“They needed the push.” Nick said holding Coulson's cards.

A loud noise screeches. Fury looks out to see Iron Man flying off as well as the Quinjet.

“They found it. Get our communications back up, whatever you have to do. I want eyes on everything.” Nick ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

Part 10

Kuddly Krab: @aesthethickks

#loki x reader #loki x black!reader #thor x reader #steve x reader #steve x black!reader #marvel x reader #avengers x reader

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