#but i kept a save file where i rejected her because i still held out hope for margaret

[mellowswriting]

Nightmare

pairing || Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary || Bucky struggles to calm down after a particularly rough nightmare - it’s a good thing you’re there to lend him a hand.

word count || 1,799

warnings || hurt and comfort, love confessions

a/n || So I started writing this before the first episode of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier even came out (because I’m incorrigible) so if it’s a little off, that’s why. As someone who’s gone through all that fun trauma-based therapy, seeing Bucky working on himself is validating as fuck. I tried to emphasize that while a good relationship can help after trauma, it doesn’t complete the healing process or suddenly make a person whole. Anyway, enjoy!

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“Bucky?” Your voice cracked, still thick with sleep. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I…” Bucky started but his words failed him. He couldn’t find a way to tell you about it without feeling like he was gutting himself, without bringing the images right back up to torment him all over again. The vulnerability left him trembling, dog tags clinking quietly against his bare chest with every heaving breath.

But he didn’t need to say it. You just nodded and sat down next to him on the blanket he had spread out on the hard floor. Remnants still prickled at the back of his neck, images and echoes of gunfire and that wide open emptiness that cracked his chest on every mission, but he got some small peace from your presence. He felt just a bit safer at the feeling of your knee pressed to his lightly. You didn’t probe him about it, didn’t try to weasel out details, and he was thankful. Instead you offered him your hand and in turn, offered your quiet support, and he gratefully slid his fingers up your palm to curl with your own.

The pressure of your fingers holding him was grounding, kept him in the reality of what was actually happening around him. He wasn’t in that building. He didn’t have a gun in his hand. He wasn’t trapped behind a wall in his own mind. He was at home, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor. He held your hand in his, the softness of your skin against his a sharp contrast to the imagined bite of gunmetal.

He was right there. So were you.

Your thumb slid up and down over his as you tentatively started speaking. “I used to click my tongue to keep myself grounded after nightmares.”

Bucky glanced at you, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know it seems silly, but it worked for me more often than not.” You said with a small chuckle. “Sometimes I would have to tap if the clicking thing wasn’t working. It drove Tony crazy. He always said he could hear it all throughout the compound, but I think he was bullshitting. And if the tapping didn’t work, I would do sprints until my legs couldn’t hold me up anymore.”

Bucky took a long, deep breath the way his therapist taught him during their first session. Your voice was so calming. “Keep talking?”

“Of course.” You murmured. “It’s cheesy as hell, but they do get easier to deal with. The nightmares, I mean. The more you work at it, the less… vivid they are. I still get pretty bad ones every now and then, but even those are a little easier to come down from.”

“I hope you’re right.” He said.

“Well, you’re in therapy - even if it’s mandatory, you’re still showing up. Still putting in the effort. You’re sleeping semi-regularly, eating somewhat healthy. Trust me, you’re doing better than you realize. It takes a minute for you to ease out of survival mode, so it can be hard to tell how far you’ve already come.” You squeezed his hand lightly. “I’m proud of you, Bucky.”

A breath caught in his chest as he turned to look at you where you leaned your head back against the wall. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Well, you did save me from getting shot that one time.” You teased and Bucky laughed quietly, a genuine one that seemed to surprise you. “But seriously. You’re a good person, that’s all you have to do.”

“No, I’m not.” The laugh turned self-deprecating. “I don’t have to tell you that, either. I know you’ve read the files.”

“That wasn’t you. That was Hydra.” Your free hand pressed against his bare chest, right over his heart. “This is you. You aren’t what they put in your head. You’re the person who went out and bought me a new coffeemaker in the middle of the night when mine broke so I wouldn’t have to go without caffeine the next morning. You’re the person who's mowed Mrs. Franklin’s yard twice a month since her husband passed. You’re the person who is working their ass off to get better.”

There weren’t words. He didn’t have them, the ones that could tell you how much he appreciated you, how much you meant to him. So he covered the hand you placed on his chest with his own, wishing he could actually feel you, but the prosthetic had its limitations with the enhancements given by the vibranium. You nodded at him, a quiet acknowledgement of his thanks.

Silence fell over you both. It was a comfortable one, not the heavy, oppressive silence that curled around him in the moments after waking. Your hand fell away from his chest, much to his disappointment. The skin against skin was comforting. A moment later you shifted onto your knees, ready to stand and seemingly leave him there, and Bucky tightened his grip on your hand instinctually.

“Please… don’t go.” His voice was small.

“I’m just going to get you some water. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

And you did. You returned less than a minute later and handed him a glass of cool water, watching him take a few sips until you were satisfied, and then stole a sip for yourself. Bucky couldn’t help the small smile that found him at the sight as you settled back in next to him and offered him your hand once more. He took it, but didn’t interlock your fingers like before. Instead he lifted your hand to his face and pressed your palm against his cheek, eyes falling closed at your cool skin against his warmth. Your thumb rubbed small circles along his cheekbone and when he opened his eyes again, you were looking at him almost thoughtfully. Impulsively, Bucky tilted his head slightly and kissed the delicate skin of your wrist and he could hear your breath stutter in your chest.

“Bucky…” You whispered, worry suddenly played across your features.

“I talk about you in therapy, you know.” He whispered, his heart jumping in his chest at the prospect of telling you about it, admitting his vulnerability. “I told her about how you make me feel… seen. And safe. I told her about how I always think about you. About… kissing you. And making you laugh.”

You swallowed, the sound louder in the resounding silence of three a.m confessions. “And what did she say?”

“That she could tell I was in love with you before I would even admit it to myself.” He whispered the words as if breathing them to life would make the very earth crumble at his feet.

“I couldn't live with myself if I got in the way of your healing.” You said and his heart soared in his chest. You weren't rejecting him, weren't pulling away in disgust or fear. No, you were putting his needs first - or rather, what you perceived his needs to be.

“Part of my healing is supposed to be building relationships, you know.” There was a small smile on his face at the very thought of it - of falling asleep and waking next to you each morning, of finally getting to kiss and touch you like he craved for so long.

“So… we take it slow?” You said and Bucky watched your eyes flick down to his lips before meeting his gaze again, your body leaning closer as if drawn in by the very gravity that held you to the earth.

“Yeah, we take…” Bucky leaned in, meeting you halfway, your lips a hairsbreadth apart. “...it…” You brushed your nose against his gently and he sighed contentedly, eyes finally falling closed. “...slow…”

The first press of your lips to his was soft. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, the simple pleasure of a kiss, and the fact that it was you only made it all the better. He relaxed against you, pulling you closer by a hand on your waist and angling himself to deepen the kiss. Your gasp against his lips was addictive, something he could happily spend the rest of his life seeking out.

A shudder ran down Bucky’s spine at the feeling of your hand sliding up from his cheek to tangle in his hair, the short cropped style barely enough for you to grab onto. Fuck, you felt so good, he could lose himself in you without regret, could drown in the bliss that washed over him and -

He pulled away gently, offering one last peck against your lips as a parting gift, and pressed his forehead to yours to catch his breath, to calm himself down. He had to go slow and going slow decidedly was not dragging you onto his living room floor and finally letting his hands roam underneath your soft pajamas. You chuckled quietly and that was what got him to lean back and look at you again, dumbstruck by the dazed, happy look on your face.

“You’re good at that,” You whispered, earning you a bashful laugh.

“So are you.” Bucky sighed, the heavy weight of sleepiness gathering at his shoulders. “I need to try to go back to sleep… join me?”

“I think this floor would kill my back, sweetheart.” You teased and holy shit, his heart soared in his chest.

Sweetheart. He was your sweetheart.

“I was thinking we could share my bed, but if you’re gonna tease me -”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Barnes.” You surprised him with another kiss before climbing to your feet, your hand reaching out to pull him up with you.

He couldn’t help but feel amazed at the sight of you climbing into his bed, settling right into his rumpled sheets and looking up at him expectantly. He wasn’t going to leave you waiting, not when he finally got you right where he wanted you. You yawned as you brought him closer to lay his head against your chest and he melted right into you. Bucky curled his arm around your middle, effectively bringing your bodies completely flush against each other.

“You’re so warm, Buck.” You mumbled, sleepiness already warping your voice.

Bucky just hummed, his own exhaustion finally seeping back into his body now that the remnants of paranoid tension eased away at the steady sound of your heartbeat reverberating against his ear. Your hand rested against the top of his head to tease at his hair once more, and it was that gentle affection that had his eyes falling closed. At peace for the moment, his mind let him fall back into sleep, knowing that when the nightmares inevitably found him once more, he would have you there to help guide him back to where he belonged.

Right in your arms.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier

[vhsrights]

Ever since I saw them posts about JJ have short hair??? Like a pixie cut??? Wanna do me a solid and tell me your thoughts on Emily’s first (and maybe subsequent) reaction when JJ walks into the bullpen? Assuming they’re not together already.

OH OH BRILLIANT THOUGHT WHILE IM WRITING THIS: JJ with short hair AND a leather jacket. I feel like PG definitely had a hand in this new change in JJ...

for sure i gotchu! :) this was one that i have been wanting to do for a while. (edit: so i know that you only asked for my thoughts but i got really excited and into it so i turned it into an OS) <3

Dashing

Pairing: Pre Jemily - talked about

WC: 4.8k words

Summary: JJ with short hair, and what it does to Emily :) [bullpen and team night out version; pre jemily] (like a prelude to gnc jj)

It happened on a Thursday afternoon. JJ had been shaking all day, but Penelope had convinced her that it would be okay. The blonde locks that she had been identified with for so long felt even heavier against her shoulders. She made sure to stay hidden away in her office, thanking her lucky stars that they were off case rotation. Her fingers consistently found themselves back into her hair, twisting and twirling them relentlessly. If JJ could have simply willed her long hair away, she would have. She restlessly twirled the pen in her hand for several hours, making little headway on the mountain of files by her. Her eyes kept darting over to the screen of her computer monitor, feverishly checking and rechecking the time.

5:45 pm. That was when the appointment was set for. JJ wished that she would be able to simply forget about it until then. Maybe if she did, she would actually get more work done. She texted Penelope, who was out for coffee on a break, to get her some too. Soon after she got the caffeine, JJ was able to shut out the rest of her thoughts. The boost alone drove her to finish files at triple her previous rate. Maybe that was also the adrenaline. Her phone broke her trance-like consciousness when it began to beep incessantly. She had set an alarm to go off 45 minutes before her appointment, enough time for her to wrap up at the office and calm her nerves before she made the short 10-minute drive to the barbershop.

Feeling her heart pound harder in her chest, JJ sat back in her chair to ground herself. She decided that getting up before she had a grip on her emotions was not a good idea. JJ let her eyes close gently and her mind began to wander. In her head, JJ saw the faces of those that she had met as this version of herself. They had all changed her, for better or for worse, and the memories began to flow in. It started with her mother and father. They had given a life that she couldn’t have been more appreciative of in the early years, forgoing the memories of harsh words and other negative acts. Moving on quickly, the next face flashed before her eyes. Roslyn.

Her sister had been her saving grace before JJ could even comprehend the idea. JJ had always looked up to the girl. Roslyn was phenomenal and JJ could only imagine how far she would have made it if she had still been alive. Roslyn was the one that had taught JJ how to braid her hair, wash it, and even curl it. Roslyn had curled her long blonde hair for the first time when she watched her get ready for the homecoming dance. It had only been one clump of strands but the way that her sister had so gently handled her locks left JJ in awe of Roslyn’s caring nature. After Roslyn left, JJ held onto her hairstyle, scared to let go of it as it sometimes felt like her only tie to her older sister.

Her college best friends, partners in the Academy, Hotch, Reid, Rossi, and so many more came and left in her thoughts. It was like her thoughts were forming their own little presentation of what JJ was getting rid of today. Some had more important roles than others but she had to remind herself that today wasn’t getting rid of anything but her hair. She was still JJ, but this felt more real. She wouldn’t have to avert her eyes in the mirror as much, and it would help to match her appearance more closely to how she felt inside.

Eventually, her mind came to the inevitable. Emily. Emily was something to JJ that she couldn’t describe. JJ loved Emily, but it wasn’t just that. Over time, as she had gotten to know the woman, JJ had come to truly understand her. It was the kind of intimacy that relied on the briefest of eye contact, all thoughts conveyed in body language alone. She couldn’t tell Emily though. It was too risky, and no matter how bold JJ was, Emily was a whole new world. She pushed away the thought that Emily would hate her haircut. If Emily rejected the haircut, it would feel more like she rejected who JJ truly was. But she would never do that. Right?

No, Emily would never do that. She couldn’t, because then JJ didn’t know what she’d do. Trying to distract herself from the increasing anxiety, she tried to remember their Girl’s Nights and separate hangouts where Emily would mindlessly run her fingers through JJ’s hair. It was how she calmed JJ, and the experience itself felt like home to the blonde. Glancing down at her watch, JJ realized that she got a bit too tied up with her imagination and saw that it was 5:25. Grabbing her things in a frenzy, JJ quickly headed out of the bullpen. She caught a glance of Morgan, eyebrows raised in bewilderment. JJ waved the team off, not slowing down on her way to the elevator. Hotch already knew that she was taking the early day so she was set.

JJ shot a text off to Garcia before driving off, telling her to check her office for anything that JJ might have forgotten and that she was going to her apartment after the haircut. Throwing her phone into the passenger seat, JJ drummed her fingers against the steering as she pulled out of the parking lot. She drove to the barbershop and reached in 7 minutes. Emily and her crazy driving skills would have been proud. Exiting the door rather quickly, JJ ran her fingers through her hair one last time.

This was goodbye.

She fidgeted with her fingers the entire time she waited for her appointment. JJ rocked her body gently, forward and backward, grounding herself in the steady rhythm. After some time, a person wearing a short-sleeved, cuffed button-down and a large black apron approached her. Their hair was cropped short, the sides shaved to a small length to let the top flow over their forehead. It was perfectly what JJ wanted. She felt her face grow hot at the realization that this was actually happening. JJ was going to do the big chop.

“Hi, Welcome to the Queer Barbers’ Guild. My name is Tay and I can help you today. JJ, isn’t it?” Tay held out their hand as JJ stood up, initiating their quick handshake.

“Uh, yeah. I had said over the phone that I wanted to cut most of my hair off. Actually, I would like exactly what you have. If that works?” JJ took quick strides to keep up with the barber, hearing the bustle of the shop as they got closer to the chair.

Tay chuckled, nodded, and gestured for JJ to sit in the seat. They pumped up its height, adjusting it to their work position. She sat down eagerly, feeling energized as the moment of the cut drew nearer.

“So are you looking to do a wash first today? I can definitely do my cut on you, so it’s just whatever you want. I would have to say though, I think you’re going to look rather dashing.” JJ blushed and failed to respond.

Dashing. Not pretty.

“I haven’t washed my hair in a few days for this haircut, so that would be nice. Thank you.”

JJ sat back in the chair and let Tay drape the apron cover over her. They combed through her hair slowly, getting tassels out and examining it for the cut. Once it was all brushed out, they measured out lengths and showed them to JJ in the mirror. JJ soon came to an idea of what she wanted.

Tay led her out of the chair and over the washing room. She sat down and made herself comfortable. JJ tried to solidify those last few moments in her head as the last memories she had with her long hard. The warm water began to run over her scalp and she forgot what else was running through her head. Before she knew it, the wash was over and she was back in the hair cut chair.

Now was the time.

They dried her hair and combed through it again. JJ closed her eyes. She was scared of what would happen. What if it wasn’t right? How would she undo the damage? She then felt a chilled glass against her fingers. Slowly peeking one eye open, she spotted some kind of alcohol in Tay’s outstretched hand. Curious, JJ looked up at the barber.

“To calm your nerves. Don’t worry, I’ve done plenty of these chops myself and I had my own. Trust me, things are only going to get better from here. So, here’s to relaxing. You earned it.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you.” JJ couldn’t explain her gratitude as she took the glass.

Maybe everything would be okay.

JJ relaxed and Tay began to gather her hair for the big chop. Tay carefully sectioned her hair, making sure to constantly check the length. Then, the time came. Tay lightly tapped her on the shoulder, indicating that they had the scissors at the ready. All they needed was the go-ahead from JJ. The blonde took in one last deep breath, giving them permission on her exhale.

The first cut was the most jarring. JJ could feel the hair being cut, its strands tugging at the sharp shears. She let out a gasp and everything happened too quickly for her to process after that. The hair fell left and right, leaving her head feeling instantly lighter and freer.

Tay worked incredibly efficiently. They managed to keep checking in with JJ as they deftly cut her hair. Soon, it was gone. The buzz of the razor sent a jolt up JJ’s spine but Tay quickly reassured her. They made light passes and cut down the hair on the sides and back. It was still nearly half an inch long, but that was exactly what JJ wanted.

“There you go. All done, JJ. What do you think?” Their voice cut through the haze of JJ’s thoughts and she turned her head, examining her new look.

The long hair was gone.

JJ had short hair now. It felt like a high, like one she’d never felt before but would never let up again. She ran her fingers through it, marveling at the softness and sleek nature of the look. She looked pretty fucking dashing. JJ turned around and looked at Tay, struggling to keep her tears at bay. She shouldn’t be on the verge of crying. JJ chastised herself internally.

“I- I don’t really have the words to thank you right now. I know that I shouldn’t be so emotional over a haircut, but you made everything perfect.” JJ held her head down, trying to hold back the tears.

“Of course. It’s no problem. For the emotions, believe me, I was a sobbing mess when I got my first big chop. You can always ask for me when you come to the Guild. Thanks for coming, and we can go up to the front for payment now.”

JJ paid and left the establishment. She was still dazed, not sure if everything was real. Her fingers found their way back into her hair several times, simply running through it as she made her way to the car. Her watch showed 7:03 pm as the time and JJ pulled out her phone. Her fingers quivered as she typed out her text to Penelope. She didn’t want to text her friend a picture of herself, deciding to keep the hair a surprise until she arrived at Penelope’s apartment.

Jayje (7:03 PM): Got the haircut. Pen this feels fucking crazy. I almost cried in the shop because of how nice my barber was and how I look. Heading over now.

PG (7:03 PM): AHHHH im so excited for you!! i already know that you look hot as fuck babes.

JJ smiled and set her stuff aside. She was off to Penelope’s apartment. The analyst had told her that she had a surprise for her.

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

JJ pulled up to the analyst’s apartment. The sun was still high in the sky outside, and she could hear the chirp of several little birds off in the distance. Penelope was waiting for her. Taking one last deep breath, JJ walked towards the front door. It was part of a little archway to a quaint apartment but it could have been the door to the White House with how nervous JJ was.

She shivered as she rang the doorbell. Here goes nothing. Reaction number one, how bad can it be? Penelope had already been anticipating JJ’s arrival so the door flew open mere seconds later. She appeared in the doorway, beaming with energy. Then she laid her eyes on JJ.

“OH. MY. GOD. JAYJE. YOU LOOK AMAZING.” Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the sight of JJ.

Penelope dragged JJ into the apartment faster than the blonde could respond to her statement. She was bubbling with excitement, super ready to give JJ her present. Penelope began to give a preface before they reached her couch. On it, sat a medium-sized silver bag. Tissue was popping out of the top and JJ was drawn to it. Penelope noticed her eyes on the present.

“Go ahead. Open it. I got it for you because I think it definitely matches your new vibe and that you ARE wearing it to team drinks tomorrow. Emily won’t be able to take her eyes off of you!”

JJ paused.

“What does Emily have to do with this?” She looked back at Penelope, her forehead scrunched in confusion.

“You’re joking, right? You can’t seriously ignore the tension between you two. It’s Miss Darking and Brooding and The Badass Baby Blonde. You two are a power couple! Unless, you aren’t madly in love with her and would be fine with me setting her up with this other friend of mine…”

“Okay, okay. No setting Emily up with your friend. She’s mine, thank you very much.” JJ spoke confidently, knowing that Penelope could see right through her bravado.

“I’m sure she is. That’s why you asked her out. Oh, wait…”

“Fine, so I haven’t asked her out. I’m just terrified. She’s Emily.”

“Yeah, and you’re JJ. Plus, now you have that super butch look so you can ask her out tomorrow. But not until you open the gift!” Penelope pointed at the glossy bag once more.

JJ rolled her eyes and turned back to the bag. She slowly pulled out the tissue and spotted dark fabric underneath it. Reaching inside, it was cool to the touch. JJ pulled out a black, leather jacket. It was sleek with 4 zippers, 2 collar buttons, and seams that traced around the jacket.

JJ thumbed it and fell more and more in love with it as she took in the jacket more. It was perfect. This jacket, combined with the haircut and the way that Tay complimented her earlier, felt like an amalgamation of the person that she was supposed to be. JJ wasn’t the girl that hid behind her femininity and used it as a weapon to get her way. In fact, her femininity did more against her than it did for her. Pushing that thought out of her head, JJ turned to Penelope.

With tears in her eyes, she hugged Penelope. She hugged her with all her might. She couldn’t describe the feeling in her head. Later, she would come to find out that it was gender euphoria. But in that moment, every positive emotion felt weak in comparison to the explosion of happiness in her mind.

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

JJ had opted for her pantsuit for work on Friday. Her normal skirt suits just didn’t fit who she saw herself as in the moment. Whether that would change or not, she didn’t know. It felt powerful, and with her hair coiffed up, JJ was unstoppable.

The elevator doors dinged open and she hesitantly took her first step. The big glass doors of the BAU seemed daunting now, and it made JJ feel small. She felt insignificant and her breath partially caught in her throat. Looking over at her watch, JJ realized that she was almost late. Deciding that the time to wait was over, JJ took confident strides forward. She pushed the doors open and made her way to her office until something stopped her.

Derek’s voice boomed out in front of her. Reid and the rest of the BAU men were sitting at his desk and their eyes lifted up to meet hers. It took all of JJ’s strength not to turn on her heel and bolt. But she loved this haircut, and it made her confident; so she had to act like it. Slowing up her stride, she detoured over to the group. Derek had called out to her, commenting on the haircut.

All of them were genuinely curious, stating their approval multiple times. JJ even got a fistbump from Derek and a wide smile from Spencer. Hotch’s usual morose expression lightened up. They talked about how she had wanted to get it, the differences from long hair, and the overall confidence boost. It was invigorating. More than anything else, JJ felt her heart swell at the sheer support from her teammates. They joked about her being one of the guys; and though right now it was short hair, JJ could feel that it was just the tip of the iceberg.

They eventually got to the topic of where she cut it and JJ casually mentioned the barbershop. At that, Derek’s eyes lit up. He was always one to preach the benefits of a barbershop, offering the argument that it was a place that created a sense of family. He asked if it had been The Queer Barber’s Guild, to which JJ had nodded her head. His interest peaked, Derek asked if it had been Penelope’s recommendation. To that, JJ nodded enthusiastically again.

“Yeah, she’s always loved that place. Babygirl got me hooked on it too, right after I came out. They’ve got some really cool bi stuff in there. Who did you have? Was it Tay? They’re my bro, and a top notch barber.”

“I did have them. They made things so easy. I’m definitely only going there from now on.”

JJ and the group carried on their conversation for a little longer when she heard a squeal behind her. She turned partially to see Penelope clacking over in her yellow heels. She had a huge smile plastered on her face, and was obviously excited for JJ.

“Jayje! You look even better today than you did yesterday! So what’s going on, are we talking about the QBG because, my god, do I love that place!”

Everyone giggled and they continued the conversation. Penelope watched as JJ’s eyes shifted around the bullpen ever so slightly. Of course. JJ was looking for the only missing member, arguably her favorite one. Emily. Penelope held back her laugh yet could help but to smile at the blonde’s little search. She leaned in close to JJ and tapped her on the shoulder.

“She’s in the break room.” JJ tried to fake obliviousness, but she knew that she’d been caught.

“Thanks PG.”

Casually excusing herself from the conversation, JJ left on the behest of “files that she needed to tend to”. She didn’t care if anyone bought the excuse. In her mind, the only place for her to go was the break room. JJ wanted to show Emily the “new her”. Of course, it wasn’t new, but she felt different. Trying not to give things much more thought, JJ arrived at the break room with a quick pace.

She noticed Emily at the coffee counter, stirring her mug. JJ was overcome with something at the sight of Emily. Not even thinking, she leaned against the doorframe and called out to the brunette.

“Got enough for another cup?” Her voice was nonchalant but her heart was pounding in her chest.

Emily perked up at the sound but didn’t turn around. She finished stirring her coffee and began turning around before starting to speak.

“Jen! Oh, shoot, I just used the last of it for my cup.” Emily spoke cheerily as she brought the mug to her lips.

Then her eyes landed on JJ.

Emily completely froze, nearly choking on her coffee. Her eyes widened as they took in her friend’s new look. JJ looked hot. There was a pervading silence between them, but neither could break their trance for long enough to say something. Emily looked over the short hair on JJ’s head, inspecting it almost. She noticed how it’s varied length set off the blonde’s angular features. Emily could almost feel her knees go weak but held it together.

Neither knew nor cared to time how long they stayed like that. It somehow hadn’t reached the point of awkwardness, but both JJ and Emily’s minds were overactive. At some point, JJ managed to point back at the coffee pot. Emily jolted up and moved to the side, breaking her haze. Her gaze instead landed on their best friend in the distance, who was giving her a very enthusiastic thumbs up. Penelope Garcia really was something.

Emily rolled her eyes and turned back to JJ. She was setting things up for a new pot of coffee and the brunette couldn’t help but to watch her intently.

“So, uh, Jen. The haircut. You look amazing. It really suits you.”

“Thanks, Em. I just got it yesterday and I already feel like a whole new person. It’s a bit strange, but honestly, I love it.”

Emily smiled dopily, attempting to hide her grin behind her sips of coffee. They spoke for a little longer before the coffee was nearly done brewing. The small talk was comfortable, though not the kind of conversations they usually had. It was workplace appropriate because that was what JJ and Emily were, colleagues.

“Okay, I’m gonna head back to my desk. I’ll see you at team drinks tonight?” Emily patted JJ’s arm and turned to leave.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” JJ blushed and the two ignored the giddiness they felt.

After leaving the break room, Emily made her way to Penelope’s lair instead. She definitely had some thoughts about JJ’s new look.

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

Hotch, Reid, and Rossi were the first to arrive. They were known for their punctuality. The bar wasn’t crowded just yet, the Friday night crowd was beginning to flow in. They had all changed into more casual wear, except for Rossi. The men made small talk until Derek and Emily drove in nearly 15 minutes later. They had hung out before and just decided to ride in together.

Emily and Derek’s arrival immediately added more pizzazz to the event, spurring them to order the first round of drinks. Things were lively after a crushing week at work and the BAU was ready to let loose. Not long after Emily had placed their drinks order, JJ and Penelope arrived.

JJ was wearing a white Tshirt, ripped black jeans, vans, and most importantly the leather jacket. She drowned out any thoughts of doubt with the idea that this was her family and that soon they would be intoxicated enough to simply not care. She trailed slightly behind Penelope’s eager steps but they eventually reached the table. Hotch spotted her first. He gave her an approving nod, a barely noticeable smile gracing his expression.

Emily spotted her next. Before she could stop herself, Emily’s breath caught in her throat and she gasped. JJ had left her speechless for the second time that day. Her gaze passed over every part of JJ’s outfit. She felt her face get hot and Emily shoved her hands in her pockets. By that point, JJ and Penelope had joined the group at their table but Emily had yet to say a word.

“Wow, Jen, you look amazing. That leather jacket is perfect. It’s a very hot look, but also very you.” Emily couldn’t help her awkwardness but the compliments just kept going. She couldn’t find a way to stop herself.

JJ's thoughts staggered with the compliments but she was able to thank Emily. Penelope simply watched the entire interaction with a smirk plastered on her face. After that, the alcohol took no time in arriving at their tables. They all downed those drinks quickly and went after another round. After a couple rounds, JJ pulled Emily out to the dance floor. They let the music take them over, relinquishing their thoughts to the rhythm on the dance floor.

They spent an unknown amount of time dancing, not caring about anything besides themselves and dancing. But soon, that magic started to fade and the women returned to their table. Derek was standing at the table’s side, having noticed the way that JJ and Emily stood closer as they drank more alcohol. Having a brilliant idea, he spoke up as JJ and Emily took a bite of the chips they had ordered for the table.

“JJ, Emily, I have an idea. Why don’t we play a little game? You two are the strong ladies of the BAU, including my Babygirl but right now I’m focusing on y’all. How about the two of you arm wrestle? I want to know which of you is stronger.”

“Derek, we’re both drunk. That’s not a fair game, even though we know the winner would be me.” JJ’s body swayed lightly, but Emily quickly stabilized her.

“I’m down. At least, I’m no chicken.” Emily spoke in a teasing tone, stealing a glance at JJ.

“Oh, no you don’t. Okay, let’s do it. I’m in.” JJ nodded enthusiastically, invigorated at the idea of a challenge to beat Emily in.

They cleared the space and let JJ and Emily get ready. Both did their own ridiculous warm ups, obviously exaggerating it. They set their arms down and were ready to begin when JJ stopped.

“Wait. What are the stakes?” Emily responded, saying something that she’d wanted to do for a long time.

“If I lose, I’ll take you out on a date. If you lose, you have to take me out on a date. How’s that sound?”

Her proposition shocked the entire table. They’d all been waiting for JJ and Emily to stop tiptoeing around each other. This was just not how they expected things to unfold, albeit it would make a great story for the future. Sober JJ and Penelope would have a field day with this.

“Deal.” JJ was drunk too, but that was an offer that was too good to pass up.

With that, Derek set the two up to begin the match. It was very evenly matched in the beginning. Neither woman budged, focusing very hard on their end prize. The team’s eyes shifted from JJ to Emily, and back again. Their grip was strong but no progress was being made. By the time that they had hit the 20 minute mark, Emily could feel the fog in her brain begin to clear up.

At that point, she took a closer look at her opponent. She watched the way that JJ’s blue eyes locked onto their hands, checking for even the slightest of hesitations. She saw the way that JJ’s clothes hung on her body, giving her an air of confidence that made JJ infinitely hotter. Finally, Emily looked back up to JJ’s hair. It’s long, straight stands dropped over her forehead and framed her face well. Emily lost herself in the thought of running her fingers through the silky cut.

That was when she felt the cool, hard wood of the table. Emily’s eyes widened and she looked down. There it was. Her hand was pressed against the surface, pinned underneath JJ’s.

“I win! Guess you have to take me out on that date, chicken.” JJ teased Emily, getting closer to the brunette’s face.

“I get to take someone as dashing as you out? Well, I might have lost but this seems like the better prize.

JJ’s heart soared at the compliment. The way that the word ‘dashing’ rolled off of Emily’s lips made her feel ecstatic. It wasn’t like when men called her pretty after buying a drink. This hair really was working wonders.

They ended the night with a kiss before Emily climbed out of the rideshare and walked up the apartment. JJ ran her fingers over her lips as the car pulled away. Best decision ever.

tag list: @ssa-jareaus @coramvobis @altsvu @hotchshoney @morcias @jelle-jareau @dragisthegame @ssakayprentish69 @dimitrescus-bitch @jay-writes-jemily @bridget19 @hmm-wanky @emilyprentissfangirl @tokoblade @temily

#jennifer jareau #prelude to gnc jj #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #derek morgan #cm #bau #jemily #userjemilyology #mc content hours

[sonnetthebard]

can you do a oneshot with peip spy paul and secret ccrp boss melissa? (yeah this is cause of the stuff sent to hatchetfieldtheories so what lmfao)

Um hell yeah I will! I have read the original theory, but you're also going to get my take on it because I got ideas just by reading the prompt lol. Apparently @hatchetfieldtheories and I are now getting lumped together and I am perfectly okay with that.

Genre: Action/ Thriller kinda?

Words: 2727 (once again... perfect)

TL;DR: Paul's cover as a PEIP agent is blown, and he finally gets to meet exactly who he's fighting against.

TW: Swearing, Guns, Violence, Murder, Blood.

______________________________________________________

Paul sighed, reading over his report before he sent it in. Was the report work related? No. Well... yes and no. Not for his job at CCRP technical. But as an agent of PEIP? It held information that could be absolutely crucial to the work they were doing. So it kind of had to be perfect. One mistype, a spelling mistake, could change the entire context of how it was read and how his superiors reacted. Perfection was key. Especially with what he had found. God, had he found out a lot.

Paul hadn't originally worked for PEIP. No. No, it was a bit of a long story. But... to sum it up, Paul had been caught dead in the centre of a world-ending event. An attack from what had looked like aliens at first but was actually an entity named Pokotho- or Pokey. Paul had very nearly died. He'd almost caused the end of the world. He had almost thrown a grenade dead into the centre of the meteor that was playing host to Pokey and his hivemind formula- which would have simply spread the spores. Luckily, one PEIP field agent- a Xander Lee- had managed to keep himself safe while his unit was infected, and he was able to stop Paul before he made a world-ending mistake.

Xander, through a lot of science Paul did *not* understand, was able to send Pokey back into his own dimension. The world was saved. It still kind of felt like a sci-fi fever dream. Most days, it still didn't feel real. The Hive had healed those it had destroyed, so... most people came back. Not Charlotte or Sam, because they weren't technically killed by the Hive. But Ted, Bill, Alice, Deb, Emma, and even Hidgens were back completely unscathed. Paul and Emma had actually gotten a chance to go to that movie. They were dating now. For three months, to the day. Paul had a bouquet of roses ready to surprise her with after work. He knew she wasn't usually big on the sappy romance stuff, but... he kinda was.

It was about a week after what was now widely known as the 'apotheosis' had passed when Paul got an email from Xander asking a favour. A very classified favour. Since Paul knew about PEIP and what it stood for. Apparently, they'd been picking up suspicious activity from CCRP for months, and they'd been trying to figure out which of their agents to send undercover. But every alias they'd made up had been rejected for an interview. So Xander got the idea that since Paul worked there, maybe he could keep an eye out for them. And as dangerous as it seemed... Paul said yes. The work PEIP did was too important to risk delaying. He was briefed through text, and he learned his job online in a matter of days. Ever since, he had been PEIP's agent in CCRP. And PEIP was more than right to be concerned.

Paul hummed, satisfied with his report. It was concise, precise, and detailed everything he'd seen. Which was a lot. This week... this week, he'd finally made his breakthrough. He was able to sneak to a higher level. Sylvia's level. She was talking on the phone about temporal breaches, trans-dimensional fluctuations, and lots of other jargon he didn't even come close to understanding. He'd bugged her office with a microphone PEIP had sent him so that they would understand more clearly. And when he'd snuck to the lower level, he was finally able to get past that second level of security. And what he'd found there was... eerie. He hadn't gone in. He just looked through the window. But it appeared there were hundreds, if not thousands, of... himself. Just standing there. He'd left a camera. Needless to say the report was more than full of information.

Paul heard the click of heels behind him and he quickly pressed send, closing the tab. He faked looking through his analytics before the clicking stopped. Paul could practically feel the presence looming behind him. At first, he just kept working as if he didn't notice. But... then it started to bug him. Because whoever the heeled coworker was who had stopped behind him was, they hadn't moved yet. He slowly turned, trying not to show any nerves. But he was a terrible liar, so he had a feeling that wasn't working. In front of him stood... oh good, Melissa. He sighed in relief.

"Hey Melissa. How's it going?" Paul asked.

"I need to see you for a moment... in Mr. Davidson's office." Melissa told him shyly.

"You need to see me?" Paul asked, still getting up nonetheless. This was Melissa. She was a sweetheart. She probably had a computer problem.

"Yeah... don't worry, it won't take of your much time." Melissa bit her lip, walking away. Paul followed.

"Did Davidson's computer crash because of that solitaire again?" Paul guessed.

"Um... no. No, this isn't about Mr. Davidson's computer." Melissa chuckled nervously.

"Uh oh... Paul's getting called to the principal's office!" Ted taunted teasingly.

"Shut up, Ted!" Bill groaned. "I'm trying to finish my report! Can I not have peace for five minutes?"

"You can... if you move to another department." Ted smirked. Paul only knew he was smirking because Ted had popped his head over the cubicle to watch him go by.

"I'm not in any trouble." Paul rolled his eyes. "Go back to what you were doing."

"Alright, alright!" Ted snickered, raising his hands defensively and lowering back into the cubicle.

"Sorry about him." Paul sighed, seeing the way Melissa blushed. "I swear he's not as much of an asshole as he seems most of the time."

"Oh, it's fine." Melissa shrugged. She walked into Davidson's office. Suddenly, her demeanor completely switched. "Ken, I'm going to need this office for a minute."

"What?" Paul blinked, his heart immediately sinking to his stomach. There was a pit in his stomach, and it was growing by the minute.

"Sure thing, Mel." Mr. Davidson nodded, getting up and walking out of the office.

"What's going on?" Paul asked, though there was no one specifically he was speaking to. He was just very confused.

"Why don't we sit?" Melissa offered, confidence oozing off of her as she took Davidson's seat behind the desk.

"Um... okay." Paul nodded warily, taking a seat. "Melissa..."

"Let me do the talking for now, Paul." Melissa sighed, leaning forward on the desk.

"Alright." Paul blushed, already intimidated. Yeah, he was totally agent material.

"You probably think you've been pretty slick, don't you?" Melissa chuckled lowly, looking at the cowering bundle of nerves before her. "Slipping bugs all over the facilities, sending your little reports while you're supposed to be writing reports for us... quite the secret agent, aren't you?"

"I... don't know what you're talking about." Paul lied.

"Paul, you're not that bright." Melissa scoffed. "In all your stealth and espionage, you seem to have forgotten that we have security cameras."

"On those floors?" Paul blinked. "I... didn't see any feed from them when I checked."

"Well we're not going to stream it to where anyone can see it!" Melissa rolled her eyes. "And you know exactly why."

"Yeah... yeah, I probably shouldn't have just assumed..." Paul sighed.

"So you admit it then? You're a spy?" Melissa checked.

"Well... yeah. Yeah I am." Paul sighed.

"For PEIP?" Melissa clarified.

"Who?" Paul tried to lie again.

"Paul, you used our network to send your files." Melissa rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, but I followed their..." Paul muttered.

"Which we're well aware of here, and well aware of how to overrule." Melissa sighed. "Really, Paul... you're sloppy."

"I'm not trained." Paul blushed.

"I figured as much." Melissa scoffed. "So they pulled you over to the dark side?"

"They saved my life during the apotheosis..." Paul shrugged. "When they told me something might be up here, I knew I had to help. And they were right, Melissa. Stuff is going on here."

"I know." Melissa smirked. "I oversee it all."

"You?" Paul raised his brows, a bit taken aback.

"Me." Melissa smirked. "You're probably thinking it's a bit weird... me, being in charge, choosing to take on the role of a secretary."

"I'm honestly just trying to wrap my head around you being in charge in general." Paul muttered.

"You want to know why?" Melissa asked. It was, of course, rhetorical. "It's actually pretty simple. The CCRP Technical department had some good cloning candidates. I wanted to be close to the action. Hand-pick who we used. And who would ever suspect anything of the shy, sweet secretary? You certainly didn't."

"So you hand-picked me?" Paul blinked in shock. He was doing a lot of that.

"You're a good size, amiable personality... smart enough, though evidently no genius." Melissa reasoned. "You, in mass, would make a great crew of workers for the Moon Project."

"Moon Project?" Paul asked.

"Oh, you've barely scratched the surface on what we're doing here, Paul." Melissa chuckled darkly. "But you won't be getting any further."

"What are you going to do to me?" Paul shrugged, a faux confidence in his tone. "There are people out there who know me. If I just go missing, they're going to get suspicious."

"Oh... Paul, you think I would tell you?" Melissa started to laugh. "You're so sweet! No. No, we won't be doing anything to you right now. But... let's just say PEIP won't be getting any reports from you in the near future."

"You brought me here just to tell me that?" Paul asked apprehensively. "To gloat?"

"Just to let you know that we knew, yes." Melissa sighed, she pulled out a cellphone, diverting most of her attention to it. "I like to deal with things myself. Handle things face-to-face."

"What are you doing?" Paul asked, a pit growing in his stomach as he watched the way she tapped at the screen.

"Wouldn't you like to know..." Melissa mumbled. "Go home, Paul. Take the rest of the night off. Go to your girlfriend's coffee shop. Bring her the flowers. Happy three months, by the way."

"I want to know what you're doing." Paul stated firmly. Melissa looked up at him before starting to laugh.

"Well isn't that just too fucking bad!" Melissa snickered. "Go. Before I call Ken back in and make you go."

"Okay..." Paul relented, getting up. He looked her dead in the eyes. "If PEIP is concerned about the work here, so am I. This isn't over."

"Yes it is, Paul." Melissa sighed. "Have a nice life."

"Life?" Paul blinked, freezing in the doorway.

"Sorry, did I say life?" Melissa chuckled. "I meant night."

"Right..." Paul bit his lip, admittedly uneasy. He tried to walk silently back to his cubicle... but with Ted Spankoffski around, there was no way he was getting out of this unscathed.

"So, did you get fired?" Ted popped up.

"Nope. Everything is fine. Davidson just needed a bit of help with his computer." Paul lied.

"Shit, he told me I'd be able to fix it next time!" Ted grumbled. "Is he giving you a bonus for it?"

"Nope. It was just a favour." Paul sighed.

"Damn... you fucking pushover." Ted snickered.

"Yeah, I get it, I let people walk all over me." Paul rolled his eyes. He picked up the bouquet of flowers from his cubicle, continuing to walk for the door.

"Hey, where are you going?" Ted furrowed his brows.

"As a thank you, he's letting me off early. So I can surprise Emma." Paul smirked. "We've been dating for three months to the day."

"Yeah you have... give her butt an extra squeeze for me, horndog." Ted teased. Paul blushed.

"Fuck you!" He called back, making his way out the door.

Paul felt something off the minute he stepped outside the CCRP building. Something deep in his bones. He physically shuddered under the weight of it, but... what could he do but keep walking. Yeah... yeah, it was probably just him feeling uneasy after the conversation he'd just had, right? Right... he was okay. Everything was okay. They were probably just gonna put a block on his communications with PEIP. No biggie. He'd survive it. He'd figure out another way to spy, and to get his findings to Xander. Everything was going to be just fine. He was going to be just fine.

He rounded a corner, walking across the street to Beanies. Just as he was about to reach for the door handle he felt a hand cover his mouth and another wrap around his waist, pulling him back. He tried shouting and screaming, but it was muffled. He resisted as much as he possibly could, but this person was stronger than him. Finally, they stopped in an alley, and the hand was removed from his mouth. Paul took a few deep breaths, setting the flowers down and raising his hands in surrender. At about the same time, he felt cool metal pressed to his temple. What a time to be mugged.

"I don't have anything on me to give to you. I used all my cash at lunch. All that's in my wallet is my driver's license." Paul stated levelly. "Believe me. You've got the wrong guy."

"No, Paul... I haven't." An almost identical voice sighed behind him. Paul blinked in confusion. He made a very, very stupid move and turned in the man's arms while his grip was a bit looser. He found himself staring dead in the eyes at... himself. His eyes widened. "You have everything I've ever wanted."

"You..." Paul breathed, before becoming suddenly very aware of the metal on his head. He took a sideways glance, seeing that it was a gun. He had thought it was, just... best to be sure. "Please. Please, you don't have to do this."

"Yes I do. It's either this or the moon, and... I don't want to go to the moon." The other Paul told him, voice shaky. He moved his finger to the trigger, hesitating. "Thank you. For the memories. For giving me the life I'm about to live."

Bang! There was smoke, and then a thud. Paul- the original one- fell to the ground, limp and lifeless. The death was almost instant, just as Paul 23 had predicted that it would be. He'd let go at the right time... and he hadn't gotten any blood on himself. It really had been his day! His cell malfunctioned and opened for him. Then he found the gun just... hanging there on the rack. He was free and armed, and ready to carry out everything he had fantasized about since he was made! It was like the stars had aligned for him! And as a cherry on top... Paul had even brought flowers. If the memories planted in his head were any indication, it was his and Emma's three-month-iversary. These would be absolutely perfect!

He stepped over his lifeless counterpart, rushing to get to the flowers before the puddle of blood forming by Paul's head got to them. he picked up the flowers tenderly, grinning. He took a look one final time at the original Paul, the the flowers. He set the flowers down, picking up Paul and propping him on a dumpster. He pulled out a small chip, slipping it in the appropriate place under his tongue. The finishing touch to his plan. Now... they would think this Paul was him. That he'd managed to erase his tattoo. He tossed the Paul in a CCRP marked dumpster, sighing.

He picked the flowers back up, walking out of the alley. God, this was great! He was about to finally step into the life that was rightly his. His brothers, the other clones, would kill to be him. But of course he wasn't actually going to let them kill him. No, unlike the real Paul, he knew to always be on the lookout. He knew he would never be safe. But for now... was it ever going to be worth it. He walked up to the door at Beanies, walking in. He saw Emma at the counter, and... he couldn't hide his excitement. He beamed, grinning widely. Like a small child. He walked up to her, holding the flowers out for the love of his life.

"Hey, Emma... Happy Three Months!"

#tw: death #tw: murder #tw: guns #tw: gun violence #tw: swearing #tw: blood #hatchetverse #hatchetfield #tgwdlm #paul matthews #paul 23 #melissa tgwdlm #ted spankoffski #bill woodward #mr. davidson #ccrp #ccrp technical #nightmare time #one shot #oneshot #fanfiction #please send more #this was fun #sad but fun

[myheartrevealedocs]

Untouchable Ch 21: Elephant’s Memory (S3E16)

Warnings: murder, mentions of terrorism, mentions of drugs and addiction

Ch 20 | Ch 22

~ ~ ~

“I’m proud of you,” Spencer said, speaking up for the first time on their drive.

“You’re proud of me?” she asked, startled.

“Yes,” he argued. “Look at you! You’ve got a car now. Twenty-four years old, teaching two college classes and working for the FBI.”

“I’m more proud of you!” she shot back. “A full year sober! I can’t imagine how difficult it has been for you.”

“Thank you for coming with me.” Spencer sunk slightly in the passenger seat.

After the death of Ryan Phillips in front of the two of them, Spencer had been struggling with his cravings again. He hadn’t relapsed, of course, but he was plagued by nightmares and a lack of motivation. When he admitted this to Lydia, she’d suggested he look up some support meetings nearby. Tonight was going to be his first time attending the Beltway Clean Cops group.

“I’m more than happy to come along!”

The two of them sat in the back of the room, listening calmly to different people talk about their situations. Spencer had just gotten the courage to take the stage when Lydia got a text from Hotch.

Briefing in 30. Can’t get ahold of Reid. Please tell him.

Lydia dropped her head into her hands. Could it not wait just a few more moments? He had barely started speaking aloud and Lydia could see him trying to ignore the buzzing phone in his pocket.

“Hi. Uh… My name’s, uh, Spencer, and I’m uh… I don’t really know what I am.”

“Hello Spencer,” the crowd greeted.

“This is my- This is my first meeting,” he sputtered, his eyes locking with Lydia’s every few seconds. “I guess I, uh… I know I had a… a problem with Dilaudid, but… I stopped. My girlfriend helped me to stop about a year ago. I thought it was over, but recently I’ve really been… your literature uses the term ‘craving’. It started about a month ago. A- A suspect was murdered in front of me. A kid. And I thought that I could save that kid, but I couldn’t, and… Sorry.” He pulled out his phone, rejecting another call from their boss.  “I’ve seen a lot of that stuff before, but for some reason that kid’s face is really, uh… stuck in my brain. You know? It’s really- I can’t… And I want to forget… about him. And I just want to escape.”

Once again, he pulled his phone from his pocket and stepped away from the microphone, mumbling his apologies. Lydia got up and ran around to the side door to follow him out.

“I’m sorry,” she said as they met up and started walking to the car. “I didn’t want to interrupt you-”

“It’s fine,” he breezed. “Let’s just… get this over with.”

~ ~ ~

“Sorry we’re late,” Spencer announced as he and Lydia jogged into the conference room..

“Do I want to know what you two were up to?” Morgan teased.

Lydia was quick to cover Spencer’s secret for him. “You sound as if going to the movies is scandalous.”

“Movies, hm?” Rossi  joined. “Tell us what the movie was about.”

“Wouldn’t know. We didn’t get to finish it.”

Both boys gave the couple a look. Spencer started to shrink in his seat, but Lydia kept up her stance, not wanting them to push for anymore answers.

“I know it’s late,” Hotch interrupted. “I know we’re tired, but we’ve got two dead cops.”

“Alright.” JJ opened up the file in front of her and continued briefing the team, pointing to what looked to be a massive house fire displayed on the scene. “The resident, Rod Norris, was DOA. They’re still trying to ID the remains of the second victim, whom they believe is his 16-year-old daughter Jordan. From the condition of the remains, she would have had to have been inside the house, close to the source of the blast.”

“Clearly they used the bombing to set the officers up for an ambush,” Emily noted.

Spencer nodded. “It’s a well-established terrorist tactic. The first wave takes out civilians, the second wave takes out first responders.”

“The locals are thinking terrorism?” Morgan asked. “In West Bune, Texas?”

JJ nodded. “Not exactly a tier-one target, but DHS did issue a terror alert for the border states yesterday, just due to the timing and nature of the attacks.”

As the team argued about the chances of this being an actual terrorist attack, Lydia looked over her file. An explosive went off in Rod Norris’s house, and when two cops arrived on the scene, they were shot. Hotch probably wanted her working on identifying the explosive and seeing if there is any evidence to recover from the house.

Simple enough.

~ ~ ~

“The blast was localized here,” Lydia announced as she walked onto the scene. “The room was sealed off. There’s plastic and duct tape on the doors and windows.”

“Cordite,” Rossi added as he smelled something on the ground. “Gunpowder.”

Reid was looking through his file. “Yeah. They found a dozen canisters, it says.”

Rossi and Prentiss put their heads together, determining where Jordan and Rod were standing when the explosion happened. Lydia ran her fingers over the door frames. Whoever set this up wouldn’t need to clean up their evidence. There was no way she could recover anything out of the pile of ashes that used to be the Norris house.

“They didn’t care about the rest of the house,” Spencer said, more to Lydia than the others. “The whole thing’s designed to focus the blast on whoever came through that door.”

“If that’s true, something had to trigger the blast,” she reasoned.

Emily held up a charred box of cigarettes. “Rod Norris was a smoker.”

Lydia glanced at the floor where all the gunpowder had been set. Drop a hot cigarette on that? Kaboom.

“I’ve been working with you profilers long enough to know that no terrorist is going to watch Rod Norris long enough to know that he was going to enter through this door and be smoking a cigarette at a specific time,” Lydia replied. “This is too personal.”

~ ~ ~

The more they learned, the more the case reeked of personal problems.

Their unsub was a boy named Owen Savage. His father was one of the responding officers on the Norris scene. He’d staged the explosion to kill Jordan Norris’s dad and look like Jordan had died too. Then, when his father showed up, he shot him and his partner. They were pretty sure that Jordan wasn’t a part of the murders and was either a hostage or was completely unaware of the situation. She had been dating Owen for a long time, so it was likely she had agreed to leave with him, without checking in with her father.

Lydia had been talking with Garcia about the teens’ families when she saw Spencer storm away out of the corner of her eye. He had just… left.

Finishing up her conversation, she ran over to Hotch.

“Did you send Spencer away?”

“Have you seen how he’s been acting?” Hotch snapped.

She wasn’t surprised to hear that Spencer was moody. Leaving that meeting so suddenly was hard for him and he was still dealing with Ryan Phillips’s death. Working on another teen-involved case was probably not helping.

“Lydia, you two promised-”

“This isn’t a relationship thing!” she defended before he could say anything else. “He’s dealing with something else. The only reason I’m involved is because he told me about it. Please just…”

“Talk to him,” Hotch ordered. “His passive aggressive attitude is going to get him into trouble. The town’s already pissed we’re here.”

Lydia nodded, switching topics. “I heard that Officer Lett’s wife freaked out on you guys earlier. I’m sorry.”

“The police are under a lot of pressure to find who did this. They don’t need some angsty teen from the FBI telling them they’re stupid as well.”

She blinked. “He called someone stupid?”

“Talk to him,” Hotch repeated, ignoring her question.

“Yes, sir.”

~ ~ ~

“Has she calmed yet?” Lydia asked Emily.

They had been able to get in contact with Jordan Norris and tell her about what Owen had done, convincing her to run away from him and join them in the station, but she still didn’t fully trust them. It’d taken much persuasion and a lot of promises not to hurt Owen for her to give up where he was hiding. And now she was sobbing, half in fear, half in shame, in one of the private rooms in the station.

“No,” Emily replied, bluntly, on her way to get the girl another cup of water. “Did you hear from Hotch?”

Lydia nodded. “Owen wasn’t at the ranch. He left a note, I guess, about returning his mother’s necklace.”

Emily simply shrugged. “He can’t have gotten far. I’m sure the rest of the team will find him.”

She walked back to the grieving girl, who JJ was currently comforting, leaving Lydia alone in the bullpen of the station. That is, until Spencer came rushing in, brushing past her to get to their evidence boards.

“Spencer?” she called, already on his heels. “Why are you back?”

“They think he’s going to his mother’s grave,” he breathed, yanking a photo from the board and then looking around for Jordan.

“Isn’t he?” she demanded, seeing that the picture he had grabbed was the photo of Owen’s mother that he kept on his laptop. She was smiling, pointing to her necklace, which said ‘Hope’.

Hotch had assumed by Owen’s note that Owen was taking that necklace to his mother’s grave, as a way of ‘giving it back’ to her. But when Spencer interrupted Jordan and JJ’s conversation, throwing the photo in the young girl’s face, Lydia understood what he was thinking.

“He was gone when we got to the ranch. I want to save his life, but I need to ask you a question. This necklace-- he gave it to you?”

He spoke so fast, it was hard to differentiate between sentences, but Jordan took a second to process what he had said, then nodded. “I left it at the ranch.”

“He’s coming here,” Spencer said, already on his way out of the station.

Lydia jumped in front of him, already holding up a hand to stop him. “He’s going to do everything he can to get to Jordan.”

“I can’t let him do this, Lydia,” he hissed, trying to push past her. “It’s a suicide mission. I won’t let him die.”

“I know this is hard for you,” she told him, still maintaining eye contact to keep him in place. “But I can’t let you do this alone. Tell me the plan, and we walk out together.”

He glanced at the door, clearly anxious to leave before Owen got there. But his eyes were somewhat relieved to tell her what he was going to do. “Leave your gun. He wants to go down shooting. If we don’t have weapons, he has no reason to kill us. The only thing he wants more than death, is to apologize to Jordan so… I have to make it clear that that’s still an option.”

Lydia was already pulling her gun from its holster, setting it down on the desk beside her. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He nodded, sternly, and unarmed, the two of them walked out of the station, side by side.

The sun was unbearable outside. The two of them could barely see Owen’s dark figure approaching down the block, but the shotgun across his chest was hard to miss. Lydia’s hands were already up, her palms facing outwards. Spencer followed suit as the boy saw them approaching and aimed his weapon in their direction.

“Reid!” Prentiss screamed, leaving the station just in time to watch them walk into danger. “Ambers!”

The two of them ignored her, Spencer stepping forward to speak. “Owen, we don’t have guns on us. My name is Spencer, this is Lydia, we’re with the FBI, and we’re here to help you.”

“Yeah?” he cried. “I need you to stay back.”

There were tires squealing behind them and Lydia finally glanced behind her to see a black SUV with Rossi, Morgan, and Hotch inside pull up behind them. As Spencer continued, they threw open the doors and positioned themselves behind them, guns at the ready.

“I know the only reason you joined the wrestling team was for your father. I know that he blamed you for what happened-”

“Stay back! Right where you are!”

“-I also know the only reason you killed Rod Norris and Kyle Borden was to protect Jordan. I know the harder you tried, the worse it got, and it felt like everyone just stood there watching you suffer, and not a single person even tried to help.”

“They didn’t,” Owen sobbed. “They didn’t.”

“I know you want to escape… and forget. Believe me when I say I know… I know exactly how that feels.”

Lydia, listened to him speak. This case with Owen was really hard for him. She knew that he was dealing with cravings, but the way he spoke to Owen made her think it was something more. She’d never imagined that highschool was easy for Spencer. He was only 12 at the time. But there was clearly something specific on his mind.

Lydia kept glancing back so that she could position herself between Owen and the rest of the team. Hotch was going to kill her later. She was certain of it. But she was convinced that they were more likely to shoot Owen than Owen was likely to shoot her or Spencer. And for Spencer’s sake, she’d do anything to keep Owen from dying.

“Owen, there’s so much more for you out there,” Lydia finally spoke up.

“No. No, I’m already dead.”

“You aren’t dead,” she promised. “If you die, you’re going to leave Jordan. And right now, she’s in the station begging us not to hurt you.”

“You don’t want to leave her like your mother left you,” Spencer agreed.

“Ok.” Owen’s head shook wildly, trying to keep the upper hand on the situation. “Bring her to me. Bring her outside.”

“I can’t bring her outside,” Spencer quickly told him. “But, if you put the gun down, I swear to god, I’ll take you to her. I promise, nobody will hurt you. You’ll say goodbye to her, and you’ll give her the necklace. Alright? So what do you say? Let’s put the gun down. Let’s go inside.”

Lydia could see the battle in Owen’s mind, so she added, “Owen, Jordan loves you so much. If not for your sake, come in peacefully for hers. She’s been through so much, don’t let her live with this on her conscience as well.”

Finally, he nodded, reaching underneath his overcoat and taking the strap of the shotgun off his shoulder. Pointing it away, he stepped forward and put the weapon softly on the ground.

Now that he was unarmed, Lydia stepped to the side and let the team see Owen, his arms already above his head.

“They have to cuff you now, Owen,” Lydia told him calmly, trying to maintain eye contact with him so he didn’t see all the FBI agents running towards him and freak out. Spencer moved the gun aside and stepped up next to her. “You did so good, Owen. I know this is scary, but just stay calm. I promise we’re taking you to Jordan right now.”

“You two okay?” Morgan asked as he grabbed Owen's arms and locked them behind his back.

Spencer nodded, patting the boy down and pulling a knife from his belt as well as his mother’s necklace. “We’re fine.”

Lydia turned and finally made eye contact with Hotch. A very, very pissed off Hotch.

~ ~ ~

The night had hit fast and the whole plane was quiet. Lydia leaned into Spencer’s shoulder, her mind drifting with everything that had happened on the case. As much as she had to be worried about, her mind kept coming back to the same point: despite how stressed he was, Spencer told her the plan. He let her come with him. And that said volumes about the trust between the two of them. She knew that. She could see it so clearly now.

The strong connection she felt to him in the moment, couldn’t even be broken when Hotch sat down across from the two of them, his face a state of unwavering seriousness.

“You two knowingly jeopardize your lives and the lives of others. I should fire you both.”

Reid bit down on his lip nervously. “You have to understand that this was entirely my idea, sir.”

“Ambers?” Hotch addressed. “Do you believe Reid deserves the blame for this?”

“No, sir.”

Despite his clear anger, Lydia knew that Hotch wasn’t going to fire them. In fact, she doubted they’d get much punishment at all. He was good at understanding the intentions of his team.

He looked at Spencer again. “You’re the smartest kid in the room, but you’re not the only one in that room. You pull something like this again, don’t expect lenience from me. The same goes for you, Lydia. Am I clear?”

Spencer nodded immediately, “Yes, sir,” with Lydia following suit.

“It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” Spencer added.

“What were you thinking?”

Lydia dropped her hand over her boyfriend’s and waited patiently for him to answer. She may have followed him into the line of fire, but in the end, it was his decision, which would have happened with or without her.

“I was thinking that that would have been the second time a kid died in front of me.”

“You’re keeping score.” Hotch shook his head in warning. “Just like Owen.”

“It was my turn to save one,” Spencer joked, without much of the humor.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“It should.”

Lydia listened intently to their conversation. This was obviously a talk the Spence needed to have with his boss on his own. They both needed to address the death of Ryan Phillips.

“I know it’s painful when the person you identify with is the bad guy,” Hotch told him and Spencer’s eyes fell to his intertwined fingers with Lydia.

“What does that make me?”

“Good at the job.” For the first time that night, there seemed to be a hint of a smile on his face.

Lydia leaned back onto her boyfriend’s shoulder as the unit chief stood up, but he continued to speak to them as he stepped into the walkway of the jet.

“I know it’s none of my business, but when we land, I think you should go and catch the rest of that movie.”

Lydia almost stupidly asked him what he was referring to, forgetting all about the cover she had set up for them at the beginning of the case to excuse their tardiness.

“He has to know that was a lie,” Spencer mumbled into her hair.

“No doubt,” she agreed. “But I think he knows that whatever it was was important to the two of us. That’s all that really matters, right?”

“Right,” he whispered, tiredly drifting off against her side.

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @arthurmorrgans, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

#criminal minds #cm #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds oc #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #oc #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #untouchable #untouchable ch21 #lydia ambers

[theotherackerman]

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan.

NOTES:

Tuesday, January 5th

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter discusses the choices a person has when they are pregnant.

chapter eleven: but if it's okay with you, it's okay with me

Not once since the entire time that Annie had known Armin did she ever feel uncomfortable around him.

Not until she had taken a second little pink test in her bathroom.

She thought it may have been false because those things COULD be false. Besides, she really hadn’t been having morning sickness. She felt fine.

What was the percentage again?

Her cycle was never normal so it could be false.

Besides, it was the holiday season.

So she ignored it.

Then New Year’s Eve came.

She made the choice not to drink just in case.

Then she had taken another test during a brief visit home.

Another positive result.

Then her dad had found it.

Now here she was dreading Armin’s return from Eren’s.

Mikasa, Ymir, Sasha, and Historia had helped her keep her mind off of it with their antics. They were ridiculous in all the best ways. Annie would look over at Mikasa, wondering what she was truly thinking about her situation.

But there was no sign of judgement there.

She knew the other girls would be the same way. She did want to tell them the truth but she just didn’t want to tell anyone else. There were already four other people who knew before Armin. It didn’t seem fair.

Annie wondered if her biological mother and father had felt this. Had her biological mom been pregnant with her but been too afraid? Had she been young like her? Were they truly dead like she had been told?

She’d never know the answers. The files were sealed with her parents not wanting them unsealed. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder if her biological parents would be disappointed in her.

When Armin returned from Eren’s, it was like he just knew something else was bothering her.

He’d always been able to see through her.

Ever since they were kids, he could see under her hard exterior from a father who wanted her to become some sort of fighter to make him money.

Where Mikasa had learned to fight out of the fear of bullies from Levi, Annie had learned because her father wanted a prized fighter one day.

It had been when she went upstairs to be by herself because her stomach would not stop churning.

He knows was all she could think.  She didn’t know if it was the anxiety or the pregnancy.

Maybe if she just went to bed for a bit, she could delay it.

That plan worked for about five minutes before willing it away no longer worked and she found herself back in the bathroom.

After she had brushed her teeth, Armin had been there waiting for her.

There had been no malice, only understanding on his face. He took her into his arms right outside the bathroom.

Annie wasn’t one for PDA so she took his hand and led him back into the room she had taken to stay in. It had been a matter of moments between her shutting the door and her pushing him on her bed.

She climbed on top of him. Her lips were on his, only breaking away to remove his shirt.

But Armin knew something was wrong.

He pulled away, locking eyes with her.

“Annie?” was all he said.

That’s all it took before she started crying.

He wiped the tears from her eyes.

He didn’t say anything.

He just held her and let her cry.

She sobbed into his bare chest but he never once complained.

He didn’t ask for answers yet. He just let her cry for now.

“You’re going to hate me,” she finally said, her face still buried in his chest.

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

She got off of him and sat up, her knees pulled to her chest. “You say that now but you don’t know. You’re going to be disappointed.”

He sat up next to her, his legs crossed. “No, I’m not.” He wiped the stray hairs out of her face.

“Talk to me.”

“Armin...I’m….” she couldn’t say it. She hid her face in her knees.

Why couldn’t she say it?

He rubbed her back, “trust me.”

Oh she did. She trusted him more than anyone else in this world. She loved the band. Hell, she even loved Levi, Hange, and Eren. Not to mention all those other people from high school but nothing compared to the love she had for Armin.

A love she had kept hidden from him for many years due to fear of rejecting.

Even after he had danced with her at every single high school dance, being her date every time.

There had been flirtations but nothing had truly happened until right before the big fight between Eren, Armin, and Mikasa. What terrible timing that had been.

Yet it had been Mikasa who said it was okay.

But she never had said those words to him.

Once again, it was out of fear.

She finally looked over at him, his hazel eyes were locked on her. Her eyes finally met his.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said.

There was a pause.

“Okay,” was all he said.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“What do you mean okay?” She was annoyed with his answer.

“I mean there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Suddenly Annie stood up, filled with rage. Never in her life had she wanted to raise her hand in violence to Armin but right now, she wanted to toss him out the window. She was pretty sure she could do it too.

“So you’re just going to say okay, there’s nothing I can do about it, and be done?”

“No! What?! I never said that!”

“You never said anything!”

She started pacing, she had to move. If she stood still, she probably would throw him out the window.

“What am I supposed to say? It’s your body, it’s your choice.”

He was being rational about this.

She didn’t want that right now.

“I want you to say what you’re thinking!” she shouted.

“Annie, I’m not going to influence your decision.”

“You were there too!”

He walked over to her, grabbed her, and held her to him. “I know, I remember.”

“Please, just tell me.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do?”

She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him back finally. “I’m keeping it.”

Armin’s lips were back on hers. She savored every moment of their lips moving in sync. If this was the end, she’d take it.

He pulled away and cradled her face in his hands. “Oh thank god,” he said finally.

“Yeah? You don’t want to leave?”

“Annie, I’m not going anywhere. Look, you have a good job. I get my undergraduate done then I’ll be working as Hange’s assistant while working on my masters. The timing is not perfect but after losing so many people in my life, it’d be nice to have another who does love me. I had hoped to be married to you one day. You know, before we had a kid but I’m okay with this too.”

“You want to marry me one day?” Her eyes lit up.

“I love you, Annie. Of course, I do.”

“I love you too.”

His lips were on hers as he guided her back towards the bed. As her back hit the mattress, he pulled away.

“Let me take care of you for once,” he whispered, “if you want me too.”

“Yes,” she consented.

His lips were on her neck, sucking on the skin that was there.

“Armin, I don’t have much more makeup,” she teased.

He stopped for a moment, letting his eyes meet hers. “I don’t care. Let people see.”

That’s all she needed to hear.

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

Screams came from downstairs.

“What do you think that’s about?” Armin asked as he pulled his belt through the loops on his pants.

“With our friends? Who knows?” Annie tossed him his shirt before pulling her own on and then grabbing her sweat pants before pulling them on. “Are you sure about this?” She asked him.

“Yes, I’m sure. You’re the one thing I’ve always been sure of,” he said before he rubbed his neck as his face got red.

“But Armin, you’re in your last year of undergrad. You’re going to want to….”

“I want to be with you. We didn’t plan for a baby, you’re right and we haven’t been together for all that long. But do you think anything ever goes as planned? Especially for us? For any of us?”

“But your future…..”

“Is you,” he cut her off. “You and this baby. I’ll still save the ocean. You’ll still be in the band. You know Mikasa is going to steal our kid and spoil him. Not to mention Historia, Ymir, and Sasha. You’ve seen Levi with Mikasa. This baby is going to be the most loved baby. But if you don’t want to keep it, it is your body.”

“It’s going to be hard.”

“I know but we’ll figure it out. We always have.”

He smiled at her as he took her hand, leading her out of the room.

They ran into Eren and Mikasa as they left Annie’s room.

“Eren?” Armin questioned.

“Uh, hi.” Eren gave an awkward wave.

“That didn’t take long. Glad you two are back together,” Annie said.

“We’re not back together,” Mikasa stated before leaving the group at the top of the stairs.

Eren looked dejected, the smile completely gone from his face.

Armin went to follow Mikasa, pulling Annie along with him, but Annie stopped him. He looked at her, she gave him a simple nod before he then left on her alone with Eren.

Eren went to follow Armin.

“Eren,” she said, causing Eren to stop walking. “Give her time. You really hurt her but she still loves you.”

“I know and I deserve all of it. It’s my fault things are like this.”

“It is. If you love her as much as you say, you’ll spend every day making it up to her. Look, I don’t get involved in these things. Mikasa means a lot to me. That’s why I’m saying this. Remember back when you tried to romance her? Flirted with her? Did things just for her? Do that again. That’s how you get the girl.”

“Thanks, Annie,” he said giving her the smallest smile.

“And if you break her heart this time, I’ll pull all your internal organs out through your nose.” She cracked her knuckles for emphasis.

Eren swallowed hard.

-----------

“Don’t go in there!” Sasha yelled at the tv.

“They’re going to stop and have sex in a creepy cellar?” Armin asked.

“Yeah, cool. There’s a groups of cannibals chasing us but let’s have sex here! That’s realistic,” Ymir snorted.

“There’s a knife above her head!” Sasha called out.

“Run!” Historia yelled.

“This is the dumbest movie I’ve ever seen,” Annie whispered to Mikasa.

“Agreed,” Mikasa whispered back.

They had all found themselves in Mikasa’s room watching horrible horror movies on her tv. Annie and Mikasa were on her bed with Historia and Sasha. Ymir had taken the spot next to Armin who sat next to Eren on the floor.

“She broke her heel! She’s doomed,” Historia threw her hands up.

“If this ends with the cannibals winning, I’m going to be pissed,” Ymir argued.

“Who runs a horror movie marathon in January?” Eren asked Armin.

“Annie’s pregnant,” he blurted out.

“WHAT?!” Eren yelled.

“WHOA!” Historia shouted.

“HIGH FIVE, ARMIN!” Sasha screamed as she leaned over to get a five high from him. He high fived her.

“NICE!” Ymir shouted as she also high fived Armin moments after Sasha.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Sasha smirked as she nudged Annie with her shoulder.

“So is that why you got kicked out?” Historia asked Annie.

“Yeah, sorry. I was going to tell you but I thought I should tell Armin first.”

“It’s fine,” Sasha reassured her.

“So what are you going to do?” Ymir asked them.

“We’re keeping it. Levi knows and he said I can stay here as long as I need to. Armin has to go back to school and my job starts back up next week,” Annie answered.

“We’ll all help, you know that, Annie,” Historia rested her head on Annie’s shoulders.

“Yeah, you’re not alone,” Sasha reassured her.

“What about the band? You sure you want a pregnant member?” Annie asked.

“There are so many rocker moms out there! You’ll be the next one. Besides, you’re irreplaceable,” Ymir added.

Mikasa looked at Annie before taking her hand.

They didn’t need any words, once again.

Annie squeezed Mikasa’s hand.

Eren and Armin looked at one another before excusing themselves to go out into the hallway.

“Congratulations,” Eren said to Armin.

“Thanks. You’re going to be around, right?” Armin asked nervously.

“Yeah, I will. I mean I’m moving to Zeke’s but I’ll be around. You know, phone call away.”

“I’ll probably need a friend through this. You know another guy to talk to.”

Eren’s face lit up. “I mean, yeah. Of course. You can talk to me.”

“Good,” Armin hugged Eren.

Eren hugged him back.

It felt good to have Armin back.

“So why did you date the farmer and Reiner? I always kind of got...you being in love with Ymir vibes,” Annie said as Armin and Eren walked back into the room.

“What is this confession night?” Ymir scoffed.

“We’ll get to you in a minute,” Mikasa smirked.

“ME? What about me? I haven’t dated anyone besides her!” Ymir said as she pointed to Historia.

“I dated them because it made sense. My dad wanted a perfect daughter so I gave him that. Head cheerleader and captain of the football team. The future head of the farming industry and the Fritz Pharmaceuticals girl. I lived for my father’s acceptance,” Historia explained.

“What changed?” Sasha asked.

“Me. Ymir told me to live for myself so I listened.”

“So did you even like those guys?” Armin asked.

“Not really. Reiner really didn’t seem that interested in me either,” Historia shrugged.

“So have you been in love with me this whole fucking time and we’ve had to suffer through this nonsense?” Ymir asked.

“I thought that was pretty obvious. You just never picked up on it,” Annie said.

“Wait, did you all know this?” Ymir asked as she glanced around the room.

“I mean…..”Eren trailed off.

“You’re already on thin ice, Jaeger! Choose your next words carefully!” Ymir threatened him.

“I have an example,” Armin said as he pulled out his phone. “Here’s a picture of all of us back in high school. Look, Reiner and Historia looked weird together. Now look at who she’s looking at and smiling. It’s not Reiner.”

Ymir looked at the photo. She remembered it. It had been one of their last days. It felt like a lifetime ago. But Armin was right. Historia was staring at Ymir and smiling.

“I hate all of you,” Ymir replied as she fell back on the floor.

“I even figured that out,” Eren scoffed.

“You thought Mikasa liked Jean, so you have no room to talk!” Ymir shouted.

“She could have!” Eren argued.

“No! She didn’t! Everyone in that damn school knew she was in love with you!”

“And we all knew Historia was in love with you!”

“To be fair, these two didn’t figure out they liked each other until a year ago,” Sasha said pointing to Armin and Annie.

“Hey! I just thought Annie was out of my league,” Armin argued.

“And now she’s having your baby. Who could have seen that coming? Oh wait, the universe,” Ymir scoffed.

“ {lyrics redacted due to copyright},” Historia sang.

“Oh great, now Historia is going to be singing Harry Styles again.”

“Kiwi is a good song!”

“It is until you play it five hundred time!”

“You like it too!”

“You all are exhausting. I’m getting more popcorn,” Sasha said as she stood up.

“Oh wait! Sasha, come back so we can make fun of how you sext Niccolo but can’t talk to him in person,” Ymir called as she stood up and chased after Sasha.

The laughter echoed through the house.

#mmtylif #my writing

[ofablogs]

Mess - Kayama Nemuri/Midnight x reader

Warnings : a little nsfw, please keep scrolling if you don't want to read!

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

i can't believe I've finally decided to post it- this is the first character x reader I've written for bnha actually. i apologise in advance if i've made some mistakes (English isn't my first language). i'm not really confident in my writing, i try to vary my vocabulary but i really hope you'll like it, and don't hesitate to request anything🥺

Reader is gender neutral

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

you were the new teacher hired in yuei, the hero school where you spent three years of your life. you didn't actually remember how it happened, but here you were, teaching martial arts to the students from all files.

you were also delighted to be back to your home city because of your long time friends, meaning eraserhead, present mic and midnight ; you studied together at yuei and actually did not have the chance to meet with them while you were working and saving people at the other side of the country.

this is how you ended up going on a date with nemuri, known as midnight. she was the one you were the most eager to see, as you had never been able to erase the love you felt for the woman. of course you both stayed in contact during the time you were away since nemuri insisted to, but you never had the chance to express your feelings to her - you feared rejection, you didn't want to ruin your friendship. and why would she choose you above all other ? she was one of the most famous heroes of japan after all, and you had nothing special.

as the stars were starting to be seen in the dark sky, you and nemuri left the restaurant you have been dining in.

"thank you for dinner, y/n. the night was delicious", nemuri said while you were wrapping your scarf around your neck. it was a little cold outside.

you slightly smiled and offered your arm to the woman.

"i'm glad you enjoyed your time. shall i walk you home ?"

"oh, you're such a darling." she winked and locked your arm with yours.

the streets were empty and silent at this time of the night, especially since the weather was not very welcoming, but you liked the feeling of having the person you loved most walking next to you ; it felt a lot warmer.

you kept walking silently, only enjoying each other's company until you eventually stopped in front of the main door of nemuri's house. she slowly removed her arm from yours, made a few steps forward and turned back to you, smiling.

that is when you took the opportunity to admire her features in the moonlight. oh to you, she looked like a goddess. you hadn't felt such things since that time in yuei - it was during a party held for the third years, after they graduated. you were the one nemuri invited, much to your surprise when a bunch of students- mostly boys, literally begged to have this chance. you danced a lot more than you would've expected (you couldn't resist your crush's puppy eyes), and soon found yourselves in need of fresh air, not feeling comfortable anymore with so much people around. that is when, and you still don't know what exactly led to that situation- maybe the suffocating warmth, or the alcohol, you caught yourself in nemuri's arms, with her cherry-like lips on yours and your hands roaming over her body. you would never properly admit it, but you instantly regretted the moment you had to part, breathing heavily and left out as a mess.

yes, kayama nemuri was the only person on earth that could make you lose the control and countenance you always imposed to yourself. that flame you felt burning hot during this certain party was precisely waking up now as you were looking at the woman standing before you.

oh, how you wanted her to make a mess of you again. how you were eager to have your fingers ghosting over her skin, sucking on her delicious neck. you were ready to give anything to have her mouth covering yours one more time, warm and lust filled tongues swinging together. whispering sweet nothings in her ear as her back arches under the pleasure your fingers were providing. your lips, your hands wanted to taste every part of her body, of the scent you wanted to drown yourself in.

you wanted her- you wanted her so badly that you didn't know how long you would be able to hold back ; you desperately wanted to be nemuri's- to belong to her and only her.

"y/n ?"

a soft and melodic voice interrupted your thoughts. you also realized she was standing close to you- so close your noses almost touched.

"are you alright ?" she whispered, a little glimpse of concern in her eyes.

"i- yes, i'm fine," you answered as you felt your breath growing heavier because of your sudden proximity.

nemuri gently pressed a finger on your recently humected lips, tracing their shape. you couldn't help but lean into her light touch- you left a little kiss on her index, causing her to chuckle a bit.

you knew deep inside it was too late- before you could even speak, her oh so smooth mouth was on yours.

your hands almost instantly gripped her gracious waist- you craved for her warmth. 

"why not stay a little longer, tonight ?" nemuri suggested with a playful smile between two incredibly heated kisses.

you didn't even need to answer.

#nemuri kayama x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #kayama nemuri #mha x reader #mha imagines #my hero academia #headcanon #yagi toshinori #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #writing

[dccomicsimagines]

Coming Out By Bleeding Out - Young Justice Imagine

Requested by Anon -  If you're comfortable with it, maybe something with the S1 team where FTM!reader gets hurt on a mission and when they take him to the med-bay to patch him up he refuses to take off his suit, and the team is freaking out bc *Y/N you're gonna bleed out--* when he finally takes it off they see he has top surgery scars and he tells them he didn't want them to find out he was trans because he'd had some bad experiences with coming out before and its just some good platonic hurt/comfort💞 thanks✨!!

Requested by Anon -  can you please write something with a trans!reader who is nervous about telling the team since people hadn't been accepting before? I'm kinda in a similar situation rn and your writing always cheers me up :)) also sorry if i made any grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language lol😂 thanks in advance!!!!❤❤ ❤❤

Author’s Note -  For the second Anon, if you wanted a story with a MTF!reader, please send in another request and I’ll do that for you. I just figured since both prompts had similar themes of coming out that I would combine them. 

***

“Stay awake, (Y/N),” Artemis ordered as she put pressure on your gunshot wound. You moaned, sleep pulling at you.

“I’ll try.” Pain seared through your body when Artemis pressed down harder. Black swarmed your vision. 

Kaldur came into your sight, taking over for Artemis. “We’re about five minutes out, (Y/N). Stay awake.” 

“I think I might hurl,” Wally exclaimed when he got a peek at the blood soaked bandage. 

“Shut up, baywatch.” Artemis smacked him away. “You have no room to comment when (Y/N) took the shot for you.” 

“That wasn’t me! Rob was the one that was about to be shot,” Wally protested, moving away.

“Who cares?” You moaned, closing your eyes. There was a hard tap on your cheek. You forced your eyes open to see Conner glaring down at you.

“Stay awake.” He snorted.

You hummed. Pain rocked through you again. “We’re almost there,” M’gann shouted.

Everything blurred together. You felt yourself being moved. Pain shot through your body. You heard Kaldur explaining the situation to Red Tornado. 

You were laid down. Your heart skipped a beat when you felt someone start to pull up your shirt. “No!” Your hands gripped the edge of your shirt, keeping it down. Fear made your blood run cold. You saw the rest of the team was still in the room with Red Tornado standing over you. 

“(Y/N), I must take your shirt off to see the wound,” Red Tornado explained. 

“No, no, no.” The pain disappeared as you kept a tight grip on your shirt. 

“(Y/N), you are bleeding out, we have to take your shirt off,” Kaldur soothed, coming to your side. 

“It will be fine.” Red Tornado attempted to take off your shirt again, but your grip was too strong. “(Y/N), your resistance will only cause you to lose more blood.” 

You shook your head. The fear made you more aware. They didn’t have to worry about you falling asleep anymore. “No, leave me alone!”

“Take the shirt off, (Y/N)!” Conner snapped, tired of it. M’gann touched his arm.

“(Y/N), why are you scared?” M’gann asked, frowning. You felt her reading your mind. The horror of the team finding out this way chilled you to the bone. You weren’t ready to come out to the team. They would reject you like how you were rejected before. 

More blood gushed from your wound. You felt lightheaded. “No, don’t.” You collapsed back into the bed. All you saw was black.

***

You woke up to bright lights. Panic filled you as the memory came back. You reached to touch your chest, relieved to find you were wearing a shirt. However, the horror set in when you realized it was a different shirt. They had taken off your shirt.

“(Y/N), you’re awake,” Dick said, perking up from the chair beside you. You flinched, staring at him in horror. “Woah, hey you’re fine.” 

Your mouth went dry, terrified out of your mind. You didn’t want to be kicked off the team. They were your friends. You couldn’t stand the idea of them throwing you out. 

Dick held up his hands. “Hey, you’re fine, (Y/N). You lost a lot of blood and you’ll have to heal, but there’s no permanent damage.” 

You covered your face with your hands, wincing when the IV pulled slightly at your movement. Dick eyed you before leaving the room. You couldn’t move your hands away from your face even after you heard the others filing in. 

“(Y/N), my dude,” Wally said with a bright smile on his face. “I’m so glad you’re awake. We thought we lost you, man.” He plopped down beside you, making himself comfortable. You stared at him in shock.

“You scared us to death,” Artemis added, slapping Wally’s arm. “Give (Y/N) space, baywatch. He doesn’t need you crowding him out of his own bed.” 

“(Y/N) doesn’t mind. We’re buds.” Wally nudged you with his elbow, giving you a smirk. You were still staring at him with wide eyes. None of this was making sense.

Swallowing hard, you were able to wet your throat. “You don’t care?” 

Wally and Artemis looked confused. “What do you mean we don’t care? Of course, we care. Why else would we save you?” Conner said, frowning.

You snorted at the irony that you would have to bring this up. “About my scars?” 

“Of course, we care,” Kaldur said calmly. “You are our friend.” 

You blinked in disbelief. This wasn’t what you expected. “You mean it doesn’t bother any of you that I’m trans?” You looked around at everyone, meeting each of their gazes.

Dick shrugged. “No, I mean you’re a cool guy that took a bullet for me and Wally. Can’t complain about that. I’m whelmed.” He laughed his signature creepy laugh. Your heart soared. A smile pulled at your lips.

 M’gann gave you a bright smile. “You’re our friend, and I think I speak for everyone when I say this changes nothing.” 

“Yeah, doesn’t change a thing,” Wally said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

Artemis snorted. “Yeah, like we didn’t have to explain what top surgery was.” She slapped Wally’s head. Wally whined.

“Sorry that I don’t know everything.” Wally glared at her, but turned back to you a moment later. “But I’m willing to learn what I need to know.” You turned away, tears in your eyes. “Hey, don’t cry. You’ll make Artemis cry.” 

Artemis snorted. You ran a hand over your face, getting control of yourself. “I just expected you guys to hate me,” you explained. “When I came out before, everyone treated it like a joke. No one would use my correct pronouns and don’t get me started on the bathroom...” A sob escaped you.

Kaldur came up to pat your leg while Wally hugged you. M’gann joined the hug a moment later. “We respect you, (Y/N),” Kaldur said quietly.

“Thank you.” You sniffled, trying to stop yourself. 

“But if you refuse to take your shirt off again when you’re bleeding out, we’ll kill you,” Dick said. The mood lightened. You laughed along with everyone else. The relief rushed through you and you realized the best friends you had ever had were the ones standing around you. 

#young justice #young justice imagines #young justice imagine #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert #young justice x reader #young justice reader insert #transreader #ftm!reader

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 163

Despite all the trouble you were in and everything that laid ahead, there was always that certain comfort that you drew when you were with Tony. The same must have gone for him, because the two of you fell asleep leaning against one another at the back table of the jet while Clint flew who knew where. Safehouse… some safehouse somewhere far away. Ultron was out there somewhere. Doing something. Something awful. 

But while you were miles up in the air with a very beaten and battered team- and… while you had Tony right there, hand in hand with you, you gave yourself small permission to drift. And it was sort of nice. For a little while. Free of nightmares. Just blissfully gone for those short couple of hours while Clint piloted. But when they were over you missed them dearly. 

The louder rumbling of the jet as it started its descent and then land spooked you back awake. As soon as your surroundings came back in clearer, you leaned in again to rub your forehead against Tony’s shoulder. Waded in his warmth as his hand shifted up your back and he pressed a kiss to your temple. This was the plan now. Sit tight in some abandoned safehouse so that the media- and governments of the world- couldn’t bother the team. Sit and wait for Ultron’s next play.

This wasn’t a very good plan. At the very least you needed to start doing damage control- but, then again… Maria seemed to be on top of things. And she literally was the head of Damage Control. Right underneath you. Rhodey, no doubt, was also working. It just felt so wrong to be doing nothing. To just be waiting. In fact, it felt like asking for a lot of trouble. But what choices were being left to you? 

None. Absolutely none. You were being told to sit and wait. So that’s what you had to do. As you stepped off the jet behind everyone else and took in the scenery… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. For an abandoned SHIELD safehouse in the middle of nowhere, it was pretty idyllic. Clint had taken you to some big farmhouse. Many acres to roam, protected and shaded by large trees on all sides of the property. A couple beaten down trucks, A barn off on the right side. No doubt it had some heavy security system too- one that would have to be booted up. “What are our optics?” Your brain was going. This place had to be locked down, just in case. “What security are we looking at here?” 

Tony would have to do some work to Ultron-proof it, just in case he came looking for the group. But apparently nobody else had been told about this little sit-and-see plan, because Thor asked, “What is this place?” 

The walk up the gravel drive was short, and Tony merely shrugged as Clint approached the door. “A safehouse?” 

Clint took Nat inside first- she’d been looking a little rough. No more so than the rest of the team, but he’d been nursing her just a little. Probably spoke more to their bond than her condition. It was sweet, to be sure. Then the rest of you followed inside. 

...it didn’t look as abandoned as you would have thought. Not dirty or unkempt. In fact- there were- There were kid’s toys in the living room. On the floor. Handknit blankets draped over a couch. An open magazine on the coffee table- 

“Honey?” Clint called out as he looked around and you felt rather stunned. 

But completely held by shock as a very pregnant woman stepped out of the kitchen, mug and dish towel in hand. She was pretty surprised to see the group standing at her door. If you were anyone else you might have assumed she was just some random contact Clint had run to. Someone he trusted. 

Except immediate love bounced between them. She was happy to see them, despite his unannounced guests. 

Your heart hurt. 

“I’m home.” He finished the rest of what made sense. Clint was home. That woman was his wife. She was pregnant with his child- she approached him, putting her hands up to caress his face and gave him a sweet kiss. He mumbled around her. “Sorry about the company- that I didn’t call ahead-” 

Instinctively, blindly, and painfully you reached out, hand connecting with Tony’s as he drowned in the same sudden and inexplicable sadness. Except unlike you he was rejecting the idea outright. “This is an agent of some kind.”

Clint turned back. “Team, this is Laura.” 

Finally you got a good look at her as she turned fully to face the group. She was a beautiful woman. Short. Long brown hair, light brown eyes, and an exceptionally sweet smile as she pointed. “I know all your names.” 

The sudden stomping of little feet drew everyone’s attention. And this little picture became that much worse as two children- a young girl with braided blonde pigtails and a slightly older boy with a mop of sandy hair, bounded down the stairs as Clint crouched down. He caught the little girl in her speedy run, lifting her up into a tight hug. “Hey, sweetheart!” He then put his other arm around the boy, leaning in to kiss the top of his head. “Hey, buddy.” 

Good god. Clint Barton had a family. He’d had a family for years. He had been a SHIELD agent- he’d been an Avenger for years. All while having a wife. And children. And- 

You were holding Tony’s hand so tight your arm was shaking. Clint had everything you’d sworn you could never. How? 

Tony continued your bewilderment, using his free hand to nervously point at them. “...those are… smaller agents…” 

It made sense. Clint was rarely ever around aside for missions- he had a room in the Tower, but he disappeared often. When SHIELD fell, he was nowhere to be found. But it wasn’t that he’d been hiding this from you- ...nor the fact that Natasha seemed to know about it, as she became joyous and the children gathered around her. Auntie Nat… 

No it wasn’t the secrecy or the omission. It was the hurt. The hurt that he’d figured this out somehow. Yet you’d been grasping and failing at some vision of a family. A life like this. A house. A family. Love that wasn’t beset by world ending events. ...how did they do it? 

You really were aching inside looking at them. The perfect picture. You wanted this. You wanted this, for you and Tony. Clint had been living this the whole time and you’d never had a clue. You still didn’t- had no clue how to do it. How he was managing. How. How how… 

Steve took a breath. “Sorry for barging in like this.” Tony was hanging on to his own hurt while managing yours, no doubt. Still holding on to you tight. “Yeah. We would have called ahead, but we were too busy having no idea you existed.” Even his usual sass didn’t make you feel better. Clint nodded. “Yeah. Well. Fury helped me set this up when I joined. Kept it off SHIELD’s files. I’d like to keep it that way. I figure it’s a good place to lay low.” 

Yeah. That did make sense. It also made sense why you had no idea about it. Why no one did- except Nat. But they’d always been close. You had to clear your throat to make words go. “We’ll keep your secret for you.” 

The two of you looked at each other and you had to wonder if maybe it was just plain on your face. The longing as you looked at him. His wife. Their kids. But he gave you a short nod. Laura smiled. “Shower’s upstairs, second door on the left. There’s some medical supplies too, if you need to get patched up. And we don’t mind if you borrow some clothes.” Accommodating and kind despite the drop in. She was probably used to it, you realized. Her husband coming home with cuts and bruises. “I’ll start lunch.” 

A group murmur of thanks hit the air and you didn’t wait for permission. Tony had a pretty nasty cut on the side of his face that needed tending to. The rest of the group, save Natasha and Clint (who were at homebase, so they’d be fine) were all a little more super than he was. So you turned, hand still in his, pulling him upstairs. But really. Really you just needed to be away from them. And with him. To decompress. 

Maybe even reassure each other of something or other… 

You didn’t exactly push him, but were pretty insistent that he move a little quicker through the bathroom door, which you shut behind you and locked. You then guided him to sit on the closed toilet, and started rummaging through the cabinet. Finding a medkit and a bottle of peroxide, you set them down on the sink. And then were promptly stopped when Tony’s hand reached up to touch the back of yours. You braved turning your head to look at him. 

Waiting for you there were those big, beautiful brown eyes of his. Somewhat glassy. And entirely see-through. “Take a breath.” Asked gently of you. Your lips pressed together, swallowing hard, and then turned your head back to the kit- though you did do as he asked. Breathing in slowly and then out. Uncapping the peroxide you dumped some on a cotton pad and started dabbing his cheek softly. “How do they manage? How do they do this?” Keeping your voice very quiet. 

“I told you it’s not impossible.” His smile up at you was a little cocky, but at the same time still slightly broken. 

“Clint’s also not as public as us. So- it’s not the same-” 

“He’s as public as the rest of us, after what happened in New York. We sell toys of him. Who are you trying to convince here?” As he asked, your hand lowered, and you looked at him again. “You know where I stand on this. I mean if Barton can manage…” Both of his brows lifting. 

“We’re not Clint.” He was right. You were trying to fool yourself. Make excuses. It was easy to keep saying it couldn’t be done as long as no one else had done it. And before today, you’d been very sure no one else had. Or would. 

And you were so very wrong. Which meant… which meant you’d been wasting precious time. Wasting time convincing Tony that it couldn’t be done until this, that, and the other thing was fulfilled. Yet- you could have… you could have been living a life- ...and it… it was your fault that the two of you had been delaying it…

How were you supposed to live with that? Live with yourself? 

His smile up at you made you hurt all over again. “Great news. Means we can nail this whole house-and-family thing even better.” 

You had to look away from him, throwing out the cotton pad, settling your hands on the sides of the sink, head dropping. “They have three kids…” It was so unfathomable. How did she do this? How did she sit at home, wondering if her husband would come home alive- 

...god. God damn it. You’d already been living this life with him. Yet you’d seen fit to deny every time he asked you to take it one step further. And for what? For what? 

He stood suddenly, setting his hand reassuringly at the mid of your back, stroking in soft circles. “Two. Technically. Although she’s definitely ready to go on that aforementioned third.” Shifting in, he pressed his forehead against the back of your shoulder in an affectionate touch. “Honey… we couldn’t have known.” 

“So what-” The words choked from you as you felt the guilt come clawing. “I kept putting it off because it was so unobtainable and now what- we’re being shown up-” 

The two of you shared a watery laugh, unable to look at one another. “Just means we have to do it bigger.” 

“They have a head start.” 

“So? We’re the Starks. Now that we know what we’re looking at- we can build it better.” 

A few breaths hitched, you caught a few sniffles too, as you turned, standing a little straighter. Before you could wipe your tears away, his hands were there. Doing it for you. “We are not the Starks.” 

“Not yet.” One of those signature arches of his brows threatened to get your smile going. But you just weren’t ready for it yet. Suddenly he started patting at his pockets- “Damn it.” 

Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around him, holding yourself as close to him as you could, rewarded with his arms crushing you back. You were clinging to him, but that was okay. “It wasn’t right here, anyway. We have a mess to clean up.” 

“Okay. I agree. But after?” His voice came somewhere close to your ear, low and loving. 

“...ask me after.” It wasn’t fair to the rest of the team, to be finding solace in each other like this. To be making plans for a future, like this. You had no idea what after looked like either. So you couldn’t commit right now-

...but if anyone deserved it- wasn’t it you? You’d been waiting for a sign. You’d been waiting to see if this was possible. And now you had hard confirmation. Someone was already living this life. And if they could… 

Then so could the two of you. 

He held you that much tighter. His tone was full of promise. “I intend to.” 

                                                                  ---

Tony took the first shower. You asked if anyone wanted dibs on the second, and the team groggily passed it up, so you were next in line. Laura was kind enough to leave out a change of clothes for you, and Bruce passed you on your way out. Though you did ask him where Thor had gone off to, and he merely gave a weak shrug. There was no need to press him further. Coming down the stairs, you spied Tony and Steve out in the yard- … “Are they chopping wood?” Asked of Laura as you came into the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder with a shrug and a smile. “Seemed like they needed something to do. I couldn’t turn down the opportunity for some help around the farm.” 

“Can’t argue with that.” They were both probably still wound up. And much as you took some extended time to watch Tony swing that axe above his head and down in hard even strikes, checkered button down tied around his waist- ...right now was not a good time for ogling. “Do you need any help in here?” 

Waving you over, “You need something to do, too, huh? Mind helping with the salad?” Giving a little point to the counter where she had several vegetables laying out in wait, a big sharp knife, and a rather large bowl. 

“Sure.” You could chop up a salad. No problem. Not hard at all. What was difficult was making food back to back with her in her kitchen. In silence. With too many questions. So much so that… eventually you really couldn’t help yourself. “Can I ask you something?” 

“How I do it?” 

You felt rather caught as she asked that nearly immediately. “That obvious?” 

“You looked like someone punched you in the gut when you came in- no offense- and I’d like to not take any either, so I assume it wasn’t really directed at me.” Her tone was soft and understanding. So it was easy to not take offense to that, or worry about over-showing your own emotions. The problem was you really had no idea what to say. Thankfully she helped. “I was surprised, you know, when Fury said he’d picked the two of you out for this team thing.” 

However, you almost wished that there had been a drag of silence instead of that. “Oh. You knew Fury too?” Trying to not give your disdain away through tone. Probably failing. 

“Sure. We were close, for a little while. Had him over for dinner a few times. He’s been very good to this family.” 

A very good reason not to speak ill of him, you supposed. “Did you work at SHIELD?” 

“Absolutely not.” She spat this out with a little bit of a laugh. “No- actually- if you’d believe we live in such a small world, I interned at Stark Industries a few summers while I was in college.” 

Small world indeed. And getting smaller all the time. “Really? What department?” 

“Nothing important. I’m pretty sure I was the secretary’s secretary’s secretary. Fetching coffee, filing papers. That sort of thing.” You were nodding along as she spoke, even though she couldn’t see it. “I can’t imagine running a company and doing… this is easy.” 

“No more easy than sitting up at night with kids wondering if your husband is going to come home, right?” You didn’t mean this maliciously- hoped she wouldn’t take it that way. 

Luck held in your favor as she hummed out a breath. “This is… relatively new, you know. SHIELD was one thing. Then one day aliens are coming to a city miles and miles away and somehow Clint’s picked to deal with it. ...you sure you need him?” 

There was probably one reason she was asking this- and you were sure it had nothing to do with the fact that Clint was most certainly lurking around. Maybe she had no idea he was in the next room. You did, though. You tried to not let it temper your answer too much. “We do. He’s saved our asses more than once. And out of everyone, he always makes the right directional calls. He was doing this a lot longer than most of us. Except Nat, I guess. Maybe not the aliens thing but… the missions.” It only occurred to you the other reason she was asking. “But… if he’d like to retire…” 

Her one-note laugh was a little sour. “That’s not up to me.” 

“Sure it is. You don’t expect me to believe he’d stay with us if you told him to come home, do you?” 

The two of you turned to look at one another. A passing but understanding glance. Her grin was sad. “I can’t ask him to turn his back on saving the world.” 

“Yeah.” Sadness taking hold of you, too, then. “I get it.” 

She looked upset for a split second, like she understood it. She probably did. But instead of giving any advice about late nights wondering if someone would come home alive or- god what would I tell the kids?- she offered a little bit more of a real and warm smile. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for this family.” 

This you weren’t expecting, though. “Me? I haven’t done anything. I didn’t even know you existed until two hours ago.” 

“Clint tells me you’re the brains behind the operation. The reason we have a diverse portfolio and more than enough money to survive.” 

“Oh. Well- Hawkeye toys sell themselves. But, sure. I’ll take credit for his salary bump. I like to think I’m a little more accommodating than SHIELD.” Allowing yourself one little grin. One little dig. 

“No less dangerous, though.” Her eyes dropped and you worried about what she would say next. “He also tells me you do more than enough. Cleaning up all the mess. I know that can’t be easy.” 

This was too hard to deal with. So flippancy came quickly with a shrug of your shoulders. “Someone has to.” 

“Yeah. Someone does.” 

It was hard to tell what she was getting at- and you didn’t have time to decipher it as Clint finally stopped sneaking around and made an appearance from around the corner. He came over, leaning in to press a kiss to her hair and then murmured something to her. A feeling of realization came over her and she looked a little sheepish. “Hey- food’s about done. Would you mind letting Bruce and Natasha know?” 

The change of subject was so abrupt it left you blinking a few times over. “Bruce is upstairs taking a shower. Do you know where Nat is?” 

Laura was a fraction away from a smirk with a little roll of her eyes as she turned away. “Same direction.” 

Hm. You really hoped… they weren’t doing anything you’d regret walking in on. Though it was nice that they were finding some mutual comfort. 

...a little too much. In a terrible way- different than what you’d expected. 

But as soon as you’d gotten upstairs and were about to knock on the door, you heard Nat. And you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Not really. It was just a little too hard not to after hearing her muffled voice behind that door. “-you still think you’re the only monster on the team?” 

Really. Honestly. This was clearly a private conversation. You needed to turn away or interrupt it. But Bruce answering her, “So what? We disappear?” 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Were they honestly talking about leaving? Ditching the team? It was just that easy? Natasha spoke again. “We keep moving.” 

Maybe you would have continued to listen in, though it was none of your business. It hurt your heart to hear two people you considered family talking about running away from everything- but a strike of surprise hit you sideways. Not just anyone’s. Tony’s. 

It had you turning away. Hurrying downstairs. Putting a hand on the door outside looking at Steve who was suddenly all alone, “Where did Tony go?” Steve looked up at you. “He went into the barn. Something about a broken tractor.” 

Laura called you from the kitchen. “Can you give me a hand with this?” 

“One second!” Calling back and then rushing out into the yard, ignoring Steve’s questioning glance. Moving as quick as you could without actually running. Tony’s initial shock had died down into something uneasy instead- mixed with a familiar sense of dread. 

It was why you almost weren’t as surprised as he’d apparently been, as you opened the barn door- And saw him, wrench in one hand, leaning against the side of the aforementioned busted tractor. Talking to Nick Fury, who was sitting on a bale of hay. 

“What are you doing here?” Quickly you shut the door behind you. 

“Nice to see you, too.” He looked up at you briefly and then very quickly looked down at his hands. 

Tony gave you a small wave. “Hey, honey.” His voice held a small tremble, something that pulled you closer to him. “Did I pocket dial you on accident?” Knowing, probably, why you’d appeared suddenly.

Putting a hand up his arm, you inspected him a little closer. “You okay? He do something to you?” 

“Not yet. He just showed up uninvited.” 

“Oh so like always.” 

Fury spoke up. “You know. I’m sitting right here.” 

Turning towards him, you crossed your arms tight. “You are. Sorry to cut your conversation short but I need to ask you something.” It was now or never, right? Fury was off the grid. There would be no telling when you saw him next. 

“What now?” 

You leveled a hard look at him. “Did SHIELD run experiments on me in 1990? Were you responsible?” 

Maybe it was that he wasn’t expecting you to know about that, or maybe he just wasn’t ready, but he became momentarily stunned. Then there was a bit of odd distress that bubbled up. And very suddenly he was standing- and not looking at you again. His hands went in his pockets as he paced. “You unleash an AI with murderous intent on the world, and yet still everything’s gotta be about you.” 

He seemed a little… off. Was it right? To think Fury would be so put out by you figuring something out? That he wouldn’t have an excuse ready? Was that really the Fury you knew? Maybe whatever he’d been doing in retirement had dulled him. 

“It’s a yes or no question.” You remained firm. This might have been your now-or-never moment. “Did you authorize-” 

“Now is really not the time for this.” The wave of his hand was dismissive. He was trying to play it cool. But everything else that only you could sense was sweating. Afraid. He was afraid of something. 

And that was very, very bad. “What’s the matter with you?” 

“Me?” There was a tiny little uptick in his tone. “Nothing’s wrong with me. How about we talk about Ultron and how you’re gonna clean up your mess.” Deflecting. Still unable to look at you. He honestly seemed like he might bolt out the back door.

This was not- this was not normal. Not for him. He couldn’t be so scared that you’d finally unearthed the truth, right? If Nick Fury was mad about something you were responsible for, he’d be right in your face, and be damned whatever else you were asking for. But this? He was practically about to run.

Some sense of responsibility pulled Tony into speaking. “Look- we’ll figure this out-” 

But you held up a hand to stop him. Something was not right here. All the hairs on the back of your neck were standing. Whatever sort of sense you had for something being wrong with someone- ... wasn’t that all you did? Wasn’t that what you were good for? 

Well. It was ringing like crazy. 

And it was why you let your primary focus go. Why you let your gaze fog up as you dropped below into that space that belonged only to you. That was supposed to be part of you. That was supposed to help you be more than what you were. Damn where it came from. 

What you saw was… Fury. Sort of. But it almost looked like he was drawn over. Like something was outlining him. Almost like the vision of control that others had. But not quite. Getting closer to inspect it, it was almost like a… it was vibrating. Alive. 

But one touch- just a single touch of your pointer finger at his heart- 

Shattered the whole thing- 

And before you could even see what you’d done, Tony’s sudden paralyzing fear, coupled with a sharp yank of your arm dragged you right back to the surface. Your vision cleared. 

His fear became your own very quickly. You double-tapped the Heart Reactor without even thinking, and held your hand up to charge up a repulsor shot. 

Nick Fury was no longer standing in front of you. But what was- 

Something green with pointed ears, still wearing Nick’s clothes, and as it turned to look at you, pitch back eyes- You weren’t successful in keeping your voice firm. “What are you?” 

The thing put its hands up- only just now realizing the hands that he was supposed to have were no longer there. Then the frantic starting shouted. “Wait wait wait!!” Speaking rather perfect english… accented, too. Strangely. ...Australian, maybe? “Wait- don’t shoot-” 

Tony came shoulder to shoulder with you, pointing. “You have ten seconds before she puts a hole through you.” 

“Okay okay alright! Just wait!” 

“Eight seconds.” 

“I’m just a stand-in- look- look alright- I can get Fury on the phone for you- don’t shoot me-” He lifted a communicator out of his pocket. 

This was one thing too many. What were you supposed to do with this? What were you supposed to think about this? But really… the only thing you couldn’t stop thinking- the only thing you couldn’t stop wondering-

How long had Nick Fury been an alien? 

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Sixty Three

[that-buckley-gal]

A Family Matter [Stronger #4]

July 22, 2011

I didn’t expect to fall into a routine so quickly, nor did I really expect that I’d love my new life and the role I had in the world as a secret agent. Natasha and I quickly became friends outside of work once we realized that we had more in common than we first thought, and also because we saved each other’s lives on my first official mission. We had a solid bond based on that trust and it was only getting stronger with each day that passed.

 I also learned that her and Clint were more than just work partners, though they would prefer if I kept it to myself, as if I’d have anybody to tell anyway. They were my mentors but they were also my friends.

 Currently we were in a training room; my friends thought I needed to work on my hand-to-hand combat skills just in case I couldn’t use my powers for any reason.

 I wasn’t allowed to use my powers and Natasha beat me up, not enough to injure but enough to warn me that she could if she wanted, in two minutes. She moved fast and hard but there was a gracefulness in her movements that showed she had ballet training. Afterwards she let me read her file, and told me about her growing up in the Red Room.

 So I was currently sparring with Clint while Natasha gave me pointers. It reminded me of when I used to do this with Bucky and my heart broke a little more every time I remembered him because I missed him so much.

 Clint currently had me over his shoulders, one arm around my throat and the other holding one of my legs in place while the other tried to kick him. He wasn’t trying to hurt me, but his grip got a little tighter for every minute I was stuck here.

 “Think, Madi!” Natasha said. “How can you get out of this without your power?”

 I gripped Clint’s wrist but he didn’t budge, so I grabbed his hand and pulled it to my mouth and bit him. He yelled and dropped me but I managed to catch myself and leg swept him, knocking him to the ground. I stepped back and away, unsure if that was ok for me do.

 Natasha’s slow clap was the reassurance I needed. “Don’t be afraid to fight dirty here. It’ll make it more easier for you to do it out there.”

 “I just don’t wanna hurt anybody here,” I said.

 “It’s all good, kiddo. Nat’s right,” Clint said standing up. “You didn’t even bite me that hard.”

 “Kiddo?” I scoffed. “Technically I’m 87, I’m your senior.”

 Natasha and Clint chuckled before Clint readied his stance again. “Don’t hold back this time.”

 “I’ll try,” I said and readied my stance. Just as I was about to charge him, a man came running in the room. Natasha quickly pulled a gun, seemingly out of thin air, while Clint turned towards the man.

 “Agent Barnes,” he called, coming to a quick stop when he saw the three of us ready to take him out. “Uh, pardon my intrusion, but I have urgent news for Agents Barnes!”

 “Then speak urgently,” I said, relaxing my stance. Clint did the same while Natasha merely lowered the gun to her side.

 The man beamed. “It’s great! Your brother – Captain America – has been found in the Arctic.”

 It took me a moment to process his words. My hands started to shake. My heart rate sped up. “You… They found Steve? They found his body?”

 “No, I mean yes. I mean they found him! He’s still alive.”

 “Steve’s alive?” I whispered. My eyes were glossy and my throat was tight. The man nodded slowly and his smile seemed to grow bigger.

 “Yes,” he said in a slow, distorted tone. I was doing it again. I took a deep breath to slow my heart rate and the man’s voice returned to normal as did time. “They’re defrosting him as we speak, but Coulson gave the order to let you know as soon as possible.”

 “Steve’s alive,” I said. I chuckled a bit in disbelief before everything went black.

 When I came to, the first thing I saw was Natasha and Clint staring at me. “What happened?” I looked around me and saw the man standing there, playing with his tie nervously. “Is it true? Can I see him?”

 “Uh,” he looked at Clint and Natasha, but they weren’t my parents. I pushed myself up, giving myself a head rush that I brushed up.

 “I need to see him, please. I have to apologize for what I said to him last!”

 “Woah, slow down kid.”

 “You just fainted. Slow down a little bit!”

 “No, it’s important,” I said. “You, man, what’s your name?”

 “Agent Casper Matthews, ma’am,” Casper said.

 “Ok, Agent Casper Matthews, take me to my brother please.”

 “Right away, ma’am,” he said.

 “Hold on,” Natasha said grabbing my hand. I stopped and looked at her.

 “Please. I have to see him,” I said. “I know I fainted but believe when I say I feel better. If you’re really concerned about me then come along.”

 Her and Clint shared a look while I left to follow Agent Matthews but I heard their footsteps coming after me and smiled to myself.

 I haven’t seen Steve since that fateful day, 66 years earlier.

 “It’s not about the war.”

 I don’t know how many sleepless nights I spent thinking over our fight, and how wrong I was to try to stop Steve from going. How many times I wished he’d came back that day so I could apologize. How many hours I spent wondering what he meant.

 “This is something that I need to do.”

 His words were in my head. I can hear them clearly as if he just spoke them. He said “need” and not “want”. Of course he needed to do it; the world was at stake. Why did it need to be Steve though?

 My fingers drummed on my knee in an unsteady pattern as thoughts kept going over in my head. There were so many things that happened between the training room and the car we were in now. They told me that they were still melting the ice off of him, and that once he was completely thawed out they would put him in a room and warm him up, and let him wake up on his own. Like they had done with me, except I wasn’t frozen when they found me.

 “How are you going to tell him?” I asked. “Will you send Natasha in for him too?”

 “We were thinking we would send you.” I immediately rejected the idea as I needed time to prepare myself to face him.

 I recognized where we were. The monitors showed Steve sleeping in a bed, in a phony hospital room.

 “He’s gonna see right through this,” I told the SHIELD agents sent to monitor him. Clint and Natasha were acting as my guards. “Especially that radio. You should just shut it off.”

 “We can’t do that from out here, ma’am,” one of the techs spoke curtly.

 “Do you even hear what’s on the radio?” I raged. My heart rate was starting to increase so I took a deep breath. “It’s an old game from 1941. We were there,” I said calmly. “Steve wouldn’t forget that.”

 The tech actually looked nervous but before she could do anything Steve woke up. I sighed and hugged myself, watching with a held breath. A woman walked in and I almost rolled my eyes.

 “Did anybody even do research on what life was like for us back then?” I asked. Nobody answered me and I shook my head, turning away from the monitor and waiting for Steve to do something. Anything.

 A loud crash broke me from my thoughts and Natasha and Clint immediately took a fighting stance while I turned around, searching for the noise. I saw Steve emerge from the fake room and gawking at the two men he threw through the wall.

 There he was. After 66 years. Standing right in front of me. My brother. Steve.

 The feeling didn’t last long as he sprinted from the room, throwing the doors open like they were nothing.

 “Madi wait!”

 I ignored my friends as I chased after him while the intercom announced that we had a Code 13.

 “Steve!” I shouted, but I was one of many calling for him. Other SHIELD agents who didn’t want to get pushed away from Steve tried to stop me instead but I used more aggressive tactics to clear a path. “STEVE!”

 Just as he was about to reach the door, I should his name again. “STEVE!”

 He stopped short and turned. Our eyes met and I couldn’t help but tear up.

 “Steve?” I said again.

 “Madi?” He used my same tone.

 “It’s me,” I said. “I’m here.”

 Steve got a confused look on his face. “What? How? Why? Where are we?”

 “We’re… We’re in New York, brother. Only, it’s 66 years later.”

 “What?” He asked.

 “You’ve been asleep, Cap,” another voice cut in, and I flinched as I realized it was my boss Nick Fury. “For almost 70 years.”

 “They found the ship in the ice,” I said. “The one you crashed.”

 Steve looked down and I could practically hear his thoughts; I’m sure they were similar to mine when I realized my situation.

 “Are you going to be ok?” Fury asked him. Steve looked around once more, at all the agents keeping their guard up ready to take him down. He scanned the interior of the room, the modern architecture and utilities.

 “I’m fine,” he said. “I just… I had a date.”

Peggy.

 “Agent Barnes,” Fury said. “Why don’t you take your brother home and get him caught up.”

 “Yes sir,” I said and stepped towards Steve. He didn’t move as he peered out the window, at the busy and crowded streets of modern-day Times Square, New York. “Oh.” I turned around and saw Clint and Natasha standing towards the back of the room. “I’m gonna need a ride.”

 “You got it, kiddo,” Clint said. Natasha nodded and they took off, supposedly to get a car. “We’ll pick you up there in five minutes.”

 After the other agents were dismissed, I moved to stand by Steve. He didn’t move or speak as I stepped closer to him, and I didn’t have the heart to say anything just yet either. I also didn’t want anyone else to hear what I had to say to Steve, even though I didn’t know what I wanted to say yet.

 Clint and Natasha drove us 20 minutes to downtown Brooklyn where I lived. Once we got there, Steve stood on the street looking around while I had a quick chat with my friends.

 “Don’t hesitate to call us for anything,” Natasha said. “But Clint and I will be leaving in a few days.”

 “I remember,” I said. “And I will call you, thank you.”

 “Take it easy, kiddo,” Clint said. I stepped back from their sleek car and watched them drive away before walking over to Steve.

 “This is close to where Bucky used to live, isn’t it?”

 “It is,” I smiled and took in the unfamiliarly familiar sight of my neighborhood. “Home is home, you know? Want to come inside?”

 Steve only nodded his head and I led him to my apartment, only asking him if he was hungry.

 “The food’s a little better,” I said. “We don’t have to boil everything anymore.” While I made us a simple but tasty lunch, Steve took a self-guided tour of my apartment.

 “I can’t believe you still have this,” he said. I looked up from my stove to see he was studying the wedding photo. His eyes were lingering on Peggy, and Bucky, and Howard.

 “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? We’re here and they’re not.”

 “Are they all gone?”

 “Peg’s still here,” I said. “She’s actually the one who calmed me down when I found out.”

 Steve’s brows furrowed and he turned back to me. “When you found out what?”

 “That it’s 2011?”

 “How are you here?” He asked.

 “After your ship crashed, I came back to New York. Howard gave me a place to stay while he went looking for you. He found the Tesseract instead and brought it to his lab. Just, a freak accident happened and the Tesseract zapped me and Stefan into space and – ”

 “Stefan?”

 “My son?” I said. Steve looked at me sadly. I smiled. “I have a son, Steve. Stefan James Barnes, born June 20, 1945.”

 “Is he…?”

 “He’s still alive,” I said. “I hope. God.” I turned back to the stove and shuffled some pots around. “A lot of things happened between then and now. Stuff you couldn’t possibly believe.”

 “Well, your father was an alien. How much crazier can this stuff be?” Apparently my story was crazier than the fact that my father was an alien. I was grateful that Steve believed me, but I suppose my tattoo and my sword and just the demonstration of my powers was enough to convince him. He did get sad when I told him how I ended up back on Earth, without Stefan. After I finished my story we both ate our lunch in silence. When we finished I sat back and stared at my brother, grateful for his presence.

 “So what do now?” He asked.

 I wanted him to get caught up in the world. I wanted him to go see Peggy. I wanted to tell him about her disease. I wanted to tell him about Howard, and how his son Tony was just like him. I wanted him to be in SHIELD with me so that we could keep an eye on each other now that I could actually fend for myself. I wanted us to go back in time, but I knew there was no way that could happen.

 “I don’t know,” I said.

#stronger #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #clint barton #clintasha #the avengers

[thegirlfromoverthepond]

Some Things Do Happen in the Copy Room

Happy Birthday, @xerxia31 - my dear, dear friend ;)

It’s not much, but here is your birthday gift, beta-ed by the incredible @burkygirl because obviously, I couldn’t ask you :)

“Hey Peeta, can I talk to you for a sec?”

And just like every time someone called out to Peeta Mellark, or he happened to walk by her desk, Katniss lowered her head, desperate to find something - anything - to look at.

Something about the man simply made her react. Maybe there was something enticing about his name. But she didn’t have a crush on him.

Absolutely not.

Katniss Everdeen didn’t have crushes.

Most of the girls in the office were swooning about his blond curly hair, about his bright blue eyes, about the muscles hidden under his shirts, yet it wasn’t any of this that drew her to Peeta.

Well, it wasn’t only his good looks.

She still remembered the days when they were in the same high school. Times had been tough. Her father died. Her mother had a breakdown. Money was tight and she made sure that any food in the house went to sister., It was a time when she almost lost everything.

Almost.

Every day in homeroom, she found a small package on her seat with a sandwich, or a delicacy. The food kept her alive, yet she had no idea where it was coming from…. Until one day, when she spotted Peeta leaving the bag on her chair.

From then, she had started to notice small details about how him. His blonde hair, blue eyes, the quiet force emanating from him. Or how he always held the door open for women. He helped old Mrs. Sae cross the road, He showed genuine kindness every chance he could, even if it meant losing a wrestling match on purpose so his brother could shine.

Not that she ever cared about wrestling, it was just some kind of high school bonding thing.

Right ?

Right.

It was strange to think that after all these years, they were working at the same company, in the same department.

Even after all these years, he was still as kind as he was at sixteen, still opening doors for women, or helping Annie carry her bag every day.

Ten years had sculpted his jaw and broadened his shoulders. That sure was a plus.

Yet, it was no use spending time thinking about Peeta Mellark. She was nothing to him anymore, and she was getting very good at pretending she didn’t care about him.

That’s why she tried to avoid looking at him as much as possible, or going for lunch at the same time, or being alone in an elevator with him (plus the eleven flights of stairs did her legs good).

She even fetched her daily tea and muffin when she knew he wouldn’t be around for his coffee (black, no cream, no sugar). There were times, though, when she couldn’t avoid being in the same room as him, usually when he came to the office she shared with her co workers.

When that happened, she was overcome with an absolute need to to escape being in the proximity of the man every woman she worked with was swooning over.

Every woman but Katniss Everdeen. Pretending he had no effect on her still counted, right ?

Right.

She was saved this time by suddenly remembering she had very important things to do in the copy room. She grabbed the first file she found and made her way discreetly out of the office, walking straight into the room at the end of the corridor.

It was her safe place. Most of the time, the copy machine wasn’t even working, broken for one reason or another, but to Katniss it was the best place to be. The room had a small window where she could gaze at the park one floor down, the little bit of green reminding her of her beloved woods back home.

It was also a place where she could hide for her lunch, or escape Delly’s neverending chatter about things like  the hot new lipstick her favorite actress was pimping on Instagram, or the new kale-based diet. Delly spent an hour analyzing that one.

Katniss usually found herself in the copy room at least once a day.

As soon as she was inside, she released a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding. Here, in the quiet and calm of the copy room, she was able to forget about her non-existent crush on Peeta Mellark, on the absolute-no-effect he had on her.

She put her hands on the windowsill, looking through the glass at the park outside, wishing she could climb the large oak tree, and losing herself to the memories of her childhood.

She jumped when she heard the door creak open and found herself facing none other than … Peeta Mellark.

It was like a slow-motion scene in an ‘80s movie. The door closed and he turned to face her, her eyes soaking up every detail of his tousled blonde locks, his t-shirt stretched beneath the expanse of his chest. His eyes, blue as the sky on a spring morning lit up as he smiled.

“Finally,” he said, gazing down at her with a spark in his eyes she didn’t recognize.

“Escaping the flock of admirers ?” she retorted.

He didn’t take the bait.

“No. I was looking for you.” He took a step forward,  and Katniss felt the cold of the windows on her back as she tried to escape.

“Why?” she managed to whisper. The smell of his cologne was invading her senses, musky, manly.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

It sure wasn’t.

“Why would you be looking for me?” He took another step forward and she felt the icy cold window through the material of her blouse.

“You have no idea, do you? The effect you have on everybody? On me?” he answered, stuffing his hands into his pockets, looking  a bit - shy ?

Katniss was at a loss for an answer. The effect she had ? She didn’t think half of the people in the open space where she worked would be know her name, let alone in the other floors of the building. She was a nobody, and very pleased to be so, thank you very much.

Peeta sighed, moving his eyes from her face to look around

.

“It’s like … every time I try to talk to you, you … disappear. You’re there a second, then gone the next. I’m seriously wondering whether you’re a ninja, you know?”

“I’m not a ninja,” she huffed. How was this possible? That Peeta, her total non-crush-turned-crush could be looking for her ? Plain, simple Katniss Everdeen had nothing to offer to someone like Peeta Mellark.

He chuckled. That’s when she realized she had spoken out loud.

“You’re kidding, right ?” He gazed down at her. “You have fire, a light that shines through you. You’re beautiful. You’re smart -- and I swear, when you sing, the birds stop to listen to you.” He stammered at her startled expression. “I swear I’m not a stalker, I heard you in the park at lunchtime one day.”

She was speechless, bute wasn’t done.

“Do you think you could like me? At least a little?” She turned her head as she felt her cheeks heating. “Katniss, look at me, please,” he pleaded, but she couldn’t find it in herself to raise her head,too afraid of what she could find there - amusement, disdain, disgust ? She wasn’t ready to face rejection.

“Katniss,” he whispered, again.

There was something so raw in his voice, so primal, that she had no choice but to raise her head.

She was astonished to see joy and happiness in his expression, his eyes becoming bluer as he read the truth of her feelings in her face.”

“Do you like me too?” he asked in a voice barely higher than a whisper. She could feel the doubt, the uncertainty behind it.

Her throat suddenly went dry and left her speechless.

Could Katniss dare to admit right here, right then that Peeta was her crush? That he always had been?

She nodded, taking a leap of faith. A simple move of her face, barely perceptible.

Time stopped, or so she thought.

Until Peeta started smiling, wider than she’s ever seen. They closed the gap between them, and she felt his breath on her face and his hands sliding up her arms so slowly, so tentatively -- lighter than the wings of the wind, warm as the embers of a fire, soft as silk. She shivered with anticipation when he put his face closer to her, moving slightly to whisper in her ear.

“You’ve been my crush forever, Katniss.”

His hand had stopped at her left shoulder, as if he was letting her decide where this situation between them would go.

For once, though, Katniss Everdeen was sure of something. Peeta Mellark made her feel things, things she wouldn’t label right now, yet definitely wanted to explore.

She turned her head, her lips coming very close to the corner of Peeta’s mouth. She smiled before quickly leaning in, leaving a whisper of a peck on his cheek, nothing more.

It was just the first step after all.

He took the next one.

His hand caressed her cheek as his lips ghosted over hers, leaving here and there a small kiss, as if they had all the time in the world.

Maybe they did, after all.

She kissed him back, playing the same game as he, finding places on his jaw, just under his ear, or on his pulse point to place soft kisses, delighting at the effect they had on him, at the sounds he made. Then he took control of the kiss, starting to map her lips, his tongue caressing the soft places of her mouth, making her shiver even more, making her moan softly.

They kissed until they were out of breath, their foreheads pressed together, their eyes closed.

Katniss couldn’t help smiling.

“Do you think they’re looking for us?” Peeta whispered, his hand trying to untangle her locks of hair.

“They’re looking for you, probably.”

“They can wait.”

He kissed her again, as if he couldn’t get enough.

She let him, more than happy to comply.

She could do that every day, she realized.

Several times a day.

Yes, she definitely could.

#Happy Birthday #xerxia31 #Everlark #Katniss Everdeen #Peeta Mellark

[madscientistjournal]

Fiction: Victorian Velociraptor with Violets

An essay by Amada, as provided by Andrew K. Hoe Art by Leigh Legler

The opera troupe could handle Amada being a fake name, but not that I was dying. They could handle my seven-foot velociraptor–Rodelia–and I sneaking away at night, but not that we were breaking into factories, hunting without luck for the serum that could save me.

My life-fibers were unraveling, my mutations accelerating, so I addressed everyone at morning meal.

“Rodes mimics any sound she hears. Perfectly.”

Madam Chien and the rest of the August Court of the Full Autumn Moon round the desert camp stared like they didn’t understand English, though they did. I’d learnt enough Chinese to know. Or maybe they were examining the worsening rash on my cheek. I angled my face away. The troupe’s airship, Full Autumn Moon, floated overhead, a great redwood junk, paneled sails gleaming silver in the morning light.

“Why are you telling us now?” Madam Chien, the soprano, asked. Even in her sleeping robe she was glamorous, ageless, ready for the stage.

I swallowed. She’d been kind to us, and I didn’t like what we were about to do. “We didn’t trust you. But now, we want to contribute more.”

Rodelia scratched the ground, rumbling disapproval. Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh …

Madam Chien looked at Rodelia’s five-fingered hands–not the three-clawed manus other raptors had. “Her ability is … traitwoven?”

Traitwoven, like her capacity to stand erect, handle human tools. Her almost-human intellect.

I nodded.

“Such a barbaric land, America. It’s supposedly illegal, but there are raptor-butlers and raptor-porters wherever we land. Black slaves escape north, only to be dragged back south.”

I growled internally. Rodelia’s traitweavings weren’t done here, in America, but in Europe–in a mountain laboratory-fortress we’d escaped months back, life-fibers warped by one Baron Veer.

Mine, too.

Out of everyone, Madam Chien alone knew we left while the troupe slept, but not that we’d been raiding Veer’s American factories: Veritas’s Elixirs and Tinctures. No serum in last night’s raid, but documents indicated Veer himself would be in Phoenix. We needed to steer the August Court there.

“Rodelia can sing.”

That caused the stir I’d expected. Venerable Manager Shen, whose queue was always perfectly braided down his back, sputtered on his pipe. “She what?”

I nodded for Rodelia to demonstrate, but she hissed. Amada?

It wasn’t actually Amada she’d said, but a raptor-sound meaning me whenever she crooned it. Like she was now.

A-maaa-daaaa. Retreat?

I snarled, raptor-language being as much bestial gesture as vocalization. She flinched, as did everyone else. Because of Veer’s meddling, I understood raptors better than others. My human-ish ears didn’t grasp Rodelia’s full vocal meanings, but I parsed enough. To the troupe, to anybody watching us communicate, it must’ve seemed damned creepy.

Reluctantly, Rodelia opened her jaws …

… and Madam Chien’s ringing voice washed over the arid sands, the tree-tall saguaro, the ground-hugging ocotillo. It was a song from the The Dragon Bride, where the concubine stolen from her native land begged her captor-king for mercy, something Rodelia had heard many times now–

“How dare you!” the real Madam Chien exclaimed.

“She … doesn’t use her tongue?” someone asked. “Her teeth? She just … opens wide?”

“This could make Phoenix,” I said to the ground.

“Phoenix!” Manager Shen murmured. “Could we really book … the Orpheum?”

The troupe’s route coinciding with Veritas‘s towns was why we’d approached them. They hadn’t wanted a raptor-porter, though, nor her exceptionally strong, raptor-talking human. They distrusted traitwoven beasts. Velociraptors especially, them resembling the dragons they so revered. How old are you?, Madam Chien had asked. Sixteen, I’d blurted–my best guess. Madam Chien took Manager Shen aside, and grudgingly, he let us aboard.

She’d gotten me decent clothes. She’d left food out for us last night–raptor-kibble for Rodelia, salted eggs and rice gruel for me. If she gave us away now, I’d just claim Rodelia needed to roam.

Madam Chien kept silent, started fanning herself.

“Imagine a singing raptor,” Manager Shen murmured. “What show offers that?”

Madam Chien’s fan stilled. “You’d give my part away?” Everyone flushed, she being more mother to them than prima donna.

“Never,” I insisted. “Rodes’ll be a … pre-show attraction.”

Rodelia lowered her head, chest rumblings sinking to a low keening.

“We’ll call her the Rapturous Raptor,” Manager Shen decided. “Impressions only.” He turned to me. “Any sound, you say? Birdsong? Firecrackers?”

I nodded, avoiding Madam Chien’s gaze. Skin peeled off my knuckles, trickling blood–I shoved them behind my back. Rodelia would pull us to Phoenix. To Baron Veer. The source of serum, and all my present woes.

~

Without serum, I was getting sicker, and the airship’s floaty motion didn’t help. The Full Autumn Moon was bigger than Europe’s zeppelin-busses. Rodelia was in the parlor, where redwood flooring yielded to windowed viewing-bottoms, staring listlessly at red hills and cacti-dotted mesas passing below.

Her weavings were stable, but she was motion-sick, gloomily watching a mustang herd, tiny with distance, gallop up a dust-tail.

Velociraptors weren’t meant to fly. Even the Baron with all his noxious chemicals hadn’t woven any tolerance for flight into her.

“Veer’s here, Rodes. In Arizona. The one who did this to us.”

Another dust storm below–a raptor pack chasing the mustangs.

Once, velociraptors were turkey-sized, before traitweavers shaped them for work. Other animals had been shaped, too, but raptors were especially amenable to weaving. The practice became outlawed, but crates of woven raptors had already been shipped; some escaped, went wild. Now, Rodelia’s seven-foot cousins haunted these deserts.

“I wouldn’t … make it to Utah.” The files from last night’s raid listed a large Veritas facility there.

Rodelia rumbled. Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh …

I remembered enough of Veer’s laboratory to know I never spoke human words there. I picked up English and Chinese from other humans, but raptor-language was my mother-tongue. I was Veer’s handler. Didn’t talk, but drank serum, unharnessed and harnessed his raptors. Treated wounds. Held them as they keened in my arms. They obeyed my hisses and growls unquestioningly. Veer, though, wove command-words into his test subjects. If he was displeased, he’d utter those phrases; we’d shriek in pain until we complied. I remembered spilling serum because I was sick of it eroding my mind. He’d command-worded me, watched me thrash about before making me lap it off the floor.

But I could talk now. I could use Veer’s command-words.

Could make Rodelia address me.

Did she dream of running in a real raptor pack? Maybe she’d tried telling me, but I couldn’t understand. Maybe I didn’t want to understand, she being all I had.

“We’ll get serum from the Baron,” I promised. “Then–” What came after then? The airship jostled, and my stomach lurched. Finally, Rodelia turned to me, nosed my hair.

Rrrrrrrr-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh.

A-ma-daaa. Retreat …

Grateful, I reached up, grabbed her snout. “It’ll be okay, Rodes.”

I stumbled below-decks. My voice was getting raspier. My eyes darker. I wouldn’t be able to hide this much longer.

It was in the costume room Madam Chien cornered me. “You’ve found what you’ve been looking for all these nights, haven’t you? What’s in Phoenix, Amada?”

I shoved my cracked hands behind my back. “Fame for the troupe. Second chance for Rodes and me.”

Madam Chien sighed. “I was sold into opera, you know. Years I spent, against my will, training in Eastern and Western opera … but I lucked upon traveling countrymen. I didn’t need to get as familiar with an airship’s under-compartments as you and Rodelia. Besides myself, I didn’t steal anything–”

I didn’t twitch, but she nodded. “Even we can tell how sophisticated Rodelia’s weavings are. And … her scars–”

“Look, we just–”

“I don’t care about your past, Amada. I don’t care that you’re stealing my show, so long as my family’s safe. Whatever’s in Phoenix … Oh … your cheek’s bleeding–”

I hissed as she reached for my face. It’d steamed from my clenched teeth, instinctual, vicious. My sharp, sharp teeth.

I snatched a coat off the racks, a wide-brimmed hat, brushed past her.

“I once had a daughter!” she blurted to my back, stopping me short. “This family could be yours … if you’d–Wait!”

I pushed on. The troupe loved Rodelia. She was gentle, loved playing fetch. Me, though. If they ever discovered my true nature …

In the hold, I navigated chests to my loosened board: two vials of serum remaining. Funny, how this almond-scented substance I once despised, I now craved.

I sighed, but it came out, eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh …

~

Serum stabilized me, but it fogged my memory. My earliest remembrance was gripping the bars of a cage. Was I an orphan Veer captured? Someone nobody would miss, so he could practice human traitweaving?

Humans were the exact opposite of raptors–they took to weaving easily; human life-fibers rejected it. Thus, human traitweaving was forbidden.

The Baron must’ve been some genius to manage me: my ability with languages, how I’d learned reading so quickly, my raptor-strength–Veer meant more for me than raptor-handling. The more my mutations accelerated, the more I discovered.

But I didn’t want to see what other scaly presents he’d woven under my skin.

~

First show we tried, Rodelia clawed the sand, a foot from the curtain that might as well have been a canyon the way she’d dug in.

I shoved, but even my traitwoven strength couldn’t budge her. “Come … on … Rodes!”

Retreat!, she hissed. Retreat!

Beyond the curtain, Manager Shen stalled the audience. They’d heard Rodelia’s roars, though, were looking nervously our way.

Manager Shen’s nephew, Ah-Shen, eyed Rodelia’s sickle-claws. “Stage fright.”

“Are you kidding me?” I growled, shoving off Rodelia.

“I’ve been raised by an opera-troupe, Amada.”

I wouldn’t use command-words. I wouldn’t. But if we failed here, we lost everything. I bolted towards the airship floating above the redrock behind us.

“Um, Amada?” Ah-Shen yelled.

“Watch her!” I yelled back.

There was something else I’d been keeping under my loosened board besides serum.

When I returned, Ah-Shen was standing stock-still. Rodelia’s eyes rolled; she flexed human fingers–like gripping that battleax Veer made her wield for her duels.

In those scarred, lab-woven hands, I laid a doll. It was doe-eyed, hair in ringlets, lavender dress dotted with tiny purple flowers. Rodelia froze.

I flushed. “Her name’s … Victoria–”

We’d passed a general store weeks ago. Rodelia stopped before the window, looming over this doll, raptor-eyes gone liquid in a way I’d never seen before. The way she purred at that glass brought me back with some dollars Manager Shen paid me.

I’d been hedging, figuring how to give it to her–but now Rodelia cradled Victoria. Raptor eyes couldn’t cry, but …

Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh …

She clutched Victoria onstage, opened wide, and Madam Chien’s voice awed the audience.

Ah-Shen and everyone backstage crowded the curtains, but I stumbled off. My skin burned. Whatever Veer intended, I didn’t think my life-fibers were meant to hold a raptor.

From the stage, cheering. Applause.

I cried–my tears were black. What would happen to Rodelia? What of that creature the Baron stole, who was a girl before his experiments?

That day forward, Rodelia carried Victoria everywhere, slept with it cradled close.

~

The Rapturous Raptor was a roaring success.

Manager Shen swaggered onstage, Rodelia following. Someone yelled Spanish that she mimicked perfectly. Chinese prospectors shouted in some dialect, neither Cantonese nor Mandarin. She reflected it back.

Rodelia had to really concentrate for human voices. It was why we couldn’t communicate that way.

Despite being outlawed, human-handed raptors hauled rocks here. In hotels, raptor-bellhops stood ramrod straight. But I’d never heard anyone wanting a raptor who duplicated sound. Maybe Veer wanted raptor-spies, as well as seven-foot axe-wielding soldiers.

He never called her Rodelia. I called her Rodes, but she picked Rodelia. After hearing a child being called Rodelia, she’d started making uk-uk-uk-uk-uk noises, rocking her tail.

Veer called me something else, too, but I didn’t care to remember.

Rodelia’s raptor-name for me … that never changed. That, I remember clearly.

Lessened serum meant my memories were unclouding. If I was sixteenish, how old was Rodelia? An adult in raptor reckoning? If I concentrated, maybe I could …

Thunderous applause startled me back to present.

Rodelia tromped backstage, grabbed Victoria while Madam Chien and other performers passed for their show. Chien looked to me, but I ignored her.

After they exited, Rodelia snarled, using my voice: “Utah.”

I shoved up the sleeve of the coat I wore everywhere, uncovered the beetle-hide puncturing my skin. Not healthy raptor scales, but black, chitin-hard growth. It was worse round my spine. I knew she smelled the fever coursing through me.

“I’ve been taking serum, small sips, but that only affects the surface. My body’s rejecting it, Rodes.”

Onstage, Madam Chien sang the Dragon Bride’s sorrows, being captured from her faraway land, forced to marry a ruthless king. Offstage, Rodelia keened her own sad song.

Amada …

“He needs to pay, Rodes. He–raaaaaaaaa-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh …”

~

By the time we reached Yuma, we were making triple-earnings. The question was asked: could Rodelia’s performance be expanded?

“How about a doctor, Miss Amada?” Manager Shen asked gently. “It would be no trouble for us.”

I hissed, and he looked away.

Madam Chien was oddly silent. “Let them try,” she murmured. Everyone cheered.

Mei-Li the seamstress started a dress. Rodelia had to stand straight for various fabrics Mei-Li threw over her. Rodelia rumbled darkly; Mei-Li paled. I pointed her to Victoria sitting on a chair. The seamstress concocted a lavender affair with violets lining the bodice, a silver wig with purple flowerets like Victoria’s–these Rodelia accepted.

Gum-Loong the painter started painting the flower-set wig; the lavender dress; Rodelia’s regal stance; human hands–but just half her face, jaws open in mid-vocalization.

“I’ll do her eyes last,” he explained. “Something’s missing, though. With her hands.”

I studied the painting. He was right, but I couldn’t place it.

At Flagstaff, Rodelia strode onstage in dress and wig, gobsmacking everyone. But they cheered when she opened her jaws and released the “Four Part Song.” She hunkered offstage, rumbling disapproval. Soon as the dress came off, she cracked her spine, assumed her natural raptor’s crouch.

At Flagstaff, Rodelia strode onstage in dress and wig, gobsmacking everyone.

Manager Shen returned from town with a fancy-looking invitation. “The Orpheum in Phoenix has renovated–they want us to be their inaugural performance!” He squinted at the print. “A baron has requested us! Baron … Vvv-ver–”

“Veer,” I said.

Rodelia growled low.

“You’ve heard of him?” Manager Shen asked.

Every day, my memories sharpened. I remembered Veer watching his sword-wielding raptors duel, scribbling in that notebook he kept in his waistcoat pocket. “Oh, yes. Baron Veer loves a good show.”

~

We remained in Flagstaff to prepare The Dragon Bride–with Madam Chien and Rodelia.

Townspeople gathered amongst the bracken and cacti, watching us rehearse the part where the foreign queen, about to be executed by her captor-king, revealed her true form–the dragon–and, against her kind’s peaceful nature, stormed the court.

When Madam Chien had played the part alone, she’d signified this transformation with a mask, but today Rodelia switched places with her, charging onstage in her lavender dress, her flashing silver hair. She shrieked, shredded her dress. The crowd hooted.

While they applauded, Rodelia stalked to me.

RRRRRRRRRAAaaaaa! Leave Baron!

I removed my hat, bared my fangs. I’d seen my reflection to know I didn’t have eye-whites anymore, just sheens of darkness. “We escaped, but he’s … still … hurting … me.”

Rodelia nuzzled my forehead. Amada. He force. Now we choose.

Because of my decay, I understood her better now than ever before.

But it was too late. I pointed to the suited men among the still clapping crowd. Veer’s men. From this distance, everyone must’ve thought we were chatting about hairstyles. “He knows we’re with the August Court. We run, he’ll attack them.”

Rodelia roared, RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

She streaked across the sand, vanishing through some redrock. In the sudden quiet, I waved, replaced my hat. “BATHROOM BREAK!”

The crowd laughed.

Rodelia would return. She was just shocked; her raptor’s mind couldn’t conceive how human plots worked. But I’d explained it to her. We’d announced ourselves with the Rapturous Raptor. Now that Veer knew we were in Arizona, his associates would ensure we headed to the Orpheum. If we didn’t, they’d slaughter those she’d come to love.

~

I slept far from camp now. The turning worsened at night. Drifting between waking and sleeping, I imagined walking the laboratory’s corridors again–Veer made his subjects duel in booby-trapped mazes–and CLACK–I smelled serum. I ran towards light spilling from an opened door, but through that door I saw … me … human me … in a violet-set dress and silver ringlets, staring back.

I reached out–with no hand, but a scaly, three-clawed raptor’s manus–an old nightmare, something I dreamed often–

Behind me, this sad, sad moaning–UHHHHHHHHHH …

It was me—I was moaning–I was sad–

I jolted awake to Rodelia cradling me. I’d been sipping serum to survive, letting it addle my memories even as they cleared. I’d one vial left–for Phoenix. Rodelia crooned, eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh, raptor-eyes sad. She mewled her raptor-name for me, and as I drifted, I thought I heard in her calling something of wide vistas and the running pack, sun and sky.

Amada … Amada choose retreat …

My clawed hands clenched.

Never.

He had to pay.

~

From Full Autumn Moon‘s view amongst the clouds, Phoenix looked alabaster, enormous factories puffing smoke like carnival fairy floss. Atmospheric balloons floated over flagstone plazas, silver-skinned steam-cars and trains. A rose-winged dirigible bearing laughing passengers passed us, raptors shoveling coal in the engine compartment. We descended below Phoenix’s skyline, approaching a columned building and its landing square.

“The Orpheum,” Manager Shen murmured. “Newly renovated. You’ve recovered just in time, Amada!”

I wore a cream-colored dress Mei-Li made me. My skin was clear, my irises humanly brown again. But the raptor within clawed away. My whole body felt clenched.

I smiled for Manager Shen.

The airship didn’t anchor this time, but landed on the flagstones.

From a ramp, Rodelia descended in a new dress, alongside Madam Chien and everyone else. Rodelia’s sickle-claws click-click-clicked on the flagstones. Behind us, Ah-Shen and other stagehands bore props. I’d made Rodelia leave Victoria, hardening myself to her whines. Her hands twitched; she turned, sniffed, sniffed again, the picture of nervousness in a raptor.

“Wait!”

Queue bouncing, Gum-Loong the painter ran up to hand Rodelia … a lavender fan. The something that was missing. Rodelia flipped it open with dexterous fingers.

At the square’s roped-off edge, men and women in opulent dress applauded. The Baron was nowhere in sight, but he was here. Long as the crowd was around, he’d be careful.

Orpheum staff in crimson jackets ushered us inside. Plush seat-rows unfolded from the stage like layered rose petals, everything reeking of new wood, fresh varnish. They’d spared no expense. Madam Chien smiled, but didn’t look impressed.

I caught Rodelia eyeing me sadly. Since I’d downed my last vial, a curtain dropped between us. My ears had regressed; I couldn’t parse her raptor-nuance so well.

“Rodes. Look.” Reaching behind some boxes, I brought out Victoria. She purred in surprise. I couldn’t keep it away after all. “I’ll handle the Baron. You don’t have to do anything.”

She nuzzled her doll, not hearing me. Her home aboard Full Autumn Moon was assured. They were her family now, would care for her better than I ever could. She’d be safe, once I took care of Veer.

Yesterday, I’d pulled Ah-Shen aside. “In case I’m … busy … you’ll take care of her? See she has Victoria? That she gets to hunt off-ship?”

He’d cocked his head. “Of course. Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s perfect,” I’d replied. “At long last, we’re playing in Phoenix tomorrow.”

~

Baron Veer entered with the audience, surrounded by suited men. He didn’t see me, but, oh, I saw him from the rafters I’d climbed onto. I hissed. Black jacket, pasty face, a big man I could easily shred. He kept glancing to the stage, hungry for his escaped subjects–the ones he didn’t euthanize.

The last of the serum was fading fast. I was remembering the night he gave that order. He’d used his command-words, made me kill my raptors. My raptors! They watched me through their muzzles, not understanding what I was injecting them with. Through tears, I watched their eyes flutter.

There I was, one raptor left, holding that huge needle before Rodelia. She always obeyed me. Always. She … said something … something that broke the spell … my name … my raptor-name …

We escaped that night.

The stage lights dimmed, reminding me of my mission.

I gripped the beam. Rrrrrrrrrrrrr-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh …

All through the audience hushing, the first strains of song, the opening battle scene, I stared at Veer, feeling my body sear away any last dregs of serum. Weeks of turning reasserted themselves.

He squirmed, impatient for Rodelia’s appearance. He wasn’t into opera, didn’t know the story. If he uttered his command-words, I’d freeze, and he was fast with them. I needed to wait until he was completely absorbed. I needed to wait until Rodelia’s entrance.

Intermission, lemonade in sparkling glasses, chatter. Someone announcing the Veritas-sponsored renovations to gentle applause.

Veer renovated the Orpheum?

But the curtains rose again; Madam Chien, as foreign concubine, got dragged out. The king ordered her execution. She ran backstage and Rodelia strode forth–the Dragon Bride. Everyone gasped as Rodelia sang her rage and sorrow, ready for the slaughter. Below me, Baron Veer leaned forward …

He wasn’t looking at her. His head darted round … looking … for me?

His human experiment? The girl who’d lapped serum off the floor, while he took notes? Not just once. I’d been refusing serum for weeks, so he’d made an experiment of it.

Rodelia’s voice crescendoed, lifting Veer’s eyes upward. His eyes widened. With my raptor-hearing, I heard him whisper. “Subject Camille-Zero.”

I leaped down, claws extended, dress billowing like bat wings.

RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAA!

Rodelia’s soprano voice changed into a raptor’s call. In that split-second of mid-descent, I finally understood Rodelia–really understood her. She sung the song of the pack, hideous to human hearing, but to me … it was about sunsets and sunrises, cool night, hard sand under sickle-claws, tail held taut like a sail, guiding the sprint. It was my name, my true raptor-name she’d been calling me all along.

He forced us. Now we choose.

Do not kill for him, Mother. Not anymore.

I landed amongst screams, audience members leaping up. Onstage, Madam Chien and the others gaped.

Veer was within reach, a meat-bag ready for shearing … but … Mother … Why’d she … ? All this time, it wasn’t Amada she’d been saying …

“Camille-16-alpha–HOLD!”

I froze, collapsed onto one knee. Camille. That was my designation.

“Release the Scyllas!” Veer yelled. “Collect Camille-Zero!”

His men rose, pulling syringes from their jackets.

CLACK.

Somewhere in the Orpheum, a door had opened. There was hissing, the scent of cloying gas … and clanking–metal grating against metal. Something heavy, coming our way.

Veer made his subjects duel in booby-trapped mazes.

Rodelia shredded her dress, vaulted from the stage.

“Viktra-16-alpha–HOLD!” Veer commanded imperiously. Rodelia squalled in mid-leap, crashed onto the carpet. Veer’s men surrounded her quivering form. Retreat, Mother!

“Kill the Viktra!” Veer ordered. “Contain Camille-Zero!”

I remembered.

The Camilles were first, for infiltration. Their weavings were extensive; all died, except one. The Viktras were for combat. Was there a Scylla series, though? I roared, reptilian scales bursting through my cheeks.

People at the edges of the seat-rows gasped.

“My god … what is she?”

“She’s not human!”

They were right. I was no human turned raptor … but a raptor woven to look human.

The Baron was going to kill my daughter. A Viktra-clone, but my daughter nonetheless. Sprawled on the ground, Veer’s men mounting her, Rodelia’s wide eyes found mine. She opened wide, repeating what she’d said that night we’d escaped, the first part in Veer’s voice, the last in raptor: “Camille-16-alpha–free yourself, Mother!”

Lapping serum off the floor, for weeks, had lessened the dosage–I’d understood her that night.

And, as happened that night, I obeyed. I knocked my attackers back, leapt to Rodelia. Speaking was hard; I needed to concentrate: “Vvvvviktra-16-a-alphaaa–ssssssSTAND!”

Forced to comply, Rodelia righted herself, tossing off men, just as two saurian beasts lumbered into the hall. Raptors taller than Rodelia, in breastplates and helms, raptor-sized rifles in human hands, reeking of acrid rot and almond-scented serum.

People flooded the theater’s far sides as they bayed, “UUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHH …”

They were blind, eyes milky white. Their skin, ulcerous, wet. The gas–some serum-vapor–they were unstable, shambling forth unsteadily.

“Scyllas!” the Baron yelled. “Attack!”

Rodelia and I engaged. I landed before Veer, claws held high. Veer’s smug expression faded–he looked for his enforcers, but they were running–finally! He would pay!

A Scylla rammed its rifle stock into Rodelia’s jaw, crumpling her. A bayonet extruded from the other’s barrel.

I could end Veer so easily! But Rodelia … the Scylla raised its bayonet … Rodelia’s words, Now we choose—

Advance, or retreat? Utah, or Phoenix? Serum, or Veer? Veer … or … ? Kill, or … ?

Like the Dragon Bride, I poured my fury into a single call: STOP! The Scyllas froze, white eyes flicking to me.

“Camille-16-alpha!” Veer yelled, “TWO STEPS BACK!” My feet moved, one, two. But I dropped claws of my own volition.

Children, I begged the Scyllas. Don’t kill for him! Their armored heads turned to me, rifles lowering.

The Baron was talking, saying it was over, the Scyllas were deaf to all but his voice, a new traitweaving after my escape–and I didn’t care. I’d listened enough to him, when I should’ve been listening to Rodelia, my clone-daughter. These Scyllas were my daughters, too.

Children!, I pleaded over his words. I understand now. I thought I had to kill him. That killing was the only way for him. For me. I was wrong. You can choose—

Veer stamped his foot. “Camille-Zero, you will listen! Scylla-16-alpha–COLLECT CAMILLE-ZER–”

“Scylla-16-alpha–TURNABOUT!”

Veer blinked. He hadn’t spoken, but his voice …

Rodelia was standing now, jaws open. She’d heard that order many times. The Scyllas faced Veer.

“That’s not me, you fools! Scylla-16-alpha–BELAY PREVIOUS ORDER!”

The Scyllas wickered, confused.

“Scylla-16-alpha,” Rodelia commanded. “ATTACK!”

Despite their blindness, they leveled rifles with alarming accuracy. People surged for the archways, no longer caring how close to the Scyllas they got. The Baron turned, but I grabbed him, plunged claws into his midsection–he screamed. I yanked out his notebook, years of scribbled notes.

His work disintegrated in my fist, pages spilling instead of blood. Fabric tore as he broke away. The Scyllas stalked after him.

Wait! I called, Don’t follow. Please! They ignored me, clanking through the archway he’d disappeared through.

Beyond, I heard Veer shouting, “Help! Velociraptors in the theater–some monster in a dress!” There was gunfire, the Scyllas’ sad moaning.

Rodelia nudged me. Mother?

I didn’t have teeth anymore. Fangs. I had fangs. A tongue that struggled forming human sounds. I couldn’t protect her. Not without my human words. It hurt to breathe. Twice, she’d saved me. I had to save her.

“Vvvvviktra-s-si-sixteeeeeeen-alphaaaa,” I managed. Rodelia cocked her head, confused.

The rest, I said in raptor: Run. Live. Don’t follow me.

“AAAAAAAAA-RAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

She thrashed, shook her head wildly in denial. She moved towards me, but I raked her forearm, drawing blood. She screamed, turned, and was gone. It hurt. Like something ripped from me, vanished forever. I crouched by the stage, claw-hand brushing something:

Not Victoria … the fan. Still carrying her scent.

“Come, Amada.” I smelled Madam Chien. She pulled my arm over her shoulder, dragged me along until we crashed into the screaming night.

~

She took me to some empty house. The August Court wouldn’t leave Phoenix for a while. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t talk anymore.

“You poor child,” Madam Chien said, sounding far away. Her words blurred. “Veritas … found Veer’s notebook … He was perfecting the serum off you … It would’ve allowed monstrous weavings–”

I was losing my human ears.

My ability to tell time, too. She brought meat that I turned from.

Sunlight burned me. I crawled in a ragged robe, smeared with melted skin. Madam Chien lit candles I cowered from.

But the flickering glow struck something my ruined eyes remembered. I found my feet. Click-drag, click-drag, click-click. Something rectangular. What was the word … door. In it, a woman in a violet-set dress. Her face wasn’t finished.

“Hello, Amada.” I flinched; it was Gum-Loong. The painter.

“The investigators want an exhibit,” Madam Chien said from behind me. “An illustration of her … augmentations. We never took a daguerreotype of her–”

Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh … They weren’t bothered by the sounds I made. I touched a claw to the frame.

I reached out–with no hand, but a scaly, three-clawed raptor’s manus–an old nightmare, something I dreamed often–

It was me–my best part. Rodelia, who loved a doll named Victoria. How long was I in Veer’s laboratory, shaped by his chemicals?

The Camilles were first. Their weavings were extensive; all died, except one.

Madam Chien held out a familiar-looking dress, sewn anew, absent of her scent. Madam Chien helped me into it. Gum-Loong prepared his brushes, but I made a sound.

“Here.” Madam Chien pushed the fan into my claws. “We couldn’t find Victoria.”

It took several sessions, what with my weakness. Each time they left the easel, I crawled to the meat they’d brought, and fed.

How long did I writhe on that floor, feeding, shivering?

After each painting session, the image evolved. She was singing. Calling me forth. My raptor-hearing had finally come. Songs of sunlight. Desert sand. Running with the pack. I tossed my robe. Tail raised, I click-click-clicked outside.

So many raptor scents in the night. Enslaved in mines, in hotels, locked in pens. I had many children once. I would have many children again.

But first, my daughter.

I called into the desert, to announce my coming.

RRRRRRRRR–AAAAAAAAAA–EH-EH-EH-EH-EH-EH-EH …

Amada (last name unknown) is currently at large in Arizona. She is wanted by the authorities of Phoenix for the destruction of the Orpheum Opera House, for questioning regarding the now defunct Veritas Elixirs and Tinctures, for the trial of Baron Helmut Veer concerning illegal experiments. Be forewarned, she is 5 feet 2 inches, sixteen years, brown-eyed, and of slight build, but possesses strength and agility most uncanny. She was a raptor-handler for an opera troupe. She speaks and reads many languages, is familiar with airships, and converses with raptors. $500 reward–yield her up.

Andrew K. Hoe is an associate professor of English and speculative fiction author based in Southern California. He is also an assistant editor and narrator for Cast of Wonders. Though he is excited to appear in Mad Scientist Journal, he is actually not a mad scientist–but insists that nobody can be perfect.

Twitter: @andrewk_hoe

Web: andrewkhoe.wordpress.com

Leigh’s professional title is “illustrator,” but that’s just a nice word for “monster-maker,” in this case. More information about them can be found at http://leighlegler.carbonmade.com/.

“Victorian Velociraptor with Violets” is © 2019 Andrew K. Hoe Art accompanying story is © 2019 Leigh Legler

Fiction: Victorian Velociraptor with Violets was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

#Amada #Andrew K. Hoe #Dinosaurs #Genetic Engineering #Leigh Legler

[xiaomomowrites]

Against the Clock [Oneshot]

100 Prompts: Timing Attack on Titan | Eremika

Summary: "Hey," he greets unceremoniously, not even sure at this point what it is he wanted to accomplish. If he was going to be completely honest with himself, he really just wanted to see her. She seemed to understand what was going on in his mind. She always knew. But timing's a bitch, and the circumstances were an even bigger bitch.

Find this story on AO3 and on FanFiction! {levi-nii-san | amapalayeah}

A/N: I love petty Eren. Set shortly after Eren threw his little bitch fit in Marley lol.I had originally written this EXACTLY a year ago, when all was still well, more or less. And here I am, heartbroken as ever once again lol, revisiting and flushing out some old fics. I enjoyed this particular one because it seems as though pouring my real life grievances onto these troubled kids makes for a story that fits in just well. With what's happened in the manga since I wrote this originally, I feel like it explains Eren's “I've always hated you” nonsense all while making feel validated in my sorrow haha. Anyway enjoy!

The image of her looking up at him with a plethora of emotions painted on her face burned in his mind, long after they escaped the whole fiasco.

Every time he closed his eyes, he would see her own, bright as ever despite accepting that maybe that was it for them. She seemed genuinely fulfilled and content- elated, even- that she was spending what should have been her last moments, with him.

Like any normal human being trapped in the fight or flight response, Eren just sat there, frozen, as she delivered her speech. And consequently, long after the incident itself, his mind had saved the situation as an mp4 file for him to replay over and over again.

The sparkle in her eyes, the way she leaned towards him, beautiful as ever despite being so broken, it all haunted him in the year and a half that followed. He wondered if she could see right past his blank stare and perplexed gawking that day.

Did she know that he found her absolutely alluring, despite sitting in what was probably the worst situation in their lives? Did she know of the thoughts that ran through his head, too fast to catch? Did she feel the emotions engulfing him whole, as he so desperately wanted to reach out to her? Did she know that if she had indeed just closed the distance between them, he would have kissed her back?

And it didn't exactly hit him until later on that that was her goodbye, that her whole speech thanking him had essentially confirmed her intent to die by his side. Through thick and thin indeed.

If that wasn't bad enough, the sound of her soft voice resonated in his mind, accompanying the imagery that distracted him so badly. It was the perfect concoction to drive him mad. He heard her voice, over and over again:

"Thank you, Eren, thank you…"

Not that he hated it. At all.

And if he was going to be completely honest with himself, he wasn't actually as annoyed as he made it seem. The thought of her was the only thing keeping him sane lately, if he could even be considered sane anymore, since it seemed like their days were numbered and their friendships were on thin ice. It was hard enough to trust anyone at this point, let alone let anybody be this close to him. Trust was being broken left and right, and it was getting increasingly difficult to believe that people who supported him were truly on his side. Loyalties were put in question everywhere he looked, and it didn’t help that even Armin was starting to lose the spark that fueled the young man’s attachment to him. It seemed as though every time he reached his hand out to save Eren, there was less and less light in his eyes. It felt like their friendship was an obligation at this point, and Armin was not having it anymore.

The world was looking darker and darker every day, but she seemed to be a small flicker of light at the end of the tunnel, seeing as he didn't even know what the end looks like anymore. Of all the people he was surrounded with, and all the anxieties that accompanied that, Mikasa’s trust and loyalty seemed to be the only solid given in his life at this point. Even after that unpleasant conversation.

It absolutely infuriated him to think that it took that much for him to see that.

That she had been there all along, that she was the only one who never let the fire inside of her for him die down. Who knows how she kept it burning, but she did it anyway, and it brought a pang of guilt into Eren’s heart to remember how much he tried to put it out himself.

And then came the knowledge of the Ackerman bloodline: their tendency to become extremely invested into one person to a point where separation would physically weaken them. There it was: the obligation. She wasn't tied to him because she cares, she was tied to him because she had to be. He saved her, right? Since they were nine, Eren was all Mikasa knew. And so years of her life were spent, dedicating herself to some reckless idiot while she could be off somewhere better, living her life as the heir to her clan. It absolutely aggravated him.

So naturally, he did what he did best and lashed out. The multiple voices in his head became one, and before he knew it, the words "I've always hated you" left his crusty mouth.

In retrospect, Armin stepping up to deck him in the face was very just.

Could he blame himself though? It was getting increasingly difficult to differentiate which thoughts were his and which weren’t. It felt a lot like he was drowning these days, but in the small pockets of air that he was allowed, he really did think about her.

It made sense: why she always acted the way she did, now that he knows her true feelings for him. Although never quite outright said, "I love you," it seemed to resonate in him since the incident, and he just understood what she meant. It surely did not excuse her erratic behavior in the past, or the irresponsible decisions she has made (really, she insisted, they were for his sake), but it definitely shed a new light on her motives.

Annoying as it was, Mikasa truly, against all odds, loved him. Now temporarily sober, he refused to believe that their friendship was just some cosmic bond.

Eren took a deep breath, overwhelmed by all these thoughts. It was only nine in the morning for fuck's sake, and he was already thrown into a spiraling depression from the confusion and internal conflict, especially from the one question that just seemed to linger:

How did he even feel about her in the first place?

Well, he hated her. That is what he told her after all.

He hated the way she always trailed behind him like a shadow. He hated the way she always followed him no matter where he went. He hated how she thought she needed to protect him from everything that came his way, even and especially the choices he was making himself. And that he couldn’t change her mind about it.

He hated how she used to talk to him like he was her child, telling him to be careful and to stay behind her, like she had no regard for how much of a blow this was to his manhood and his self-inflated ego. He would call her out for nagging him, and in the most annoyed tone he could muster, tell her that he didn’t need another one of her lectures. And maybe only then, she’d be quiet.

He hated how when he did shut her up, a surge of unwanted guilt would overtake him. That stupid face she always made, when she pouted and nodded her head before keeping her mouth shut would drive him over the edge. She was only trying to help. It was a cycle; sometimes he felt a little trapped, and sometimes he knew she did too. It wasn’t the healthiest of relationships. The way their personalities clashed and their common one-track mindedness always tangled themselves into one another was definitely not something to dismiss lightly.

He hated how she was so damn strong. Mikasa Ackerman, top graduate of their class, one of humanity’s strongest, had so much potential to be humanity’s hope. She held in her hands immense power and strength, and anyone with eyes could see that she could do anything she set her mind to.

And yet, here she was: by his side, relying on him for her happiness. He knew, genuinely, that she had it in her to surpass them all, to achieve great things, and maybe even carry out his ambitions.

So why the fuck then, was she instead devoting all her energy to him? And why the fuck did it take him this long to push her away, to sever that connection so that she can reach her full potential? Was he really that selfish all this time?

He hated how she would always put herself in danger just for him. It’s like she had absolutely no regard for herself from the moment she met him, only staying alive so that she could take care of him. She sacrificed way too much, and for what? To see him through? Eren didn’t even think he was worth shit some days; his drive was his goals, and sometimes the only reason he would keep going was to see those goals come to pass. It severely confused him to think that her drive was his future.

Especially when all signs were pointing to his future being cut short.

He hated how her love and affection only reminded him of his caring, loving mother. She definitely had that maternal instinct in her, and it probably was part of the reason the fire inside of her was able to burn so brightly despite the hardest of times. If he ever dared to admit it, even to himself, he appreciated the way that she embodied the only other source of comfort in his life, when he no longer had his mother around. Every way that he had rejected his mother’s care for him as a strong-willed, hard-headed little boy, he was able to redeem through caring for Mikasa instead as they grew up together.

He hated how he treated her, more than anything. He hated how for the longest time, he was only capable of snapping at her from force of habit. And how she would try not to be sad about it, but he knew. He hated how every time he shoved her and she fell back a few steps, she would look at him like a little girl who just got bullied by a much bigger kid.

There was a brief season in their lives, when light still shone clearly in his eyes, where they seemed closer than they had ever been in their late teen years. After their little episode with the smiling titan, Eren’s newfound gentleness had a huge impact on their relationship. For a while, he was happy despite the problems that surrounded them, and so was she. It was comforting, it was healthy, it felt right.

That is, until things went to shit again, and their relationship hit yet another iceberg. When he would occasionally come to his senses, Eren would realize how awful he indeed has been to her, and it would cause a writhing pain in his gut that would be drowned out shortly after by the darkness that overcame him so frequently.

He hated how every time he tried to push her away for his and her sake, she would let him a little bit. Let the feelings simmer. Let the space between them grow enough to where he would inevitably come back, like a boomerang. How could he be angry at her if she dealt with him so correctly? They had come such a long way from when they started (when he was a hot headed idiot and she was so painfully codependent), and it seemed like it was only getting harder to push her away, even if he knew deep down it might be the right thing to do for both of them.

He hated the temptation of coming back to her even more. It was such a strong, compulsive urge to return to her, return to something familiar, return to his light. The gravity between them was nearly impossible to fight sometimes. It weighed him down, it kept him grounded, it kept him sane.

He hated how she would just do anything he said, and he truly realized this a while back, when he told her to cut off all her hair (again), just to see if she would. He found her later, her shoulder-length hair bunched up in one hand, holding scissors up to it. Eyes shut, grimacing with so much hesitation, and she only stopped when he took the scissors away from her.

In fact, he didn’t even have to tell her what to do, as she demonstrated a few days ago when the three of them had their talk. A small part of him that dwelled deep inside all the fucked up layers that he wore now was quite delighted when she defended him out of instinct. But then the voices told him to shut that down.

He hated how he loved her. He loved how he could always count on her presence to be by his side, especially when he felt so lost and detached from himself. He loved the way she would sit by him during meal times and kept him company (and protection, and comfort, and hope, but he would never tell her that to her face), until she didn’t anymore. When all hope was lost and he wasn’t even sure which way he was going, all she needed to do was be beside him, in comforting silence, as her presence was enough to slow his panic to a halt.

It made him wonder if she still felt the same.

He loved how he could always count on her. He loved how she was the only one who seemed to understand him, especially when everyone else was against him. Eren was the epitome of outgoing, extroverted, charming (more or less). Anyone who crossed paths with him was captivated by his ways, good or bad. But despite all this popularity and notoriety,  Mikasa was the only one who saw right through his clout-covered exterior. It was truly a gift from above to know that somebody knew who he truly was without having to explain himself, even and especially at his worst.

He wondered briefly if she saw right through him when he said the words that visibly tore her heart out of her chest.

He loved all the ways she was ingrained in his life.

He loved her.

It wasn't so much a hard pill to swallow, because really, it had been in his mouth for a while now anyway, dissolving, though the taste was a little bitter. It was just so strange to finally accept it. It felt like a huge weight he had been trying to lift from his shoulders was lifted on its own.

The only problem was that he knew the situation they were currently in. There was still so much to do, and they couldn't afford to be so emotionally invested in one person. Not to mention he was kind of a major douche to her a couple days ago and there was no way her friends would let him near her at this point. With the shitty way things were unfolding before them, it would only bring immense pain and suffering in the end. The war was not even close to being over.

Timing was a bitch, he thought; otherwise things might be different.

But following this realization came a wave of protectiveness and possessiveness for the girl, even though it flickered on and off. Especially after everything that has happened.

That light flickered on. He found himself in the corridors, two night later. His feet were dragging, but he had a purpose burning somewhere in his chest; he was hell bent on seeing it through before it disappeared once again when the light burns out.

The sight of his comrades grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him forcefully back into a time when things kind of made sense. He kept his facade though, as he had been for the last few months.

He sees Connie first and the look of disgust that accompanies the sight of Eren.

Connie gently taps Jean’s shoulder, tilting his head towards their visitor, “the fuck?”

Jean’s face hardens, and he pulls away from Armin to confront, except Eren wasn’t even looking at them.

He watched her as a smile threatened at the corner of his mouth, a sensation he hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity. Mikasa sat in the corner, fiddling with the scarf on her lap that seemed to bring her more pain at this point. She only looked up when she felt the burning gaze on her bare neck.

“What the hell are you doing here, man?” he sneered, “Haven’t you done enough damage?”

Eren looked at him up and down, refusing to give him the satisfaction at first. Then he sneered, “so are you a guard dog now?”

Armin turns his head, a tired look in his eyes, “can you go find someone else to bother?”

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’ for emphasis, and a coil in Jean snaps. He grabs the bar of the cell, and the clanging noise alerted everybody there. All eyes turned to them.

“Listen, asshole-” he growls, but Eren doesn’t even flinch. They both seem at loss for words, but there was definitely a fire there.

He came here for one purpose, and one purpose only. But as soon as he turned his attention away from her, the light suddenly flickered off once more. And as if on cue, the object of his affection stood up, placed the scarf on the table, and padded over to them with Armin on her tail.

Mikasa sighs, her focus aimed at calming Jean down. She reaches out gently and placed his hand in both of hers. They all watched as the gesture puts out the fire, just like it had years ago the first time Jean and Eren fought.

Except this time, the tables were turned.

The sight makes Eren’s chest constrict and suddenly his heart is in his stomach. It becomes hard to breathe, as memories flood through his own mind. The pain was fleeting, but it was enough to make him feel human again for a split second, and he welcomed it. There was color again in his vision, until everything turned gray again.

“It’s…fine,” she says gently, and Jean just scoffs.

Eren’s nostrils flared, but nevertheless he maintained the facade as the boys relented. She nudges them behind her, as though to protect them from what’s coming next, but it never came.

Instead, he leans forward slowly, his forehead rested on his arm. His eyes look dead as ever, but there’s something there that she barely manages to catch. She shrinks backwards slightly, and his eyes flicker to Jean once more.

‘Look away, man, she’s mine,’ he seemed to say without actually saying it.

Jean rolls his eyes, prompting Connie and Armin to follow, and Eren looks way too satisfied with himself.

"Hey," he greets unceremoniously, not even sure at this point what it is he wanted to accomplish. If he was going to be completely honest with himself, he really just wanted to see her.

Mikasa sighed; she had no tears left to cry, and no words left to say to him. Instead, she shakes her head apologetically and takes a step back to disengage. Had she broken eye contact any sooner, she probably wouldn’t have gotten the message. There was a pleading look in his half-lidded eyes.

She seemed to understand what was going on in his mind. She always knew. But timing's a bitch, and the circumstances were an even bigger bitch. But for the first time in a long time, maybe not to anyone else, but to her, his eyes seemed to speak volumes and told her everything that she needed to know for now.

It gave her a twinge of hope to hold onto, even if she didn’t want it.

Perhaps she just needed to endure a little longer. From her peripherals, she could see them calling her back, and she takes her leave. He knocks his fist gently against the bars as she breaks eye contact. The light flickers off again and his feet feel even heavier than before when he walks away.

Maybe the timing isn't right just yet, but he loved her, and she knew. And that was enough.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot #snk #attack on titan fanfiction #eremika #eremika fanfiction #Eren Jaeger #Mikasa Ackerman #Jean Kirschstein #armin arlert #aot chapter 112 #eremika oneshot #eren x mikasa #mikasa x eren

[maid-of-mourne-shore]

Anyone Except You

Hello! This is my entry to @becaamm‘s writing contest! I tried to make one those fancy picture things to match the story because I think they’re nice. My beta reader was the wonder @hadespuppy

Summary: When Officer Barnes contemplates his feelings for someone just a little too late.

Prompt: “How do you know you’re in love with someone?”

Word count: 5.2K

Modern AU

Warnings: Angst, active shooter, violence (fluffy ending!)

Masterlist

“Steve?”  

“Yeah, Buck?”  

“How do you know you’re in love with someone?”  

“Hmm,” Steve contemplated for a moment, fingers coming up to scratch the hairs of his beard. There was light chatter over the radio to break the silence, but neither paid it any mind; the situation was all the way on the other side of Brooklyn; even with sirens, it would take them twenty minutes. Another cruiser took the case, and Bucky relaxed his shoulders, his mind drifting back to the earlier conundrum, and his friend sitting in the passenger seat, looking as though he’s been tasked with cracking the DaVinci Code.  

“That’s a tough one, but I think the answer is different for everybody.”  

“Lot of help you are, punk.”  

“Why are you asking?”  

“Humph.” Bucky opted to look out the window, not interested in where he knew Steve’s line of question would go if he let him get away with it.  

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with a (Y/H/C) haired resident over at the Brooklyn Hospital Center, would it?”  

“What’s it to ya?” Bucky quipped, still refusing to look at him.  

“Hey, I'm just saying,” he put his hands up in surrender. “Every time we get a call about the Brooklyn Hospital Center, regardless of where we are, or what we’re doing, you insist on taking it.”  

“Because I take pride in my job!” Bucky whipped his head around to give him an incredulous look, letting him know he was walking on thin ice.  

“If your job was ogling pretty doctors who are too smart to date you,” Steve muttered.  

Bucky had enough of Steve’s mocking and pressed the button on the side of the radio, begging the operator for a call to answer, he would take anything right now. Steve wore a shit-eating grin on his lips, knowing that he had wholly made his point.  

“I was going to send some rookies, but if you’re desperate I'll give it to you,” the voice sounded over the radio, and Bucky was about to get on his knees in thanks.  

“Anything, please,” he groaned.  

“It’s over at the Brooklyn Hospital Center, we need a victim statement from someone who was admitted.”  

Steve let out a happy sigh, pumping his fist in the air, Bucky ready to smash his face off the dash and just let death consume him.  

“Yeah, on it.”  

The hospital was always busy, not that it was surprising, but it kept him on high alert, eyes darting around, searching all over for a certain someone who most assuredly was not waiting up for his company. Alright, so Steve was right, he knew that, but it was a soft spot, and he didn’t take well to being on the firing line, subject to jokes of his complete and utter failure with the woman of his desire. The logical part of him said to take the hint, let her go, move on to someone who was interested. But the emotional side, the hopeless romantic in him, the part he listened to far more often when it came to thoughts of her, noted the twinkle in her eye even when her words told him to get lost. It reminded him on the sweet smile that came to her face every time he told her a bad joke, of the cute gestures like pushing those rebellious pieces of hair back behind her ear, simple things that just made him melt. It told him that she had a hold on him, but perhaps, he had more of a hold on her than she was letting on.  

Bucky groaned, running a hand over his face, shoving his notepad back in his pocket. He had taken the victim statement in haste, hoping he wouldn’t miss his chance to see her, though he knew how bad it was to think like that. This is what happened when his mind went to her, she turned him into a big, dumb, mess of a man, it was infuriating, yet he wouldn’t have it any other way. Well, he would change her ‘no’s’ to ‘yesses’ when he asked her on a date.  

“Officer Barnes, to what do I owe the privilege of your company today?”  

“Just getting a victim statement,” Bucky smiled, his gaze following her as she walked towards him.  

“Ah yes, the unglamorous side of police work.” (Y/N) stood beside him, grabbing a file from the plastic bin on the desk.  

“It’s not so bad,” he drawled out. “So long as I get to see you.”  

(Y/N) watched him for a moment, let herself take in the way his teeth chewed his bottom lip, the stubble littering his jaw, his slate blue eyes trained on her, crinkled at the edges, mischief written all over him. Officer Barnes was a handsome devil, there was no question about it, but that was the exact reason she stayed as far away as she could. Young, fit, in a well-paying job, to look as good as he did, surely, this was just a game. Men like him were used to ‘yes’, they expected ‘yes’, they felt they deserved ‘yes’, so for someone like herself, to put her foot in the sand and muss it all up, someone who was just another lab coat, to actually deny him, well, she was sure that spurred him on more than anything. (Y/N) was a medical student, still in residency, there was no time for whatever chase Officer Barnes was pining for, no matter how much she secretly wanted it. Though, underneath all of her excuses, perhaps, she was just afraid. She shook her head.  

“Well, as always, this has been lovely,” she rolled her eyes to emphasize the sarcasm. “But I have work to attend to.” She gave him a knowing look and turned to leave.  

“Let me take you out sometime, doll!” he called after her, but she kept walking.  

It was always the same, every time, without fail. It was actually nice to have something so reliable in a place where every day was different, new challenges clawing through the door. Bucky would do his very best to butter her up, laying it on thick with his Brooklyn accent, and she would play coy, pretending to get a page, needing to go check on a patient, anything to escape that dashing smile, and he would ask her out. He would always ask her out.  

“So, love huh?”  

“Jesus H Christ, will you let it go?”  

“You said it, not me,” Steve shrugged, taking another bite out of his burger, their hasty lunch in the cruiser.  

“Yeah, and I'm regrettin’ it, punk,” Bucky spat, toying with the fries in his cup.  

“What’s this really about, Buck?” he asked, turning to look at his brooding friend.  

“I don’t know,” he sighed, sinking further into the chair, his seatbelt the only thing holding him up. “I just, I think I really like this girl, but she won’t even give me a chance.”  

“Maybe it’s time to move on then.”  

“That’s the thing, I can’t get her out of my head!”  

“Then maybe you need a different approach,” Steve mused, fully invested in his friend's situation.  

“I’m listening.”  

“What’s been your strategy so far?”  

“I dunno, the usual,” he explained, brow heavy with frustration, “confident, charming, playful.”  

“I think that’s your issue.”  

“How so?”  

“She’s a bit more reserved, serious even, so maybe you need to meet her halfway.”  

“What, you want me to show up in a suit and tie?”  

“No, come on,” he sighed, leaning his head back. “Instead of using humor as a safety net for rejection, show her that you’re all in!”  

“Hmm,” Bucky took this thought seriously for a moment, rolling it over in his mind. “What, like some grand gesture?”  

“Not exactly, I was thinking more along the lin-.”  

“All units in the area, we have a 10-10 at the Brooklyn Hospital Center, all units respond, over.”  

Bucky’s hand immediately tightened on the wheel, his eyes flitting over to Steve, the color draining from his face.  

“This is cruiser 252, 10-4, we are on route to Brooklyn Hospital Center, over.”  

Steve spoke clear and even, but his eyes couldn’t hide the worry he felt as he flicked on the sirens and lights, fingers hovering over the computer keyboard as he read the incoming information. Active shooter, multiple wounded. Bucky floored it, weaving in and out of traffic, expertly maneuvering the vehicle around a sharp corner, cursing at anyone in his way. Bucky had already broken out into a cold sweat, it was bad enough to that someone was terrorizing a hospital, but what what about (Y/N)? She was working today, did she find refuge?  

Within minutes, they were on the scene. A few other cop cars had already arrived. Steve and Bucky bolted towards the officers, surveying the area, looking for the shooter.  

“What’s the status?” Steve asked.  

“The shooter is on the second floor, east wing. Shots have been fired,” the officer explained.  

“Why are we standing outside?” Bucky growled, his heart aching as he looked back over, searching for (Y/N) among the masses running from the building.  

“We need a game plan. Going in guns blazing will only provoke him.” The older officer was calm even while dealing with Bucky’s anger, her voice steady, calculating everything before stepping into action.  

“Alright, what did you have in mind?”  

Bucky crossed the threshold, entering the hospital, eerie silence, goosebumps appearing over his skin despite the mid-June heat, as he unholstered his gun. A few bodies were scattered over the floor, he wanted to run to them, to see if they were okay, but the uncanny stillness held him back. They were already gone. The halls were empty save for the few people still filtering out, running to the emergency support crews just outside, crying tears of relief, calling loved ones, just thankful to be alive. All Bucky wanted to do was turn around and search for her in the masses, to know that she was safe too, but he couldn’t. As an NYPD Officer, he had a job to do, a duty to the citizens, and he had never felt so conflicted by that.  

Bucky ascended the north stairwell, his footsteps reverberating off the cement walls, his breath steadying as he centered his thoughts around the mission, the goal. They would all convene on the shooter’s last known location, going up every exit to ensure that he hadn’t tried to escape, the power cut off, rendering the elevators useless. As he came to the second-floor landing, he dropped his shoulders, hand coming to touch the radio attached to his vest.  

“North stairwell clear, heading to the rendezvous point, over.”  

With gun in hand, he entered the floor, hallways only lit by the natural light filtering through the windows. He was met with a thick silence. The air smelled of bleach. His stomach twisted, his boots making low thuds as he crossed the tile floor, eyes scanning, ears listening for anything to alert him to where the shooter was.  

Bucky met up with another officer tasked to clear the east stairwell, and they moved together with synchronized steps, checking each room as they went along. While each time they declared an area clear it was a relief, there was also the notion that he wasn’t here, meaning he was still on the prowl, somewhere else in the building, causing more damage, taking more lives.  

“Hey, I've got something,” Steve’s voice came over the radios. “You’re gonna want to see this.”  

The two officers exchanged looks of confusion.  

“Well, poetic justice, or just bad luck?” the female officer asked, though her tone dripped with venom.  

“More like escaping justice,” Bucky spat.  

They all stood at the top of the concrete stairwell, the shooter’s body lying on the landing below, the back of his head obliterated by what they could only assume was a hasty retreat turned deadly. Detectives and body removal were called in, photographing, analyzing, and cleaning up the scene, all officers giving their statements of the events. It was routine, though necessary, but once again, Bucky’s mind was wandering, he bounced on the balls of his feet as he stood beside the cruiser, eyes scrutinizing the crowd. God, if only he had her number.  

“Go ahead, I'll take care of things.” Steve came to stand beside him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts.  

“Are you sure?”  

“Bucky, go find your girl.”  

It didn’t take any more convincing before Bucky was off, jogging through the bodies, calling her name, his heart thumping in his ears. He was almost terrified to look, the worst possible case always beating him down, thundering through his mind like the endless clang of the toll bell. He had to physically shake his head to rid himself of those thoughts, he didn’t know yet, he had to hang onto hope. In this instance, it was quite useful to be a big man in a uniform as people assumed, he was on official business, and parted for him to pass easily.  

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)!”  

“Sergeant Barnes?” a voice called out to him. He whipped around to find a familiar face, a nurse that he often saw working with her, who had witnessed their playful bantering.  

“Kimberly, where’s (Y/N)?” His eyes were frantic, still floating around the crowd as he spoke to her.  

“I-I don’t know,” she sputtered. “She was right there, and then-.” Kimberly bit her lip as her gaze travelled back to the hospital, and Bucky’s heart dropped.  

“She’s still inside?” He barked.  

“I don’t know!”  

“Do you have her number?”  

“Y-yes, here.” Her shaking hands pulled the phone out of the pocket of her scrubs, making quick work at finding her contact, pressing the call button, and handing it over to him.  

His foot tapped impatiently, the ringing was agonizingly slow, each one dragging on longer than the last, until it went to voicemail, handing it back to the nurse, his eyes going back to the hospital. It looked dark now, forlorn, yet he knew he had to return, to make sure that she wasn’t one of those bodies, he had to, it wasn’t even a choice. Without another word, he was off, sprinting towards the entrance, but when he arrived at those sliding doors, ‘Emergency’ spelled in large red letters, all of his strength, his composure evaded him, replaced with quaking muscles and a dry mouth.  

He approached the first body on the floor, the shape clearly of a man. Bucky let out a sigh as his feet slowly crossed the floor. He could do this, he could do this, he could do this. He chastised himself, it wasn’t as though this was his first time seeing a dead body! The next body he found was of a child, and he had to look away, unable to face the innocent life that he had failed, nor the guilt of relief he felt that this child wasn’t (Y/N). Bucky turned the corner and halted as his eyes fell upon a woman wearing a white lab coat spattered in blood over her left shoulder, face down on the floor. He felt the tears springing free without his consent, too horrified to continue looking, yet completely rooted in place.  

In this moment, his mind shuddered back to earlier that day, contemplating what it meant to be in love, how he would know for sure, and as he observed the still body, (Y/N/C) hair free from the usual elastic, her knees at an ungodly angle, he knew. As he approached the idea of her no longer here, flicking back through the memories of snorty laughter, her quirked eyebrow, playful glances, he tried to think of what that would be like, yet he couldn’t fathom it. A future without (Y/N) wasn’t much of a future at all, it didn’t exist. He wasn’t sure what shocked him, that he had never realized it before, or that it took something like this to make him get it, but now it stared him in the face, it mocked him. Bucky loved her, Bucky was hers, body, mind, and soul.  

And he had never told her, never had the guts to say what he had always been trying to communicate in those dumb pickup lines, those teasing looks, what was always there inside. What he never had the courage to uncover within himself. To love her was to think of life without her, and be unable to picture such a painful fate.  

“(Y/N)?” It came out as more breath than voice, his feet shuffling forward, hands still lingering by his sides.  

“(Y/N)?” He whispered, legs quivering, ready to give out.  

“(Y/N)?”  

And he broke, dropping to his knees beside her, hands hovering over her form as if he touched her, that would be when she truly died, as if the contact would make it real, though he knew it was already so. Perhaps, if he never turned her over, he would never have to know, he could get up and walk out of here, forget all about her. But he couldn’t leave her, not like this, she deserved to be remembered, even in this horrible, grotesque, tragic way. His hands grabbed, pulled desperately at the white fabric, turning her over in his arms, her head falling back, hair shifting to the side, baring her face to him, and it wasn’t her. It wasn’t his (Y/N). Bucky breathed out hard, dropping the cold, lifeless body, jumping to his feet, unconsciously rubbing his hands up and down his tactical pants. It wasn’t her, it wasn’t her, it wasn’t her. That was a good thing, right? It was supposed to be a good thing, but as he looked at the woman’s very dead face, it felt anything but. Where did he go from here? Looking down the dimly lit hallway, he resigned himself; if he had to sweep the whole damn building to find her, so be it.  

“(Y/N),” he began to talk out loud, hoping to let her know it was safe now, hoping that she would hear him, and come to him.  

“It’s me, your favorite nuisance. My name’s Bucky, but you always insist on calling me Sergeant Barnes, no matter how many times I tell you not to.”  

His voice was met with silence, though he kept walking, looking in each room as he passed as he made his way through the first floor.  

“The first time I saw you, I was responding to a disturbance here. Some man was uttering threats at hospital staff, you included. I came in thinking that I was some big hotshot who was going to look like the man with a plan for the pretty resident, calming her fears, and sweeping her off her feet with my professional charm.”  

He paused to listen, praying for something, but again was met with silence.  

“But it didn’t faze you, no, you didn’t care. In fact, when I arrived, you were standing right up to him, nose to nose, telling him exactly what he could do with his words. I wasn’t sure who the call was originally made for when I saw you two. I was dumbfounded, and completely smitten, though I didn’t know it yet.”  

“I-I’m crazy about you. Everything, all of it, even the parts that you don’t like. In a thousand tiny moments, I've seen you in all states, in every way, and it’s only made me want you more. The first time I saw you crying was after a really bad car accident. You lost everyone involved, no one walked away. I came here and I found you slumped against a wall in the hallway with the flickering light. I’d never seen you look so small. You let me hold you, your whole body was just trembling, I swore you were gonna vibrate right out of my arms.”  

“Do you remember the first time I made you smile? I do. It was my day off, but I know how stressed out you had been because when I asked why you had bags under your eyes, you told me your exams were next week. So, like a gentleman, I brought you coffee and a sandwich, because I just knew that you were the kind of person who would work yourself to death and forget to eat. You couldn’t believe I did it, your mouth gaping as I stood in your ER for the first time in regular clothes. You let me stay with you as you ate, I talked your ear off about dumb stuff, cop stories about Steve and I, you even thanked me, said it got your mind off of the stress, even if it was just for little while.”  

Bucky opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut short as he heard muffled whimpers, his body reacting before his mind, vaulting himself into the room on the left, trying to find who was making that sound. He stopped in the middle, but to his dismay, the room went silent, his eyes flitting over every surface, each object, but nothing came up as out of place. Then he heard it again, someone was crying. He rushed towards the cot, an old, fold-up model, and dropped to his knees to look underneath. Bucky found (Y/N) huddled in the fetal position, eyes screwed shut, a hand clamped over her mouth. She was terrified, but very much alive. He reached out, pulling her from under the bed, her body sliding with ease on the shiny, tile flooring.  

(Y/N)’s eyes snapped open, staring up to see the familiar slate blues of one Officer James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. She thought she may pass out from relief. (Y/N) threw herself at the man, arms winding around him, her head burrowing into his neck, strangled sobs leaving her throat, unchained as she no longer had to hide. Bucky responded with fervor, holding her impossibly close, a hand on the back of her head, afraid that if he let her go, she may disappear, that this happy ending wasn’t real.  

“I thought-,” Bucky started, a lump forming in his throat even thinking about all the horrible things that had played in his mind, dancing around once more, teasing him, taunting him, torturing him.  

“I thought I'd lost you.”  

(Y/N) didn’t say anything, not right away, she couldn’t answer him yet. Instead, they stayed in each other's embrace, clinging onto the reminder that they were there, they were alive. Her cries quieted down, her back hiccupping every once in a while, as her body settled down. (Y/N) breathed him in, surprised at how his scent seemed to have a calming effect, but was far too tired and desperate for comfort to question it. Loosening her grip on him, she pulled back just enough to look at him, her gaze meeting his steel blue eyes rimmed in red, fresh trails down his cheeks.  

“James, you’re crying,” (Y/N) breathed, a hand coming to cup his cheek, thumb brushing away the moisture.  

Bucky leaned into her touch, bringing his own hand up to keep hers in place, no matter how long he had held onto her, a part of him still feared that it’s not over. He had to feel her, he was desperate for it, and with her so willing, liberally giving out touches, Bucky soaked them up like a flower in the sun. He was breaking down right in front of her, finally processing everything, so she brought her other hand up to him, and pulled on his head, resting their foreheads against each other. (Y/N) felt a surge of strength within her, as if seeing him so vulnerable brought out something defensive and caring within her, she no longer needed to keep her heavy walls up when he was so small.  

“I’m here, James.”  

Steve and Bucky were standing outside again, tying up loose ends, taking down whatever details they could in their notebooks as they would be writing lengthy reports on this one. (Y/N) was sitting on the curb, head in her hands, exhaustion taking over, coming down hard from the adrenaline. Bucky can’t stop looking at her, torn between his job and his heart. Steve knew, he saw it all over Bucky’s face, pulling the keys from his pocket and handing them over.  

“Take her home.”  

“Steve, you sure?”  

“I’ll finish up here, and hitch a ride back to the precinct.”  

Bucky gave him a nod, not needing anymore encouragement. He jogged up to her, dropped down to crouch beside her crumpled-up form, resting a hand on her shoulder.  

“Hey, I'm gonna drive you home, okay?” His voice was tentative, not wanting to order her around. She looked up at him with those tired eyes and gave him a lazy smile.  

“Okay, Bucky.”  

The drive was quiet, not tense though. It was a pause, the beginning of reflection, combing through the events, the emotions, and the thoughts this chaotic day had forced upon them. Her apartment building was close, which didn’t surprise him. It was an old brick building, she was only on the third floor, though they took the elevator as neither of them had the strength to climb the steep stairwell. (Y/N) unlocked her door, but turned back, leaning on the doorframe, waiting, almost expectantly, her eyes sweeping his figure, slowly blinking at him.  

“Thank you, Bucky,” she smiled, but he could see the terror lingering behind her eyes.  

“Of course.”  

“I’ll see you at the hospital sometime, I'm sure.”  

She was getting ready to leave, backing away from the door, retreating into the small room. Bucky started to panic, knew this was the worst timing, but he almost lost her, so going on one more second without coming clean, he couldn’t bear it.  

“Listen (Y/N), I um, I have to tell you something.”  

“What’s that?” She stopped moving, looked at him again, something glinting in her eyes.  

“About today, maybe this just means that I'm bad at my job,” he chuckled dryly at the thought as he rubbed the back of his neck. “But there were so many people in danger, yet when I got that call, all I could think about was you. I was terrified, thinking of what I would do, if I lost you.”  

Bucky stood there looking at her, bearing his innermost self, holding onto a sliver of hope that it would be enough. (Y/N) looked straight back, scrutinizing him, always analytical, always checking for the danger, but he didn’t back down, in fact, he straightened up, unwavering, saying everything he needed to without words.  

“I guess, I had you all wrong,” she mumbled after a moment, unable to meet his eyes.  

“Whad’ya mean?” he questioned, hanging onto her words, leaning in so his arm rested on the doorframe.  

“Well, I just figured that, this,” she gestured between herself and Bucky. “Was just a game. It was exciting because I said no.”  

“Oh.” Bucky watched her, saw how she picks at her fingers, rubbing the places where she’s done it before. “I don’t blame you for thinking that.”  

“No, it was wrong of me to label you.” Her tone was strong, as if she were completely convinced of her words, though she still doesn’t meet his eyes.  

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it,” Bucky said softly.  

He reached out for her, lightly rubbing her arm, letting her know that it was okay, everything was okay. He could see it all weighing on her, she always did this, carried things, burdens that didn’t belong to her, though he supposed that’s also what drove her to be so damn good at what she did. It’s why he fell, why he admired her. So, if she were going to haul such atrocities, he couldn’t watch her to do it alone; he had two legs and a heartbeat, he’d help.  

When (Y/N) finally met his gaze, her eyes were rimmed with red. Bucky could see that she was barely keeping it together, and he wanted to scoop her up, whisk her away and just hold her until she felt safe again. But he saw that look of defiance, the ‘I can do it myself’ hands clenched into fists, and he knew he had to let her work through it, she had to come to him.  

“Maybe, you could take me out sometime, on that date you were so adamant about?” (Y/N) looked quite proud of herself, voice calm and easy as she spoke, and he was proud of her too, a full grin breaking across his face.  

“Just say when, doll.”  

Bucky beamed, and he didn’t even try to hold it back. For all the shit that he’d dealt with that day, all the hard moments, the anxiety, the adrenaline, the heartbreak, the relief, he believed that he’d earned this pocket of joy, so he took it. Bucky was so caught in his little moment that he didn’t realize she’d moved until he felt her hands pressing something into his, a sweet smile on her lips.  

“I’ll need your number,” she suggested.  

“Of course,” he hid his embarrassment by looking down, concentrated a creating a new contact; double, triple checking the number for accuracy.  

“So, I'll let you know,” she concluded, though they both lingered, grasping for anything to keep the interaction going.  

“I’ll be waiting.”  

Bucky thought he might leave now, it would be logical, the right thing to do, but he wanted to stay, still fighting his emotional turmoil, remembering that she was here, alive, she was okay. God, he wanted to touch her again, show his body that she was warm, blood was pumping through her, she was safe. He’d waited this long, a part of him said fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen, but he wanted to be good for her, to wait, to be what she deserved. It killed him, but he pulled back, stood up straight, gave her a lopsided smile and a silly salute, before turning and walking down the hallway.  

Bucky thought he was imagining it, the sound of footsteps pounding on the carpeted floor, but when a hand encased his, yanking to turn him around, (Y/N) was very real in front of him. Her eyes were wild, roving with so many emotions, it left him breathless, entirely unprepared. She took his face in her hands, lips colliding with his in a fury of passion, which he was more than willing to return. She moved against his mouth, something he’d thought of for months, but to actually feel her, to taste her? He wasn’t prepared.  

All too soon, she was pulling away, though her hands still held his head in place, eyes boring into his, her breath coming in short pants, and she smiled. A little giggle left her lips, and he fell all over again.  

“Thank you, Bucky, for everything.”  

And then she was gone. Disappeared down the hall, the only thing signaling she had even been there the light ‘thud’ of her apartment door closing, and the faint memory of her kiss against his lips.  

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #moder au #reader insert #marvel #captain america #Winter Soldier #becca's #valentine challenge

[wolfinpink]

English Tea Kiss

***

Z Nation One Shot!

For Pride Month I made some Bi!10K fic with an OC named Jamie. First meetings and first kiss. Super cute and fluffy. First time same sex attraction for 10K as well so he’s a little flustered by these new feelings.

Happy Pride everyone!

***

Cold metal pressed against 10Ks exposed neck. His hands immediately gripped his rifle tighter and his legs began to pivot.

“Nah – ah – ahhh.” A mans voice whispered against his ear, “not unless you want some mercy.”

10K sighed and let his rifle slip to the floor. It clattered against the bricks and echoed around the bar. The man huffed but didn’t say anything as the sound of footsteps heading down the hall grew louder. Warren, Doc and Addy filed inside; weapons raised.

“Hello all.” The man behind 10K said. His free hand slipped around the boy’s waist, holding him firmly in place.

“There is exactly 0% need for violence.” The man said, leaning his head out from behind 10K.

“Actually that percentage depends entirely on you.” Warren replied, taking another step forward.

“Let the kid go.” Doc commanded.

“The only way this goes well for you is if you release him.” Addy agreed, coming into step with Warren.

There were a tense few seconds. The sound of Zs beating on a barricaded door came from outside. The rest of the room was silent save for everyone’s shallow breaths.

“Got a name?” Warren asked, her pistol remaining steadily trained on the two.

“Jamie.” The man replied, shuffling his feet behind 10K, “and you are?”

“Warren. This is Doc. Addy. And you’ve got your piece against our boy, 10K there.” She motioned to everyone as they were introduced.

“Nice to meet you all. Is there a reason you’ve broken into my home?” Jamie asked, his tone was civil and calm. 10K wasn’t a good judge but he thought he sounded British. There was something about his accent that reminded him of old doctor who episodes.

“We’re just looking for shelter from the herd.” Warren explained, she took another step forward as she lowered her pistol, “we’ll be out of your way as soon as they move on.”

10K felt Jamie relax a little against him. The pressure at his waist lessening. After a moment, Doc and Addy followed suit and lowered their weapons. No one sheathed them, but they were down.

“Well.” Jamie swallowed thickly, “I don’t see any reason why we can’t have a cup of tea while we wait.” Slowly he slid his hand off 10K and gave him a small push towards his group.

Warren and the new man mirrored each other as they slotted their weapons back into holsters. The tension immediately dissipated.

10K turned to see the man that had held him captive. Man? Maybe boy was a better fit. He must have been barely older than 10K himself, wearing blue jeans and a jacket with metal rivets and plates sewn into the fabric. His hair was light brown, scruffy, and a 5 o’clock shadow curved over his cheeks.

Doc slapped 10K on the arm as he grabbed up his rifle and re-joined the group. The bar they were in was English themed. Banners hung over the walls and union jacks adorned the chairs. Jamie had cleared away most of the seats and tables but left a few in the centre as a kind of dining area.

“I’ve got earl grey and a lot of green.” He says, tossing the flap door up and sliding behind the bar. He pulled up a camp cooker with a small gas tank attached and began boiling some water.

“Can’t be a coincidence that the first Brit we meet is in a pub called the Queen’s Best?” Doc laughed, taking a seat and making himself comfortable.

“It was my sisters.” Jamie said, “she use to live above it.”

Warren and Addy pulled up a chair while 10K leaned against the wall, next to a ripped union jack flag. The place where Jamie had gripped him felt strange, and he ran his fingers over his waist. It almost tingled. He kept his eyes on the boy as he potted about, collecting cups and tea bags. 10K had to admit, he was kind of graceful.

“Sorry about before.” Jamie glanced over at 10K, giving him an apologetic smile. His stomach clenched in response.

“Don’t worry about it.” He mumbled back.

“Had any contact with the UK?” Warren asked taking her own seat along with Addy.

“None. I was just here on holiday to see my sister when day one happened. Pretty much been here ever since.” Jamie replied, pouring hot water into a collection of mugs. He tossed a handful of teabags onto an empty tray and loaded it up with steaming hot cups of water before bringing it over.

“Shoulda known this is where all the damn tea went.” Doc said, taking a green and dunking it into his mug.

“This was all just my sisters stash.” He chuckled, “I limit myself to one a day now. Barely enough to last the year. But what are the odds that I’m gonna last it either?”

“Amen brother.” Doc said, and held up his mug to clink.

Warren wrapped her fingers around the mug and breathed in the scent. Addy waved off the option of tea and crossed her legs, letting her Z-whacker come to rest gently against her knee. Jamie plopped a bag into a mug and turned to 10K.

“You look like an earl grey kinda guy.” He said and extended him the drink.

Now that he was closer 10K could see his bright green irises. His lashes were impossibly long and there were lines around his eyes that came together as he smiled. 10K realised he thought this boy was… pretty.

His lips turned up into a sweet smile as 10K hesitated to take the mug.

“I don’t bite.” He laughed, “unless you’re into that.”

Warren and Addy shared a smirk as 10Ks face lit up bright red. He snatched the mug and clutched it to his chest, savouring the warmth. Jamie sauntered back to the table and took his own seat.

“So where are you guys headed?” He asked, taking a sip of his own tea.

“Not sure.” Warren replied, “just heading.” She closed the subject with a long gulp.

“I only ask because I’m running out of supplies here and you’re the first people I’ve come across that didn’t try to fill me with holes. I’d happily share what I’ve got for some safety in numbers.”

Warren glanced at the rest of the group. Doc shrugged and sipped his tea. Addy sighed but didn’t reject the idea. 10K took pains to stand perfectly still, as his heart beat erratically against his chest. He wasn’t sure if he wanted this boy to come along. Logically, he shouldn’t have a problem with it. Besides the fact he could kill them in their sleep, but that’s the same risk they’d taken with him. Still, knots tightened in his stomach at the thought of going on the road with him and his graceful movements, his long eyelashes, his pretty mouth.

“I’m good in tight spaces.” Jamie continued to sell himself casually. His elbow was resting on the top back of the chair, his body relaxed into the worn wood.

“How about this? That herd isn’t going anywhere tonight, so we’ll hunker down here. Tomorrow, if they’re gone, you can come with us until you find someplace more suitable. A community. Another group. Whatever.”

Jamie beamed as he nodded. Tension that hadn’t been visible before was released from his body. 10K internally groaned. His cheeks were still burning and he wasn’t sure if it was from the boy or the steaming tea.

“Perfect. We can stay upstairs. My sister has – had a two bedroom. It’s cosy.” Jamie smiled, finishing off the mug.

He placed it back onto the tray and slapped both of his thighs before standing up. The rest of the group followed suit, Doc downed the drink but Warren and 10K held theirs to their chests.

“Please, follow me.” He said and lead the group to a well-concealed door in the back of the bar. He unlocked it and it swung open to reveal a narrow staircase. Jamie ushered them up and he locked the door behind them as they went.

Upstairs was just as the English boy had described it – cosy. A tiny kitchen overlooked a two seater couch, crammed next to a dining table which was piled with books. Half a dozen were open, most were survival guides and native plant information. A few were fantasy novels.

There were three doors, the left most leading to a staggeringly small bathroom with no working water, the middle to a master, and the right to a kid’s room with a bunk. The few windows overlooking the road were half covered by blinds, but the light was waning anyway.

“I’ve got some canned food and a few litres of water in the kitchen. There’s two single beds, a double and the couch.” Jamie gestured around the apartment before plopping down on the lounge.

10K weaved around the furniture to peer out the window at the horde making its way through the streets. There were a few clawing at the barricades to the pub downstairs but most were staggering onward.

“I wouldn’t worry.” Jamie appeared next to him, making him jump. He leaned in to see through the window, pressing his shoulder against 10Ks.

“I welded that door shut with some bars I found. The only way in is up the ladder you guys used.” He turned to smile encouragingly, their faces were barely a few inches apart.

For a moment 10K could smell Jamie’s sweet breath against his face. He drew in a deep breath before he could stop himself, savouring the taste of tea leaves. Jamie’s eyes leisurely rolled down 10Ks face, making no attempt to hide the long seconds he stared at his lips.

10K swallowed thickly as he felt his cheeks burn.

“Button mushrooms and pineapple for dinner, kids.” Doc clonked two cans down on the counter, making the boys jump apart.

Warren had surveyed the apartment and was quietly speaking to Addy in the corner.

“We’re going to leave someone on watch.” She said, making her way into the kitchen.

“I’d be happy to go first.” Jamie piped up, “you’re being generous taking me with you after all.”

“No offence, but I’d rather one of us took the shifts, not in the mood for a knife at my throat.” Warren was even-toned as she spoke, casually glancing over the cans that Doc had chosen.

“No offence taken.” Jamie replied, “I’ll stay up anyway, if you don’t mind.”

Warren nodded before assigning 10K the first watch duty. Next was hers, followed by Doc and then Addy if it came to that. 10Ks stomach twisted at the thought of being in relative privacy with Jamie but he kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t about to make a fuss when he wasn’t even sure why he was feeling one in the first place.

The group shared out the cans evenly as they sat staggered around the tiny apartment. Doc asked a few questions in good humour. If he’d met anyone else decent? If he’d been out to scavenge much? Jamie answered anything and everything thrown at him with a charming ease.

“So, what’s with your name?” He asked, motioning with his mostly empty can. 10K’s head jerked up and he glanced at the others, willing them to speak for him. When it was evident they were staying silent, he sighed.

“It’s how many zombie’s I’m gonna kill.”

“He’s a hell of a shot. Already up to 3489.” Doc beamed proudly.

“No way.” Jamie’s confident bravado slipped away for a moment, showing an enthusiastic young boy as he jumped up and skipped over to his table. He snatched up a small notebook and brought it back to the group. He sat closer to 10K than before, but no one seemed to notice except 10K himself.

“I count them as well.” He flipped open the pocketbook to a tally marked page.

“I’m barely into my 800s though.” A little pink dusted Jamie’s nose as he passed the book to 10K.

He skimmed through the pages and read small notes on the side of the page. Every so often a tally mark coincided with a little blurb of a significant kill or a small crude drawing of the event. 10K continued to flip back through the book until he reached the first page. 30 or so tally marks in was a mark that had been scratched harder than the rest. The gash penetrated the next few pages, as if someone had scored it over and over. 10K looked questioningly up at Jamie to see he was looking away. He closed the book and pushed it back into his hands, his fingers grazing Jamie’s knuckles.

“You’ll be up into the thousands soon when you come with us.” Doc again broke the trance 10K hadn’t noticed he was in.

The sun had gone down a while ago now, the drone of Zs below was quiet but consistent. Addy picked up the two empty cans and returned them to the kitchen.

“I’m gonna turn in.” She said, speaking mostly to Warren, “us girls take the double?”

“Sounds good. A real bed.” Warren nearly moaned the last word and Addy chuckled.

Doc squeezed 10Ks shoulder as he turned towards the kid’s room.

“I call top bunk!” He laughed and skipped into the room.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the group to gather their things and retire. 10K sat agonizingly still as they retreated, leaving Jamie and himself alone. Of course, the walls were thin and the doors thinner, so it wasn’t as if they had much privacy. But still, the empty room seemed full of a tension that hadn’t been so strong when the others had been there.

“Honestly, it’s pretty damn secure up here.” Jamie commented after a while. He tossed the book back onto the table and came to sit next to 10K on the lounge, “there’s a trip wire that will sound if they get through the door as well. Tin cans.”

10K shuffled back a bit from the heat he felt as their legs accidentally collided. He pressed himself awkwardly into the arm of the couch. Sensing his discomfort, Jamie shifted over slightly as well. In the corner of his eye, 10K thought he caught a twinge of pain cross over his face, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

“What was with that mark in your book?” He asked. Usually 10K was okay with silence. He wasn’t one to speak for the hell of it, or to fill a space. But with Jamie, the tightness in his chest was compounded when there was nothing to say.

“It was my sister.” He shrugged, but his hands wrung together in his lap. They twisted roughly over each other again and again. The English boy stared out across the room as his hands writhed.

10K glanced at his hands and longed to still them. His fingers twitched with need to calm the boy’s pain. He struggled with the feeling for a few moments before it became too much and his hand shot out to rest on Jamie’s. He stilled immediately.

“My dad was my first.” He said quietly, as his fingers began gently running over Jamie’s knuckles in small circles. It took the two a good full minute before they looked up at each other.

“It wasn’t her / him.” They both spoke at the same time, about their own loved ones. A small smile crept across 10Ks face as he looked at Jamie’s grin. The English boy slid is bottom hand out from the pile and placed it on top, sandwiching 10Ks fingers between his own.

Doc’s gentle snoring emanated from the room to their left and they both chuckled.

Somehow they’d come to slide closer together on the couch, but it still took 10K by surprise when Jamie leaned toward him, angling his head to touch their lips together. In a knee-jerk reaction 10Ks head lurched back before the kiss could happen.

Jamie’s eyes snapped open and he pushed away, pulling his hands away from 10Ks, as his face flooded with colour all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Bloody hell. I’m sorry. I thought you - ”

“It’s just I’ve never…” 10K started, he brought his hands up to his face and scrubbed at his eyes. What was happening? His heart ached in his chest when he looked at Jamie’s lips. His stomach was full of butterflies. His hands were curiously cold now that he wasn’t holding Jamie’s and it wasn’t a feeling he liked.

“You’ve never kissed a boy?” Jamie asked, head tilted a little.

10K slowly brought his own arm down and let his hand gingerly rest on Jamie’s knee. He couldn’t look him in the eye, but felt in his peripheral vision that he was smiling slightly.

“I’ve never kissed… anyone.” 10K admitted.

“Anyone?” Jamie replied, his slacken jaw evident in his tone.

“No.”

“Oh.”

Jamie touched his hand to 10Ks cheek and gently brought his head up to look in his eyes. 10K was trembling terribly, but his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“Can I be your first kiss?” Jamie asked softly, his eyes glancing down and up 10Ks face.

His voice was stuck in his throat like he’d swallowed too much bread. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out so he nodded quickly. Jamie smiled. He shuffled closer on the lounge and his other hand came to rest on 10Ks shoulder.

Slowly he closed his eyes and leaned in. Their lips pressed together in a chaste kiss. 10Ks heart soared. Jamie let his tongue slide over his lips as he deepened the kiss a little. His fingers wrapped gently around 10ks shoulder and slid upwards to rest in the crook of his neck. He broke the kiss and pulled back as 10K let out a small gasp.

“You taste nice.” 10K whispered absently and then blushed a furious red colour. Jamie just chuckled softly.

“So do you.” He whispered back, and pressed his lips to 10Ks again.

#10k z nation #tommy 10k #10k/oc #gay10k #10k #z nation #z nation warren #roberta warren #z nation addy #z nation doc #save z nation

[maknaesdancersrappers]

Warm (14/16)

prologue

cotton, wind, blow, blouse.

hair, flower, aroma, scent.

cold, eyes, ice, dive.

touch, warm, melt, lips.

a/n: i cried writing this one

-

You’ve noticed ever since your 7th anniversary, Taeyong has been distant and jittery around you. It started with him blankly staring at you when you would tell him about your day and it would take a few calls of his name for him to snap out of it. Next, he would always come home late, either from working overtime or hanging out with Johnny ever since he moved back to Seoul from Chicago.

When you consulted your best friend, she said it might be the infamous ‘7-year itch’ that happens between couples; when the relationship starts to recede. You argued that it can’t be because he’s always just as passionate and enthusiastic when you two would fool around in bed.

“Well, maybe he just wants sex. You two are still unbelievably celibate.” She scoffs and under her breath she grumbles, “I still think his pepper is an inch.”

You scold her when you caught what she said, shoving her shoulder.

“Then he’s probably cheating on you! Like, are you sure he’s really working overtime or meeting Johnny?”

You frown at her suggestion, “It’s not like him to lie.”

“Remember that little incident with what’s-her-face and wanting to have him ‘study each other’s anatomy’ back in senior high?”

That left an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach and it stayed there until you got back home where Taeyong was browsing through the usual stack of papers he brings home from work in the living room.

He looks up from the file he was holding, his eyes a little red and the bags under them were darker than usual. “Oh, hey.” He briefly stands up to kiss your cheek before plopping back down on the couch. “Have you eaten? I made some beef stew.”

“I’m still full… Aren’t you going to bed yet?”

“I will in a while. I’ll just sort these out.”

You nod and get ready for bed, trying to forget the suggestions your best friend had mentioned earlier.

Taeyong clambers onto the bed just a few minutes after you settle in and as he was about to scoop you into his arms and warm you up from the cold airconditioning, his phone rings. He mumbles an apology when he sees your dismayed expression before getting up and answering his phone.

“Why are you calling? Ya! I’m thinking it through, wait, I’m in the same room as her.” He says into his phone in a hushed tone, thinking you didn’t hear him as he slips out the room.

Your chest tightens, thinking what through? And why did it matter that you were in the room.

“Maybe he’s cheating on you.” Your friend’s words echo in your head.

You fell asleep before Taeyong came back to bed and when you woke up the next morning, he was gone already. He left a note by the breakfast he made you, telling you he had to go work early, and you can tell he was in a rush because of his handwriting.

As you dusted your face with setting powder, your gaze lands on the small jewelry box Taeyong had gotten you for your birthday 2 years ago. You haven’t been wearing any of your jewelry since you only used them for night outs or formal events, but today you felt like wearing at least one of them. Upon opening the navy faux leather box, it was a mess of tangled chains of necklaces and bracelets on one side and neatly arranged rows of your earrings where rings are supposed to be. You see the rose pendant he had gotten you before and untangle it from the others. On the leaves, it had his initials and since you felt so distant with him the past weeks, you decided to wear it.

But it had still bothered you all morning about Taeyong’s actions and your friend’s words still haunted the back of your mind. You hated it that it made sense in your head, but you refused to believe any of it. You were so out of it during work that your boss had advised you to take the rest of the day off.

You barely worked in the morning, yet the second you got to your apartment, fatigue started to set in. Without another thought, you open the door and toe off your shoes on the mat. You thought you were seeing things, but you see Taeyong’s loafers--the one he wears to work--on the mat, and what made you feel ten times worse were the black pumps beside it.

“Taeyong?!” You didn’t mean to actually screech, but when you hear more than one hurried footsteps inside the living room, you repeat yourself and stomp towards the noise.

“[Y/N]!” Taeyong awkwardly stands in the middle of the living room, hands behind his back and looking flustered. “W-what are you doing home so early? Are you sick? Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” You scoff, “Are you okay? What are you doing home so early?”

“I, uh, forgot some papers.”

“Oh, did you?” He nods his head at your question. “Did you bring a co-worker with you, huh?”

His eyebrows furrowed together and as if a lightbulb went off in his head, his eyes widened. “Uhm, I--”

“Where is she?” You demand as you looked around the room. When you feel his hand on your shoulder, you push him off and glare at him with wet eyes. “Are you cheating on me?”

“No! You know I would never even think of that!”

“Then whose heels are on the mat?”

“Miyoung’s!”

You and Taeyong had never screamed at each other like this.

“Who the hell is that?!”

“Johnny’s girlfriend!”

And as if on cue, the front door shuts and Johnny’s voice booms, “Hey, Taeyong, the flower shop only had peach roses, [Y/N] is fine with that, right--oh…” He walks into view with a three large bouquets of the roses he was just talking about. “A-am I late?”

On the corner of your vision, you see Taeyong shake his head while covering his face with a hand.

“Late for what?” You asked, calming down a bit.

Suddenly, a girl runs out from the laundry room and went straight for Johnny. She looks at you with a tight smile. “Hi, uhm, I wish we met on better circumstances, but I think it’s best that Johnny and I leave. Let’s go, hun.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Johnny looks at her and back at Taeyong, but she hushes him.

“Hush, Taeyong can handle this.” She says, glancing at him and gives him a thumbs up, mouthing “You got this.”

When they left, you turn to Taeyong and wait for him to explain.

“Uhm, do you want to sit down first?”

“No, I’m good standing up.”

He sighs, “Okay. Uhm…” His eyes fall on your neck, making him reach out and touch the necklace you wore. “You haven’t worn this in a while.”

“Don’t change the topic. What the hell is happening?” You snap at him and he offers you an apologetic smile.

“When I bought this, the store also had these rings; really expensive rings. And I knew I didn’t have the money to buy them so I didn’t think much of it until I saw this one particular ring. I immediately thought of you and I don’t know why I did, but when the lady who sold me this necklace offered to reserve the ring for at most 3 months, I took it.” He pauses to swallow. “After I gave you this necklace, I started working different part time jobs so I can save up for the ring. I didn’t even have enough when the 3 months were up, but my mom lent me the money because she knows how much I wanted it for you-- how much I love you.”

Taeyong pulls out a square box from his back pocket and you recognize the packaging as the same one that came with the necklace from years ago. “So I’ve had this for 4 years because I didn’t know when to give it you; I kept waiting for the right time, and if you came home a little later, I could have given it to you like I planned.”

You stare up at him, “But, we already celebrated our anniversary… w-what’s with today that you have to ask Johnny and his girlfriend for help?”

He inhales deeply, closing his eyes as he slowly exhales. With one last breath, he gets on one knee and holds your hand, gazing into your eyes.

“I swear to God, I had a whole spiel to tell you, but you came too early and now I can’t remember most of it.” He chuckles, “And I feel like I should apologize for taking so long to do this, but [Y/N], you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You’re patient and understanding with me, you know how to put up with me, and I’m--I’m me because of you. I loved you for 7 years and I promise to love you even more for the next years to come,” He opens up the square box and reveals the most elegant ring you’ve ever seen. “Will you marry me?”

You don’t even realize that you had held your breath or that you’ve began crying until you attempted to answer him. “Wait, I just feel so stupid for thinking that you were cheating on me.”

He shushes, vehemently shaking his head. “No, no, it’s okay. Please answer me, baby. One word, yes or no. And whatever it is, I’ll accept it.”

You choke back your tears at the thought of him understanding if you reject his proposal, “Of course, it’s a yes!” You pull him up from the floor and throw your arms around his shoulders.

He hugs you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and you feel it: the warmth of his body that you missed so much; the warmth that made you feel that you were home.

“Is this really happening?”

He laughs, breaking the hug off to put the ring on your finger. “Why? Are you having second thoughts?”

“No!” You cry, briefly admiring the ring before returning your attention on Taeyong, who wipes your tears with his thumb, “Never.”

-

a/n:  i will always cry while writing marriage proposals bc its the only time i allow myself to be so cheesy and im so soft rn it didnt help that taeyong had apple hair for inkigayo :c

this is still open  (u kno if anyone else is interested in getting to know me)

follow me on twitter? @ohyesjaehyun

#nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct 2018 #nct scenarios #taeyong scenarios

[raywritesthings]

Wrong Road to the Right Place 3/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Quentin Lance, John Diggle, Thea Queen, Moira Queen, Joanna de la Vega Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Laurel finds herself curious about the marks Oliver showed her that night in his bedroom - and the tattoo on his left shoulder stands out in particular. When she discovers its meaning, she finds herself questioning everything she knows about the man she doesn’t want to admit she still loves. AO3 link

Laurel’s sleep, however determined she was to get it the night before, was fitful. She kept hearing Oliver’s voice telling her how damaged he felt, how he struggled daily with the most basic tasks. And then there was another little voice that sounded a lot more like her father’s: they never just let you walk away, the mob.

How safe was Ollie when he was possibly the most famous person in all of Starling City?

No wonder he seemed so helpless, so broken. He’d survived both an attempted kidnapping and assassination in just about a month. She hoped having Mr. Diggle close by at all times gave him some comfort, the same way she’d been able to draw strength and support from his solid presence the night the Triad had come.

Laurel still didn’t think he was as incapable or broken as he claimed, having seen the assured way he’d handled himself then. But maybe he really did think himself damaged from his time with the Bratva.

Maybe what really had him afraid was being forced back into that kind of life.

She got ready for work and headed into CNRI while parsing through these ideas, and once there put her time towards filing paperwork, knowing she didn’t have the focus for much else.

Joanna held her tongue for about two days of this. “I would’ve thought you’d be itching for a new case by now after that circus Oliver put you through.”

“Yeah, I know,” she acknowledged, unsure how to put her thoughts into un-incriminating words. “I guess it just…got me thinking.”

“Uh-huh,” her friend said with a knowing smirk. “You two do some ‘thinking’ together?”

“What? No!” Her face heated up with the partial lie. “I just found some stuff out about his time on the island, and it has me worried about him.”

Joanna thankfully sobered. “You think he needs to get some help? Talk about what happened?”

“Maybe. But I don’t know if he’d want to go to somebody or how much he’d tell them.” That was part of what had been driving her to distraction these last few days; she couldn’t really discuss what she knew without betraying Oliver, and after her last bungled attempt accusing him of being the Hood she was afraid he’d shut her out if she brought up anything else, so she’d been left to turn her theories and thoughts and fears for him over and over in her mind on her own.

“Well, he’s talked to you,” Joanna pointed out.

“Some,” Laurel hedged. What really concerned her she’d pieced together on her own, after all.

“Look, he’s not just going to spill everything after five years.” Joanna remarked. “Whenever my brother gets called in on a really bad fire, he doesn’t like to talk to any of us about it, not for a while. But he knows, when he’s ready, that he can. That’s all you can really do, Laurel. Just let Oliver know you’re someone he can go to for help.”

“I know,” she sighed. “You’re right, I know. Thanks for the advice.”

“Here’s some more—stop worrying in the meantime!” Her friend told her with a grin. “What happened to staying away from him?”

“Don’t remind me,” she groaned. “If you’d told me a year ago I’d ever give a damn about Oliver Queen again I would’ve laughed in your face, but…I do. I do care about him. And I do not want to examine that too closely.”

Her friend held up her hands in mock surrender.

“Laurel, Joanna, conference room in five,” Anastasia called over to their desks, and she seized on the distraction.

Although she was not so happy about it once everyone had assembled. “Alright people, I don’t want to alarm you but we’ve gotten some pretty bad news. Stagg Industries is pulling their funding.”

There were shocked gasps and exclamations all around, and Laurel was honestly not sure which category she fell under. After everything else that had happened this week this just felt like a nasty slap in the face. Her feelings on Oliver, what she’d discovered about him, all of those things couldn’t shake the foundation she’d built her life on the last five years. But this?

“Think you can get your Vigilante boyfriend to break another one of our cases, Lance?” Derrick asked, breaking into her thoughts. “It’d put us back in the news, might get us some new donors.”

Joanna immediately rose to her defense with a sharp, “Lay off, Derrick.”

Laurel, on the other hand, found herself having to stifle a laugh of hysteria. The Hood! The bow-and-arrow wielding, mysterious vigilante who went after the criminal elite and who Laurel had had more one-on-one interactions with than most, all while her thoughts were now tangled up in one-percenter Oliver Queen who was a former member of the Russian mafia. As if she needed more complicated!

Apparently some of her inner turmoil must have been showing on her face, for Derrick sounded rather contrite as he replied, “Sorry, Laurel, you know I was joking.”

“No, I uh- it’s fine. How bad is the situation?”

Their boss was already looking glum enough, and she gave a slow shake of her head. “Honestly, Stagg was almost single-handedly keeping us in business. I’ll keep you all updated on the situation, but you might want to start looking at your options outside of CNRI.”

Could things possibly get any worse?

—-

Tommy didn’t think things could possibly get any better. Thanks to Thea’s expert advice, he’d put out the offer to host a benefit for CNRI, which Laurel had accepted after some prodding from Joanna.

Now if he could just find a minute to talk to her alone. Leave it to Carter Bowen to get in the way. Not to mention Thea’s worrying level of intoxication.

But Laurel at last left the dance floor and made her way back over as he started to usher Thea to the door.

“Hey, is Thea okay?”

“Yeah. Just the, uh, food didn’t agree with her.”

“Right, the food,” she said in a tone that implied she knew pretty well what was really going on.

“Yeah. I guess we’ll have to save that dance for next time since I couldn’t cut in on your little dosido with Carter.”

“Tommy.” Laurel shook her head. “I danced with him because he wrote a massive check to CNRI. Why would you think anything else?”

“I guess when it comes to you, I tend not to think straight,” he admitted, grimacing at his own rash assumption. “So next time, then?”

Laurel’s face was pinched in the sort of way that meant she had something to say that she knew the other person didn’t want to hear. Tommy had been on the receiving end of that look often enough in his life to know it when he saw it, but this was the single worst time for it to appear.

Sure enough, what followed was a pained, “Tommy…I really don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Immediately he winced at the near audible whine in the question. “I mean, we have fun together, don’t we?”

“Of course we do,” she assured him, “because we’re friends. But a relationship is more than just fun. It’s commitment and investment—”

“Look, I know I have a reputation, Laurel, but I’m willing to try those things!” Tommy insisted. He was starting to regret leading the other day with the story about the girl he’d nearly taken to bed twice; really not one of his smoothest attempts.

“I’m not trying to tell you how you feel, Tommy, I’m trying to tell you how I feel,” she corrected him with a sad smile. “And I just don’t know if I’m ready to start a relationship when I still don’t know how I feel about what happened between us already.”

“What’s there to be conflicted about?” He asked with a growing tension in his jaw. “We were both single after everything with Oliver and—” Tommy faltered, averting his eyes as he finished with a muttered, “Sara.”

The long pause after almost spoke for itself, but Laurel still replied, “Do I even need to answer that? I’m sorry, Tommy, I really am, but there’s a lot going on right now, and I just don’t think a relationship is a good idea.”

“Right.” Tommy tried for a smile, but he was fairly certain he just ended up baring his teeth a little. “Because Oliver’s back. Because, somehow, you would still want things to work out with him.” It was obvious that’s what Oliver still wanted, anyway. What were the two even dancing around each other for?

“I don’t know what I want,” Laurel said on something of a laugh, and that lessened some of the sting of rejection at least. She took a step closer and it was impossible not to meet her eyes. “I just know that you are someone I care about, and I don’t want to lose you as a friend for a relationship that I can’t…I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I know.”

“And Oliver can’t lose us either, Tommy. Because it’s friends that he needs right now.”

“You shouldn’t have to put your life on hold for him,” he said, unable to help trying.

“I don’t know if anyone’s life can be on hold with what’s been going on in this city lately,” Laurel replied. “But I’m making this decision for me, Tommy. I’m sorry.”

Some part of him knew Laurel felt sure about that. But he couldn’t help frowning across the room at where he’d last seen Oliver.

“Well, it’d be nice if he felt like returning the favor on that whole ‘being there for his friends’ thing.”

Laurel spun around to see what he’d noticed; Oliver attempting to make one of his quiet getaways, though it looked like Mrs. Queen was impeding that. Good for her.

“Um, I’ll be right back,” said Laurel, already starting to walk away.

“That’s fine. Don’t worry about me.” He had a drunk seventeen year-old to get home anyway.

So much for a great night.

—-

Moira had had just about enough.

In the initial weeks since his return, she had tried to be understanding when it came to Oliver. She knew it was foolish to expect him to be the same as he had been, and she also knew there was much he was keeping bottled up about his experiences those five years away.

The majority of his new habits she had attempted to either accept or ignore, in the hopes that if he felt welcome enough back home he might finally open up to them.

But Oliver had taken the space she had allowed him and pushed for more and more. It wasn’t unusual for him to skip dinner with the family, something Thea often pointedly remarked on from her grudging place at the table. Just this afternoon, he’d run out during a luncheon with Carter Bowen and his mother, leaving Moira to make excuses.

And now he was leaving in the middle of the CNRI benefit. A fine impression that would make on the Bowens, not to mention the tabloids.

Before her son could make one of his typical hasty exits, however, he was intercepted by none other than Laurel Lance.

“Hey, are you heading out?”

“Um, yeah, Laurel. Sorry. Something just came up with the club preparations.”

Moira was careful to turn her back to the pair, but her ears were very much attuned to the conversation.

“That’s okay. I just wanted to thank you for coming. It means a lot.”

“Well, CNRI is an important part of the city. I’d hate to see it go. And I wouldn’t want my friend losing her job, either,” Oliver replied.

“Thanks.”

There was the slightest pause, and out of the corner of her eye Moira could see Oliver just starting to pull away. But Laurel followed the movement with a step forward.

“Ollie. I know after the other day, this might seem hard to believe, but...you are my friend. And I care about you, and I want to help you in any way just the same as you’ve helped me.”

Her son seemed to struggle with what to say for a moment. “That- that really means a lot, Laurel. Thank you.”

“No need for thanks.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go, but it’s, uh, it’s sort of important.” Slightly to the right of Oliver stood Mr. Diggle, and he seemed just as keyed into the conversation as Moira was. “Plumbing problem.”

“Right. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for coming.” Laurel took another step as Oliver moved once again to go. “Maybe I’ll see you around? Since we’re both working in the Glades, now. I usually don’t have any lunch plans, so if you ever want to just grab a bite and talk…”

“Yeah. Absolutely. Really, Laurel, thank you. Um, bye.”

“Yeah, bye,” Laurel said, quieter as Oliver did at last successfully turn and go. She turned her head and seemed to catch sight of Moira, her eyes widening slightly. “Mrs. Queen. Hi.”

“Hello, Laurel.”

“Thanks for coming to support CNRI.”

“It was my pleasure. Although I do have to apologize for my son.”

Laurel smiled. “That’s okay. I’m sure he’s just trying to do his best with the club and everything. There’s probably a lot to adjust to.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Moira considered her over the flute of the champagne glass she’d been given. “You know, I have to admit I’m surprised you of all people would even want to give Oliver the benefit of the doubt.”

Laurel’s smile turned a little wry. “Well, I guess after everything he’s been through, I hope he can feel…” She seemed to search for a word for a time before settling on, “Safe.”

A couple of Laurel’s coworkers were hailing her from over near the refreshments.

“Excuse me.”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t the strangest choice of word. And yet Moira had to wonder: did Laurel know of some reason Oliver didn’t feel safe?

The safety of her children was more important than anything, precarious as a position she was in. She hadn’t slept for a week after the kidnapping attempt she’d arranged. The only thing she could console herself with was that whatever Malcolm would have planned would’ve been far worse. So if there was something or someone else threatening her baby boy then she needed to find out.

She didn’t get the chance until later that week when Oliver took her to dinner at his favorite burger place.

“So have you had lunch?” Moira asked as she dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had grease dribble down her chin and she wasn’t about to break that record now.

Oliver looked across at her. “Well, I’m having dinner now—”

“I meant with Laurel,” she said.

“I haven’t yet,” he admitted, eyes on his plate.

Moira arched an eyebrow. “Why not? When someone offers to spend time with you, it’s polite to make the time for them. And it’s remarkably considerate of her to offer.”

“I know it is. But I—” He broke off, clearly frustrated. “When Detective Lance was questioning me in front of Laurel, I spoke a little bit. About the island. I knew it was gonna change how she saw me, I just hoped…” Her son gave a helpless shrug and set the little that remained of his burger aside.

Moira was quiet for a time. “You feel she’s treating you this way because of pity?”

“I know she is,” he insisted.

Moira shook her head. “Oliver, I don’t believe that Laurel thinks less of you because of your experiences the last five years. I think the reason she’s trying to reach out is she’s worried you think less of yourself.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say to that. She could feel a part of her heart tearing, knowing she’d been right.

Moira reached across the table and took his hands. “Oliver, I want you to know that we are here for you. We want to see you happy. All we’re asking is for you to meet us halfway.”

“I know, mom,” he said. “I do. I’ll...try to be better.”

It wasn’t exactly a guarantee, but she smiled nonetheless. Moira pulled back, taking another napkin to wipe at the excessive amount of oil she’d picked up from Oliver’s hands. Her son chuckled.

“You can take mom out of the mansion,” he remarked.

She tossed the napkin at him.

#lauriver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #laurel x oliver #tommy merlyn #moira queen #joanna de la vega #green arrow #black canary #my writing