#And told his agents not bother him when it's not an emergency

[localguy2]

Seeing Jaya angst where Jay is being extremely hurtful to Nya and sorta taking advantage of the fact that she can't bring herself to fight him is sad, but also so fucking funny

Like bro, have you seen how this guy acted when he met Bonzel and she literally immediately knew that he didn't like his job or the fact that they're hunting Zane (without knowing that ofc)

[landwriter]

Desperate Measures | Dream/Hob | 1.2K | G v silly and fluffy, literally 90% air, dream attempts a romantic gesture, hob is a sap and forgetful, human au, part text fic

for @domaystic drabbles, Day 6: Under the Same Umbrella

---

Dream woke up to 26 texts from Hob. He put on his glasses and began his morning read. It’d replaced Times for him. The editorial quality, he thought, was far superior.

Hob (7:19 am) heading out, gave you a wee forehead kiss and you didn’t even stir. sleeping bloody beauty. love you disgustingly much x

Hob (7:26 am) couldn’t find my umbrella anywhere can you take a look if it’s not too much of a bother? feel like i’ve gone mad

Hob (7:30 am) christ it’s bucketing down!! standing under the eaves just to tell you how much it’s bucketing down

plants will be happy at least so will my goth boyfriend ;) hope your writing goes well today love. extra atmosphere!!

Hob (8:42 am) nevermind don’t look for it remembered that i left it in my office told johanna she can use it since i’m at the archives all day anyway glad i’m not the only one who’d forget their own head if it wasn’t screwed on :) :) :)

Hob (10:11 am) you should’ve seen the look lisa gave me when i showed up had to dry myself off in the men’s w half a forest of paper towels there goes my carbon offset from walking i said christ you’re probably still in bed asleep warm dry!! lucky bastard

wish i could come back already and drip puddles all over you

Hob (10:37 am) if this keeps up i’m going to look like mr darcy in the rain on your doorstep tonight don’t worry i promise not to propose marriage while insulting you xx although i do love you most ardently

...elizabeth

Dream smiled, read them all again, contemplated, and then sent his reply.

Dream (11:01 am) Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through

Hob replied moments later.

?? you sound like a customer service agent wait you’re quoting the film you can’t reject me if i’ve not proposed to you!! yet!!!

Dream snorted. 'and I am very sorry I have caused you pain' went the line. They’d watched it last weekend. Hob had cried, and Dream had privately decided that if Hob proposed, he’d say yes. Even if it was poorly done. It wouldn’t be, though. Not if Hob was doing it. He sent a second text.

...and I am very sorry you were drenched by rain.

Then he got out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. His phone buzzed anew as he made tea and toast. He smiled at the sound. On their first date, Hob had warned Dream that he had a bad habit of annoying boyfriends over text. Dream, on his first date in six years, had wondered what it might be like to be so effusively charming that you could have enough boyfriends to form habits around them at all. He hadn’t known what to say, and Hob had ducked his head, grimacing a little, and said, “Just tell me to piss off, please, if I do? I know I can be a bit much.”

Dream believed it, because the man was telling him about his habits with boyfriends after one date. Not that he minded. And three months in, Dream had yet to tell him to piss off.

Turns out, a bit much was exactly what he’d wanted. Needed, in truth. Someone to tether him to the real world. His phone had become a modern-day lodestone in his pocket, a comforting pull of Hob-ness that would always point him back to life whenever he’d emerge, blinking and disoriented, out of the mire of his work. Work that he loved - creating worlds out of nothing, writing stories that would change people - but, coming on the age of thirty with nothing to show for it but recurring wrist strain and an upmarket flat that never had any guests, work that had also made him spend so much time apart from the rest of humanity that he was sometimes unsure how to rejoin it.

The tipping point had been when his eldest sister had found out that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else in between two of their regular dinners. Which were monthly. It had been mortifying. She’d smiled sadly, which was excruciating enough, and then gotten the gleam of a plan in her eyes, which had been far worse. “I’m setting you up,” she’d said. “I know just the guy. We go way back. I think you’ll like him.”

He had. Now, when his phone buzzed, he found himself frowning if it wasn’t Hob. (An exceedingly rare occasion.) But this time it was, of course. Four short messages sent one after the other:

hahahaha ok fine that was v good enjoy your day x

Five hours later, not even the curtain of rain awaiting him outside could douse the anticipation in his belly. An idea, he knew, was a powerful thing. Dream didn’t have an umbrella - Hob always shared with him, and would’ve apologetically nicked his if he had - so he would make the first leg of the journey as Hob did. He intended to go and get something nice, but once in the cold downpour, his resolve failed him almost at once, and he ducked into the first shop that had umbrellas in the window.

“Hiya,” said the girl at the counter without looking up from her phone.

Dream ignored her, blinking the rain out of his eyes, belatedly registering all the merchandise had a unifying theme and that he’d made a terrible mistake, borne of sheer desperation.

“Would you happen to have any other umbrellas? In black?” he asked. Hidden behind the counter, perhaps. If only you knew to ask.

The girl looked at him with an air of disbelieving reproval only accessible to teenagers and the very elderly. “You could try Boots, you know. It’s just down the street.”

Dream looked out the window. Rain torrented down. Commuters hurried past with their sensibly coloured umbrellas. From places exactly like Boots.

“Or we’ve got rain ponchos,” she added. It sounded like a threat.

“Nevermind,” said Dream quickly. “I’ll take it.”

“Enjoy your visit in London, sir,” she called out as he left.

He stepped outside and flicked open the umbrella with slightly more force than necessary.

Dream waited a few paces outside the archives, wanting to surprise Hob properly. Two separate pairs of tourists had thought he was their London Ghost Tours guide, and he was beginning to regret not holding out for longer, drenching be damned. Then Hob emerged, striding out and immediately stopping to pull out his phone. He was smiling at it. Dream smiled too, in anticipation.

A moment later his own phone buzzed loudly in his coat pocket, and Hob looked up in surprise.

“Oh my god,” he said. Then he said it again.

“I heard you needed an umbrella,” said Dream. He’d had the line already, since he got the idea. It had been very dashing and romantic in his head. It was somewhat undermined by the dreadful costuming choice that had been forced upon him.

Hob looked between Dream and the umbrella, bafflement melting into a happy laugh. He ducked underneath, pecking Dream on the lips. “I’m not sure I needed one quite this badly. Did you rob some poor tourist?”

“Unhappily, I paid for this.”

“Oh no,” said Hob, pulling away and pretending to inspect him for injury. “My poor darling. Your dignity.”

Dream sniffed. “I will recover.”

“Here,” said Hob. “I’ll carry it for you. You’ll only be guilty by association, then.”

They began walking, a bobbing Union Jack in a sea of blacks and greys. After the chief sin of ugliness, it was also a little small for two grown men, but Dream found he didn’t resent that at all, as Hob tucked him tightly into his side to keep them both dry. People gave them a wide berth. Tourists could never be trusted with umbrellas.

“You’ve rescued me, you know,” said Hob, nuzzling into his cheek.

“It wouldn’t do to have you dripping puddles all over the floors,” said Dream.

“Even if I looked terribly handsome, all wet and ardent?”

Dream bit his lip and smiled a little. “Perhaps you can be wet and ardent in the shower. Instead.”

Hob laughed again. It was Dream’s favourite sound. “Much warmer than the rain anyway. Deal.” Rain drummed down on their private nylon ceiling. “I was thinking chicken tikka masala for dinner?”

And so they made their way home, and although the rain never let up, Dream was so content and warm that he might’ve sworn they were walking in the sun.

[skaruresonic]

So Sonic 3's trailer finally dropped today. Any thoughts on it?

I had zero hype for this film because I didn't like the previous two and had no reason to believe this one would turn out any different. Lo and behold! ...it doesn't.

There's so much I could talk about.

• The shameless digging up of the corpse of my favorite Sonic game just to dress it up Norman Bates-style. Why yes, I love getting butchered adaptations of SA2 shoved down my throat. Keep 'em coming.

• The fact that the overly-furry aesthetic Paramount chose for Sonic and the other anthros still looks plug-ugly to my eyes no matter how much I try to get acclimated to it. In fact, it somehow looks even worse here than it did in previous movies.

• The fact that they ripped off a scene from Matrix Revolutions. Interesting choice, lmao.

• Jimbotnik continuing to register as "Jim Carrey in a costume" and not as Eggman.

• Agent Stone continuing to be a nothingburger of a character aside from being a living footstool for Jimbotnik. I thought everybody said he was going to be 3's main antagonist. Why is he even here.

• Jimbotnik calling Gerald "Pop-Pop," cutesy-ing it up for no real reason, when Eggman simply called him "grandpa" at most in the games. What, is his grandfather Mike Ehrmantraut now?

• The original game's "fuck the police" angle now being ignored in favor of maybe making GUN look like the good guys (what?).

• The fact that the ARK, an iconic location, is nowhere in sight is making me more than a tad apprehensive. Idk if this thing is supposed to replace it:

• This one really steams my hams: the fact that Paramount portrays Jimbotnik's weight gain via hateful stereotypes of fat men which the games do not employ in their overall portrayal of Eggman. It reflects a fatphobic attitude I could have told you was the case years ago judging by the fact that they cast a thin man in the role.

Games!Eggman is stylish and immaculately groomed, but Jimbotnik has to be a slob who dresses like The Dude just because he gained a little weight. Of course. 🙄

It really bothers me because Eggman is quite possibly one of the only examples of positive fat male representation I can point to, and they can't even let him be a little fat onscreen without literally exposing his belly with the intent to make fun of him in ways the games seldom do, if ever.

God fucking forbid he actually weighs the 281 lbs. he does in canon; Paramount would probably portray him like Fat Bastard from Austin Powers.

In lieu of being portrayed as dumb and weak, as is usually the case for fat male characters, Games!Eggman is portrayed as cunning, intelligent, powerful (physically and mentally), and stylish in a way that commands respect, despite whatever this Chili's says to discredit him. Eggman is fucking cool, and y'all are tripping if you don't think so.

• The fact that this movie is probably going to be cringe on the basis of its constant bathos-inducing insistence on making the characters crack mistimed jokes during serious moments.

• Doing a double take when Sonic called Shadow an "alien," possibly realizing that "alien" is the film universe's designation for anthros, then promptly short-circuiting and catching on fire. Can we not.

• Why does the trailer insist on making Shadow look like a wet cat? They did not deep-freeze my boy like they did in the games. Games!Shadow emerged from stasis minty-fresh, whereas Movie!Shadow looks like a newborn kitten yeeted straight out of the womb:

Disgustang. Stop that.

• The fact that everyone gives '06 flack for aesthetic whiplash but thinks Shadow looking like a muppet beside an irl little girl is fine, actually:

And the fact that said little girl may be killed just making dead Maria jokes 10x more uncomfortable than they need to be.

• They missed an opportunity for a fun visual gag by having the bathroom sign read "occupied" instead of "eggupied" or "hatching" (as in hatching a scheme. or a shit. maybe both, lol). Something like that:

They can pay homage to the Akira bike slide and the Super Burly Brawl from Matrix Revolutions, but God forbid we actually allude to Sonic games :v

---

...But most of this can be boiled down to "Paramount gonna Paramount."

All in all, I'm likely to continue my time-honored tradition of seeing the movie when it releases in theaters because deep down, I'm still a Sonic whore and subsequently pretending the films don't exist thereafter lol

[martianbugsbunny]

To Convince You That I Love You (A Kalluzeb Fic): Chapter 2

*staring and waving thru the window* I'm really enjoying this fic, it's I think four chapters, so it's already halfway done lol, and it's loads of fun. And speaking of fun Kallus is going to pass out and be sped back to the Ghost for emergency transport to medical facilities!!! Woo-hoo!!! This one's from Zeb's POV, so strap y'allselves in and get ready for him to be completely wigging about what happened to Kallus but also being as gentle as possible when moving him bc I am such a sucker for that. Read on and enjoy!

Zeb heard the explosion and instantly fired the last three shots he needed to finish off the stormtroopers with perfect precision. He sprinted towards the landing pad, fear shooting through him. Come on, Kal, please don’t have been in the blast.

The shuttle was a smoking ruin, the metal buckling against the inferno inside. That agent they had been tracking was dead. There was no way she could have survived.

But Zeb didn’t care about the mission anymore. He filtered out the smoldering pile of rubble and scanned his surroundings for any sign of Kallus.

Finally he saw Kallus lying several yards away from the shuttle, thrown by the power of the blast. Zeb sprinted over, moving faster than he could remember doing in a long time. His palms were sweating and he could hardly feel his legs, he was so terrified. Losing Kallus was…well, it was his personal worse-case scenario.

He knelt down. Kallus’s leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, and there was a piece of metal embedded in his upper arm. Worse, his nose was bleeding heavily, and there were dark bruises around his eyes and behind his ears: sure signs of a head injury. Somehow, though, he was still (barely) awake.

“Something’s not right,” he muttered. He couldn’t seem to focus his gaze on Zeb’s face. “Everything’s…foggy.”

Then his eyes fell shut and his head tipped to one side, the muscles in his neck slack.

Zeb slung his bo-rifle onto his back. There was no good way to pick Kallus up, with one of each limb wounded, so he simply did his best to support Kallus’s legs above the injured joint and thanked his lucky stars that his wounded arm was not the one that ended up held tightly against Zeb’s chest.

Kanan and Sabine had long since cleared out the troopers who had pinned down the Ghost. In fact, Zeb wondered for a moment why they hadn’t bothered reinforcing him and Kallus—but they were both trained soldiers and neither of them had commed for help, so there had really been no reason to worry.

Well, except for the fact that there was.

Zeb climbed aboard the Ghost and found Kanan and the kids debating over a topographic map he didn’t recognize at the holo-table. “There’s an outpost not too far from here, we could make a supply run before returning to base,” Ezra suggested.

“While we have an Imperial agent on board? Not gonna happen,” Sabine said. Zeb noticed that despite her confident tone, she still looked to Kanan for confirmation.

Kanan was saved from having to pick a side when he heard the sound of the ramp closing and turned to look at Zeb. “Ezra, go tell Hera to get the ship moving, now!” he commanded sharply. Ezra was turning pale, having gotten a look at the bloodied condition Kallus was in, but he did as he was told.

Zeb set Kallus down on the floor. “Let me guess: the explosion?” Sabine asked. Explosions were fairly run-of-the-mill for the Rebellion (especially when it came to the Specters) and hearing one in the distance wasn’t necessarily taken as a sign that someone was in trouble.

“Yeah.” Zeb found his throat tight, a pricking sensation he wasn’t used to irritating his eyes. “There were two Imperial fighters. They aimed for him and got the agent’s entire shuttle instead.”

Kanan wrapped his hand around Kallus’s wrist. It wasn’t the standard method of measuring a heartbeat, but his Jedi powers probably made it practical enough.

“We need to get him back to base soon,” Kanan said quietly. “Or he might not make it.”

Zeb paced to the edge of the room and slammed his fist down onto a crate. Kallus was always doing stupid things like this—putting himself in danger, taking too many risks, going way too far. When would enough be enough?

If Zeb had anything to say about it, Kallus would see the light sooner rather than later…if he lived to wake up again.

[procrastinating-panda]

What if she thinks you're sweet on her?

Title:  What if she thinks you're sweet on her? 

Plot: Criminal Minds Gang plots to get Gideon a gf

Pairing: Jason Gideon x femreader (romantic)

Warning: mentions of a bar

Due to a family emergency, Hotcher was delayed in heading with the team to a new case. Aaron at this point had missed a string of cases due to family matter and had always sent Agent Dosela in his place, who, like him was a lawyer before becoming an agent. After reading her personnel file he thought she would be an ample replacement and she was, what he didn’t expect was for Gideon to have taken a liking to her. 

Aaron arrived in Michigan two days after the rest of the team, Agent Dosela included, what he found was that the previously mentioned Agent and Gideon got on exceptionally well. Hotchner wasn’t the only one who had noticed how the two got along the team did too. When Hotchner arrived in California there was no need for Agent Dosela to stay. She left by train at the end of the day Hotchner arrived.

 Jason seemed somewhat disappointed about her leaving but with her help, they found the unsub and closed the case. On the plane back to Virginia the team was especially intrigued by Agent Dosela and how fond Gideon seemed to be towards her. They all obviously wanted to talk about it but Gideon was right there on the plane with them, playing chess with Reid. All they could do was share knowing glances. Jason becoming annoyed with their glances decides to say something. “Hey, Hotch.” “Yeah,” Hotch responds already facing him. “Don’t bother sending Agent Dosela any gifts on my behalf. Aaron was ready to oppose this reminding him that people need to feel important until Jason continued. “I already got her gifts.” Everyone in the cabin is instantly intrigued. “Gifts? Plural?” 

Jason makes a move his move on the chessboard taking in the expressions of everyone in the room before answering. “Yes, I got her more than one gift.” Astonished, stunned and confused are the words that would be used to describe Gideon’s teammates’, “What if she thinks you're sweet on her” Hotch interrogates, his curiosity intensified, shown by him leaving forward in his chair.  Gideon shrugs maintaining an unbothered and suave persona, drastically increasing his teammates’ fascination with the situation.  “What did you get her?” Morgan probed sitting up from the plane couch. Chuckling Gideon carries on with the chess game showing no intention of answering that question and so Jason leaves his teammates entirely in the dark except for their own deductions. 

Later on, when they had landed in D.C. and everyone is packing up to leave, Jason makes a pit stop at Agent Dosela's office to hand off the aforementioned gifts. Knocking on her already-opened door captures her focus, “Agent Gideon.” It’s worded more as a question than a hello, Jason hopes the professionalism would eventually dissolve from their conversations, maybe the gifts could be a gateway. Jason presents her with a white paper shopping bag, pulling out of it two things. “I got you a few things, to thank you for all  your help recently, I’m told that I often forget to remind people that they're important.”  Lips awkwardly pursed together she nods and utters. “Thank you for the reminder.”

 Hesitancy is present on both sides, she holds her hand out shyly for the bag, and Gideon quickly reacts by handing it over. The attorney agent reached into the bag pulling out a laptop sleeve, Jason quickly jumped in, “It’s chilli red you mentioned you liked that colour once. Dosela stares at the sleeve evidently pleased. “You remembered that, and how did you find one in specifically this colour?” Answering her question. “A lot of effort, Oh!” Realizing what he let slip. “There is also a laptop stand for when you’re on the plane inside.” “This is very nice, probably the nicest gift I’ve ever received from a coworker. Thank you.” 

Being honest with himself, he hoped that she would maybe realize the gifts were meant to be romantic, but she still saw him as a coworker that changed when she saw the third gift and exclaimed. “Oh wow, the craftsmanship on this is wonderful!” It was a white marble bookend, with gold lines on the end. Anahita stared at the gift in a state of admiration, while Jason looked at her the same way. Now aware of Jason's captivation, Anahita thanks him earnestly. “Thank you, Jason. Still caressing a bookend. “This is really sweet Jason.” Bashful and blushing Jason nods and utters. “Well, I saw your bookcase.” He gestures to her black and white bookcase that took up much of her office. “I thought it would look nice.” Gideon begins to backtrack out of her office. “I’ll get out of your hair.” “Don’t be a stranger Agent Gideon,” She states just before he leaves. 

While Jason was on his way out, J.J, Penelope and Emily convinced Anahita to go out to a local bar with the whole team as they, Hotch, Morgan and Reid had a plan to matchmake the two. While Dosela and Gideon exchanged gits the team was exchanging ideas on the best plan to get the two together. The first part of this plan was already in motion unbeknownst to the soon-to-be couple.

Part 2 Here

Part 3 Here

[foulbearobservation]

ios seal will definitely be haunting my dreams lmao

anyway 👉👈 spare hitman au? perhaps? (no pressure!!) -🦭

ask and ye shall receive, under the cut cause it's kinda long actually

"You got lucky that the Left Hand did not see fit to deactivate an agent such as yourself." Mother Superion is saying as she leads Lilith down an ever turning number of sterile white hallways.

"I am skillful, not stupid, Mother."

A long silence. "Even so," she says, saying a thousand things with the way she drawls her words, "your new handler awaits." Superion opens the door to reveal what seems to be a dark empty room.

"Has anyone ever told you that this is inhumane? It’s practically cruel and unusual punishment, throwing someone room where they’re the only one’s without night-vision." Lilith sighs, taking the small earpiece from Mother Superion’s outstretched hand.

"Humanity is a luxury that we do not have time for. Good luck, Agent."

Lilith steps into the dark. She doesn’t even bother to open her eyes, it won’t do her much good in the pitch blackness. But she can hear the faint rustle of bodies around her but nobody is moving, not yet. Their handlers have not given them a command either.

"Hello, Agent." A woman's voice, fairly high and faintly accented, speaks in Lilith's ear.

"Skip the pleasantries, I'm locked in a dark room with an unknown number of hostiles. How are you gonna get me out of it?"

There's the telltale sound of a keyboard rapidly typing then, "clock system, yeah?"

Great, Lilith thinks, another nerd. "Just tell me to go low or high."

"12 o'clock, 5 meters, run forward and dodge to the right when you can feel his breath."

Lilith cracks her knuckles. "Sure hope you don't suck at your job."

"I sure hope you don't suck at yours. Start running, agent."

Lilith charges forward, trusting her senses and the voice in her ear. The violence in her job is easy, second nature by now, but trusting the voice in her ear? That’s where she struggles. She knows, she’s seen the red papers in her dossier, she’s been to the psychologist more times than she can count. She trusted Beatrice proved she could be trusted. This new voice is just that, a voice, and Lilith doesn’t do well with change.

She charges forward, dodging to the right when she hears a sharp intake of breath in front of her. She throws a foot out and it seems like she catches the poor sap off guard, sending him tumbling to the floor. She continues forward, because the voice didn’t tell her to stop yet.

“Slow down, you’re entering the obstacle course now. Reach your left hand out, two o’clock.”

“You didn’t have me fight all the hostiles?” Lilith hisses out, but still obediently reaches out her left hand. Almost immediately she feels the cool metal of the climbing bars.

“Why would you waste time fighting in the dark when you could be in and out before anyone knew you were there? Now climb.”

Lilith shuts up and begins to climb.

All told, it goes about as well as it could have. It certainly goes better than the first gauntlet that Lilith ran with Beatrice in her ear.

Lilith emerges from the darkness with her eyes closed. She does not open them until Mother Superion clears her throat loudly.

"Your handler is waiting, agent."

"Not exactly in the business of giving a shit, Mother." Lilith breathes deeply.

[skylarsin7]

The Gipson Girls Job: Ch. 9

Chapter Nine

They didn’t bother covering her bruises with makeup, and had dressed her in some ragged leggings and an oversized shirt. They had decided to go that evening, so there would be little time to think, to question, to get cold feet. This was their only shot. 

Embyr sat at the table in the media room, printer paper laid out before her as she twiddled a number two pencil between her fingers. She had requested the items when they had returned to the media room after her and Sophie’s trip to the restroom. She thought maybe if she could doodle, she could calm herself, mentally prepare for what was to come. Eliot had returned upstairs shortly after she had settled at the table, but one glance in her direction told her quite plainly that he was still upset with her. She had refused to look away from him, refusing to back down. He finally huffed loudly and disappeared into one of the offices. He hadn’t come back. 

She absently let the pencil move over the paper, no clear image in mind as the strokes came together. Before she knew it, an angel came to life on the page. Serene smile pulling at rounded lips, deep set dark eyes sparkling with pride and gratitude. A crown of neat braids crested her head, each loop decorated with star or moon charms. She shaded in her creamy mocha skin with strategically placed shadows. Tears welled in her eyes as she set the pencil down. “Lyssbie…” She murmured, trying in vain to mask her sniffle. Parker poked her head around the corner, before her body followed. “Hey, you okay?” She asked, stepping closer. Her expression clearly stated that this was an awkward position for her to be in. Embyr nodded, swiping impatiently at her tears. “Fine. Maybe a little nervous about tonight.” She admitted. Parker was quiet a moment. “Whose that?” She asked, gesturing to the portrait. Embyr managed a small smile. “My sister. Her name was Lyssbeth.” She had to force the name out as emotion threatened to choke her again. Parker reached tentatively for her shoulder. “It’ll be alright. We are a team. A family…kind of. We may be dysfunctional, and maybe don’t always see eye to eye, but we protect each other. We will protect you too.” The words were comforting, even though she looked like it was strange for her to say them. Embyr smiled. “Thank you Parker, I’ll try to make that task as easy as I can.”

***

Embyr led them to the club she had worked in, and, as luck would have it, Hardison had confirmed from the security feed that Victor Gipson would be in attendance tonight. Embyr was outfitted with a comm, a built-in tracker should they discover her earbud, and a tiny, emergency transmitter sewn into the secret compartment of her scrunchie. She was to press that button if her ass was in deep shit and Eliot would come to her rescue. 

He dropped her off a block away from the club, and had to force himself not to follow after her as she vanished into the late night crowd. Hardison had his van parked around the corner in an alleyway as backup, with Nate and Sophie watching the remote traffic cams. The plan was simple. Embyr was to get into the club through the back door and get herself caught by Victor and his team. Offer him the hard drive, which had been copied and wiped, and plead for their mercy. Then Hardison was to play the role of a potential client, requesting some feminine company. With any luck, they could trace the money back to the main account, which then could be traced to the accounts of their clients all over the world. Nate had an agent with the FBI on standby for when they had the information on the accounts. She wasn’t sure how he had the ear of a Federal Agent, but she wasn't about to question it.

Eliot didn’t like it one bit. But, he couldn’t pose as the buyer because Victor had seen his face that day in the alley. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of the truck impatiently. “You doing alright, Em?” He asked, not caring that the others were listening. “I’m fine.” She replied, but he could hear the tremor in her voice. He sure as hell didn’t like this. At all.

“Going silent, I’m at the backstage door.” She warned before yanking it open. Music blasted through the opening, sending her heart hammering wildly in her chest, threatening to climb into her throat and choke her. She took a deep breath to steady herself before slipping inside. She ducked into the dressing room quickly and quietly, fear causing cold sweat to bead on her skin. “You can do this….you can do this…” She chanted silently, over and over like a mantra. As planned, she drew the drive out of its secret compartment in her scrunchie, and stepped back out into the hall. She turned, heading for the backstage area when she was met with a mountain of foul smelling muscle, cheap booze, old gym socks, and too much aftershave assaulting her senses. She only had time to let out the barest squeak before the mountain had her in his arms, his forearm clamped over her windpipe. 

Eliot heard the squeak, the silence that followed falling with the weight of a sledgehammer. “I’m going after her.” He said fiercely, snapping the truck off, and moved to exit the cab. “Eliot, stay put! You want to blow this whole thing and possibly get her killed? Unless she hits that Oh, Shit button, we stay the course.” Nate’s voice was cold and commanding, and it grated on Eliot’s every nerve. Of course he didn’t want to get her killed, and Nate knew it. He shook his head, let out an exasperated growl as he slammed the door to his truck closed, and fumed.

***

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” She recognized the accent at Dario’s, the brute that had initially caught her that day in the alley. She didn’t struggle, though her every nerve begged her to fight and flee. Her hands had instinctively gripped the large man’s forearm, dropping the drive to the floor. The movement caught Dario’s attention and he stooped to retrieve it with his free hand. She was forced to bend with him to her revulsion, her back pressed against his chest. He shuddered as he straightened and she had to fight back bile. Judging by the bulge in his pocket, he was all too happy to have her there, and it made her skin crawl. He tugged his walkie talkie out of its hip holster, a crackle sounding from the receiver. “Hey boss, you should come down here. Backstage. A little bird had returned to the nest. And she brings a gift.” His voice was little more than a growl. “I’ll be right there.” Victor replied. Even his voice gave her violent chills down her spine.  

Dario held her close, almost to the point of choking her, and she had to fight to keep from passing out. He had her in a vice grip, the length of his front pressed tightly to her back. She forced herself to remain still, tamping down the instinct to kick back savagely, aiming for his groin. Would serve him right anyway. But that was not what she was here for. Victor took his time coming downstairs from the offices that made up the second floor of the club, but she had to repress a wave of nausea when he did so. Dressed all in black and with his signature slicked back hairdo, he looked even more like a skull than he did in broad daylight. In fact, he looked like the grim reaper, the only things missing were a scythe and cloak. His eyes bore into hers, shadow meeting whiskey as the green bled away from her gaze. 

“Well, Little Girl, what foolishness has prompted this most pleasant surprise?” He sneered. She lifted her chin with as much defiance as she could muster, saying nothing. “Boss, she brought the drive.” Dario answered for her, holding it out for Victor. The boss grabbed the drive, holding it between two bony fingers. Embyr managed to suck in a lungful of air. “It was…empty…anyway…so you killed…Roach…for nothing…” She all but snarled. Dario tightened his grip, cutting off anything else she might say. Victor shrugged dismissively. “Daniel was executed for daring to bite the hand that fed him. Whether or not he was successful in that betrayal is neither here nor there.” Victor replied. Hatred burned hot in Embyr’s chest, scalding her throat. He spoke of Roach as if he were merely that, a bug to be ground beneath his expensive, super polished Italian boot heel. “Bastard…” She hissed, her eyes flashing with fury. Victor smiled, that single gold tooth winking at her as he reached for her face. He slid his long fingers on either side of her throat, just under the line of her jaw. This way he could force her to look him in the eyes, and hold her face without fearing a savage bite.

”Oh, I will enjoy making you crawl, Little Girl.” The hunger in his voice turned her stomach sour, and if she’d had anything in it, she would have made it a point to projectile it into his face. But all she could do was stare at him with hate.  Another crackle sounded from the walkie. “Victor, there is a guy here wanting to see you.” Came a voice Embyr didn’t recognize. Victor growled low in his throat. “Not now Ian, I am busy.” Another answering crackle. “He says he wants to see the merchandise.” Ian’s voice sounded impatient, almost whiney. Victor sighed heavily, annoyance clear in every line of his features. His eyes flicked to the mountain that held her. “Dario, put her in the back room, I’ll deal with her later.” He told the larger man. Dario nodded. “On it, Boss.” He replied, dragging Embyr away.

***

Hardison stood by the door that was barred by a very large bouncer, tapping his foot with impatience. He could hear the conversation through Embyr’s com and it was all he could do to keep his face bored and impassive. He could only imagine what this must be like for Eliot. He would never admit this aloud, but the instant their eyes met, he felt an intense need to keep this girl who had been through so much, safe. He had seen the determination in her face as she had stared Eliot down, but also the fear and uncertainty that flickered there the moment the other man had looked away. He had seen the pain in her eyes when she recounted her story, the way those shifting hazel orbs strayed to him when she spoke of Roach. That small gesture had made his heart ache for her. He understood immediately why Eliot had wanted to help her. 

Victor Gipson was considered to be an imposing man, someone to be feared, but Hardison nearly laughed at how he towered over the mobster. Looking down the curve of his hawk-like nose into those beady black eyes seemed to take some of the menacing effect out of him. He reminded Hardison more of an oil-slicked rat than a hardened criminal capable of killing people. “I hear you are in the market for some new merchandise?” He said without preamble, annoyance clear in every line of his face, his body language not even giving the pretense of being polite. Hardison shrugged, not even the least bit sorry he had interrupted Victor’s fun. “I hear you are the man to see about some feminine delicacies.” He replied simply. Victor’s eyes narrowed. “And who exactly did you hear that from?” He all but hissed. Hardison shrugged again. “You hear things in our line of work. Through the grapevine, as it were.” Victor straightened, his lips curling back in a soundless snarl. A man Hardison recognized from his facial recognition software as Dario Goldstein came to stand behind Victor, his expression dangerous. This man, Hardison was afraid of. He was the same height as Hardison, but twice as wide, and not an ounce of it was fat. He looked like he could crush a VW in his bicep. 

“I will not ask you again. Before we do any kind of business, you will tell me who is spreading these rumors about me.” Victor’s voice was cold and cutting, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why he was so desperate to know. He wanted to know how much of the information that Roach pilfered had been distributed. How much of it had been leaked. That did not bode well for Embyr. That meant he hadn’t believed that the drive was empty, and would likely have a fate far worse than death planned out for her. Hardison suppressed a shudder. He sighed, lifting one eyebrow in annoyance. “Talk about burning your bridges. Alright, it was Anderson. Clive Anderson.” He spliced the name from the list of clients on the drive, and by the look of rage on Victor’s face, it seemed that the real Mr. Anderson was in deep with the Mob. He was sure that once they pulled up their list of clients, they would be scratching their heads when there was not a ‘Clive’ among them. This would buy them a little time, hopefully enough to make the deal. Or for them to plug in the drive. To run the programs Haridson had installed on the now ‘empty’ drive. A spike to disable their communications, and a virus to copy and destroy their secrets in one fell swoop. Once they plugged that drive in, it would be over for them. They wouldn’t even know what hit them. 

Victor turned to the mountain of muscle beside him, hissing something under his breath. Dario did a small half-bow, which was oddly graceful for a man of that size, and disappeared down the hall from whence he had come. Hardison had to fight to hide his smile. Let the games begin. He forced a scowl, shifting with annoyance. “Listen, if you are not up for making a little money, I can come back hmm…. never. I don’t have all day to play spy games with you.” He said with dismissal. Victor returned his scowl. 

“Fine, I will show you what I have. We will deal with Mr. Anderson later.” Victor growled, clearly not ready to lose a sale. “If you will please follow me.” Victor’s voice softened into a more businessman-like tone. Hardison nodded, knowing it was only a front, but gestured for the mobster to lead the way.

Embyr was thrown into a dimly lit room that smelled of body odor and mold. As soon as Dario disappeared and the door clicked shut, she turned to her surroundings, searching for anything that she could use. She could hear the lock click home as Dario threw the outer deadbolt, and she knew that even if she had found anything in the room, it wouldn’t have helped her. She took several deep breaths as her heartbeat skyrocketed. Though she wasn’t claustrophobic, the lack of escape route had panic skittering down her spine. 

Victor led Hardison through the club, down a small flight of stairs, and passed what looked like dressing rooms. There was a soft rumble of conversations around them, but the duo ignored them. They passed under an archway and into what looked like a set shop, wooden scenery stacked neatly against the far wall. “This way, Mr…..” Victor let the sentence hang, clearly waiting for Hardison to fill in the blanks. “Mr. White. Charles White.” Hardison answered. Victor nodded, eyeing Hardison as if memorizing his face. Hardison kept his face as impassive as he could. Pleasantries exchanged now, Victor stepped around the corner of the stacked sets and Hardison could hear the click of a lock. “This way, Mr. White.” The mobster repeated. Hardison turned the corner and was led into a small, dimly lit room. His eyes widened. There had to be close to three dozen women in this room, some standing, others huddled together on the floor. Each one was sporting bruises and cuts, smeared with dirt and darker things Hardison didn’t even want to begin to identify. He decided then and there that if they managed to take these assholes down, he would make sure they never recovered, that they could never strike their foul dealings again. 

***

“You okay, Em?” Eliot’s voice asked. She smiled, reminded that this time, she was not alone. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just not a huge fan of being locked in a closet.” She replied. “Is there anyone in there with you?” She knew what he was really asking. If she was with the other girls or not. “No. I’m alone in here. Kinda reeks of mold and…the great unwashed.” Her voice was thin as she tried not to breathe too deeply. “Well, hang in there darlin’, Hardison is making the deal now.” Eliot assured her, even though she could hear it in her com. She wasn’t sure what it was, but the drawl in his voice soothed her. “Okay.” She replied. 

The slide of the lock had her tensing again, shrinking herself towards the back of the closet, taking one more frantic sweep for a weapon. There was nothing. The door swung open and Dario eclipsed the light that streamed in through the archway. His eyes glittered in the shadows, and she didn’t need to be told why he was there. A waft of fresh air came in and she drew a greedy lungful of it. Dario’s lips cracked into a wicked smile. “Surprised to see me, Little Bird?” He asked, his eyes raking up and down her form. She set her lips in a hard line and refused to reply. The smile faded a little from his lips. “Afraid of me, Little Bird?” Came his next question, prodding her for a response. She rolled her eyes. “Hardly. But you stink and it's very hard to breathe with you this close to me.” She growled. Dario moved in one fluid motion, wrapping his beefy fingers around her throat, lifting her and all but slamming her against the back wall. She wheezed, her toes barely touching the floor now as he held her aloft. “You dare…” He growled, his foul breath choking her more than his grip. She spat in his face. Enraged, his grip tightened. “Victor has a special plan for you, foolish Bird. But he never shares the honeys with us, his loyal soldiers. Well, this time he will just have to have my sloppy seconds.” He sneered, leaning in for a kiss.

Embyr wished for unconsciousness, a meteor, death of every kind, anything but having this man’s greasy lips in hers. She could faintly hear Hardison and Victor striking their deal, exchanging account information. She had to hold on. They were in the home stretch. She just had to hold on. 

Dario kissed her sloppily, saliva smearing her face as she struggled to breathe. Revulsion turned the bile in her stomach into a roiling volcano, ready to erupt even though there was nothing in it. Dario’s free hand slid down her oversized shirt, cupping the mound of one breast. She couldn’t help the disgusted gasp he no doubt would mistake for fear or even pleasure. The bile threatened to escape with that thought. In one fluid motion, he gripped the neckline of her shirt, yanking it down and tearing it as he did so. She gripped his forearm, the one that held her throat and tried in vain to twist him off her. Her vision was starting to go grey, black spots blooming in places. She shook her head, trying to get away, but all that accomplished was knocking her earbud from her ear. Dario didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were glued to her cleavage, now bared and pushed up in offering by her bra. He slid one grimy finger under the fabric, brushing her nipple and tugging the fabric down to bare it as well. Embyr closed her eyes, unable to escape, willing her mind to carry her far away from there. 

Eliot’s face came to her mind’s eye. From the fierceness she had seen in the alley the day they had met, to the look he had given her when she’d worn her pale purple top, to his laugh, to the way he held her respectfully as they'd danced. Eliot…her mind chimed distantly. Her hero…Eliot. Her eyes snapped open, and while Dario was busying himself with other things, she pressed the Oh, Shit button.

[burnedwriter]

‘’jealousy’’

warnings:none,just fluff,some angst,mention of cheating,petnames,some suggestive elements but not too spicy,!gender neutral reader

A/n:some headcannons of how jealous they are

A/n:Dottore and scara have me on a chokehold lately

🐉Zhongli

🐉zhongli is the least jealous person on the list.He doesnt really get jealous by you talking to other people,sometimes he even joins in the conversations,since your job consists with talking to people constantly

🐉hes totaly oblivious of how human interact with eachother,hes still learning after being a god for thousands of years,so even if you purposly tried to make him jealous it wouldnt work.

🐉but you had to put it to the test to see the results,so one day you decided to take it upon yourself and start flirting with a customer.Both of you talked while zhongli watched the whole thing unfold

After the customer left you see zhongli get up from where he was sitting and slowly approach you.You finally got him you thought to yourself,were you really about to see his jealous side?,just the thinking about it turned you on by what he could do to you to show you who you belong to

‘‘Dear i saw you speaking to that customer,do you know them or is this how mortals talk to their favourite customer?’‘Zhongli asked you confused

You were left speechless,did he really not notice what you were trying to do,was he really that oblivious

‘‘no’‘you replied,signing defeated

‘‘no?’‘he said questioning your reply

‘‘i tried to make you jealous but i failed miserably’‘you said disappointed by the results

‘‘hahaha...I know how much you love me and have showed to me multiple times’‘he laughed softly,at your little test you tried to put him through,Though he wasnt wrong at all,you did love zhongli and you were ready to spend an eternity with him

💉Dottore

💉Dottore also falls in the category of people that dont get jealous at all,i mean you wouldnt dare to make him jealous to say the least

💉The only time you saw him get jealous was when you and Dottere went on one of the ball that the Tsaritsa organised for her Harbingers and of coursed you were obligated to attend it since you were the signaficant other of a harbinger

💉 and there you were with your drink in your hand still waiting after an hour has passed waiting for dottore to come back after the Jester called out to him for an emergency meeting,he reasured you that it wouldnt take him long before leaving into the backrooms

Thats when a pyro agent walked towards your direction,the conversation starting off normal but the more it progress the more flirty it became,you told him that you wer already taken and not interested but he kept insisting.

Until you felt the presence of someone standing right behind you

‘‘How dare you try and take the signaficant other of a Harbinger’’Dottore said,anger slightly visible in his voice

The pyro agent started apologising profuriously,stambling over his words before running away with his tail between his legs

‘‘are you alright my dear?’‘he saked,placing his hand on your shoulder as a mean of reasurance.

‘‘Thank you for looking aout for me,he just wouldnt leave me alone’‘you answered as you exhaled in frustration

‘‘anything for you dear,lets go dance now shall we"he said grabbing your hand softly guiding into the circle

💨scaramouche/wanderer

💨Scara is at the top of the list of jealousy.He will try to play it off like it didnt bother him at all but deep down hes fuming.

💨He will give you little remarks until you confront him about the situation and explain yourself,although he might have changed for the better, some parts of him are the same

💨one day while trying to get to the location you and scara agreed to meet,you stumbled upon one of your childhood friends that you havent seen in a long time,You sat there for hours the two of you laughed and talked about your lives,making you loose track of time

Finally going to wave goodbye to your friend,you felt someone draging you by your wrist only to see it was scara and he looked pretty pissed.He pulled you away from the people and behind a tree were you could speak in peace

‘‘do you know how long i have been waiting for you,i thought somethings happened to you but no you were out there cheating on me!’‘he spat angryly at you

‘‘what are you talking about?,i was talking to my childhood friend that i havent met in a long time’‘you reasured him and telling him the truth

‘‘if you dont want to be with me,just say it i wont be mad at you’‘his words cold stabbing your heart like dagger but you knew he was just bitter

‘‘are you jealous’‘you said with a sly smile that started to form on your face

‘‘no’‘turning his face away from yours

‘‘yes you are’‘you started poking fun at his reaction

‘‘fine,maybe a little bit...’‘he admitted feeling not being able to hide it from you

‘‘i knew it!’‘you explaimed happyly

‘‘how about we go to the place we agreed to meet and talk it there hmm’‘

‘‘sure’‘agreeing to his proposition 

The both of you started walking to the correct diraction while you held his hand

[specialagentsergio]

rationalizations

rationalizations: a defense mechanism in which one makes up a false but reassuring explanation to explain their behavior and/or feelings to both themselves and others, thus avoiding the reality of why they are really acting or feeling as they do.

summary: You’re the psych evaluation for Spencer. You think he’s full of shit, so you refuse to sign his clearance form until he actually tells the truth.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

category: angst (happy ending)

content warnings: spencer’s canonical trauma, flashbacks, mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation, swearing

a/n: i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins‘ enemies to lovers event. it’s not my favorite trope, but one of the prompts sparked inspiration for me. i also took a good amount of inspiration from meredith’s various therapy scenes in grey’s anatomy, so if some of it feels familiar, that’s why! i swear i intended to make this cute and funny, but, well… here we are lmao.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

Spencer throws his bag onto his desk with a frustrated huff. It thumps loudly, startling JJ at her desk across from his. She gives him a sympathetic look regardless. “Still not cleared yet?”

“No!” Forgetting that it’s wheeled, he drops himself into his chair. It skids backwards and he has to scramble to grab something to keep from falling out of it.

“Careful there,” JJ says, trying valiantly to suppress a laugh. “That psychologist's got you really worked up, huh?”

“I don’t know what she wants from me!” he complains. “It’s been nearly a month! Hotch’s ex-wife was murdered by an unsub, but they cleared him. I was only shot in the neck.”

“I mean, that’s still kind of a big deal,” she says. “You could’ve died, from the gunshot, or from the nurse that tried to kill you afterwards.”

“Speaking of that nurse,” he starts, “Garcia is the one who shot him and she’s been a wreck over it. She insisted on going to the guy’s execution. But the therapist cleared her!”

“Penelope’s not in the field,” JJ points out.

He crosses his arms. “Still. This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot. That possibility is part of the job. It’s not like it came out of nowhere and I was completely unprepared for it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spence,” she says. “Just keep all of your appointments and I’m sure you’ll be cleared soon.”

He pulls a stack of papers on his desk towards him. Paperwork—one of the things he’s actually allowed to do. “I better be,” he mutters.

---

“And it was really scary, you know?” Spencer wipes at his eyes with a tissue. “Not knowing if I was going to live or die.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He takes a deep breath. “But… it’s over now. The preacher who shot me died in the same shootout. Owen McGregor, the leader of the corrupt deputies, died later that night, in another shootout. And Greg Baylor, the one who posed as a nurse and tried to kill me, was sentenced to death row and he’s gone now, too.”

His psychologist makes a note on the paper in front of her, but doesn’t say anything, so he continues.

“I… I feel better now, just letting that out.” He takes a new tissue and dries his nose. “I feel ready now. Ready to go back to work.”

She nods slowly, considering him. But she doesn’t even look towards her desk where the clearance form sits, frustrating him to no end. After five minutes of silence, he breaks.

“You can’t be serious.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve been coming to these sessions for over a month, and I’m still not cleared to be in the field. I…” He musters up more tears and makes sure his voice wavers during his next words. “I just don’t know what you want? I’ve tried everything.”

“No, you haven’t,” she says plainly.

He blinks in surprise, sending some of the crocodile tears down his cheeks. “What?”

She crosses her legs. “You’re full of shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not being honest with me, and I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself either,” she says. “You’re a great actor. I can see how you’ve gotten clearances easily before. But that stops with me.”

Spencer stares at her. “I don’t understand.”

She moves her notebook to the side. “What happened in Texas isn’t the first time your life’s been in danger. Why do you think that is?”

“Wh—that’s part of my job,” he argues, fake crying long since forgotten.

“Not to the extent that you take it. I’ve read your file,” she says. “You take unnecessary risks with regularity.”

The tissues crumple in his hand as he clenches it. “I do not.”

“Let’s go back to the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?”

“Of your career.” Yet she doesn’t take out his file, or look at her notes. She speaks from memory. “2005. The BAU is assisting with a hostage situation. You go into the train, posing as someone who is there to remove a microchip from the unsub, but the first thing you do? You take off your bulletproof vest.”

“Okay, clearly you don’t understand what the situation was,” Spencer cuts in. “Ted Bryar was suffering from a psychotic break. He was somewhat unpredictable, and he told me to take off the vest.”

“And you just listened?”

“He—he had a gun, and was threatening both me and the other passengers with it!” he says. “What was I supposed to do, not listen?”

“Uh, yeah,” she replies. “You easily played into his delusions just a few minutes later to distract him. Why not do that to keep yourself safe?”

“I was twenty-four and was running on adrenaline,” he says defensively. “And it was my first time doing something like that. You can’t expect me to think of everything.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” she agrees. “So let’s jump forward a few years. How about the time you approached a teenager who was wielding an assault rifle with no protection, not even your own firearm?” she challenges.

“You mean Owen Savage? That was a unique situation,” he protests. “I knew I could talk him down.”

“No, you didn’t. You thought you had a good chance, but there’s no way to be one hundred percent sure of that. He was volatile, and on a killing spree,” she counters. “You didn’t know if you’d succeed--”

“I did!” He startles himself by unconsciously raising his voice, but he doesn’t apologize. “I did, because….”

“Because you related to him,” she fills in. “And that’s fine. Having empathy for an unsub doesn’t suggest something’s wrong in and of itself. But you still put yourself, and the rest of your team, in danger, didn’t you?”

He crosses his arms. “I got that lecture from Hotch when it happened, okay?”

“So then why’d you confront an unsub alone a few years later in Miami?” she asks. “You didn’t even tell anyone where you were going. You left your vest behind and just ran off.”

“I was having a head—wait, how do you even know that happened?” he questions. “It wasn’t in the report.”

“Well, first of all, you just confirmed it,” she points out, and he wants to kick himself. “Secondly, I can read between the lines.”

“I was having a headache,” he repeats. “I wasn’t thinking all that clearly. I just knew Julio’s life was in immediate danger, so I went to help him.”

“Uh-huh. More recently,” she says, brushing past his excuse, “You confronted your girlfriend’s stalker without your vest or gun.”

Spencer’s getting angry now. “I was trying to save Maeve. She asked me to leave them behind.”

“And you simply listened. Do you see the pattern I’m drawing here, Dr. Reid?” she asks. “These are just a few of the instances that stand out. Time and time again, you put yourself in unnecessary danger. So I’ll ask you again. Why do you think that is?”

Spencer looks over her—really looks over her, trying to understand what she’s getting at. “Are… are you suggesting that I’m suicidal?” he asks quietly.

She looks him straight in the eye. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

It’s like she set off a bomb in his brain. Memories, and the feelings attached to them, emerge—Elle handcuffed to a seat, a teenager with a rifle, a blinding headache, Maeve and blood on the warehouse floor.

“Here’s what I see,” she says. “I see a man who’s been through so, so much. Your mother is mentally ill, your father left--”

His father is packing a suitcase. Spencer doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say, so he falls back on what he knows.

“Statistically, children who grow up in two-parent households attain three more years of higher education than children from single-parent households.”

It doesn’t help. “We’re not statistics, Spencer.”

“Your file says she’s staying at an institution, and with your father out of the picture, I can only assume you were the one who had her admitted--”

“Spencer, please don’t do this to me!” she cries as she’s escorted out of the house by Bennington Sanitarium’s transport staff.

“A few years into your work here at the FBI, you were kidnapped, tortured and drugged--”

He’s tired and cold and his whole body aches. Tobias—the real Tobias—looms over him with a syringe.

“Please. I don’t want it,” he pleads of his captor. “I don’t want it, please.”

The needle punctures his skin regardless.

“—you were held hostage by a cult leader--”

Emily sits across from him on the plane with a black eye. “What Cyrus did to me is not your fault.”

He pretends to agree.

“—you went through the death and reappearance of Agent Prentiss--”

He’s tried to make it clear to Jennifer that he wants to be left alone, but she won’t stop trying to talk about it with him, and he’s had enough.

“I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

“—and your girlfriend was shot in front of you.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton? Who is he?” Diane demands, gun pressed against Maeve’s head.

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve replies, and Spencer’s heart drops. Thomas Merton is Maeve’s way of saying goodbye—she’s giving up.

“Wait!” he cries out, but it’s too late.

“This is just some of the more traumatic stuff. And then there’s what happened last month, which is why you’re here. You present a face of not being bothered by all of this, because that’s what you’ve been doing all your life, but I think you are bothered. You really, really are. And you don’t want to admit to anyone just how much it all has affected you. Maybe you don’t even want yourself to know.” Her expression and tone of voice are certain.

Spencer can’t take it anymore. The whirlwind of emotions and memories is overwhelming.

“The number of times you’ve almost died is staggering--”

“Yeah, and sometimes I wish I had!” He glares at her, breathing heavily. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

But she doesn’t seem intimidated or alarmed at all. She leans back in her armchair. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The response only serves to make him angrier. She questioned him relentlessly and made him admit something he swore in the dark hours of sleepless nights that he’d never think again, never voice, let alone admit to anyone. She forced it out of him, forced. She made him say it against his will.

So why does he feel a sense of relief?

“I…” Tears well up in his eyes—real ones this time. “I’m done,” he chokes out.

He pushes himself off of the couch and out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

---

He storms in Hotch’s office and demands to see a different psychologist. But she was one step ahead of him—a few hours before the appointment, she had emailed Hotch and told him that under no circumstances should Spencer be allowed to get a clearance from someone else.

“And you’re going to believe her?” he cries.

“She’s doing her job, Reid.”

“You barely know her! You’ve known me for a decade!”

“Yes, I have,” Hotch agrees. “And you’ve told me yourself that you’ve fooled psychologists and therapists before. So if this one is saying you’re not ready yet, I’m inclined to believe her.”

Spencer just stares at him, but as usual, Hotch doesn’t blink.

“Unbelievable,” Spencer eventually mutters.

“Take the rest of the day off,” Hotch replies, glancing down at fists Spencer hadn’t realized he was clenching.

“Fine.”

Too agitated to stand in the elevator, he takes the stairs. As he stomps down them, he swears he’ll never go back to her office, even if it means never going into the field again.

A week passes, then two, and he hasn’t seen the psychologist since. But he doesn’t feel any better—he actually feels worse. It’s like her words broke a dam in his mind, in his gut, and feelings of unease and uncertainty won’t pass. It keeps him up at night. Her words echo in his head. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

Spencer’s had yet another sleepless night and is struggling not to doze off at his desk despite the coffee he’s drinking. He stands up with the intention of splashing some water from the bathroom sink on his face, but his feet take him somewhere else.

He stares at the nameplate on the door. He swore he’d never go back, yet he feels compelled to knock.

It only takes her a few moments to answer. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?” she asks.

“I…” He sighs. “Are you busy?”

“No. Come on in.” She steps to the side, opening the door wider to let him pass. He sits down on the couch.

She waits patiently. She doesn’t rush him. She lets him speak first.

He wrings his hands in his lap, staring down at them. “Something you said is bothering me.”

“What was it?”

“About… living,” he admits quietly. “I… I think you might have been right.”

When he gets the courage to glance up at her, he finds a soft smile on her face. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Spencer hadn’t realized he was expecting judgment and disdain until it didn’t happen. His shoulders slump down in relief. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think I would.”

---

“You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Spencer looks up from his paperwork, slightly out of it, to find Derek watching him. His coworker had, indeed, caught him thinking about her again. His psychologist. Well, former psychologist. After his second session back with her, she’d handed over a clearance form and a referral to a therapist outside the bureau to see long-term.

“And you better follow up with that,” she’d told him, the corner of her mouth turning up despite her serious tone of voice. “I’ll know if you don’t.”

He’d promised that he would, and had followed through. But despite the progress he was making with the new therapist, he was feeling a little disappointed that he didn’t get to see her anymore. He only saw her in passing, sometimes in the elevator or walking down the hallways of the building. They would exchange hellos, she would ask how he was doing, then give him a little wave as she left. Each time his heart would skip a beat, and he’d feel an urge to follow her to wherever she was going.

Yet he hadn’t quite realized why he seemed to be preoccupied with her until a dream he had a few weeks ago—a dream in which he found himself kissing her. Despite being alone in his bedroom, he’d woken up feeling embarrassed. He promised himself that he would put her out of his mind. Having a crush on his psychologist? It was ridiculous.

But then he saw her in the elevator a few days later and he couldn’t help but analyze her body language. It was open, and she twirled her hair around a finger while she looked at him to ask him how he was. A few other people entered the elevator on the next floor, but her attention remained on him. They were subtle signs, but signs that he recognized nonetheless—signs of attraction. And once he started seeing them, he couldn’t stop.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spencer tells Derek, picking back up the pen he hadn’t noticed he dropped.

“You can’t pull that on me, kid,” he replies. “It’s your psychologist. You can’t stop thinking about her, can you?”

Spencer sighs. “So what if I can’t?”

“So go ask her out already!” Derek says like it’s obvious.

“You don’t think that’s just a little inappropriate?”

“You’re not seeing her as a client anymore, are you?” he points out. “Go for it, kid. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Spencer takes the advice—as soon as Derek said it, he knew he was right. He would regret not taking a chance on her and the connection he felt. Sure, she’d helped him with therapy, but it went deeper than that. It feels like she knows him.

He leaves the bullpen ten minutes early that evening, hoping to catch her before she leaves for the day. On her doorstep, he feels just as nervous as he did on the day he admitted that she was right, but it’s a different kind of nervous. An excited nervous. He knocks on the door.

She’s surprised when she seems him. He watches as her pupils dilate, and it boosts his confidence. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?”

“You can. I’d like to talk,” he says.

“Oh. Well, I guess I could do that,” she says. “I thought things were going well with the therapist I referred you to, though.”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t mean I want an appointment.”

Her eyebrows come together in confusion. “Okay, then, what do you want?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I really like you, and I think we’re meant to be together,” he replies, voice softening a bit.

She pauses before answering. When she does, her voice is gentle. “Dr. Reid, sometimes a medical professional’s care can start to feel like affection over a period of time, but--”

“No one has ever listened to me like you do,” he interrupts.

“That’s my job,” she points out.

“I’ve seen therapists before, but none of them have been like you,” he counters. “You understand me.”

She sighs. “Well, I’m glad I was a good fit and was able to help you. But that doesn’t mean that I see you as anything more than a client.”

“You’re lying.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do feel something more for me,” he says firmly, but then backtracks a little. “Well, I know you’re attracted to me at least.”

She blinks and shakes her head slightly, take aback. “Dr. Reid, this is not appropriate--”

“Please call me Spencer,” he says, then jumps into his explanation. “See, when we’re attracted to someone, our bodies display involuntary signals, and I’ve seen you do some of them when you’re around me. Whenever we run into each other here, your body will turn a little towards me and you’ll play with your hair. Your attention is almost entirely focused on me. And, when you see me, your pupils dilate. They did it when you opened the door just a few minutes ago. Oh, and I’m attracted to you, by the way,” he adds as he realizes how one-sided he’s been. “I imagine my pupils probably dilate when I see you, too.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, like she wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say. She looks flustered, and he wonders if maybe he’s pushed it too far or said too much, but he can’t turn back now. “So, please, let me take you out,” he says quietly. “Just… just give it a chance.”

She bites her lip and looks at the ground. There’s a crease between her eyebrows, which he’s come to learn means she’s thinking. She speaks seriously when she looks back up. “If I go out with you, I can’t treat you anymore. If you ever need another evaluation or session, you’d have to get it from someone else.”

“I know,” he says. “I get along well with the therapist you referred me to, though. And having to get clearance from a different psychologist at the bureau is something I’m willing to give up in favor of getting to know you better.”

She considers him. “You’re serious about this,” she states.

It’s not a question, but he answers it anyways. “I am.”

She tilts her head to the side, eyes unfocusing as she ponders the situation. Eventually, she says, “Let me think about it.”

It’s not exactly the answer he was hoping for, but he’ll take it.

---

It’s only six PM, but Spencer is already exhausted. He unlocks his apartment door, fully intending to collapse onto his bed, but instead receives a pleasant surprise in the form of his girlfriend waiting for him on the couch. He can’t help but smile.

“Sweetie, what are you doing here?” he asks, then adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Penelope told me it was a bit of a rough case,” she replies. “And I missed you.”

She holds out her arms and he takes the invitation, joining her on the couch and laying down between her legs, placing his head on her chest. “I missed you, too.”

Her next words are overly familiar. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hey, we agreed to no therapy,” he says. “Something about I can’t be your client anymore?”

She huffs. “This isn’t therapy. This is being a good partner.”

Spencer smiles into the fabric of her shirt, snuggling in closer. “I know, I’m just teasing you. I don’t need to talk about the case,” he says, finally answering her original question. “I feel fine now that I’m here with you.”

She lets out a pleased hum and starts running her fingers through his hair. “I ordered take-out for dinner, by the way.”

“Where from?”

“You know where.”

A wide grin spreads across his face. She must have ordered take-out from the restaurant he took her to on their first date. He lifts his head to look her in the eye. “Aren’t you glad you said yes to me all those months ago?”

“Oh, I suppose,” she says with pretend annoyance, rolling her eyes.

Then she kisses him.

Spencer’s never been so happy to be alive.

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

tell me what you thought here!

please note that i DO NOT ENDORSE asking out your therapist/former therapist. this is fanfiction. thank you.

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor​ , @spencerreid9​

[jilliannotfound]

prepare for a long ask (i’m sorry)

my brain is very full so hear me out-

dream smp casino/mafia au-

now i was at first thinking Kinoko kingdom (karlnapity) are the owners of the casino cause yk Las Nevadas Quackity but then i remembered “Syndicate” (by Derivakat) which has a jazzy vibe and was like, what if the Syndicate was a mafia ‘family’ that ran a casino and reader is their star performer who starts off every night with a performance of “Syndicate”. reader’s performance is used to kinda establish the Syndicate’s power over the casino and to remind the patrons anything they do will be under the scrutiny of a mafia with literally two of the most renowned mafiosos’ (Philza whose reputation of traveling all over and taking down many a mafia family precedes him and Technoblade who has taken down mafia families singlehandedly) in the city, maybe even the entire country.

the Eggpire is like a rival mafia that is trying to take control over the city so it isn’t uncommon for them to try and infiltrate the Syndicate casino. so i was thinking, what if the people who are Pro-Omlette (but not in the Syndicate so Puffy, Foolish (since it’s not confirmed he’s part of the Syndicate), Awesamdude and Eret) are staff at the casino. they were each like a lone agent after their mafia family split up/they left and decided to join forces with the Syndicate to make sure the Eggpire didn’t gain total control of the city. Maybe Sam is a bodyguard stationed either outside the casino or manning security cameras switching with Puffy, Eret can be like a stage manager/backstage to aid the performers and make sure no one sneaks into the dressing rooms or the light control area backstage and Foolish is like a bartender keeping an eye out on the main floor of the casino for any activity.

Dream was the former head of the well-renowned Dream Team mafia family until the family split. he’s notorious for breaking apart mafia families before disappearing into the night and traveling to a new city. occasionally he’ll hire some aid but they never last long.

Ponk used to be an on-sight medic for the casino in cause of bar fights or performers getting injured on stage but after many rumors (later confirmed to be true) of him being a member of the Eggpire he was fired and not allowed to enter the premise of the casino again.

Kinoko Kingdom was a rival casino/mafia family to the Syndicate’s but they’ve decided to have a truce to make sure Dream and/or the Eggppire don’t take over their city. Their casinos have different vibes with the Syndicate’s being more of a hub for mafia and business activity with jazzy music on the constant and famous for civilized and tame yet very entertaining entertainment whilst Kinoko’s casino is like more of a rowdy type casino, famous for high stake bets, drinks with high alcohol content and lively music and entertainment that can be seen as a bit too glitzy and tacky. Like you go to Syndicate casino for a night of business deals and building yourself up to the top, the type of casino you would bring your boss to, whilst the Kinoko casino is the type of casino you go to let loss and risk it all with cheap entertainment and even cheaper booze. their truce works out because their casinos are so different that competition wouldn’t be worth the cash (and the Syndicate knows they can easily take on the Kinoko mafia in a fight but shhhh)

there’s multiple places a reader character could fight but as a primarily Technoblade simp at heart i had to put reader as a performer in the Syndicate casino-

~🦫Anon (if this title isn’t already taken-)

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕖

DSMP x Reader (in-game)

Summary: Request

Warnings: None?

A/N: Okay… I have a few important things to say. First of all, this story is not completed. This request is so genuinely good and I have been trying to work on it for far too long and have had very little success. With that being said I still want to publish the small bit of this story that I’m proud of.

Second of all, I would like any other dsmp writers on this platform to feel free to take this request and perhaps do with it what I wasn’t able to. If you write this story, please tag me because I’d love to see what you do with it. You can also use this bit I have written and am sharing to start off your own version of the story (just give proper credit)!

With all of that out of the way, please enjoy!

—

The Syndicate. One of the highest-end casinos in the country, and certainly the most powerful, being run by two of the best-known mafiosos.

Philza was best known for his travel, being able to track down anyone anywhere and take care of them.

Technoblade was easily the scariest man you could meet. He’d single-handedly taken down more mafia families at the age of 21 than most senior-aged mafiosos could even dream of.

It was rare to see either of the men in the casino, let alone to see them together, so when the pair came through the doors with power in their steps everyone knew something serious was in order.

They took their seats at the bar as Foolish prepared their drinks and Eret directed the casino's attention to the stage.

This performance was a nightly occurrence, the same jazzy tune came from the band's instruments as Y/N emerged from the curtain.

Hey, I'll tell you a little secret of mine

If you promise not to tell, if you have the time

Everyone has gotten you, always on the run

But if you join the Syndicate

Life could get a little more fun

It was the song of the casino, used to remind everyone just how much power it holds.

When all of the horses and all of the men

Won't learn from history, it's all the same in the end

I've told you once and I'll tell you again

The Syndicate is looking for a couple new friends

It reminds the patrons of the casino that no matter what they do, the Syndicate is always watching, studying each of them in hopes of finding some new friends.

Fight for freedom, fight to end the pain

Hey, this is serious, it's not just some little game

'Cause the anarchy's part of me, tyranny bothers me

End it all properly once and for all

They call us the villains 'cause they know we'll take the fall

The members of the Syndicate were a force to be reckoned with, composed of strong fighters and quick thinkers constantly working to take down anyone that dare stand in their way.

The Eggpire was their current concern. Run by a man named BadBoyHalo, the Eggpire was a whole other breed of mafiosos.

They preached about the Egg, whatever the hell that was supposed to be, and always wore a signature red color that made them easy to spot. Sometimes you could even swear there was a red glint in their eyes when talking about it.

After the incident with Ponk, their old medic that got caught up in the red whirlwind, the Syndicate became extra wary of the Eggpire, willing to do just about anything to take them down.

This is exactly why the two most powerful men were sitting together at the Syndicate’s bar with their eyes locked on the stage.

Fight for freedom, fight to end the pain

Hey, this is serious, it's not just some little game

'Cause the anarchy's part of me, tyranny bothers me

End it all properly once and for all

They call us the villains 'cause they know we'll take the fall

When all of the horses and all of the men

Won't learn from history, it's all the same in the end

I've told you once and I'll tell you again

The Syndicate is looking for a couple new friends

Oh, a couple new friends

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh no, no

You'll gain a couple new friends

As the jazzy instrumentals faded out, Eret poked his head out of the curtain on the side of the stage, gesturing for the resident singer to come backstage.

Y/N smiled at the audience and walked through the velvet barrier to be greeted by the deep-voiced brunette.

“Did you see who’s out there tonight?” They asked him.

“That's why I called you, they wanna see you.”

Y/N took a deep breath and headed out onto the main floor.

They’d been part of the Syndicate for most of their life and knew they weren’t in any danger near Techno and Phil, but the anxiety still pounded in their head as they approached the men.

Y/N sat on the stool next to Technoblade and the two turned their stools to face them.

“Lovely performance!” Phil praised

They shot him a kind smile and braced themself for the inevitable harsh news that would follow the attempted small talk.

“We need you to do something.” Techno said bluntly. “You know Las Nevadas?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It was another casino ran by Kinoko Kingdom, another mafia family. They used to be considered one of the biggest threats to the Syndicate because they had quite literally appeared overnight and nobody knew anything. Once the Eggpire popped up though, it was safest to become fast friends with the three men that ran Las Nevadas in hopes of strengthening their forces against the red abomination infecting families all over.

“We had a meeting with Quackity and he’s got a bad feeling about some guests that have been stopping by their area. It’s a shitty casino, we all know that, but he thinks it’s more than just some random troublemakers.”

…

:]

[wandaromanova]

Can you do a fluffy wanda one (with a little angst because of course) where reader and wanda are best friends, reader wants more, but thinks wanda is interested in vision so she doesnt say anything. And then one day a mission goes wrong, and reader gets into an accident that results in her getting powers, and it makes wanda wake up and confess her feelings?

Requited Love

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, injury, that’s all!

A/N: hello! i hope you enjoy what i’ve created out of your request, anon! sorry i couldn’t think about how i could incorporate the powers part of the request! not proofread, so i apologize for any grammatical errors! join my taglist here <3

Summary: Wanda Maximoff and Y/N L/N are your typical best friends who refuse to admit their feelings for each other.

Word Count: 3.3K (had a lil too much fun with this)

(gif is not mine)

You and your best friend, Wanda, had been friends practically since the moment she had joined the team. Being the youngest Avenger, you were so excited that there would finally be another member that was close to your age. Despite the events of Sokovia, you didn’t fear the woman. If anything, it only made the urge to get closer to her stronger.

Her powers absolutely mesmerized you. From the color of her powers to the different ways she could use them to her advantage; it was mind blowing how much power she had literally at her fingertips. As time went on, you and Wanda became very close. You’d always have movie nights together in your room, which eventually led to the Sokovian woman peacefully sleeping next to you in your bed.

Not only was Wanda drop dead gorgeous, but she was genuine and humble. She had confided in you about the many different traumas she had been through and expressed how the surreal amount of grief constantly consumed her. It broke your heart to know that such an amazing person was put through so much.

Her past could’ve easily turned her into a villain, but she decided to go the opposite direction. She came to the conclusion that her powers could help others and that’s what she had chosen to do in Sokovia and up to now. It was why she had agreed to join the Avengers in the first place. Wanda knew how awful the world could be and she wanted to be there for people the way that her family had been before they passed. The amount of respect you had for Wanda was immeasurable.

Over the span of two years, you and Wanda became joined to the hip. Wanda didn’t even sleep in her own bed anymore. Before, she would just accidentally fall asleep in your room or sneak into your room in the late hours of the night to sleep with you. But now, she just barged into your room every night and slept there. She said that you kept the nightmares she had at bay and you were more than happy to be there for her if it meant she got a full night’s rest.

You both jumped at any opportunity you guys could to be on the same mission as the other. You not only wanted to spend time with her, but you wanted to protect her. Lord knows that Wanda of all people could handle herself, but it kept you at peace when you were with her; knowing that she had you to back her up. Naturally, you fell in love with your best friend.

At first, you thought you were just confusing your special platonic friendship with Wanda for romantic feelings. But sometimes you caught yourself wanting to kiss Wanda. You knew damn well that friends don’t daydream about making out with each other. So, yeah, you definitely had feelings for Wanda, but there was one thing standing in your way; Vision.

Vision basically joined the team at the same time Wanda did. He was created during the Ultron situation and has been an Avenger since then. Wanda and Vision were very close. They weren’t as close as you and Wanda were, but he was a close second. They had a bond over the mind stone that you couldn’t ever compete with. This fact discouraged you and forced you to keep your mouth shut. You’d rather keep your feelings to yourself and suffer in private than risk your friendship with Wanda.

I mean, you didn’t even know if Wanda was into girls! She could be as straight as a wooden ruler and you would most definitely embarrass yourself if you told her. Vision wasn’t exactly a man by any means, he was a robot. If Wanda were to like Vision that must mean you had a chance right? Not to be an ass, but he’s literally a hunk of metal. Regardless of all these thoughts, you knew at the end of the day that you would have to hide your feelings for the sake of maintaining the relationship you currently have with the Sokovian.

You did pretty good at hiding your feelings for awhile. You acted as if everything was normal and not like you were emotionally crying out inside every time you saw Wanda with Vision. It began to get too much when you had caught sight of the pair cooking Paprikash in the communal kitchen. Cooking was something you and Wanda used to do together. It was kind of your thing. It may seem silly, but watching her do something with Vision that used to be sacred to you both hurt.

You began to distance yourself the closer Wanda and Vision got together. What sucked even more was that Wanda didn’t even acknowledge your sudden distance. She no longer slept in your room, opting to spend her nights with Vision. You were dying inside and Wanda didn’t even care to notice.

You had a mission to get to today. Usually, Wanda would be down in the hangar whenever you were going on a mission without her, but she wasn’t there today. She was probably off somewhere with Vision, again. It stung that Wanda didn’t even want to see you off. She was so preoccupied with Vision that she didn’t even give you a second thought. A toaster was stealing your best friend who you just so happened to be madly in love with away from you. And you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

So, you reluctantly got onto the Quinjet with Steve who was accompanying you on the mission. Fury only sent you two in for this mission because it was a simple one. It didn’t require the entire team to complete. You both were to capture and detain the scientist responsible for the latest human experimentations at the hands of Hydra. From the intel gathered by S.H.I.E.L.D, their security wasn’t that bad so it would be a walk in the park for you and Steve. You had just left and you already desperately wanted to go home and wallow in your own self pity in the comfort of your bed.

But first, you had to get this mission over with. The Quinjet landed a little far away from the small Hydra base. You and Steve made your way out of the jet and began to trudge your way toward the building. As you guys got closer, Steve stopped abruptly.

“No matter what, we stick together okay? Just because this should be an easy mission, doesn’t mean we should let our guard down. Understand?” He lectured you sternly as he stared at you intensely.

“Yeah. I got it, Cap.” You replied to him dismissively as you continued to make your way toward the building. You took note of the five guards that were guarding the entrance and gave Steve a nod before you both sprung into action.

After you guys had taken down the entrance guards, you both sneakily made your way into the building. It was pretty easy to find your target, seeing that the building was the size of a house. You and Steve barged into the room, the scientist whipping around quickly and freezing in shock at the sight of you both.

Steve quickly charged at the man and placed him into handcuffs. As Steve pulled the man up by the collar, forcing him to his feet, a thought crossed your mind. This is too easy. Only five guards and the professor was just conveniently in here? This had to be a setup.

Before you could voice your concerns to Steve, you felt a sharp pain rip through your shoulder as Hydra agents flooded into the room. You fell to your knees in pain as Steve threw the target to the ground. He quickly began to fight as many agents as he could. You stood up as you tried to temporarily forget the pain. You began to take on agents yourself. Despite being injured, you kicked their asses with ease.

You were down to the last agent while Steve was pulling the scientist back up to his feet, much more aggressively this time. For some reason, your thoughts went to Wanda. How would she react to your injury? Would she even bother to visit you to make sure you were okay?

Unfortunately, you had chosen the wrong time to become distracted by your thoughts of Wanda. While your thoughts were racing, you failed to notice the glint of a knife in the agent’s left hand. As you blocked one of his punches, he quickly stabbed you right in the stomach. At this, Steve jumped in to help you and made quick work of knocking out the man who stabbed you.

You fully fell to the floor this time, gasping for air. Not only were you shot, but now you got stabbed. Seriously? Did god decide you weren’t already having a shitty enough time? Steve quickly picked you up in his arms in a panic. He carried you to the Quinjet while making sure the scientist was following behind you both. Steve placed your body onto the medical table that was in the Quinjet, handcuffed the man to a railing, and sped off to the compound. He took note of how much blood you lost; it was a lot to say the least. If he didn’t get to the compound soon, he feared you wouldn’t make it; and that wasn’t an option.

The 30 minute trip to the compound turned into a 15 minute ride. Steve quickly rushed you into the medical wing of the compound and placed you into the care of Doctor Helen Cho. He knew he had to tell the team about what happened. The Avengers were a family, and you being the youngest meant you were like a child to them, well besides Wanda obviously.

Steve hurriedly made his way into the living room of the Avenger’s living quarters and made sure Jarvis informed everyone that it was an emergency. As Steve entered, everyone turned to face him with worry present on each of their faces.

“What’s wrong, Rogers? Is everything okay?” Natasha asked as she looked over his body. There was an insane amount of blood all over his star-spangled suit. “It’s Y/N.”

At Steve’s words, everyone in the room stood in shock as their jaws dropped. But no one’s feelings could compare to Wanda’s. She abruptly stood up from the couch and made her way towards Steve.

“What about her? What happened to her?” Wanda began to get angry as hints of her powers made their way to her eyes. Steve took a step back and looked at Wanda before returning his gaze back to the other people in the room. You could hear a pin drop in the silence of the room.

“We went on a mission together. It was supposed to be an easy in and out thing. But we were setup. She got shot in the shoulder and stabbed in the abdomen. She’s in the medical wing right now.” Steve spoke strongly, attempting to remain calm for the sake of the team, but he was terrified inside. Your state refused to leave his mind. Your limp body in his arms as your warm blood covered his hands.

Wanda didn’t say another word as she ran towards the elevator and impatiently hit the button to the medical wing. She didn’t bother to wait for anyone else. Nothing mattered right now except you.

Wanda had feelings for you. Ever since she met you, you were this light in the darkness that was her life. You could cheer her up when no one else could. You knew her better than she knew herself. You were not only her best friend, but you were the woman she was irrevocably in love with. She was terrified to tell you how she felt. She thought she would lose you if she had confessed how she truly felt for you. So, she remained quiet and tried to forget about her feelings for you by hanging out with Vision more. She wasn’t using Vision by any means, she genuinely did enjoy his company. But he wasn’t you.

Wanda didn’t even wait for the elevator doors to fully open as she squeezed herself through the small gap and made her way towards the medical bay doors. Before Wanda could open the door, Steve abruptly grabbed her hand, stopping her from going any further. He must’ve taken the stairs. Damn his super soldier abilities.

“Wanda. Stop. I know you’re worried about Y/N, we all are. But barging in there won’t be any help. You need to let Cho and her nurses focus on helping her.” Steve desperately tried to talk some sense into Wanda; it worked. Wanda’s shoulders slumped as she made her way towards the seating area that was right outside the doors. All she could do was sit, wait, and pray to whatever god there was that you would be okay.

Wanda didn’t even know you were going on a mission today. If she did, she would’ve went to the hangar and hugged you before she left, like she always did. Oh fuck, she didn’t even get to see you off and now look at your state. Now that she thought about it, she had been neglecting you for some time now. She let her fear of her feelings consume her. She spent more time with Vision than with you, and now she wasn’t sure if she would get the opportunity to be with you again. The thought of not being able to tell you how in love with you she was mortified her. This was the wake up call she needed.

——————————————————————————

2 hours later

After two agonizingly slow hours, Doctor Cho made her way towards the anxious group of heroes. Wanda shot up from her seat and approached Helen.

“How is she? Please, tell me she’s okay.” Wanda asks as she nervously chews on her bottom lip. “Y/N is fine. Luckily, the knife didn’t hit any major arteries. She won’t be able to make any sudden movements for the next few weeks which means no missions until I give her clearance.” At Cho’s words, the entire team was struck with relief. Wanda’s eyes lit up at the good news. You were okay. You were still here.

“Can we see her?” Steve asked from behind Wanda as he made his way to stand beside her. “Yes, shes awkward, but only one person can go in at a time. She’s very sensitive right now from the anesthesia.” Helen gave the team a smile before walking off.

Everyone looked at Wanda as she gave them a nod. Of course she had to go in first. You and Wanda may have been oblivious to each other’s feelings, but the team wasn’t. It was almost annoying how unaware you two were of how the other person felt.

Wanda quietly made her way into your room and almost let out a sigh of relief as she saw you laying on the table awake. You were trying to reach for a glass of water beside your bed, but the pain in your side made the small task a burden. Wanda quickly made her way to the table and handed you the glass of water. You were startled since you didn’t even hear her enter the room. You took the water from her hands and took a long sip before handing it back to her.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked coldly as you glared at the Sokovian woman. She was shocked at your animosity. You were never like this with her before. “I needed to make sure you were okay. I was worried sick.” Wanda frowned as she pulled a chair up to your bedside and sat in it.

“Oh. Now you suddenly remember I exist? It only took me nearly dying for you to notice me again.” You knew you weren’t being fair. You guys were just best friends and she was entitled to hang out and be with whoever she wanted. But the part of you that loved her and longed for more took over.

“Y/N. I’m sorry I haven’t been around as often. I got caught up hanging out with Vision when I should’ve been there for you.” Wanda’s eyes softened as she stared at your face. She missed you so much. She may have seen you around the compound, but she hasn’t been this close to you in what felt like decades.

“Yeah. You got caught up with Vision. Why don’t you just go back to him now. I’m fine.” You stubbornly spoke as you tore your eyes away from Wanda and stared out the window in front of your bed.

Wanda made a ballsy move and grabbed your hand in here. Thankfully, you didn’t move it away. “Y/N. I don’t care about Vision, I care about you. I love you and I mean that in more than a friendly way.” At Wanda’s words, your head snapped back to her as you looked over her features for any indication of a lie; you didn’t find any.

“I was spending time with Vision to try and forget my feelings for you. That obviously backfired and only solidified what I already knew I felt. I’m sorry it took such a terrible situation for me to finally grow the balls to tell you this. I love you Y/N.” Wanda squeezed your hand tightly as she stared at you full of love and adoration.

You were speechless. As cliche as it sounds, this was what you’ve wanted since the moment you laid eyes on her. She said the three words you’ve been longing to hear spill from her mouth. She loved you too.

“I love you too, Wanda. I’m sorry. I thought you had a thing for Vision and I let jealousy and insecurity get the better of me.” You looked down in shame as you tried to pull your hand out of Wanda’s hold, but she only gripped it tighter.

“Don’t be sorry. I completely understand. I’m so glad your okay and I’m so unbelievably happy that you feel the same way.” Wanda smiled brightly at you as you smiled right back. You guys must’ve looked like maniacs with your big, cheesy smiles, but you didn’t care.

Wanda began to slowly lean towards you. You attempted to meet her in the middle, but only ended up wincing in pain as you were reminded of your impressive stab wound. Wanda let out a laugh.

“Let me handle it, moya lyubov (my love).” Wanda said before closing the gap between you both and giving you a heated, desperate kiss. All the pent up emotions that you both had been withholding from each other were coming to light through this kiss. You guys were interrupted by the door swinging open abruptly and the sound of someone clearing their throat.

You both jumped apart as you cringed at the sting of your injuries. You turned to the door and caught sight of the team standing at the door with shit eating grins on their face.

“Sorry to interrupt you, lovebirds. But we wanted to check on Y/N too. Cho gave us the clear to come in now.” Natasha smirked at yours and Wanda’s flustered states.

“Pay up, Barnes.” Sam said as he held his hand out to Bucky, who groaned before placing 50 dollars in his hand. You and Wanda stared at the two confused, Bucky took notice of this and decided to fill you both in.

“We made a bet on when you two would get together. I said in the next two months, he said in the next two weeks. He won.” Bucky gave you both a shy, almost embarrassed smile.

Everyone in the room laughed, making you and Wanda turn even more red than before. You didn’t care about the inevitable, endless teasing you would have to endure after today. You would deal with the comments forever as long as it meant Wanda was by your side. You once thought that she didn’t feel the same, and you were so glad you were proven wrong. Sometimes, love can be requited after all.

[majormeilani]

If your OC, Cassidy, was in the game and you could make him win the trophy, which would result in Hat Kid having to fight him, what would the stage look like? What would he say during the fight, and which attacks would he use?

i have actually thought quite a bit about how a boss fight against him would function sjvvsvjakvkvs

i have considered that his would function differently than grooves' and conductor's would but i'm a bit undecided what it would be like. so i'll just put everything i considered here.

i do know one thing about it is it would definitely take into account the horror aspect of his character. and instead of it taking place in the basement of dead bird studio, it would most definitely take place in cassidy's hotel. since i imagined that if he did have a chapter in the game, his chapter would happen in said hotel through the entirety of it lol.

i think starting at the awards ceremony, (despite it essentially being such a grand award and his first time winning anything EVER) he would act much differently than grooves and conductor do, seeming rather modest and calm in his acceptance of the award and being kind and thankful to hat kid/bow kind for her help and giving her the ""last time piece he has"" much like the other birds do, except with a gentlemanly bow and such.

and you would have to leave the awards ceremony on your own accord but the game would have hat kid/bow kid finding his reaction to winning for the first time rather odd? but not thinking too much of it as she takes her leave.

but someone would also call hat kid/bow kid and ask her if she knows anything about why the hotel is pitch black dark and all the doors are locked. (since throughout cassidy's chapter you would be seen by other characters as you work there a bit and help him with his movie) cassidy would have kicked everyone out of his hotel following his win and people would find it strange since that's never happened before. there also would be others waiting outside of the hotel when hat kid gets there and you can talk to them a bit. even the caw agents wouldn't know what is going on, or the little pompous and mad crows that cassidy managed to befriend, and they typically work with him. i did consider them having been told to guard any doorways tho so you wouldn't be able to get in through them even with an employee keycard.

then hat kid/bow kid would have to find a way to navigate her way into the hotel by climbing up the side of the building and going through one of the attic windows (that through one of the other parts of the chapter you would learn about was busted open was what i was thinking?? also somewhat referencing vanessa's manor) and in there hat kid/bow kid would find something sparkling in the dark… and it would be one of her time pieces. but when she comes to grab it wondering if its caused something wrong with the hotel, the lights would flicker on in the room and as she's holding the time piece and about to leave, a voice would speak up and stop her in her tracks. then out from a place he'd been hidden in the room, cassidy would emerge and he would apologize for startling her but there's a really off vibe to him as his hair looks messy and he looks rather crazed. and he would try to calm her a bit and ask for the time piece back, explaining the reason he needs it (still a bit undecided on exactly why, probably similar reason to the other birds or something else….)

so in a way it would reflect conductor's and grooves' "heart to heart" moment except even more ominous and at the very start lol. you could say the "no" or "maybe?" thing but hat kid/bow kid would obviously not give it to him and try to leave through the window again which would enrage him further and he would block her from leaving the room and say "i see how it is. you've been the most helpful any other time and now… you can't be bothered to help me when it matters most. you've made the wrong choice, dearie…" and then he'd take out a knife immediately and start chasing after you.

basically how it would function is a chase boss fight of sorts, similar to how with empress she chases you and tries to kill you instead of you directly attacking her. there would be dark parts of his hotel that you would have to run through making it harder to escape from him and you would have to use your knowledge from previous levels in the hotel in escaping from him, also locking or blocking doors that he'd have to break through but would buy you time to escape and find keys and stuff. also making him get stopped by making him slip or trip too.

i also imagine some parts of it might reference other horror movies a few times lol. and probably even other parts of his chapter would be things he would say to you and talk about how "you're such a disappointment" and stuff in general trying to make you feel guilty for choosing not to help him.

i know at some point in an attempt to kind of rid you for good he would take drastic measures, similar to grooves and conductor do when they rig a bomb, and set his own hotel on fire, which makes it easier for you to see but also adds more hazards for you to avoid escaping from the hotel unharmed. you would have to run as parts of the structure begin to collapse and catch alight. (cassidy also begins to regret this decision as well considering that it's like. his home in a way? so he probably would express remorse of this decision)

i am considering that once you reach the front of the hotel is when cassidy would end up getting trapped by debris from the hotel burning and by that point one of the other characters outside comes in to save you. then you would escape with your time piece but be left to wonder if cassidy himself would make it out alive.

i think it would be possible to damage him throughout the level but i'm not really sure? i haven't exactly decided everything one hundred percent. he'd probably jump away from you if you hit him to avoid taking damage.

i do intend at some point to draw the interior of his hotel and how i think it looks. but i do know it looks similar to any rather high class hotel except more dingy and dark like one you might find in a horror movie. and the aesthetic would be kind of gothic in a way, since some of it was remodeled by him after he inherited it from his parents. i also know i intended the hallways to have lights that light up as you walk down the hallway and some horror and gothic inspired decor. though i haven't thought much about all the details that go into everything quite yet. i just have a vague idea about it right now but there's a lot of neutral colors, blacks, greys and reds and some blues and gold. there's also a swimming pool and all the other basic stuff like a washing room and a meal area and a lounge, really anything you would typically find in a hotel. there's also lots of fine art, statues and foliage decorating the place too. there's also lit candles used as light in some places and a few chandeliers as decor as well. i also know that there's rafters that he sometimes will overlook certain areas from as he likes to stand and loom over his own hotel sometimes.

as far as i've thought about things, that's where i've considered what his boss fight would be like if he had one. jvajffjwfjwkvkwvkv

thank you for asking ❤️ gufyffyhugufyyfguhi

[queenshelby]

The Last Semester – Part 21

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,856

Warning: Pregnancy, Angst

A week had passed since Cillian found out about the pregnancy and he had been nothing but gentle, helpful and responsive since. Every day, he asked you how you were feeling. He brought you prenatal vitamins and constantly reminded you to drink enough water. He even risked a black eye on several occasions when running into your father who was struggling with the situation and has refused to speak to Cillian again. He was furious and blamed him for everything, thinking that he should have been the responsible adult.

You weren’t sure whether Cillian did all this simply for the fact that you were pregnant or whether he wanted to get back together with you and, whilst you hoped that the latter was true, you wouldn’t make it so easy for him this time around. He had to fight for you if you were what he wanted.

You loved him, but part of the trust you had built throughout your relationship had faded after he pulled away from you for the second time when he faced what you thought were just a few small hurdles. What you didn’t know was that, in fact, the hurdles he was facing, weren’t so small at all. He was deeply conflicted and being with you could cost him much more than his friendship with your father. It could also cost him his career and this was something he began to slowly realise.

***

It was a Sunday afternoon and Cillian was waiting for Nadine, his ex-wife, to pick up the boys from his home.

As usual, she was late and his sons were getting frustrated having to wait around for her once again.

‘This sucks dad’ Charlie growled, causing Cillian to calm him down whilst, deep down inside, he hoped that Nadine would arrive soon as he had invited you over for dinner that evening and, the last thing he wanted, was having you and Nadine in the same room together

Until recently, Nadine had again broken court orders, withholding contact to the boys on several occasions. If it wasn’t for the fact that Charlie had his own mobile phone, Cillian wouldn’t have been able to communicate with them at all for weeks.

It was like a game to her. Whenever Cillian was even remotely happy with someone else, she would come out to play and he soon regretted having given her another chance earlier that year before he took the teaching position in London.

When she found out about you, all hell broke loose. She felt humiliated and embarrassed especially knowing that her attempts to get him back were futile.

And the worst of it all was that she knew about you for a very long time, using you as leverage against Cillian until he finally gave up and let you go.

It was that night, when he called you, breaking up with you when he found out that you were his friend’s daughter, that he slipped. He slipped with Nadine because she was there to pick up the pieces when he was at his worst.

Whilst this little hiccup didn’t result in anything more than a few kisses, it was a mistake and he knew that it was a mistake. The worst of it all was that it gave Nadine hope in a situation where there was none. After all, he loved you and not her.

Of course, Nadine was willing and able to use this against Cillian. She had already threatened him on many occasions to make public the many façades of their marriage and how he chose a young girl over the mother of his children.

This was exactly what his agent was worried about. He knew Nadine for many years and he knew about the skeletons in Cillian’s closet and, whilst there weren’t many, they could become quite scandalous.

Being with you and loving you was too difficult. It was an against all the odds type of situation. A twenty-year age gap was hardly going to be successful. Was he going to risk everything to simply give it a try?

***

Finally, at 6 o’clock, Nadine’s car pulled up in Cillian’s driveway and she quickly jumped out of her seat and ran towards the front door.

‘I am sorry I am late. I got caught up with a friend’ she said in a haste.

‘You could have called’ Cillian then said before allowing her inside.

‘Why, do you have a date?’ she then chuckled, causing Cillian to sigh and call out for the boys.

Just as they emerged from their bedrooms, you also pulled up in the driveway and Cillian immediately knew that this would be problematic.

You noticed Nadine’s car but walked towards the front door of the house anyway and Cillian was quick to let you in after giving you a polite kiss on your cheek.

‘Hey’ you said, greeting Nadine who didn’t bother to say anything to you but, instead, roll her eyes.

‘What is she doing here?’ Nadine then asked Cillian, ignoring your presence.

‘I invited her. Why?’ Cillian asked somewhat annoyed and Nadine immediately huffed in disapproval.

‘I don’t want her to spend time with my children. It sends the wrong message to them’ Nadine explained.

‘And what message may that be Nadine?’ Cillian asked rather irritated before Nadine escalated the situation and, once again, insulted you.

‘You think it’s a good idea to show the boys that this is ok? Being with someone that much younger who clearly isn’t compatible in any sort of way?’ Nadine then said before Cillian told the boys to wait in the car as he didn’t want them to hear the conversation between him and their mother.

‘Can you not do this in front of the children?’ Cillian asked angrily after the boys left with their Gameboys.

‘Do what? You are the one who is fucking a uni student, not me’ she then shouted and it soon became too much for you to listen to.

‘Hey, listen, I am going to go. This is awkward and I don’t want to be in the way, really’ you then said, feeling uncomfortable.

‘Wait on Sweetie. I am not finished’ Nadine said and you turned around at the door, rolling your eyes at her as you did.

‘Did he tell you that, when he visited Dublin a few months ago, he spent time with me? Just the two of us?’ Nadine then asked before telling you how she was very well aware of Cillian’s needs and that you were likely too young and inexperienced for him and he would have realised this by now.

‘Nadine, that’s enough!’ Cillian growled, interrupting Nadine as she went on.

‘I am going’ you then huffed out, irritated and upset. She was taking it too far and you didn’t need this in your life.

‘Y/N, hold on’ Cillian said, trying to hold you back but you shook your head and left. You didn’t want to deal with this.

‘Just remember what I have against you Cillian. Surely, if this becomes public, Y/N might get some ideas. Poor thing, so young and innocent. Also, the boys are staying with me for the next two weeks’ Nadine chuckled somewhat amused.

‘Fuck this, Nadine. I have had enough of this crap. Fucking do it, eh! Send it to the fucking paper just as you have threatened for years. I no longer give a shit and in so far as the boys are concerned, I will be in contact with my lawyer tomorrow. A fit and proper person doesn’t use their children as leverage. Fucking wake up, would you’ Cillian growled before storming outside with the boys’ backpacks and putting them into Nadine’s car before giving each of them a hug and saying goodbye to them.

‘Love you guys, see you on Wednesday’ he said with a warm smile before getting into his own car with the view to drive after you to apologise about Nadine’s behaviour and having you get caught up in this.

***

As expected, just before Cillian arrived at your house, he received a call from his agent Brian who was clearly upset and annoyed.

‘We have a problem Cillian’ he said with an almost terrified voice.

‘I know. Her name is Nadine’ Cillian chuckled.

‘I have seen it. Just then. She sent it to me via email’ Brian said concerned.

‘Did you enjoy it?’ Cillian laughed.

‘You need to take this seriously Cillian. Nadine also told me that you are back with the girl’ Brian then said.

‘She held this against me for fucking years and I played along for the boys’ sake, but I can’t keep going like this’ Cillian then explained, causing Brian to sigh.

‘This and the fact that you are with a 20 fucking something year old who also happens to be your friend’s daughter is a fucking disaster mate. You need to break it off’ Brian argued.

‘She is pregnant’ Cillian then said, knowing that this would annoy Brian even more.

‘You are fucking kidding me. Fuck mate. For your career’s sake you need end it with this girl quietly, pay her, get her to sign an NDA’ Brian explained.

‘No Brian, I won’t be doing any of these things. Let me tell you something. I married Nadine because she was pregnant with Charlie. I never loved her. I simply did what others told me was the right fucking thing to do. This is probably why our relationship was so messed up. I was about to do this again, listening to what others tell me is right or wrong and what is good for me. Listening to you, to Nadine, John and my mother. But, luckily, this time, I just came to my fucking senses’ Cillian said just before he pulled up in front of your apartment building.

‘She is twenty years younger than you, what do you think will happen in twenty years? Will she still be around? Will she be worth all this?’ Brian then asked somewhat upset.  

‘I don’t know, but I am keen to find out’ Cillian said as turned off the car.

‘This could be career suicide Cillian’ Brian said.

‘Perhaps. So, I suggest that you work hard for your commission while you still can and use these connections of yours to make publication of what Nadine has sent you hurt as little as possible’ Cillian chuckled.

‘It’s a sex tape Cillian. What the fuck do you want me to do about it? Censor it?’ Brian asked.

‘If you do, keep the good parts, eh? I need to go’ Cillian said.

 Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby  @thenattitude  

[masterwords]

Protector

Summary: Hotch has a minor procedure and the hospital calls his emergency contact, which is accidentally still Derek even after he's left the BAU.

Warnings: hospital, biopsy for cancer, sick/hurt, fear, medication

Pairings: Derek/Savannah

Words: 4.6k

Notes: There are some heavy themes in this, but ultimately, it's soft, involves a lot of Hank and has a happy ending. This was posted to AO3 in February 2021 and either I never put it up here, or I did and it's lost forever so apologies to anyone who has already read this one...

Read on AO3: Protector

**

“Is this Derek Morgan?”

Phone calls that started that way were always bad in Derek's experience. He confirmed his identity with some hesitation and waited, listened as the nurse explained the situation and when Hank squawked loudly, he blinked, realizing he'd been holding his breath since she began talking. He let it out slowly and smiled at his son, bouncing up and down on his knee, wild curls flying as he threw his head back in the pure ecstasy that only a toddler feels.

“I'll be right there,” he replied, setting his phone down. He smiled again at Hank, bounced him a few more times and told him they had to go see mommy, a simple statement that made the boy squeal with glee and clap his chubby little hands.

He spent a lot of time in the hospital now, but it was almost always for pleasure – he would bring Hank down on Savannah's lunch breaks and they would eat in the cafeteria with mommy, then return to whatever it was they'd been doing prior. Sometimes they would drop her off before running errands and pick her up at bedtime, it was like a second home and for the first time in Derek's adult life he didn't feel dread thinking about those fluorescent lights. Until now, as he drove the familiar route, a pit formed in his stomach, an ache that climbed up and settled in his ribs.

“I'm here to see Aaron Hotchner,” he told the nurse at the admitting desk, flashing her his biggest smile, like usual. She glanced at her computer, poked at the keys a few times and gave him a room number without asking questions, without telling him where to go. Just a number and faith that he could find his way because he practically lived there. Hank squirmed in his arms, eager to go see mommy, eager to push all of the buttons on the elevator and wave hello to everyone they passed. Normally Derek would smile back, would interact with his son, but his features were solemn. The room was full of staff when he arrived, doctors and nurses and technicians buzzing around the bed, around Aaron lying there with his eyes closed though Derek doubted he was sleeping. Savannah met him in the hallway and poked at Hank, making incoherent noises at him as she played a quick game of peekaboo around daddy's back.

“Derek?” she asked, breaking him from his trance. He blinked down at her and shook his head.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not sure where his head had gone. “So what's going on? Why did they call me?”

“You're his emergency contact.” She said it like he knew it, but it didn't check out. No, he was sure it had to be an error – it would be Jessica or Rossi, not him. “Nothing happened, this was a scheduled routine procedure, he's okay Derek. It's just that he's being kept for observation after some minor complications with the anesthesia, he'll be here for a few hours and he'll need a ride home so they pulled a name from his file. I guess his ex-wife was still listed...” her voice trailed off for a minute when she saw a shadow cross Derek's face. “I know. It's probably just been a while since anyone has bothered to call his emergency contact instead of his HCPOA. If you'd rather they call Agent Rossi, I can - “

“No, it's fine. I'm already here.”

She nodded and poked at Hank's nose. “I'm off in an hour, I'll grab Hank and you can stick around.”

“Yeah...okay...” And she wouldn't bother pushing for more. She knew their history, at least from her husband's point of view but he sounded pretty fair about everything, and she'd prodded at him for objective opinions when she could tell his emotions were in the way. Even still, it was their relationship to rekindle or torch as they desired, not hers. She watched as Derek stepped into the now cleared out room, holding his squirming son close, and approached Aaron's bed. Close on his heels, she followed, having offered to help his surgeon with post-op rounds, mostly to keep an eye on the situation. She knew the two of them could be like oil and water and the last thing she needed was to have Aaron agitated post-op.

“Agent Hotchner?” she asked, and Derek looked at her funny, wondering why she would address him that way when he wasn't on duty. He opened his eyes, blinked sleepily a few times, shifted his focus to Derek and Hank for a brief moment before looking back at Savannah. Bright flashes and deep shadows swam in his sight, surrounding the people he could barely make out. Glasses, he needed his glasses, opened his mouth to ask for them but Savannah stopped him, asked him not to speak. “Do you know where you are?” He nodded. Derek turned away, let them talk, focused on Hank – he scooted around the room, showing him all of the cool tools and beeping machines and the television remote.

“Why isn't he talking?” Derek hissed, sidling up next to his wife. He knew Aaron could hear him, almost hoped he'd chime in with some snide comment but nothing happened, he just lay there.

“Do you mind if I fill Derek in?” she asked, turning to Aaron for a moment and he just shrugged and shook his head, and Derek thought he saw a look of relief flash across his features. He was off the hook, he could close his eyes and not worry about thinking. In a hushed voice she explained the procedure he'd been scheduled for and what they'd found when they were in, that they'd decided to alter course and needed to get tissue samples – what had been a simple outpatient procedure became a need for general anesthesia, no time for him to prepare, to get a ride. His doctor had just finished explaining it all to him, and she knew he couldn't have understood it all, sort of hoped Derek would take the reins but the look on his face told her she may have been expecting too much. “What is it?” she asked, and he licked his lips, leaning so close that their faces nearly touched.

“Is it cancer?” he asked, and she bit into her lip, inclining her head toward the door, leading him further away from the bed. Out of earshot. Aaron didn't move, just lay there with his eyes closed, not sleeping. He knew what they were talking about, what those hushed tones meant, it had been all he could think about for weeks to the point of distraction. The haze of the anesthesia was a welcome release from considering his mortality, what would happen to Jack, the guilt.

“That's what they're hoping to rule out, given his family history,” she whispered. “Derek, just be gentle. I know how you can be. Especially with him.”

He wanted to be offended at that but he couldn't, she was right. “What do you think?” he asked, thinly veiled desperation in his voice and that brief flash of vulnerability made her smile, just a little. "Do you think it's cancer? He looks sick, doesn't he?"

“Derek...I think we need to wait for the results, and you need to be a good friend. Don't make him watch ESPN. Don't drink his juice or eat his jello.”

Hank babbled away at Sesame Street on the television, squirming out of Derek's lap every chance he got to trudge around the room, try to pull at cords and get into the garbage bins. He stomped, he roared, Aaron smiled every so often. As the anesthesia wore off, he became more aware of the pain in his throat, shards of glass and doused in gasoline, lit on fire every time he moved. Swallowing took a concerted effort, he'd never been a man who liked spitting but he desperately wanted to just so he wouldn't have to constrict his throat, let the saliva slide through the raw pulp. He let his eyes follow Hank when he'd escape Derek's grip, the sly little grin as he evaded capture, it helped, he didn't pay so much attention to the pain and he hadn't considered the biopsy results since Hank got restless and began terrorizing the room, forcing Derek to chase him around with that stressed dad look on his face, worried that he would break some expensive equipment or somehow hurt Aaron when he rammed the bed.

A nurse came in with an ice pack for his throat, the pressure hurt as she packed it against his skin, made him gag and cough. It was a horrible, wet sounding thing that twisted his face in agony and she reached out, grabbed a handful of paper towels and a small plastic dish, held it to his mouth, letting him spit into it rather than swallow. When she pulled her hand away and wiped at his chin, he could see the blood, bright red and he hoped Hank hadn't been watching.

“So you can't talk huh?” Derek asked, crossing his arms around Hank's midsection, holding him firmly in place. “A whole week of silence outta you?” Aaron nodded, and he wondered if that was a big deal. He wasn't much of a talker in the first place, but he supposed if anyone had any cause to want him to shut up it might be Derek, he'd dealt with him longer than anyone else.

By the time Savannah took Hank he was sleeping in Derek's arms while all three of them watched Cookie Monster sing his ABCs intently. She scooped her son into her arms, kissed Derek on the cheek and said goodnight to both of them, leaving them to sit in silence, never bothering to switch the channel. Aaron hadn't asked again for his glasses, did have any contacts on hand, he couldn't see the television anyway. He would shut his eyes, and Derek had figured out that meant he felt nauseous, something Savannah had warned him to watch for as the pain medication settled in and the anesthesia wore off, but he had to call someone if he thought Aaron might actually be sick, they needed to try to keep him from it if possible. When he closed his eyes, Derek leaned close, told him to breathe, offered him ice chips and ginger ale and it passed without issue time after time.

Aaron's discharge was late, and Derek insisted on walking him into his apartment, unsteady on his feet as he was. There was an odd sense of familiarity there that he wasn't ready to explore yet, it had been a year since they'd last seen one another and it felt like a lifetime had passed between them. When had Aaron gotten so old? When had he? The last time he'd checked, they were just kids, he was sure of it. The silence in the apartment got to him first, and he wanted to ask Aaron where Jack was, why it was so quiet. Aaron beat him to it, though, he'd grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, scribbled out a small note thanking Derek for coming and for the ride, apologizing for the call, ensuring him he'd change his contacts right away and Derek just shook his head.

“You never change,” he muttered. “Keep it the way it is. I got you.” Aaron reached for the pad, started to write again but Derek stopped him, held his hand over Aaron's and eased the pen and paper out of his grip. “You need to sleep. Don't worry about whatever it is you're worrying about...just sleep.” Aaron nodded, defeated. He just stood there staring at Derek for a moment, wondering if Derek would bring up what he knew, what Savannah had told him, but as the silence stretched between them Aaron understood that Derek was going to let him have it, hold on to his private worry for now. His order to stop worrying and sleep was the closest he would get to the entire topic for the night.

Derek left soon after, went home and slipped into bed beside his beautiful wife and spent half of the night thinking about Aaron being alone, no one to share his fears with, no one to reassure him, to lay beside him and let him soak in their warmth.

“I'm gonna spend the day at Hotch's tomorrow,” Derek whispered and Savannah hummed, nodding in that half asleep way.

“Good,” she mumbled against the pillow, and as he opened his mouth to speak again she shushed him, snuggling in closer.

He wasn't sure if 8am was too early, but there he was, Hank in one arm and a carry tray full of drinks in the other. Hank reached out and pushed the doorbell, and then he pushed it again and again and again until they heard the deadbolt click and the door swung slowly open to reveal Aaron, still in his pajamas and robe, a disheveled mess. It was immediately clear that he hadn't slept, and he didn't bother to try and argue Derek's presence, just let the door swing open and padded back to the couch, to his nest of blankets. He knew how this went, it wasn't the first time he was vulnerable and found Derek knocking on his door - protesting was futile. He'd almost been hoping for it this time, he was so lonely. On the coffee table was a mess of pill bottles, some open, some closed, and a glass of water half empty.

“Did you take any of those?” Derek asked, glancing around the room for a safe place to put Hank, somewhere he wouldn't wreak havoc immediately, and decided on a chair at the table, setting his breakfast before him in the hopes he would be distracted enough for a few minutes to eat it. Aaron shook his head, he had tried, was told he could take certain medications and he'd tried but he couldn't swallow them, just ended up coughing them back up into the carpet, into his blankets, into his hands. It had been a lesson in humiliation, even if it was only the walls that saw.

“I told you to sleep. You had one job,” Derek said, crouching beside Aaron's prone form on the couch, curled up now inside of his blankets. He made no attempt at movement, just huddled there miserably while Derek attempted to put lids on all of the bottles and scoop them up, out of Hank's reach. “Savannah says you'll probably get your test results back tomorrow, so I figured I'd just hang out with you until you do. I knew you'd hate it, too...makes it more fun for me.”

Aaron turned his eyes up at Derek that time, tried to force a scowl but it wasn't nearly as intimidating now, buried in blankets.

"You worried about what they'll say?" Derek asked, pressing the last lid on tight. Aaron was still for a moment, closed his eyes briefly, and nodded. Of course he was worried. He'd been sick for the better part of a year, bout after bout of what they called bronchitis but there was always that lingering fear that it was more, and every morning when he looked in the mirror he saw his father's face staring back at him. Saying I told you so, son. See you soon, son. He could feel Derek's eyes on him, could sense the man trying to decide between serious and silly as a response, and when he opened his eyes and met Derek's, he could feel the other man's concern radiating off of him. "I'm not worried. You're gonna be fine."

The day flew by, Derek and Hank wreaking havoc on Aaron's otherwise tidy apartment. Derek figured out the pill situation, called Savannah and asked if she could get him a prescription for a liquid pain medicine at least because he was miserable and no amount of ice on his throat or popsicles helped. He'd wondered why the rest of the team wasn't beating down the door but found that Aaron had told them he was taking a week of vacation after he'd scheduled his procedure, none of them had any idea what was really going on and as much as he wanted to talk to Penelope about it, he couldn't break that trust. It would kill them to know the fear he was hiding from them anyway, it was better just to keep it quiet. They couldn't handle seeing him fragile, and he would have put on a show for them when he needed to just be lost and vulnerable.

By the time they'd gone for the night Aaron was exhausted and his entire home had been redecorated by a toddler with curious hands, somehow he didn't mind it at all. Just made him miss Jack, wish he had his son there with him while he avoided thinking about his mortality being dangled mercilessly before his eyes. Bone tired didn't begin to describe the way he felt, and when Derek left, he had grand plans to move to his bed but found himself unable to get off of the couch. It took all of his effort just to shift, to take a sip of the ice water Derek had left for him on the table, holding the glass with a trembling hand as if it weighed a ton. The warmth of the blankets and the otherworldly calm the pain medicine gave him were enough to hold him in a trance for much of the night.

In the morning, he was met with the same smiling faces at his door, weighted down with so much gear Aaron wondered if they were planning to move in with him and he greeted them the same way he'd done the day before – barely alive, barely standing, focusing all of his effort on placing one foot in front of the other to make it safely back to the couch. Derek commented that he looked awful, and he thought he might as well look as bad as he felt but he couldn't say a thing, just burrowed back into his blankets and stifled what might have come out as a moan or an exhausted cry, swallowing it deep with his worries and regrets. He'd been awake all night thinking about Jack, about Haley, about Sean and his parents and every time one memory would conclude another found its way in, good and bad mingling as the minutes ticked by on the clock. With a smile, Derek crouched before him and handed him a slushy, neon green and blue swirled together and when Aaron didn't make a move to reach for it, he set the straw to his friend's lips and waited for him to take the bait. He knew there was no way Aaron could hold out forever, not on a slushy. Savannah had told him no hot liquids for a day or two, but ice water and slushies and even ice cream would be good. Hank didn't mind the treats either. By the time Aaron's phone rang, Hank was happily eating his lunch at the table and Derek was seated on the couch beside his friend watching some mindless daytime television. Aaron handed Derek the phone, and at first Derek balked, he couldn't take the call, but Aaron couldn't speak and there wasn't much choice. He wondered what Aaron would have done if he'd not been there. Probably would have talked, wrecked his throat.

He put the call on speaker and they both listened as the nurse gently eased them into the conversation, beginning with the very simple statement that the lesions they found were benign and without any hesitation Derek found himself reaching out and grabbing Aaron's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The rest was a blur of information about infection, elevated white blood cells, blood pressure, stress, all things Derek was sure Aaron had heard numerous times before as reasons for him simply not feeling well. He didn't take care of himself, he had a terrible work life balance, his job was going to kill him. The call ended and the two of them remained sitting there in silence, Derek's hand still wrapped tight around Aaron's, and he glanced over to see tears streaming down Aaron's cheek. He sniffled, stifled a cough threatening to wreck his throat and squeezed his eyes shut. There was a flood of relief, and something like sadness, and he thought he might be sick.

“Hey,” Derek said, scooting closer. “You're all good. I called it, right?” A few more moments passed, and Derek knew Aaron needed to sleep, thought maybe now that he had his results he might.

“I gotta run a quick errand, Hank needs a nap...you think you could lay down with him?” Aaron regarded him seriously for a moment before nodding. He hadn't taken his pain medication that morning and was regretting it, but he was sharp enough to watch Hank at least. Gently, he helped Aaron up, tugged at Hank to follow them and settled them both into Aaron's bed. Hank rubbed at his eyes, he was so easy to put to sleep they often wondered how they got so lucky and Derek's mother warned them that he'd been a very easy baby as well but he turned into a monster on his 3rd birthday. He sat beside Hank for a minute, singing softly to him while his eyes fluttered closed, his little body relaxing into the warmth of Aaron's bed.

When he returned with some groceries he found them both asleep, just as he'd hoped, Aaron curled into a ball beside Hank who had sprawled his tiny little limbs out like a starfish. Aaron's hand was on Hank's stomach, the sign of a parent, just making sure, sleeping but keenly aware of each breath and each movement anyway. He let them sleep well into the afternoon, and it was Hank that woke first with a squawk and a thump as he rolled off of the bed and leapt to his feet. Aaron followed soon after, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was met with a hand, outstretched with a glass for him as he entered the kitchen.

“Banana milkshake,” Derek grinned. “In my house, we celebrate good news. I don't know how you do things around here but as long as I'm in charge...” Aaron regarded him sourly, furrowing his brow. He wanted to ask what it was that made Derek think he was in charge but as he reached out and took the glass, sipping the frosty concoction, he relented. It was pretty clear. The cold soothed the burning in his throat, though he found himself longing for something warm, something hot even – a bowl of soup, and wondered if he was allowed, he had tried to read the discharge papers but couldn't manage to focus on the words, was flying blind just letting Derek lead the way. So it was, Derek was in charge. Derek watched him drink his milkshake curiously. “You need something? You look like you wanna say something...”

Indicating the paper and pen on the counter, he invited Aaron over, watched as he scrawled the word SOUP? In big, swooping letters. Derek laughed and nodded. “Yeah, man, I can make you some soup. I brought chicken and stars for Hank, you guys can share it. Savannah said you're allowed some soft food today if you're up to it.”

They came by every day that week, while Aaron was silently moping around his apartment. Aaron ate whatever Hank ate, their diets so closely mimicked one another it was just easier for Derek and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy making his old boss toddler food. Hank had taken to sleeping in Aaron's bed, and Derek's rule was simply that Hank couldn't sleep in there alone so Aaron would have to lay with him and he fell asleep every single time within minutes. He'd gone from one to two children abruptly, and the small one was better behaved in the long run, he listened better. At the end of the week, Jessica brought Jack back from spending some time visiting cousins and instantly Jack gravitated toward Hank, sitting on the floor, playing peekaboo with him. He couldn't believe how big Hank had gotten, how long it had been since he'd seen him.

“He was like this big when I saw him!” Jack exclaimed, holding his hands comically close together and all of the adults laughed. Aaron felt guilty, he should have called Derek, should have taken Jack to visit, should have been a better friend. Derek probably could have used another father to vent to, to ask questions of, and he'd been MIA. A whole year had passed.

“A year, can you believe it? Saw your ugly mug just about every day for almost twenty years and now it's been an entire year since I last saw you. I'm sorry, man.” Derek verbalized everything running through Aaron's head, like they'd been sharing the same thoughts, except Aaron knew it was on him. Derek was busy being a new father, figuring out what to do with his life without the BAU, it wasn't his job to reach out too.

Aaron was sore, acutely aware of the subtle ringing in his ear punctuating every painful breath through his raw throat. He hadn't been able to swallow his medications in days and his hands ached, stiffness settling into his angry joints. The liquid painkiller they'd given him offered his only release from any of it and it just made him feel soft, pliable, relaxed, not pain free. He felt so old all of a sudden, and he watched from his nest of blankets as Jack and Hank played with the mess of toys Jack was hauling out from his room to the living room. Jessica put her hand on Aaron's shoulder, standing behind him, and he angled his head to look up at her. She raised an eyebrow, a silent question, and he shook his head just a little, and somehow she knew it meant his results were good, he was going to be okay, so she grabbed her glass of water and sat on his other side, resting against him. He may have felt old and useless, but he was flanked by people he loved dearly. It had to count for something.

As Derek prepared Hank to go home, packing up the tornado of toddler things thrown around Aaron's apartment like they'd moved in, he wondered at the strange week they'd had. It struck Derek then that Aaron hadn't said one single word the entire week they were together but it was never a problem, they never did need to talk in order to know what the other needed or was thinking. With Hank in his arms, he bid goodnight to Jessica and Jack while Aaron walked him to the door, blanket draped around his shoulders.

“I've missed you,” Aaron rasped, wincing at the pain. His voice sounded wrong, disconnected from himself. He was disobeying doctors orders, Derek wouldn't tell Savannah, he just smiled. He knew Aaron would have liked to say more, could imagine there was a thank you in there, some kind of you-didn't-have-to-stay thrown in, maybe an apology for taking up so much of his time, but the words he did choose to speak were the important ones. Derek just nodded, pulled Aaron in for a hug with one arm and felt Hank wrap his little arms around Aaron's neck, delivering a slobbery kiss on his cheek and they backed up. He wanted to reply, to tell Aaron he missed him too, they should talk more, he was glad everything was okay, they should go out for a beer sometime but he'd been talking all week, it was his turn to stay silent.

Aaron already knew what he would say anyway.

[dancer-me]

Let Me Be Your Wings

Buck had never paid more attention to the emergency exit instructions than he was at this present moment.

And look – it’s not that he’s some careless jerk who couldn’t be bothered to care about the safety of the rest of the people on his flights, it’s just that he had been a passenger on so many, many planes and after a while all emergency exits looked the same.

But Buck had never been on a sixteen-seater open cockpit Whatevssna before, and he was pretty sure that the cool breeze he was feeling was The Great Outdoors and not the on-board ventilation system. The cabin walls seemed to be made from repurposed tin can, and it just really made it seem like his imminent death via plane crash was going to be very up close and personal with the ground.

So, yeah, that was him making meaningful eye-contact with the lady turned around in front of him while the lone flight attendant – which, why, at this point? – explained under what circumstances he should pull the lever.

Not for the first time, he had to ask himself why he was flying to the island of Buttmonkey, Nowhere, in the middle of a storm. His National Geographic contract said the island had a population of over one hundred and sixty thousand, but that did not make it seem any less remote to Buck, who was fresh off a job in California, and also pretty sure he was about to die in exchange for a few photographs of old fishing town ruins.

He'd told his agent that he needed a change of scenery (and lied through his teeth that it had nothing to do with his girlfriend, comma ex, ghosting him) but maybe this was something of a gross over-correction.

Still, he snapped a photo of the interior of the plane for his own personal collection, because when he wasn’t contemplating his death it was actually pretty cool to be able to have a partial view of the cockpit, to see out the front windshield, and watch the capable hands of the pilot and co-pilot as they worked with the myriad of instruments in front of them.

He took that thought back when he found he had a clear line of sight to how not centered the plane was with the tower at his destination airport as the gusts of wind from the storm engulfed them in violent turbulence.

And to think, Buck had actually considered himself lucky when the flight display board in the boarding airport had shown that his flight wasn’t amongst the growing list of cancelled and delayed flights due to the weather. Now, he figured there was something to be said for pilots who knew their limitations.

Buck braced his hand against the seat in front of him in an effort not to pin ball around the cabin as the plane aborted its descent and circled back on the runway to line up with the tower once more. The wind continued to buffet the plane, and Buck’s eyes continued to flit back and forth between the steady hands of the pilots on what he could see of the controls between them and the blinking tower lined up ahead.

After yet another near miss and aborted landing attempt, the plane finally touched down on the tarmac below in a shockingly smooth landing.

The captain poked his head around the cockpit for the first time and rattled off the weather – slightly windy out there folks –with a completely unfazed smile, as if there wasn’t a couple sitting two rows down from him holding hands across the aisle and praying.

Buck couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him at the sheer absurdity of the whole thing. It didn’t help that the captain turned out to be unbearably hot, with fluffy brown hair and deep brown eyes and a perfect jaw line accentuated by stubble that was likely just as unintentional as it was sexy on the man.

He resisted the urge to snap another photo, because while he appreciated beautiful things, he also tried to respect personal boundaries and not be an all-around creeper. That didn’t mean that he didn’t stare for an undue amount of time, long enough to catch the attention of the pilot.

Buck flashed him his most cocksure smile, because he was never going to see this man again and a little light flirting with the hot and extremely competent pilot was an excellent way to unload the adrenaline pumping in his veins.

The man was grinning back at him as Buck approached the front of the cabin to disembark.

“Thanks,” Buck said as he moved past the cockpit and lingered at the exit hatch that was clearly designed for dwarves, “impressive work up there.”

“Hey, anytime,” the captain – Diaz, judging by the name sewn into his pressed white uniform – replied. His co-pilot, Han, contributed a salute and a “have a great day now!” from the seat next to him, laughter on his lips as he looked back and forth between Buck and the captain.

“Well I hope we meet again then,” Buck offered with a wink as he ducked to make his way out the exit, “so I can take you up on that offer.”

And maybe it was Buck’s imagination, but a light flush of pink on Diaz’s cheeks – was he blushing at just that simple line? – only served to make the man even more attractive.

Buck had flown on enough planes to know that statistic impossibility of ever seeing Diaz again, but he really, really wished he could, if only just to reassure himself that this man had been real.

The Pilot! Eddie and Photographer! Buck AU that literally no one, absolutely no one, asked for.

[aerynwrites]

Dance the Night Away

Baron Zemo x F!Reader

A/N: So I asked for requests and you all shall receive! First time writing for Zemo so I hope you al enjoy. I also just kind of took some liberties with this request so I hope you still like it nonny! I have a Sam Wilson x F!Reader piece in the works next as well!

Request: Maybe for a Zemo fic - you were someone he danced with at Sharon’s place, and it’s just a little drabble about the two you having a little fun on the dance floor! I can imagine him being all cute and shit - requested by Anon

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Flirting, suggestive dancing (if you squint), fluff.

Possible spoilers for TFATWS Episode 3

Madripoor had become a place of comfort for you despite its purpose and reputation. You had made a small name for yourself here - earning the respect of your fellow peers in the high town of the city. That’s actually how you ended up dancing to the beat of loud music at a party held by Sharon Carter.

Since coming here you had acquired quite the taste for fine arts and became fast friends with the former Shield Agent. You had been to many parties held at her place, each of them similar to the last. However, this one was different. You had noticed Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes as soon as they walked in with the infamous Baron Zemo. You knew then that this night would become interesting very quickly. Soon after they entered and melded with the dancing crowd, you started to make your way to the bar. However, as you made it to an opening on the dance floor, you saw the Baron dancing - albeit terribly - on the dance floor. 

So you took your chance.

You strode over to him, before quickly eliminating the space between you as you began to dance next to him, leaning over to yell over the music.

“For being in a club you have a very interesting way of dancing!” you tease, continuing to move your body to the beats thrumming through the air. 

The Baron turns to face you, continuing to move as he calls back, “Yet, you were still drawn to me, of all the people.”

You send him a small smirk, “It seems that way,” you say back before leaning just a bit closer so you can speak into his ear and make it easier on the both of you, “So, are you going to ask me to dance or what, Baron?” 

When you pull away, Zemo is sending you a small smile before he’s reaching out and placing his hands on your hips while you place yours on his shoulders, both of you moving in sync with the music now. 

Contrary to what you saw earlier, Zemo is quite the dancer when he has a partner. His hands are firm on your hips as you sway them to the beat, and his body is agile as he moves along with you, just a mere hair’s breadth away from you as the music flows out of the speakers. However, this position doesn’t last long before Zemo is turning you around in his arms, and pulling your back against this chest, both of you still keeping the dance going. 

You can’t help the surprise that runs through you at the change of pace. From how he was dancing earlier, you never would have taken him for the type to initiate this type of dancing. But you go along with it nonetheless. 

“You know,” you call, smiling as he leans his head down to hear you better, “I never would have taken you to like this kind of dancing,” you say honestly, a smirk tugging at your lips as you both continue to dance, Zemo pulling you tighter to him. 

“Well then,” he says, voice low and gravelly, “You must not know me as well as you think you do.”

At this comment you pull out of his grip and turn to face him again, arms wrapping around his neck this time in order to keep him close as your lips brush against his ear. “Why don’t you let me get to know you better then? Maybe over a drink?”

You have to hold back the smile that threatens to erupt at the slightly surprised look in his brown eyes when you pull away to look at him. The surprise soon gives way into the familiar confident smirk he’s held most of the night and he offers you a single nod. 

“A drink sounds lovely,” he agrees, taking your arms from around his neck to instead take your hand in own, “Lead the way,” he gestures with his free hand towards the bar. 

You don’t hesitate as you start to pull yourself and your new companion towards the bar, pushing past all the writhing bodies until you finally find an open spot at the bar top. Once you do, you wave down the bartender and ask for two shots of your usual, letting out a laugh at the impressed look on Zemo’s face as he leans against the counter.

“What?” you question, mimicking his stance.

He waves a hand, “It’s nothing,” he says simply, “I just took you for more of a...fruity cocktail type.”

You roll your eyes just as the bartender brings over the pair of shots, giving you a small nod before moving on to the next patron. You take your glass, as does Zemo and then you respond, “Do you really think anyone who lives in Madripoor is a fruity drink person?” you ask, brow raised

The man smiles at that, “You have a point, I suppose.”

You chuckle and nod, before lifting your glass in the air, “To new friends and interesting dancing partners,” you say, sending the man a mischievous look.

Zemo returns the glance before clinking his glass with yours, “To new friends and dancing partners,” he repeats before you both down the shot. 

Both of you grimace, before looking up to one another and letting out a round of quiet chuckles. “I never said it was good,” you point out, “Just a good way to take the edge off.”

Zemo nods at that, and he looks like he’s about to say something before his companions from earlier emerge from the crowd. Bucky places a rough hand on his shoulder, forcibly grabbing his attention.

“Where have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you,” he calls out, a frustrated expression on his face.

“Miss Carter told us to enjoy the party, no?” he says, gesturing to you while you take the small moment of interruption to snag a cocktail napkin and pen from the person beside you, “I was simply following her instructions when I happened upon this wonderful woman next to me,” he explains, pulling your attention away from your scribbling, “And who was I to deny her a dance?”

You see Sam roll his eyes, before casting you a cautious glance, “He’s not bothering you, right?”

You send him a smile and shake your head, “Quite the opposite,” you tell him truthfully, “The Baron and I were just getting to know each other is all.”

Zemo goes to add on but Bucky cuts him off, hand still latched firmly on his shoulder, “Time to go.”

Zemo simply shrugs his shoulder before reaching out and taking your free hand in his own. He leans down and places a quick kiss to your knuckles, causing heat to rise to your cheeks as you look over at him.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening…” you see a confused expression tug at his brow when he just now seems to realize he never got your name. 

You pull your hand from his, grabbing the cocktail napkin from the counter before leaning in and offering your name to him. You then place the napkin in his hand and leave a quick peck on his cheek before leaning back into your seat.

“The pleasure was all mine, Baron.” 

That is the last thing that is able to be said before the two men pull Zemo away from you, but not before he catches your small smile as you watch after him. He hears Bucky and Sam bickering once more, and takes their moment of distraction to look down at the thin paper in his hand. He smiles when he sees your name and phone number scribbled on the fragile napkin with the small message at the bottom.

You own me another dance - xoxo

The man smirks as he stuffs the napkin in his back pocket. He has every intention of fulfilling that request as soon as he’s able.

Permanent Taglist: @ajeff855​ @kaermorons​ @murdermewithbooks​ @hiscyarika​ @hail-doodles​ @mrpascals​ @bestintheparsec​ @forever-rogue​ @leaiorganas​ @wille-zarr​ @din-damn-djarin​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @princessxkenobi​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @theocatkov​ @swimmingsloths​ @getinthepoolkeanu​ @engie115​ @somnibats​

Marvel: @snow30285​ @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @cable-kenobi​