#It's the same shoulder that Washington stabbed

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader, Rick Grimes x sister reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 4.08

Your feet were aching, and the lack of sleep from the past few days was catching up with everyone, including Jace, who was starting to cry. You would need to stop walking soon to feed him; he was becoming too heavy to feed and carry at the same time, with most of his weight pressing onto one shoulder.

When a concert watch tower comes into view, you let out a sigh of relief, “We should stop here for a little bit.”

“No, we need to keep going.”

Glenn was so focused on finding Maggie he wasn’t taking anyone else into consideration. You understand why he wants to keep going, but you’d need to stop for a break at some point. Everyone stops walking aside from Glenn and Tara.

“Hold up!” Abraham shouts after them. “We’re stopping here. Tired is slow, and slow is dead.”

“It’s barely noon.”

“I don’t give a monkey's left nut. None of us has slept more than a couple hours straight since we went all Casey Jones. This place looks safe.” Seeing Glenn’s reluctance, Abraham sighs. “I get, you have to find her, but Rosita and I have a mission too. We’ve got to get that man to Washington. Plus, your friend looks like she could use a rest; no offense.”

“None taken. But he’s right, Glenn. A few hours of rest will do us all the world of good. I don’t want you passing out again.”

A walker suddenly falls from the top of the watch tower and nearly lands on top of Tara. Abraham pushes her out of the way before stabbing it in the head, but she slides forward on the mud and hits her knee on the ground.

Rosita rushes over to help her up, but Glenn beats her to it. “Do you want to stop or keep going?”

“No, keep going. I’m good.”

He seems satisfied with that answer. “Look, if she can keep going, then we can all keep going. Or you guys can stay here. We don’t need you, and you don’t need us.”

“Glenn!”

Rosita shakes her head at him, “wow, you’re an ass. Tara will do whatever you say because she thinks she owes you. Man up. Stay here for a few hours.”

You and Tara hadn’t exchanged words since you confessed what happened to her girlfriend, but watching the brunette slowly limp towards the train tracks made you furious. “Glenn, Tara can barely walk. What happens if walkers catch up with you? She needs to rest.”

“We’ll do what we always do and fight them off.”

“These people saved us when we needed them. The least we can do is wait a couple of hours, at least until Tara isn’t limping.” Your lips press into a thin line; you could tell by his facial expression he was desperate to argue against what you’ve just said. “I need to feed Jace; do what you want, Glenn, but I’m staying here until everyone is able to walk.”

He looks genuinely hurt. “We can’t split up after everything we’ve been through.”

—

After breaking for roughly two hours, everyone is more alert after testing their feet and having a few slices of fruit from a tin that you shared. Jace was no longer crying, and Tara wasn’t limping.

You reach a tunnel on the tracks that had another message from Maggie telling Glenn to keep going.

“I don’t like the look of this.” The inside of the tunnel was pitch black, and in the distance you could hear the faint sound of walkers snarling. “There needs to be another way; this is too dangerous. We have no idea what’s inside there.”

“We could walk around it,” Rosita suggests.

“No, that will take at least a day. If Maggie went through it, then I’m going through it. We’re close.”

“Shut up a second,” Abraham says, pointing out the sound of walkers. “You hear that? That there is a long, dark tunnel full of reanimated corpses. I don’t have full-on certainty that I can get Eugene through there alive.”

“I’m with Abraham; I’m not taking Jace in there. If he cries, we’ll be surrounded and will never get out. I’m going to take the extra day to go around the tunnel safely.”

“Maggie is waiting for us on the other side; she’s your friend,” Glenn snaps, the frustration of his desperation showing.

“Yeah, Maggie is my friend, and Jace is my son. She would want me to prioritize him.

“I need to go to her.”

“I get it; I really do, but I need to think about what’s best for him.” You hug Glenn, “I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?”

Knowing there was no point in arguing with him, Abraham opens his pack back and takes out a few cans of food and gives them to Glenn. Tara steps forward, “I’ll go with you.”

Glenn seems uncertain, almost emotional about what to do. “Y/n, please come with me. We can make it through; our people will be waiting on the other.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t.”

You share one more look before him and Tara disappear into the tunnel. Your throat starts to tighten as tears well in your eyes. You didn’t want to lose Glenn as well, but both of you would do what you thought was right. Forcing a smile, you wipe your eyes and turn to face the others. “Well, I guess this is where we part ways if you guys are going back for that truck we passed.”

“No,” Abraham places his hand on your arm. “What you told Tara takes balls. I can respect that. We could use someone like you to get Eugene to Washington, but I know you need to find your people first.”

“So…?”

“We’re going to help you find them,” Rosita smiles. ”

—

“Ma’am, I don’t think he likes me.”

You laugh seeing Eugene holding Jace so awkwardly. He only needed to hold for a minute so you could redo your laces that have become undone, but Jace wasn’t happy about it. Abraham and Rosita were sitting on rocks, watching in amusement.

“Mommy.”

Jace holds his arms out for you to take him again; his cheeks flush red from upsetting himself. Just as you go to take him, you hear rustling in the bushes and snaps of branches. You listen for a few more seconds and realize it’s coming from behind you. Spinning on your heels, you raise your gun and point it at the person standing behind you.

“Sasha…”

You put your gun pack into its holster and pull her into a hug.

“Sasha?”

“Bob, Maggie!” She yells, “Y/n and Jace are alive.”

—

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Eugene asks uncertainty. Abraham went back for the truck you passed, but instead of going in the opposite direction, he used it to drive into the tunnel to go after Glenn and Tara. Since Eugene was a terrible shot had one job, and that was to hold Jace inside the truck.

“Just don’t drop him!”

You slam the door shut and then start firing at the walkers that Glenn and Tara are surrounded by.

Once the walkers are down, Tara comes over to you and squeezes your good shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it; you’re one of us now, and that’s what we do. We save each other.”

—

After spending the night camping out in the tunnel, you make it through to the opposite side by midday. When the place you have been searching for comes into view, you almost struggle to believe it’s real. “This place looks like a fortress.”

Terminus looks like it was once a warehouse, but now it has been turned into a community. It had small, flourishing gardens scattered across the outside of it.

Abraham nudges you with his elbow, “Do you think your brother is in there?”

“I hope so.”

“I left more messages telling our people where to find us,” Maggie says. “If you guys saw it, I’m sure they will as well.”

[jumpymystic]

Grif noticed Locus' left shoulder was tense during training so Grif offered to help give some relief

[sungbeam]

𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫

artist!kevin moon x senator's daughter!reader

after a long night, you find yourself on the front doorstep of a man who's heart you still held tightly in your grasp.

4.0k words, exes 2 lovers?, bittersweet angst with a happy ending, kissing, swearing, mentions of arranged marriages and controlling parents, mentions of social class, it takes place in washington dc bc i had a specific place in mind lol but i've also only went to dc once(???)

a/n: dug this up and dusted off the cobwebs — originally inspired (partly) by youngk's cover of moon river <3 (im sorry i always give you angst kevin...)

It was late when you knocked on his door. It was so late, in fact, that the fog had begun to roll over the Potomac and dampen the cobblestones beneath your shoes. You would have taken off the death traps your mother called fashion, but you'd seen your friends on the rowing team get foot diseases before. The streetlights here glowed from their perches in golden yellow flames, not amber like they did in some parts of the district.

You hadn't really expected him to answer. You knew he was almost guaranteed to be awake, but there were always exceptions. You knew he would recognize you, too, but if he would open the door for you… it didn't matter that he was the kindest person you'd ever met, there were always exceptions.

His expression sat carefully blank when you faced him, a war brewing in his beautiful eyes of a long past you shared. He swallowed, scanning your form.

"I'm sorry," you managed to say. You suddenly felt stupid. Why were you here? Why had you run all the way across the river to his place in Georgetown? Why him? Out of all the people, you chose the one person who's heart you let fall to the ground and shatter. It was a miracle he even opened the door. "I—I didn't know who else to go to."

The bobby pins in your hair stabbed your head and intensified the headache building in your scalp. It had been a long night; you weren't sure if you were even of sound mind and thought right now.

Kevin Moon considered you for a moment, his eyes and posture softening at the lines. "Come in," he murmured as he stepped aside in the doorway, "it's late."

You swallowed as you took slow steps into his townhouse and he closed the front door behind you. Everything was as you had last seen it—pictures of him and his family, his friends; his artwork hung on the entryway walls; stair leading up to the upper floors, and hallway traveling back toward the parlor and kitchen. You could extract the memories that you had of this place, but that would keep you up the rest of the night. It would be a dangerous endeavor, you thought, as if coming to Kevin in the first place wasn't already.

"Here." He held out one toned arm for you to grasp. "So you can take off your shoes."

You gave a barely-there nod. "Oh, uhm, thank you," you said, locking your hand against his forearm as you swiftly discarded the stilettos from your feet. When your aching feet met flat ground, a weight fell from your shoulders, and you lined up the pair against the wall neatly by his shoe rack.

He began trekking up the stairs, beckoning you to follow. "You can have the guestroom," he sighed, carding a hand through his hair. It stuck up in the back, you noticed whilst following him up, which meant he had probably been tossing and turning for awhile.

Everything smelled the same, felt the same.

A different weight fell upon your chest, suffocating. Was it a mistake to come here? It was all coming back to you.

And he was opening the only other bedroom door besides his on the floor, leaving the door open for you to follow. He fluffed the pillows and pulled a blanket out from the closet shelf. This room used to be for guests, not for you, but that change was your fault.

"I'll grab you something to change into," he said in the silence with one hand cupped behind the back of his neck. He didn't look at you this time. "You still know where everything is?"

"Yeah," you rasped. You cleared your throat and held your clutch in front of yourself like a pitiful shield. "Thanks, Kevin. I… I promise I'll be out of your hair by the morning."

A beat passed. You felt his eyes on you and met them.

"Just—" his arm fell to his side and tucked into the pocket of his sweats, "—take your time, Yn. Good night."

You watched him leave. "Good night."

The house was quiet again after you finished washing up in the bathroom and retreated into the guest room. Kevin could hear the door close even from the third floor in his attic studio, his feet pressed against the cool wood, eyes staring out at the half-filled canvas on the easel. He'd been stuck for awhile, having not yet decided what he wanted to do with the rest of it. This indecisiveness came with the artist's block, unfortunately.

He didn't like to admit that one of the few ways to get him out were the dozens of canvases shoved against the far corner. There was a drop cloth draped over them so he wouldn't get distracted, but… most nights he couldn't resist.

There was always something soulful about the way he painted your eyes. It had always been that, and your smile, that he intentionally captured first whenever he painted your portrait. It was a greedy, selfish attempt to keep some part of you for himself because he knew that it was and could never be like that in the real world. He knew that fact all too well.

The vision of you on his porch tonight… he'd almost believed he was dreaming.

Kevin released a frustrated huff from his mouth, rubbing his hands down his face, then up through his hair. His brushes remained untouched, canvas on the easel left undone.

He stood from his stool and quietly made his way back down to the second floor.

He could've sent you away, he thought. He could've, but did he want to?—

"Oh. Hi."

His eyes shot up at the sound of your voice, meek and soft. You stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom with his T-shirt and sweatpants hanging from your frame like it was two years ago. He lost his breath for a second; he didn't think you were still awake. "Did I wake you?" He asked, clutching the banister.

"No," you said while leaning against the door jamb. "I was… I wasn't sleeping."

That made the both of you.

"You still have bandaids in the medicine cabinet?" You asked him.

He nodded, stepping down fully onto the second floor. "Yeah. How many did you need?" He shoved the intrusive thoughts away from the forefront of his mind and replaced them with the idea of bandages. He padded over into the bathroom, turning the light on to rifle through the medicine cabinet.

Never mind that you knew where they were and that you were capable of getting them yourself—he already lost when he let you into his house.

You slipped in behind him. "Just a couple small ones is okay—for my feet."

Oh, right. He'd nearly forgotten you must have traveled all the way from across the river to get here in those god awful shoes. Not only that, but no doubt spent an entire night in them at some stuck-up, rich-prick gala—

Not now, he hushed. Most of the time, it was never your choice to even go to those functions.

He withdrew the box of Band-Aids he kept, all beat up from years of figuring out where they belonged. There was a mishmash of sizes, but most of the medium-sized ones were all gone, leaving only the extreme sizes on the spectrum. He picked out a few of the small ones for you, staring at the tile on the floor while you sat on the lid of the toilet to cover your blisters and bruises.

“I know that my showing up here unannounced was really unfair to you,” you suddenly said. He raised his head a little. You were grabbing your heel now, gently massaging your foot. “Especially at this time of night. I—” You paused, “I just—I’m sorry.”

If he didn't think about it too much, he could pretend this apology was only about you showing up unannounced, out of the blue, at an ungodly hour, and not about every other elephant in the room.

“It's okay, I understand,” he murmured. He felt his body move to settle on the edge of the bathtub across from you to take your foot from your hand to rub soothing circles into your aching bones.

You connected gazes again and he saw the flicker of gratitude in them, and something else he didn't want to see. Hope was so cruel sometimes. “You don't have to do this.”

“I know. I want to.”

It felt like college all over again, just you and him. Those four years had been some of the best years of his life—but they were filled with naïve bliss. The long, humid summer days and nights along the river; the golden light filtering through his windows as you read and he painted; the picnics on the Georgetown University lawns; the echo of your laughter against cobblestone walls and streets.

They were engraved into his memory, even with the rose-tinted lenses off.

He would call it a fever dream, but he knew you were solid and real when he held you. Your smile was real, your love was palpable. He could hear your humming in his kitchen in the evenings and feel the ghost of your arms around him in the mornings.

When you were called away by your family to fulfill filial obligations, you would always return home to him. Not them, him.

In this moment, he knew exactly what he was doing, even if he chose to pretend he didn't. Like this wouldn't lead to his heart getting broken again when all that was left of you in the morning was your perfume on his clothes and bandaid wrappers in the trash.

“So what was tonight about?” He piped up, daring another glance at you.

You shook your head. “You don't have to—”

“Only if you're comfortable.” Sometimes it helped for you to talk about it, and sometimes it didn't. He wanted to help, nonetheless. He still cared about you, after all.

You wrestled down a swallow. “It was some dumb charity that wasn't even about the charity,” you rasped, returning your bare feet to the floor when he was done rubbing the hurt away. You had to look away, and he resisted the urge to turn your chin back to him. “And something about—something about marriage.”

His heart fell to the bathroom tiles. “What?”

Marriage?

“It—it’s nothing—”

“Nothing,” he repeated, speechless.

“Not nothing,” you amended, tripping over your words. You shouldn't have mentioned it. Why would you mention it? Out of everyone, you and to say it to him. “My parents mentioned something about it, but it's just one of those things where they're urging me to start looking. I don't know. It's not arranged or anything.”

He said exactly what both of you were thinking, “Yet.”

You looked at him then. He saw the way silver lined your eyes, the hurt threatening to spill over just like what pounded against the floodgates of his heart. Yet.

If you waited any longer, who knew what your parents would do to secure a political alliance? You were a Senator's daughter, your family's jewel and pawn piece. You were born to be someone Kevin couldn't be with and god-fucking-damn did that hurt like a bitch.

They were giving you time to make your own, careful choice. It was an illusion of free will that made him seethe and ache for you.

“It's gonna be fine,” you said with little to no strength behind the words. “I'll be fine.”

Kevin stared at you. You and he had shared plenty of arguments about this exact topic before and it all ended in the same place. He didn't know what to say this time to make you say or think or do differently.

What could he possibly say to make you stay? To make you rethink your entire life and career, to make you turn your back on your own family?

“I'm sorry I said anything about this.” You sighed. “I don't know why I said anything about this.”

He swallowed. “I asked in the first place; it's okay.” His hands yearned to touch your skin, to swaddle you in his arms and rock you into assurance. He missed when he could reach over and warm your knee with his palm to silently tell you he was here and listening.

“We should try to sleep. I've taken so much of your time already. I'm sor—”

“Yn, love, stop saying you're sorry.” You didn't ask for any of this and you kept acting like you did, like it was your fault. He couldn't fault you for anything if he tried.

It looked like you were about to say something to him. He could practically taste the words that sat on your tongue.

Tell me I'm not suffering alone. Tell me that you still love me, even after all this time.

Instead, you nodded while rubbing your eye. “Okay,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the bandaids and your time.”

When you stood, so did he. He pressed a warm palm to the small of your back to lead you out of the bathroom, his other hand hitting the light switch.

He reluctantly drew his hand away from you to step towards his own bedroom.

He heard you stop, his head pathetically raising to meet you as you turned around.

“Kevin, I…” There it was again.

Oh, he wanted so badly for you to say it. But it was late and neither of you were in the right state of mind.

“Sleep on it,” he whispered. He couldn't handle any of those words exchanged now if you were going to regret it later. “Please.”

You inclined your head, lips pressing together. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he said back, for the second time tonight, and for as many opportunities as he was granted. As long as he didn't have to say goodbye instead.

Sleep refused to take you and you tossed and turned for what felt like hours. Two long hours of torture, and you gave up, throwing the sheets off your body to step over to the window. The street below was dark with only a small halo of golden light from a street lamp to provide some reprieve from the darkness. You'd always seen this back street from Kevin's bedroom, never this one. It was so odd seeing it from a different point of view.

You closed your eyes with a sigh and rested your forehead against the cool glass. What were you doing here? Why were you troubling a man who you'd already troubled before? Your being here had to be bad for the both of you, but why did your being here feel right instead? You could separate comfort from rightness anymore, couldn't find where the line was in the sand because maybe you had danced all over it before to muddle it up.

Maybe you didn't want to define it—you just wanted it to be him.

You would never forget this moment, standing with your eyes closed against a cold window pane, that you came to an understanding. You had little to no sleep in your system, but your heart hurt as much as your feet, and while there were plenty of ways to soothe sore feet, there weren't as many to heal a broken heart.

Maybe a glass of water would refresh you enough to fall asleep. It would be terrible of you to wake him up, especially when you'd bothered him this much. He had already done so much for you.

But you'd seen him just hours ago, and you'd seen the tenderness in his gaze, felt the tenderness in his touch.

The way he'd asked for you to “sleep on it” had been loaded with something. Hope was so cruel sometimes.

Your chest tightened and you pulled away from the window. You stepped over to the door to quietly open it and slip out. There was no light coming out from beneath Kevin's bedroom door, and you tiptoed across the landing to make your way downstairs.

When you'd successfully retrieved a glass of water, you climbed back up the stairs, only to freeze at the sight of Kevin stepping up onto the ones leading up to the attic. Your heart galloped at the sight of him.

“I hope I didn't wake you up,” you whispered this time, gesturing to the cup of water in your hand. “I just needed some water.”

He nodded. “Don't worry about it. Can't sleep still?” He asked.

You shook your head. Not even if you tried.

He seemed to understand, and with a sweep of his hand through his hair, he beckoned you up to the third floor with him.

You hadn't been up to the attic for as long as you had been away from Kevin. It was his studio space, somewhere he could let his creativity run wild. There were canvases pressed and stacked up against the slanted roof, paint cans and boxes of brushes off to the side, and the chaise lounge you always draped yourself over when the sun filtered in just right. It was the perfect spot to curl up with a good book, and you could feel its cushioned back imprinted against yours even now.

The memories all flooded back in one, big tidal wave and your hand tightened around your cup.

“Are you working on anything?” You asked quietly, lingering at the stair landing to sip your water. You feared you weren't allowed to venture further, as if you needed permission to wander now.

He glanced back at you from his easel stool, forehead creasing between his brows when he saw you still standing there. “Yn, you can sit,” he said, nodding to the chaise lounge. “Not really,” he confessed. “I just… I've been in a block, I guess.”

You crept over to the lounge chair and seated yourself on the edge, stiff and with your legs crossed one over the other. You leaned your forearms onto your knees, looking in the direction of Kevin, his body half blocked by the wooden easel. “Ah, I see,” you murmured. “Have you had trouble sleeping lately?”

His eyes flickered to yours. “It's… on and off. You?”

“Same.” Your mind went to what you thought about in the guest bedroom earlier. Would it be out of left field to spring it up on him? You didn't even know if he felt the same way anymore, but… but you had to try, didn't you?

Why did you come to him? Out of all the people and places in this city, your feet carried you here.

“I—” Both of you said at once, eyes clashing when you realized the other's voice was speaking.

“You first,” he said.

You shook your head. “No, please. I—I think you should go first.”

He seemed to hesitate, but relented. There was so much emotion in the way he looked at you then; the wideness of his eyes gave it all away. “Why are you here, Yn? Why are you really here?”

It was like he could read your mind. You knocked back the rest of your water and placed the empty cup on the floor a little ways from your feet so you didn't knock it over. “I,” you began, “I don't… at least, I don't consciously know.”

He pursed his lips together. “Do better than that. I know you can.”

You knew he was right; you could do better. You knew the truth, but it was a matter of how much courage you had to face it. “Kevin, I—I should've never let you go that easy, and I should've never let my judgment be swayed by my parents as it had. I'm so sorry for hurting you; you never deserved it. You never deserved any of it.

“I think,” you said, one hand grabbing your other shoulder, “after all this time, I still know who I want, and it's never been anyone but you. That's why—that’s why I'm here.” You wished you could shrink into yourself with his gaze pinned to you like it was. “And this is all so unfair to you—I know. I know it is, and I am so, so sorry.”

You would bear your entirety to him in hopes that he believed you and saw your sincerity. Because while your parents had raised you to be their perfect daughter, they missed the part when you fell hopelessly in love with your best friend from college. It tore you apart that day they forced you to part ways with him—you knew it did just the same to him, too.

Kevin was quiet for a moment with a pensive expression on his face burning into his floorboards. He suddenly stood and made his way over to you, your body shifting to make room for him on the chaise. The pair of you sat side by side with your shoulders and legs pressed against each other, sharing the other's warmth.

“I don't blame you if you're bitter,” you said. “I would be, too. And you can kick me out if that makes you feel better, because I…”

“Don't say it's because you deserve it.”

You tilted your gaze over to him.

He shook his head. “You don't deserve it. You hurt me, yes, but I know why you did it and I can't blame you for it, no matter how hard I try.” He turned his gaze up to the ceiling for a moment. “Sometimes I wish I had been born in a different position so neither of us would have to hurt so much.”

Your chest ached.

“It's not your fault,” you said. “Kevin, it was never your fault.”

His smile curled into something somber as his hand reached over to thumb your cheek. “I know it's not. And it's not yours either.”

For a moment, his hand lingered, and you let it.

“Don't marry someone else,” he said so quietly you thought you'd imagined it. But there was that tenderness in his eyes then, loving and imploring, and you knew you hadn't just kidded yourself.

His hand went to cup the side of your face. “I can't—” he swallowed, “I can't stomach that thought. I love you too much to see you unhappy.” His words were slurring together, voice watery, as he attempted to cover it up by pressing his lips to your hairline.

“I love you so much it hurts,” you told him in earnest. “Of course I'd run back here to you. It's always been you.” No amount of parental control could change that. They could never choose who you fell in love with when your heart was yours to give.

Kevin shifted to press his lips against yours, soft and cautious, giving you the space to back out. You reciprocated though, hands coming up to cup his face. And as you kissed, a sense of comfort settled over you, something akin to contentment, like knowing this was where you were meant to be. All the worries and heartache melted away for one split second of bliss that you found in a man whom you loved too much to let go.

His nose gently bumped against yours, his thumb caressing your cheekbone affectionately. “I love you. You can break my heart when you leave in the morning, but let me have this at least.”

“You can have this, and you can have me,” you said, nodding against him. You were going to fight this time; you would fight until you bled because you would be damned if you let him go so easily a second time. “You've always had me.”

a/n: i have to be up early tmr as usual... but i hope u didn't get bored by all the wordiness sjfbdkdn

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @kflixnet

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 15 thoughts without interludes (interludes need their own post):

EVERYTHING IS FIIIIIIIINE

My daughters boss didn't actually try to assassinate her, her just planned to do it and then did it in one reality but kept the reality where he didn't! So it's ok! I'm fine. Not worried at all that Coil knows Skitter was planning on double crossing him and that he found a way to screw with Tattletales powers.

It's fiiiine (eye twitches)

I want to say I'm glad she got her full team on board, but given that there is a chance someone on her team ratted on her it might not be good.

Skitter goes a little bit far at the end with Triumph. Just a tiny itty bitty bit far. Child you almost KILLED HIM! And then you let him sit there dying when the threat isn't that he'll die now, but that you will come back if needed (mayor ain't going to say what you want him to say if you kill his son, the point is if he doesn't say it you'll come back)! I'm worried about you.

Brian I understand why you like my daughter and she seems to like you and I'm glad having someone you feel safe with is helping you process your very valid trauma (important note, you could have done the same with your sister, she was trying to help you but you wouldn't open up to her, you should open up to her). But please don't get in the way of her relationships with her girlfriends. Just understand in terms of long term stuff Chatterbug and Wolfspider 100% trump . . . Darkbug? Fuck what are you guys called?

(I've been informed Shadeswarm, Nightcrawler, Night Biter, Creepy Crawlies, or Carapace. I think Creepy Crawlies might be my preference among that.)

MOAR DOLL LESBIAN CONTENT!!!!!

Parian is one of my absolute favorite characters! Flechette is pretty cool as well. Being a hero hurts her. Stabbing my daughter also didn't build good marks with me, but I understand why she did it. Cause GAAAAAAAAAAAY. I have a hard time being too mad at a lesbian stabbing someone to protect her girlfriend.

I'm glad Parian isn't joining Coil full hog at least, she's too pure to be a villain (or a "hero"). I kinda wish she could just move to New York and be a fashion designer and live her best life, but I do enjoy the idea of getting to see her more.

And to be honest, I don't think anyone on Earth Bet is really going to be living their best life in the long run. Sorry guys.

The fucking shutdown the team gives to the Nazis is AMAZING! Like ya no Hookwolf or Purity this time, that obviously would have made it harder. But still, comparing the previous fight to this just really shows how much the team has increased in power. They didn't even bring Grue.

Skitter and Tattletale being able to work together to find all the people in a few block radius and figure out which groups are Nazis, all while just standing in the middle of the street, is so fucking cool. I fucking love watching them work.

I don't love the girlfriends fighting with the whole "Skitter wasn't told about the plan to have Regent yoink a Nazi". But they seemed to make up pretty quickly.

Skitter fucking running multiple bug clones, with cameras and microphones, all across her territory, and using them to talk to people and check in on things, WHILE getting surgery on her shoulder??! FUCKING HELL. Like ok yes, please love yourself child and let yourself take it easy sometimes. But also holy shit that is so god damn amazing. I am 100% convinced (I mean, I have been since like Arc 4 TBH) that she uses her bugs to basically offload her pain. Or offloads her mind to her bugs so she can ignore the pain in her body. Same idea. Like even if it's never confirmed it is true to me. And the multitasking! Give Taylor a Thinker classification!!

Just fucking attacking the mayor's family to intimidate him into telling people in Washington to not condemn Brockton Bay huh? I mean sure it kinda worked at the end (assuming he does what he said he would) but it really seems like a terrible plan. Like, the people in Washington are gonna hear about the attack and wonder about everything the mayor says. But fine, that's the plan.

Skitter making the bug clones complex enough that Trickster and Genesis don't even notice she's a clone at first is super cool! Also it does drive home that she is always just covered with so many bugs and using swarm speech so much that when a version of her shows up that is completely covered in bugs and speaks fully with swarm speech it doesn't throw anyone off.

Coil had to know that Triumph was the mayor's kid. The fact that he's the one who pushed to have them attack during family dinner.

I'm really proud of Skitter for figuring it out though! I pegged him as a cape pretty much right away and was able to figure out it was Triumph not long after, but she was in the heat of the moment. Also she got the girlfriend pegged as a either Prism or Ursa while I was still uncertain if she was a cape.

Holy shit that fight was so fucking cinematic! Perfectly built for Triumph to look cool by exploding bug clones with his shouts. And with Prism splitting and combining constantly. Just fuck. I'd love to see an animation of that fight. It was super cool.

And again, Skitter got dark there. And sadly I'm worried she's gonna get darker.

[beardedmrbean]

One of Sen. Rand Paul’s staffers was stabbed over the weekend in Washington, DC, on the same street where a congresswoman was attacked last month, he confirmed Monday.

The unidentified male staffer suffered “life threatening injuries” in Saturday’s attack that led to the arrest of 42-year-old suspect Glynn Neal, according to DC police. 

“This past weekend a member of my staff was brutally attacked in broad daylight in Washington, D.C.,” Paul (R-Ky.) wrote in a statement provided to The Post by his office.  

“I ask you to join Kelley and me in praying for a speedy and complete recovery, and thanking the first responders, hospital staff, and police for their diligent actions. We are relieved to hear the suspect has been arrested. At this time we would ask for privacy so everyone can focus on healing and recovery,” the Kentucky Republican added. 

Police say that Neal has been charged with assault with intent to kill and that he used a knife to carry out the savage attack, which took place at about 5:17 p.m. 

The attack occurred on the same street as, and less than a mile away from, Rep. Angie Craig’s (D-Minn.) apartment building, where she was attacked by a crazed suspect with a long rap sheet inside the building’s lobby elevator last month. 

“I was assault No. 13 on his record,” Craig told CBS News about the attack, allegedly perpetrated by Kendrid Hamlin. “And I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure there’s not a 14, a 15, a 20.”

Hamlin allegedly punched Craig and grabbed her by the shoulder and collarbone during the early morning attack, which the congresswoman escaped from only after throwing her hot coffee at the suspect.

Paul himself was the victim of an assault in November 2017, when Rene Boucher, then a neighbor in his gated, Bowling Green, Ky., community attacked him over a landscaping dispute, breaking six of the senator’s ribs and bruising his lungs. 

Part of one of Paul’s injured lungs had to be removed almost two years after the attack. 

The senator suffered six broken ribs and bruised lungs as a result of the attack, which allegedly began over a landscaping dispute, and underwent hernia surgery in January for injuries related to the incident.

[smiletimeisrunningout]

"Is this your way of telling me you'll slowly stay out of trouble? Because you might just be easier to catch."

"I'll slowly try to stay out of trouble, our expectations should stay realistic." It was only half a joke, since she had, in fact, attempted to attract as little attention as possible lately, which had now led her to such a major injury that everyone would hear about this. Damn it, Washington would have to tell her parents. Good thing they were on the move and harder to reach. "I am truly terrible at defending other people, when they are present in the room. Going alone against a few soldiers? Sure, I can do that easily. You put a person right next to me? A child could stab me. It's my curse."

She still felt beyond nervous, the air around them heavy. Naturally she had been around men she had rejected before, but whether because their feelings weren't as hurt or because hers were non-existent in a romantic capacity, it had been easier to know what to say.

Emma fell quiet at the gentle touch of his hand on her face, which brought back many memories of him doing the same before, in far happier times. How could she tell him how much he meant to her without saying how much he meant to her? Without pulling him closer only to tell him it couldn't happen?

"I know you do not wish for love -- or at least, not with me"

That was quite the awful interpretation of what she had said - as if he was the problem there. There was no 'at least', and there was no 'not wishing', there was just knowing it couldn't happen. She frowned lightly but let him keep speaking, almost holding onto him again out of habit. They had not touched for longer than they had, and yet it felt so much more natural to be in constant contact with him than the contrary.

"If I am to lose you, then I'd much rather it be from forces beyond my control than...than my pride and pettiness."

"How is it your pride or pettiness?" she asked sounding horrified and pleading at the same time, his phrasing simply forcing her to speak up and to hold onto his arm. He had to stop being so rude to himself. "You didn't do anything wrong! You make it sound as if you were the problem when we both know I'm the-the defective one, you are just being reasonable!"

"You can't blame yourself for the pain I've caused, sweetheart, I just-Ben, I mean, it's my fault. If I could... If I was capable of... being..." she moved a hand aimlessly, not knowing what words to use and only succeeding at bringing a stab of pain to her shoulder, "If I could be with someone and be normal about it, of course I'd be with you, but if I can't, then it's fair that you will want distance to... heal."

But shouldn't that mean that forcing him to stay away was the better long-term solution? Oh, she was too weak to entertain that thought for more than a second, and Emma sighed helplessly. "I hate not talking to you. My days make no sense without you in them... I could talk to people and smile and do what I was expected to do, but knowing I wouldn't be seeing you later took all meaning out of it. You can be as close to me as you wish to be."

The deal...

Yes, Benjamin supposed it hadn't been part of their agreement, but sitting alongside Emma and seeing her so bruised and battered reminded him of how foolish he'd been. How could he have chosen his pride over his heart?

"A wound like this can only slow me down," she assured him, "I'm simply too stubborn for anything else."

With a weakened smile, Benjamin asked, "Is this your way of telling me you'll slowly stay out of trouble? Because you might just be easier to catch."

Emma reached for his hand, and he didn't retreat -- no, he clasped her fingers and held her tightly, beseechingly, hating the way her eyes grew wet and molten there within the flickering candle flame.

"I'm fine," she gently reassured him. "I'm right here."

Chin wobbling, Benjamin nodded. "And...I'm here, as well," he whispered. I'm here, I'm here, I'm so sorry I ever left.

She breathed a nervous laugh, and then she was shaking her head, holding his hand tighter still. "I'm sorry, Ben," she apologized. "I want to say nice things and make you feel better, but... I don't know how to do this. I've-I've never been in a position like this."

"I never have either," Benjamin softly reminded her. "I have no map…" It was frustrating not having all the answers, nor knowing what he should do or how he should feel, and most especially when he already felt far, far too much.

"Am I supposed to be formal?" she continued. "Or is that too cold? We are not fighting but we are not talking either, and I did almost die, and I don't know what the protocol for something like that is. What do you want me to do? Can you tell me? I'll do it."

With a knot in his throat, Benjamin lifted his hand and touched her face, carefully skimming his fingers along the tender bruising there. "I just want you here with me," he murmured. "That's all." With a weakened smile, he lowered his hand again, seemingly remembering himself. "It's all I've ever wanted. But..." He exhaled, anxiously opening and closing his palm. "I know you do not wish for love -- or at least, not with me -- but...could we not be close again? I've found our separation nothing short of unbearable, and with you nearly gone..."

Benjamin trailed off again, his eyes growing glassy. "Please," he begged her. "If I am to lose you, then I'd much rather it be from forces beyond my control than...than my pride and pettiness."

[teconkaals]

Walking With A Ghost Chapter 2

After the mission in Chicago, Ghost begins to think about Soap and why he's so insistent on being his friend.

AO3 Chapter link: Chapter 2: One More Heartbeat

Fanfic Masterlist: Here

Previous chapter: Chapter 1 - Not So Cold

Next Chapter: Chapter 3 -  Back Home

Wordcount: 6352

Rating: Mature

Tags of the fanfic (some of them): hurt/comfort, taking care of each other, blood and violence, happy ending, non explicit sex

I don’t give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform (I’m publishing on my Ao3 account both English and Spanish).

The missile had exploded before landing on Washington thanks to Soap, so half the mission was done. He didn’t know how, but the Scottish had found the controls and, with Laswell’s help, managed to sabotage it. Now they just had to find Hassan. Although the priority was to catch him, they had authorization to eliminate him, so he didn’t care too much if he made it out alive or not. On the other hand…

He snorted.

At that time, the terrorist was not his priority. Someone else had passed by and, in a way, he hated himself a little for giving in to it. He could see the flashes of the shots on the different floors, but the building was huge. More than sixty floors. Too many.

And that idiot could be anywhere, he thought with a mixture of anger and concern. And unarmed. Again.

He couldn’t explain how someone could lose their weapon so easily. In all his years as a soldier, he had only lost it when it had been torn from his hands. Still, he knew Soap wasn’t like him and, in a way, it took a load off his shoulders.

But he sure is shaking with fear.

Of course, his partner would never admit it. He was the kind of person who pretended everything was fine.

He snorted again.

“Good job, Johnny,” he whispered into the comm channel. “Now comes the hard part.”

“That was hard, Lt.”

Ghost closed his eyes for a second when he heard the tired tone that his words had. Just as he thought, he was not in the same mood as in Las Almas. And he understood it. They had barely had time to rest since they left there, even he was exhausted, but they couldn’t let it get to them. They had to make one last effort.

“We’ll see. You’ve to stay alive,” he replied neutrally, although internally he was begging him. “Take out the guards and kill Hassan.”

His partner snorted.

“With a glass pick? I don’t think it’s easy.”

He was surprised to see someone as positive as Soap say such demoralizing words. No, he wasn’t going to let him fall apart.

“It’ll help you to stab one of them. You can steal his weapon and face them. Remember what you learned in Las Almas.”

Soap chuckled bitterly.

“I’ve several things, but I don’t think it’s enough.”

Ghost peered through the rifle scope, trying to locate it. He could see Hassan’s men patrolling a few plants, but no sign of the Scotsman. He hoped that meant he was well hidden. Although he would like to say that everything would be fine, that he remained calm and that this was the same as in Mexico, he didn’t feel capable. He wasn’t that kind of person. Besides, he was convinced that Soap would be more nervous if he told him that. He internally cursed himself for not being a loquacious person, for not having the facility to fill in the silences, because he knew that Soap would relax when he listened to him. Price was kind enough to tell him about it after getting them out of Las Almas.

“Apparently, you’ve a voice that calms the nerves,” he’d said with a half smile. “Soap told me,” added, seeing Ghost look at him. “That he was able to meet with you because you’re talking to him.”

He hadn’t stopped thinking about it ever since. He’d always considered his voice too deep, too raspy for anyone to relax with. On the contrary, he believed that it was what truly terrified his enemies. Maybe it was some kind of kink? No, he didn’t think so. Soap seemed like the type of person who exuded the same purity as a golden retriever puppy.

Then, why…?

His thought was interrupted when his mate grunted in pain.

“Damn glass…!”

“What happened?” He asked, feeling his heart race a little as he heard a burst of gunshots followed by a curse in Scots. “Johnny?”

He forced himself to take a deep breath to relax. Soap didn’t answer and the silence in his ear began to weigh more and more.

“Johnny, are you there?” He asked again, this time without hiding the concern he felt.

He cocked his head at the noise and knew that the channel had been left open. Simon heard a low moan that he identified as his mate’s and, furthermore, something being dragged.

Damn, they got him.

He put the rifle on better and searched, desperately, on the different floors. Ghost saw no one but his own partners, searching the lower floors. At some point, while he was rambling, Soap had managed to finish off the remaining Al-Qatala men. And that was making it difficult for him to locate him.

“I told you that your nation would burn,” a voice said then.

Ghost recognized it as Hassan’s and gripped the rifle a little tighter.

“Do you really think you can stop me?” Hassan added.

“Ghost…”

Soap’s voice, barely a hoarse pained whisper, made him release the breath he’d been holding.

“Johnny…” He whispered, half relieved, half anguished. Soap was still in danger, however, knowing he’s alive took a weight off his mind. “Where…?”

“Watch out for the windows!” Whispered his partner, interrupting him.

Suddenly, one of the windows on the thirty-seventh floor exploded and Ghost fixed his attention there. He shouldered the rifle again and searched inside the building. There. Hassan dropped the gun to the ground and grabbed Soap by his vest, lifting him up and punching him. Ghost caressed the trigger, fighting the anger building inside him, the nervousness that weighed on his stomach. If he failed, his friend died. Either because of the bullet or because of the fall.

He forced himself to focus. Hassan was saying something that he didn’t pay attention to as he struggled with Soap. He just had to find an opening to shoot.

Got you.

He pulled the trigger and the bullet went clean through Hassan’s head. Both he and Soap fell to the ground, though the Scotsman raised himself a little, landing on one knee. He turned to the window for a moment and Ghost listened to how he sighed.

“A perfect shot, Lt.”

Ghost took a deep breath and looked away from the scope. Soap was alive. He’d saved the life of his stupid mate again and that eased the weight in his stomach.

He snapped back to reality when someone taped him on the shoulder. He sat up at once and looked around. Soap was next to him, holding two bottles of beer with that big smile on his face. The one that illuminated any dark corner of the world.

“What’s wrong, Lt.?” He asked, placing one of the bottles in front of him and sitting in the chair on the other side of the table. “You fell asleep while I went to get supplies?”

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY - TF 141 ONE MORE HEARTBEAT CHICAGO, USA NOVEMBER 4, 2022, 05:30

Ghost looked at the beer in front of him and raised an eyebrow. He turned it around to see the label and snorted. It wasn’t his favorite, too soft, but he wasn’t going to complain either. Soap didn’t know which type he liked.

He lifted his mask a little, just enough to expose his mouth.

“I was thinking, nothing more,” Simon simply answered, taking a sip of the drink.

“Thinking,” Soap repeated, still smiling. “Sure. And what were you thinking, Lt.?”

“How close you’ve come to dying again.”

John’s smile dimmed a bit and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Ghost cursed himself for saying it out loud. Although he wasn’t drunk, he sure had drunk more than he should have and now he was paying the consequences.

They had gathered there with Laswell, Price and Gaz to celebrate Hassan’s downfall. As usual, it hadn’t all been good news: Makarov’s name appeared on the table again. However, Price brushed the matter off and told them to rest for a couple days before going back to work. Then they withdrew, leaving him alone. Or so he thought. Although Soap had risen from the table with them, he hadn’t left the bar; he’d gone over to the bar to order another couple of beers while he’d lost himself in reminiscing about the mission.

“Well… it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.”

His partner's voice brought him back to reality again. Simon fixed his gaze on him as he noticed a bitter tone in his words. Soap's attention was focused on the bottle of beer, as if it were the most important thing in the world, and he was turning it between his fingers, distracted.

No, he’s not distracted.

“I guess I’m just unlucky,” he added with a half smile and a shrug.

There it was. Downplaying a serious topic was something he did often. And Ghost didn't like it. Keeping things to oneself, and pretending that everything was fine, was counterproductive. He bit back a bitter laugh. He wasn't the one to talk. Since childhood he had kept his mouth shut about his troubles, always keeping silent as he wore a mask of cold indifference. That had helped him with many things, yes, and it had also left him with a lot of unresolved traumas.

But this isn't about me, he reminded himself.

“Don’t do that,” Ghost replied softly. John looked at him blankly. “What happened in Las Almas, and in that building, is chasing you even if you want to hide it.”

Soap opened his mouth to say something, though he seemed to change his mind when he closed it. He sighed and shook his head, drinking some of the beer.

“I guess it’s easy for you.” His voice sounded a little lower. “How do you do it?” He asked, looking into his eyes. “How do you manage to always be so… imperturbable?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

John was silent for a few seconds and shook his head.

“Dunno. I just want to stop thinking about it. Not having… nightmares.”

Ghost felt how something broke inside him seeing Soap so dejected and he tried to manage it by drinking from the bottle. He snorted. It wasn't strong enough.

“You’ve to learn to deal with it. I know it’s not easy, but you can’t let that experience shut you down either. You’ve done a good job.”

“You were there to give me a hand,” John replied bitterly.

“The first time,” he pointed out. “The second you did it yourself. Don’t compare to anyone because it’s not about being the best, it’s about surviving. You said it: we’re a team. And you’re not alone, Johnny.”

“Said the one who brags about working alone,” John replied, drinking from the beer.

Simon stared at him for a few seconds, feeling a pang of pain at the comment. It was true, he had always worked alone because he felt like a grim reaper on Earth, taking lives without remorse. Taking care of others was one thing he wasn't good at. Well, he really wasn't good at any kind of social relationship.

He looked away from John at his own beer.

“I think you've had too much to drink,” he commented, deflecting the subject when he saw that his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright.

Soap snorted.

“Your ability to change the subject is incredible,” he growled, finishing his drink in a gulp. “And also you think we don't realize it.”

Ghost fell silent and John clicked his tongue.

“I don't even know why I bother,” he added in a bitter tone.

He made a move to get up, however, Simon held him back when he spoke.

“I… I don't like people.” John looked at him, surprised, and Ghost focused again on the bottle in front of him. It was empty, but it was the best option to distract himself. “Physical contact, banal conversations, the presence of people... are things that usually make me uncomfortable. Sometimes they even irritate me.”

John sat back down and looked at him carefully.

“Well, it doesn't look like it,” he commented, and Ghost looked at him, raising an eyebrow even though he knew his partner wouldn't be able to see it. “I mean, yes, you're aloof with everyone,” he waved his hand vaguely, “but…you also care about those around you. In your own way, of course.”

Simon looked back at the bottle and took a deep breath. He knew that Soap was right, that he was looking out for the well-being of others. Even though he tried to fool himself by acting like a dry, silent lone wolf, he had let a small group of people stay close to him. He sometimes wondered if that was okay, if being around people was good. His experience with people had made it clear that they always ended up hurting him. That's why he didn't trust anyone.

Have I lowered my guard?

“I think we should go back to the hotel,” Soap said then. Ghost looked at him and he smiled. “Although I talk too much, I know how to understand silences. Come on, the fresh air will do us both good.”

Simon sighed and got up. His partner imitated him and they both went outside. He pulled his hood closer as a draft swept across the street. Although winter hadn't yet arrived in Chicago, it was quite cold, and for a moment, he longed for a jacket. Luckily for them, the hotel was nearby and they wouldn't have time to catch a cold on the way.

He let Soap lead the way, watching that he didn't fall off. He was the one who had drunk more of the two and had already stumbled a couple of times. The Scotsman had laughed and kept walking casually, hugging a lamppost and talking to it until Ghost pulled him away. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but smile. His chest warmed a little, and this time, he wasn't surprised to feel it.

Even so…

He was glad to get to the hotel. He wasn't sure how to handle all of this and all he was thinking about was getting on the bed and sleeping. He wanted to forget those feelings, that nice warm sensation and feel the usual cold. He felt like a fish out of water, like a lion with its fangs and claws removed. He felt vulnerable.

And he hated it.

“Do you want to have the last drink?”

He snapped back to reality when Soap spoke. They were in front of his room and the Scotsman had the key card in his hand, smiling. He didn't know if it was because he was drunk, but he thought the expression on his face was affectionate.

“It's not bourbon, but I have whiskey. Scottish, of course,” he added, widening his smile.

“You're drunk, Johnny,” he pointed out.

“What?” Soap asked indignantly. “No, no fucking way!”

“You tried to flirt with a streetlight less than ten minutes ago.”

John blinked and frowned.

“Was it a lamppost?” he asked and clicked his tongue, swearing in Scots. “It already seemed to me that I was less bulky than you.”

Ghost's skin crawled hearing it. Had he flirted with a streetlight thinking it was him? No, impossible. It had to be the alcohol, John had had too much drink that night and he didn't know what he was saying.

Or maybe yes?

“Doesn’t matter. Wanna pass or not?”

Simon looked at his partner for a moment. Did he fancy that drink? Not really; but deep down he was afraid that Soap would fall on the floor and fall asleep there. He nodded and John smirked; he entered the room and left the door open for him. Ghost closed it softly and took a look around the place.

The room was similar to his own: a large bed, a toilet, and a table with a couple of chairs. There was a television hanging from the ceiling and the windows faced the street, although the curtains were drawn. The only difference between his rooms was the mess of his mate. There were clothes on the floor, scattered haphazardly, and a couple of books on the nightstand. Simon cocked his head. He didn't know that he liked to read.

“What I don't have is ice,” John commented, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Nevermind.”

The Scotsman filled the glasses and dropped into one of the chairs. He gestured for him to take the other and Ghost complied, picking up the remaining glass on the table and peering at it.

“You can take off your mask if you want.” Soap took a sip. “The curtains are drawn and no one will be able to see you. Except for me, of course, but I've already seen your face,” he smiled again.

Simon looked at him for several long seconds, evaluating his words. He was so used to wearing a head covering that it hadn't even occurred to him to remove it. Few people had seen his face and they were all trustworthy, at least enough to know that they would not go around telling it. He hoped to intimidate them enough to keep their mouths shut. Ghost took a deep breath and put his hand to the back of his neck, tugging at the edge of his balaclava to remove it.

John smiled a little more and drank without taking his eye off him.

“That's better.” He put the glass down on the table. “I’ve to admit that you were right, Lt.”

“About what?” Ghost asked, raising the glass to his lips and taking a long drink. He was going to need it.

“What you told me in Las Almas.” Soap shrugged and shifted his chair so that he could lean his back against the wall, facing the other side of the room. “You’re not ugly.”

Ghost felt him blush and reached for the balaclava, however, his partner was faster and took it off.

“Have you turned red?” He asked in a mocking tone, playing with the garment.

“Of course. I've had too much to drink. Like you.”

John laughed and shook his head.

“Sure, Lieutenant. It's an alcohol thing.”

Simon took another swallow of the whiskey and considered reaching for the bottle directly. This had been a bad idea. Really bad. He thought that Soap would fall on the floor and he would have to drag him to the bed, nothing more. He didn't think he was so… lucid despite having almost more alcohol than blood in his body.

“I should get out now.”

He finished his whiskey and got up. Soap looked at him, raising his eyebrows. He glanced at the table, then at him.

“You're leaving now?” he asked. There was no trace of mockery or joy in his voice.

“It's late and we should both rest. Especially you.”

John clicked his tongue.

“I'm fine.”

“No, you're not, Johnny. Today you have been under a lot of stress, your body needs to rest.”

“My body needs something else, Lt.,” he replied, smiling.

Simon snorted and picked up the bottle of whiskey, taking it back to the small fridge in the room. He walked over to his partner and held out his hand.

“My mask.”

John's smile widened and he stood up.

“I think I'm going to keep it as a souvenir,” he said, moving away from the table and away from him. “Maybe I'll start wearing it,” he added, eyeing the garment with interest. “Do you think it will fit me…?”

He didn't finish the sentence because he tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground. He blinked in surprise, before laughing. Then sighed.

“Okay, I think I’m drunk.”

Ghost walked over to him in time to see him yawn. He shook his head and offered her his hand. Soap took it and pulled himself up with his help, stumbling again and leaning against him. Simon said nothing, holding him tight and guiding him to the bed, where he forced him to sit.

“Are you going to sleep with me, Lt.?” asked Soap mockingly.

“No.”

Soap snorted.

“Killjoy,” he protested, leaning over to remove his boots.

He nearly fell over as he lost his balance and Ghost caught him again, shoving him hard onto the bed to get him to lie down. He dropped to one knee and took a deep breath as he untied his partner's boots. Suddenly, he felt that he had returned to his brother Tommy's house and that he was helping his nephew put on her sneakers. He felt his heart sink as he remembered that none of them were alive, and his gaze unfocused.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He looked up and saw Soap sitting across from him. The worried expression on his face told him that he had externalized his thoughts too much. He nodded wordlessly and finished untying the boot, pulling it off easily.

“Hey, if you need…”

“I don't need to talk about anything,” he cut in more abruptly than he intended.

“Ok, I'm sorry.”

Ghost felt guilty as soon as he heard John's apology and forced himself to take a deep breath. He quickly untied the other boot.

“It's… complicated.”

“You don’t have to explain to me. I know you haven't opened up to anyone, so it's normal for you to have a little trouble talking about your things.”

He looked at him and John smiled kindly.

“You're also much more expressive than I thought,” he added, and Ghost yanked on the boot, making him laugh. “And you don't take compliments well.”

“Next time, I won't let you drink so much,” Simon growled, getting up and shoving Soap back onto the bed.

“That sounds good.” He yawned. “It means you haven't gotten tired of me.”

“We’re partners, I have no choice but to put up with you.”

It wasn't what he wanted to say, but it would have to do. He had assumed that there was friendship between them, but calling it by its name was something else. He wasn't ready for it. Too soon.

John laughed again.

“Come on, Lt.,” he smiled and looked at him with eyes half closed from sleep, “don't beat around the bush. The word you are looking for is friends.”

Simon couldn't help but crack a half smile, and Soap's widened.

“Is that a smile?” he asked, cocking his head. “So you know how to smile, Lt.”

Ghost snatched the balaclava from him and snorted.

“Try to rest, Sergeant.”

“You look so much prettier when you smile.”

“Good night, Johnny.” He covered his head and turned off the lights, leaving the room.

Before closing the door he noticed the key card resting in the card holder. He sighed, picked it up and put it in his pants pocket before heading to his room. He knew John would be sleeping in late and, knowing him, he wouldn't have anything for a hangover.

“He's a fucking disaster.”

He went into his room and closed the door softly. He glanced inside, checking that he was alone, and took off his balaclava again. He went into the bathroom, took a shower, and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked more tired than usual, he supposed due to the stress of the last few days; he also noticed that he had the darkest circles under his eyes. Despite the fact that the paint with which he covered his eyes hid them, he was used to seeing them; however, it had been a long time since he had them like this.

You look so much prettier when you smile.

He clicked his tongue at the memory of Soap's comment and left the bathroom. He toweled off and got into bed. He looked at the ceiling for a few seconds, set the alarms, and turned off the light. He hoped he wouldn't remember anything the next day.

Unfortunately, when he woke up, the memories returned without asking permission. Ghost sighed with resignation and got up from the bed, rummaged through the small first-aid kit that he carried in his backpack and took out a painkiller. He went into the bath and took it with some water. He checked his watch as he got out of the shower and did a mental calculation as he dressed. He put on his balaclava as he left the room and pulled the hood up as he stepped out into the street.

There was a coffee shop nearby and he needed a strong coffee. And a walk. He was starting to get tired of all that situation that he had not asked for. From the awakening of feelings that he neither wanted nor needed.

If I had not given him a conversation in Las Almas…

Ghost adjusted his hood and sighed resignedly.

He didn't know who he was trying to fool with that, but certainly not himself. All that situation came from before, from when they met three years ago when they entered the Task Force. While the rest of his mates spoke fairly to him, Soap insisted on treating him as an equal. It hadn't mattered that Ghost had made it clear that he didn't want friends, that he just wanted to work and be left alone; John had kept on insisting until, finally, he had broken down the last barrier of his fortress. Simon had let his guard down during the escape in Mexico, giving him conversation to distract him, to make it clear that he wasn't alone here.

And he felt like an asshole for doing it.

“Damn,” he growled, tossing the coffee cup into the trash. The pain reliever was taking effect, however, he still needed another coffee, so he stopped by another coffee shop and ordered one. After hesitating for a few seconds, he ordered another one and returned to the hotel. He made a stop in his room to get a couple of painkillers and headed towards Soap's room. It was a more than adequate hour for his partner to wake up.

He entered quietly and set the second coffee on the table, with the painkillers beside it, and went over to the bed to check that John was still sleeping. He clicked his tongue softly when he saw that he had uncovered himself and gave the blanket a gentle tug to cover him. Walking away to draw the curtains, he noticed one of the books resting on the table and picked it up curiously. He read the synopsis without much interest and sat down in one of the chairs, raised his mask a little and took a sip of coffee before starting to read.

“What…? Have you slept in the chair?”

He looked up from the book at the sound of Soap's sleepy voice. He had sat up in bed and was rubbing his face to drive away the sleepiness. Ghost looked at his watch and saw that an hour had passed.

No wonder the coffee is cold.

“Despite your invitation, no,” he replied, leaving the book on the table. “I brought you coffee and some painkillers.”

Soap blinked blankly until he put his hand to his head, groaning. He took a deep breath and stood up, growling something in Scots. He walked over to the table and dropped into the chair. Saying nothing, he popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them with coffee.

“You and I did...?” He asked, half asleep. “The last thing I remember is you tucking me into bed.”

Ghost felt him blush and was thankful he hadn't taken off his balaclava.

“No,” he answered shortly.

“Ah... okay.”

Simon thought he heard a note of sorrow in his voice and cocked his head a little. Did he really want something to have happened between them? Even if it had, Soap was drunk and he didn't sleep with people whose capacities were impaired by alcohol. Well, by any kind of substance.

He forced herself to take a deep breath as an image of the two of them flashed through his mind.

Great, he thought sourly. Just what I needed.

He tried to think of less risqué things and focused on his partner when he spoke. He had raised an eyebrow and a mocking smile.

“So you know how I like my coffee,” he commented. “I didn't expect it.”

“You're the only one who adds two hundred grams of sugar. It's easy to remember.”

“Surely you ask for it without sugar and well loaded. Just as bitter as your temper,” John sneered, leaning across the table to pick up Ghost's coffee. He gave a triumphant laugh as he drank from it. “I knew it.”

“If my character is so bitter, I don't understand why you insist on getting along with me,” he growled, retrieving the coffee from him.

Soap didn't respond at once.

“I thought that was made clear.”

Ghost looked at him. John's face was serious, there was not a trace of his typical smirk, nor a mockery in his voice.

So he's serious.

“You have peculiar taste in choosing friends, Sergeant.”

“And you have an enviable ability to divert the subject, Lt.”

They looked at each other for a few long seconds until Ghost sighed. He finished his coffee and put his mask back on, getting up from his chair.

“There's nothing to talk about,” he said.

“So you think?” Soap asked, also getting up. “Because I'm waiting for you to pronounce yourself. It's not that difficult, this is black or white. Why do you doubt? What are you afraid of?”

A series of memories flooded Ghost's mind and blinded him for a few seconds. Memories in which he relived the moment in which he found his entire family tortured and murdered, including little Joseph. All from trusting the wrong people.

He turned to Soap and grabbed him by the shirt, shoving him roughly against the wall. His mate grunted at the impact, but didn't move. Ghost held him there and brought his face close to his, trying to maintain control.

“Fear, you say?” He hissed with suppressed anger. “What do you know about fear?”

John met his eyes, unperturbed. He opened his mouth to say something, but he seemed to change his mind. He swallowed before speaking.

“I'm not going to hurt you, Simon,” he managed to say.

“That's something you can't promise,” he replied, softening his grip.

“I know. You trusted someone and they betrayed you and that's why you keep your distance with people” Ghost looked away. “I'm not stupid enough not to read between the lines and connect the dots.” He sighed. “But enough to put more pressure on you. I'm sorry.”

Simon looked into his eyes and could see that he was sorry. Despite everything, despite wanting to deny it, he knew it, and he knew John wouldn't do anything to hurt other people. He hadn't even made a move to defend himself when he pushed him against the wall. Because, unlike him, he was good.

He nodded as he released him. Simon took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. There were too many emotions for such a short period of time.

“If you need to talk,” Soap began, “or just company, I'll be here. As you said yesterday: ‘you are not alone’”.

Ghost didn't answer. He held his gaze as the familiar sensation of warmth filled his chest again. However, he did not push it away from him, on the contrary: he allowed himself to be embraced by it. That damned Scotsman had turned his life upside down without even asking. And he had let him in. Over time, he had learned to appreciate his company, his comments, his gestures and his smiles. All that repertoire of gestures that managed to illuminate any dark place. Including his mind.

He snorted as he realized there was no going back. At that moment, he was also aware that he had been in front of Soap for too long, separated by just a few centimeters. He knew that he should take a couple of steps back, that he should give him space, but he didn't want to. From that distance he could feel the heat emanating from his partner's body, he could see that the blue of his eyes was darker in the center. He could see how his lips curved into a curious smile. He could…

“Damn,” he growled, removing his mask with one hand and holding Soap's face with the other.

“What…?”

It was all he could say before Ghost pushed him against the wall to kiss him. The Scotsman took a few seconds to react and stuck to him, pulling his belt. He placed his other hand on the back of Simon's neck and Ghost grabbed him around the waist. They looked at each other as they parted for air and Soap composed a smirk.

“I didn't expect this when I asked you to pronounce.”

Ghost snorted and John laughed, kissing him on the corner of his mouth. Simon turned his face a little to bite gently on his lower lip and felt Soap's smile widen a little more. John moved his hands and gently pushed him onto the bed, and he didn't resist. For once, Simon felt that he didn't have to give the orders himself, that he just had to let himself go. And realizing it was a relief.

He smiled helplessly and his partner cocked his head at him. For a moment he thought he would ask him what was wrong, however, he surprised him by not saying anything. Soap just smiled back at him as he slipped a hand into his pants. Ghost closed his eyes and sighed.

It had been a long time since the last time anyone had touched him. So much so that he didn't remember what it was like to be with another person. The heat on the skin, the frantic pulse in the ears, the chills from the caresses. The weight of the other person on him… For a fleeting moment, Ghost cursed himself for driving people away. It was only for a moment, as the thought was gone as quickly as it came.

No, he hadn't been wrong to keep his distance. The only problem was that he hadn't found anyone he was worth cutting them for. Someone that would make him rethink lowering the walls he had built around his heart. And that terrified him. Despite being a cold and unchanging person, Ghost was afraid of being hurt, of being betrayed. Again.

“All good?” Soap whispered in his ear.

Though he suppressed his shudder, his skin prickled and John laughed. He had a cheerful expression that did not reach her eyes. His gaze was tinged with concern, and Ghost managed a reassuring half-smile. He nodded to strengthen his smile and he could see the concern fade from his face. He gasped as John placed a light bite on his neck.

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure,” he replied. “I don't want to do anything you don't want to, so stop me if I go overboard.”

“It's all good,” Ghost growled.

As always, caring about others so as not to hurt. A good person. Simon felt safe, and lucky, to be there with him and it was something too new. He had had a life of shit, with a childhood hell and in which his family had died. That it would give him a break like that made Ghost suspicious because he was sure that it would take revenge on him, that it would give him a blow so hard that it would take him years to recover.

This is not the best time, he reminded himself as he felt Soap kiss his jaw to his lips.

After a hesitation, he reached up to touch John's cheek, and he cocked his head in surprise. He closed his eyes before kissing his palm and Simon's heart skipped a beat. That simple gesture had filled his chest with another emotion that he didn't think he'd feel again either. Tenderness. And affection. Two more to add to the list.

He was distracted when he felt Soap's hands under his shirt and Simon leaned up a little to help him take it off. He did the same to him, sliding his fingers along the Scotsman's clavicle. He stroked his chest gently, down to his belly and beyond. John chuckled as he looked up at the bulge in his pants. Ghost smiled with him, a knowing smile that widened Soap's.

“Do you like what you see, Lt.?” The mocking tone in his voice almost made her laugh.

“And you?”

John laughed and kissed him, this time enthusiastically. He moved his hand to tuck it back under his pants and Simon gasped between his lips. He stroked his chest again until he reached the belt. In one deft move, he undid it and yanked Soap's pants off. He took a deep breath and rested his head on Ghost's, who looked at him curiously.

“What's up?” he asked.

“Is... do you prefer... I don't know how to ask…”

Simon pulled back a little and knew what he had in mind. Even for that he was an open book. He composed a half smile and kissed him.

“Surprise me, Johnny,” he whispered.

Soap blinked before laughing. At that moment, Ghost realized that he was laughing a lot and that he didn't care because he liked to listen to it. On the other hand, he was very tired of always having to give the orders. Delegating decision-making to someone else wasn't something he could always do, so letting Soap take the lead was a breath of fresh air. A nice change in the routine.

Despite his experience in life, he knew he didn't have to worry about trusting him. John wouldn't intentionally hurt him, he'd shoot himself in the foot first, and Simon felt lucky again to have him here with him.

For the first time in many, many years, he didn't have to worry about trusting another person.

[tom-holland-parker]

Lets get Married

Summary: On a class trip to Vegas, Peter is determined to make this trip a memorable one, even if it means doing something crazy. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 2911

Masterlist

Note: If you’ve never heard Lets get married by bleachers you are missing out.

Taking a bunch of 17/18 year olds to vegas probably wasn't the best idea. Between Flash's constant suggestions on going to a strip club and being stuck on a crowded bus in 90 degree weather, it was already turning out to be terrible.

"Well someone doesn't look too happy" Peter joked as you rested your head on his shoulder. You could feel a headache forming in your head and the heat was only making things worse. "If Flash doesn't stop talking I'm going to stab him" you groaned trying to block out his loud voice.

Peter chuckled, giving you a kiss on your forehead, "sorry to burst your bubble but it's my job as Spiderman to make sure you don't do that"

You rolled your eyes, "but it's your job as Peter AKA my boyfriend to let me get away with it"

"You do realize you're joking about murder" Mj interrupt as she poked her head above her seat in front of you. "I know you're thinking the same thing Mj". She shrugged before returning to the book.

"I’m very glad we finally got a peaceful field trip I don’t think I can handle another Europe or Washington" You joked looking up at Peter. He chuckled, “Don’t jinx it. I don’t want any sort of trouble to happen”

"Well we could always cause some trouble" you smirked, "I've been researching some casinos"

"Since when do you know how to gamble" He laughed. "I'm Tony Stark's daughter doing risky stuff is in my blood. Plus my dad left me with his credit card" you opened your wallet showing Peter the shiny black amex that was tucked in the pocket.

“I don’t know about this,” He said nervously. You scoffed, “You’re telling me that I made all of us get fake IDs and you’re not even going to let me gamble” 

Peter rolled his eyes, remembering the exact day you were talking about. It was almost a month ago when you tricked him and your friends into taking photos that they thought were for the yearbook but turned out to be fake IDs that you needed to get into a party. “I never wanted that fake ID” 

“Yeah but you’re beautiful girlfriend got you one anyway” You leaned over placing a soft kiss on his neck, “Please baby let have some fun. You know what they say What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”

"If you guys are planning on sneaking out, count me in" Mj interrupted, not bothering to wait for a reply before ducking her head back over the seat.

Peter sighed as he shook his head, "Fine but only because Ned has been studying the art of poker for weeks". He pointed to the row next to you where Ned sat reading The Poker Players Bible

“He’s learning poker from a book?” You shook your head in amusement, “He’s gonna lose” 

Peter chuckled, “Have some faith in him. I think he’d make an excellent poker player”. You rolled your eyes, glancing at Ned again before looking back at Peter. 

"Wanna make a bet?" You smirked sitting up from your slouched position. Peter smiled and nodded. "We'll let Ned play three games of poker. If he wins at least twice I'll do whatever you want but is he loses twice then you have to do whatever I want"

He hesitated trying to figure out whether or not you were joking. He rolled his eyes when he realized you were serious, "deal". He shook your hand, "I need to talk to Ned''. You rolled your eyes and put on your headphones as Peter got up and walked to the row besides you.

You didn't notice but Peter had been nervous ever since the plane had landed in Vegas. He knew you'd always wanted to come here and he wanted to make your first trip here a memorable one. "Hey Ned" he whispered, glancing towards you to make sure you weren't paying attention, "I need your help"

"I thought you said you wouldn't have to do Spiderman things on this trip" he replied in a worried tone.

Peter shook his head, "no it's not that" he reassured, "Y/N and Mj are going to come with us tonight to the Casino, but I've made a bet with Y/N and I need you to win two of three poker games tonight"

Ned smiled, "don't worry I've got this I spent the whole plane ride playing in small online competitions and I've won a few games so I'm pretty much a pro"

"great" Peter chuckled nervously, "I'm just nervous. I still don't know what I'm going to do to make this trip memorable for her" he glanced at you watching as you stared out the window.

"Why don't you just cross out number 4 on her bucket list" Ned said as he looked at his book again.

"What are you talking about?" Peter questioned. Ned sighed putting down his book again, "do you remember last summer when we all hung out at her place and she stole a bottle of her dads tequila and she started talking about her bucket list"

Peter nodded waiting for Ned to explain, "well number 4 was get married in Vegas even if it's just a joke"

A burst of laughter exploded from Peter, "are you insane? I can't do that. Her father will kill me" he whispered trying to avoid the strange looks he was getting from his sudden outburst.

"Oh come on I'm sure he'll find it funny" Ned smiled.

Peter nodded, “Ok yeah I’m gonna do it. I'm gonna marry her”. Ned chuckled, "Great. Now I need to study or else you’re going to lose this bet” He returned back to his book as Peter, who was now lost in his thoughts returned back to his seat, letting you rest your head on his shoulder for the rest of the bus ride. 

///

“Ned if you don’t quiet down we’re going to get caught” You whispered as you and your friend piled out the hotel room. It was nearing 11 and all the teachers had forced the students to stay in the rooms for the rest of the night. “Your heels are making more noise than me” Ned joked as you all entered the elevator. 

You rolled your eyes grabbing Peter wrist to look at the time on his watch, “Alright we all need to be back by 4:30” 

To your surprise the casino wasn’t crowded, then again who is going to a casino on a Monday night. “Ok babe, me and Mj are gonna play craps. I'll leave Ned to practice before you lose this bet” You kissed his cheek before grabbing Mj’s hand and guiding her to the dice table. 

“Don’t you think your father is going to question why there are charges to a Vegas casino on his credit card?” Mj asked as you took money out of the ATM. You shrugged, “That’s a problem for another day”. She chuckled as you moved to the table and placed your bets on the game. The dealer handed you your chips as well as the dice signaling to you that the game had started.

It was only an hour later when Peter met up with you and Mj. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you placed your betting chips in their spots, “Are you winning?” He whispered as you grabbed the dice from the table. 

“I’ve done pretty good so far. I need a 7” You shook the dice in your hand before turning to him, “Kiss for good luck?”

He chuckled and gave you a quick kiss, watching as you threw the dice. He could sense your nervousness as the dice moved down the table hitting the wall before landing on the lucky number 7. 

Everyone at the table shouted cheerfully, happy that they had won the round. You gather your chips from the dealer, “Alright Jerry it's been nice playing with you I hope to do it again sometime” you waved goodbye as you all walked to the poker table where Ned sat waiting for the group to join him before he started another game. 

“Alright Ned three games I betting on two loses but Peter thinks differently” You teased as he rolled his eyes, “Prove me right”

If you were being honest you didn’t exactly know what was going on. You’d seen you father and the other avengers play poker before but they never let you in on the game so you hardly knew anything about it, but so far you could tell that you were losing the bet. 

Ned was in the middle of the second game and according to Mj, who didn’t have a biased opinion on this bet, things were looking good for Peter. Ned had won the first game and it looked like he was going to win this one. You sighed in annoyance, hating that you had to admit you were wrong. 

Peter smiled, wrapping his arms around you, “Don’t worry babe I think you’ll actually like that i have planned”. You rolled your eyes watching as Ned cheered clearly happy that he won the game. You sighed, “Ok what do you want” 

“Give me 3 minutes. Stay here” He smiled, grabbing Mj’s arm, leaving you alone at the table with Ned. 

“Ned what does he have planned?” You smirked hoping to wean out whatever Peter was going to do. He shook his head, “Y/N I love you but Peter’s my best friend and I can’t just give away the surprise” You rolled your eyes, turning around at watch as Peter talked to Mj. 

“Please Mj” Peter begged, “I want to make this trip memorable and i'm only asking you because her father doesn’t know” 

“You’re insane” her eyes widened at the thought of you and Peter getting married this young, “You guys are 18 do you seriously think getting married is the best idea” 

“It’s been on her bucket list for years” He pointed out trying to justify his plans. “Please Mj if not for me then do it for the happiness of your best friend” 

She took a deep breath, “Fine I will walk Y/N down the aisle”. Peter smiled pulling Mj into a tight hug. “You’re the best” 

///

“Guys I don’t appreciate surprises” You joked as Ned guided you through the crowded sidewalk. “Don’t worry we’re almost there” He reassured you. You sighed and kept walking as all your friends laughed. 

You came to a sudden stop as Peter grabbed your hand, “Ok Ned you can uncover her eyes” he chuckled. Ned took his hands off your eyes stepping back as you looked around in confusion. Peter was on one knee with a nervous smile plastered on his face. “Y/N I love you”

“Peter what are you doing?” You looked up noticing the small chapel you all stood in front of, “Please don’t tell me-”

“I love you and I know this is on your bucket list so” he kissed you hand, “Will you marry me?”

You stood silent for a moment, shock taking over your body, “Peter-” His face dropping, thinking maybe this was completely ridiculous. You smiled through as sigh, “Yes I will marry you” 

He stood up quickly, pulling you into a hug. “Alright well we better hurry because it’s already 3 and we need to be back at the hotel soon” 

You nodded your head as everyone walked into the small chapel, “Hi I made an appointment online” Peter said nervously as you walked to the front desk hand in hand, Mj and Ned trailing close behind you.

“Peter?” The short lady said. He nodded, grabbing his ID and handing it to her. You did the same as she typed the information in the computer. “Ok boys you can go through there and stand at the altar, girls you can come with me” 

She smiled guiding you and Mj into a separate room, “Ok so we have different dress and veil options for you to pick from but you don’t seem like an extremely flashy girl so I'm going to suggest the little white dress option” 

She handed you a hanger that held a body con white dress with glitter details, it actually looked like something you had in your closet at home. You nodded your head moving to the dressing room to put in on. You locked the door behind you taking this time as a moment for you to take everything in. You were about to get married. Even if it was just a joke it was still a crazy thing to do. You weren’t nervous that you’d regret it, you loved Peter with all your heart, but you were nervous about everyone else's reactions. I can do this, You whispered to yourself putting the dress on before walking out the small room.

“Alright here goes nothing” You smiled nervously and you grabbed Mj’s arm. The song over the speaker began to play as you slowly walked down the aisle. Peter turned to look at you, shocked at how good you looked in all white, a color you rarely ever wore. 

"Wow" he muttered as you stood in front of him, handing your bouquet of fake flowers to Mj as she stood behind you. "You look amazing" You smiled grabbing his hand. 

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Peter Benjamin Parker and Y/N Y/M/N Stark, in marriage. In the years they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured, and now they have decided to live their lives together as husband and wife" the short lady read from the thin book in her hands. "Do you Peter Parker, take Y/N Stark to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Peter smiled, looking you in the eyes, "I do"

"Do you Y/N Stark take Peter Parker to be you lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part"

You nodded your head enthusiastically, "I do"

"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife you may now kiss the bride" the room filled the applause as you pulled Peter into a quick passionate kiss. Only pulling apart when you realized your empty fingers, "wait we don't have rings"

"Oh i got that covered" Ned said cheerfully as he pulled out two contained of rings, the ones you usually get from the quarter machines, "they were the only ones I could find on short notice"

"they're perfect Ned", you chuckled, pulling out the pink and purple rings, "Dibs on pink"

Peter rolled his eyes forcing the small ring onto his finger, "I don't think I'll ever be able to take this off" he joked

"That's the point of a wedding ring" you grabbed his hand, "you can't get rid of me that easily"

"Alright time for pictures and then certificate" the short lady appeared with a Polaroid Camera snapping pictures of you and Peter.

"Are you happy?" You looked up and smiled. "I'm married to my favorite girl in the whole world. Why wouldn't I be happy?" Peter smirked before giving you a quick kiss.

Time flew by so fast. After the certificate was signed, a bottle of champagne was popped leading you to get extremely tipsy. By the time you all got back to the hotel it was already 5. Peter carried you up the stair bridal style watching as you moved sleepily in his arms.

"What the hell" Flash said loudly startling everyone. You all turned around watching as Flash stood in the hallway in his bathrobe surrounded by two girls who definitely weren't students. "Go to bed Flash" you mumbled, cuddling further into Peter's arms.

"You guys snuck out?" He said in a shocked voice, "Oh I can't wait until you guys to get caught"

Mj chuckled opening the door to the hotel room you shared with her, "Flash do those girls know that you're 16" she lied. The girls gasped quickly walking away from the angered boy. He took a deep breath before stomping back into his room. "Gosh I hate that dude" Ned said as you all walked into the hotel room.

Peter placed you in bed, taking off your shoes before tucking you in, "I'll see you tomorrow morning Mrs. Parker"

You smile tiredly, "I love you Mr. Parker"

///

"Well well well if it isn't the newly weds" Your father said angrily as you walked through the elevator doors. You kept your composure not wanting to give you and peter away

"What are you talking about?" You said through a smile

"Don't act dumb" you father said as he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, "I'm the one who gave Peter the emergency credit card I can see everything he buys"

Your eyes widened, Peter took a deep breath, "Mr. Stark-"

"Im gonna give you ten seconds to run" Your father said as he threw down the paper. 

"I'll talk to you later babe" Peter quickly kissed your cheek before rushing out the room. You father quickly trailing behind

[ssahotchhner]

Hiii! Can there be a Hotch x BAUFem!reader where they are already dating and she gets kidnapped in a case and like Reid’s epsidoe the team see her getting tortured and Hotch goes insnaely mad and the team get her but she been stabbed or shot up to you. And she passes out in hotchs arms to Hotch screaming for her to stay awake. Wakes up in hospital and all fluffy between them agter. I love your content and I get if you don’t want to do this x

hello!!! i feel like this is kinda similar to something i’ve done already so i tried to make them as different as possible. i hope you guys still enjoy!!!

warnings: just your usual torture, kidnapping, and murders

questions, comments, concerns

I’M NOT AFRAID

“Sorry to ruin date night.” Penelope teases as you and Hotch walk into the conference room. You’re wearing a dress that is far too short to be work appropriate, attempting to hide it under your long coat and scowling at Penelope. 

Morgan whistles and you roll your eyes, but Aaron only smirks as he settles into the seat next to you, resting a hand on your thigh under the table. It was nice to finally be able to be like this at work. You and Aaron had and would always continue to be professional at work, but since the team had found out, you didn’t have to hide the subtle touches or loaded glances.

“Good evening crime fighters, I’m so sorry to ruin your night, but we have some criminals afoot.” Images of women’s bodies illuminate the screen behind her. Immediately you notice small burns that decorate each of their bodies, consistent with the use of a taser. “You will be heading to North Bend, Washington where the bodies were found abandoned in alleyways behind dumpsters. In all cases, the bodies were discovered by homeless men.”

“What was the cause of death?” You ask.

Penelope sighs, “It looks like the person who did this tortured them for hours, submerged in salt water for long periods of time and tased at close range over and over, until,” She clicks the remote and pictures of the victims’ heads come across the screen.

“He tased them in the head?” Morgan asks.

“That would be correct, chocolate thunder. The ME reports that the girls all suffered incredible brain damage until their brains just… shut down.”

“The discarding of the bodies suggests he doesn’t have any remorse and he’s clearly sadistic since he tortures them for so long.” Prentiss says.

“Garcia, was there evidence of sexual assault?” Aaron asks.

“ME says since they were submerged in water for so long it’s impossible to tell.”

“Forensic countermeasure?” Reid muses.

“It’s possible.” Aaron says. 

“Oh, and there’s one last thing.” A picture of another girl fills the screen, “Another girl was taken a few hours ago, her name is Tiffany Cole. Judging by how long he’s held the other girls--”

“We have less than 48 hours to find her.” Aaron finishes, “Let’s get going then, wheels up in thirty.”

You follow Aaron to his office, closing the door behind you, sighing as you lean against it, “We’re never gonna have a night to ourselves, are we?”

He brushes his thumb along your cheek, “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you when we get back.”

You smile and lean into his touch, “Shame this dress has to go to waste.”

“Can I at least take it off you?” He murmurs.

You raise your eyebrows, “Sure, my love, but don’t forget to close the shades.” You nod your head to the windows of his office.

You pull out your go bag while he closes the shades, pulling out some comfier, more professional clothing. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist and you lean back into him. Gently kissing your shoulders, he pulls down the zipper in the back revealing your bare back.

He groans into your skin, “I can’t believe we have a case.”

You hum and turn in his arms, placing your hands on his chest as the dress falls off you, “Well we better work quickly then so you can make it up to me.” You smirk and lightly push off from his chest, turning away from him to put on your work clothes.

Faster than you thought possible, Aaron immediately shifts back into unit chief, barely looking at you as he swipes through the case file on his tablet. Once dressed, you peer over his shoulder, “What’s bothering you?”

He shakes his head and stands, grabbing his go bag and handing you yours, “I don’t know yet.” He says and walks past you, leaving you to follow.

***

“There doesn’t seem to be any evidence of gagging or even tape over the mouth to keep the girls quiet,” Reid observes from the jet, “No trace glue on the mouth or fabric found inside. ME even reports that some of their vocal chords seemed strained, most likely from hours of screaming.”

“Which means he must have some remote place to keep them where nobody can hear them.” Rossi adds.

Aaron is quiet the entire time besides assigning the team tasks for when you land, “Aaron, what’s the matter?” You say softly, gently squeezing his leg.

He slowly shakes his head, “Something about this case… I feel like I’ve seen it before, but I can’t… I can’t remember.”

You frown, “We could ask Garcia--?”

“No.” He interjects immediately and then looks at you apologetically for cutting you off, “No, not yet. I don’t want anyone wasting their time when I’m not even sure myself.”

You nod, “Okay.”

The rest of the day went by as usual, Aaron asked you and JJ to go talk to the families. By the time you got back to the police station, the sun was beginning to set and the team had hit dead end after dead end. Frustrated, Hotch ended up dismissing the team for the night to come back with fresh eyes tomorrow.

In the hotel room the two of you shared, you kneeled on the bed behind Aaron who was still looking over case files and placed your hands on his shoulders, gently kneading them with your fingers, “Come to bed.” You said softly and kissed him just below his ear.

He shakes his head, “There’s a girl out there who might already be dead because of my incompetence.”

You frown and sit back on your legs, “That’s weird, I didn’t know you were working this case by yourself.”

He sighs, “I know I’ve seen this before.”

“Even if you had, it’s probably a copycat, it’s not the same guy.”

“But we don’t know that.” He says, exasperated, “I can’t even remember if we caught him, I can’t remember anything.”

“Okay, that’s it, we’re calling Garcia first thing in the morning.”

“Y/N--”

“We don’t have any other leads, it’s not a waste of time. Now come to bed, please. You’re no use to anyone when you’re tired, you just get more grumpy than usual.”

He finally offers you a small smile, “Are you saying that I’m normally grumpy?”

You smile in victory as you lay back into the pillows and Aaron crawls over you, “Your baseline grumpiness at work is pretty high, yes.” You mimic his frown and deepen your voice, “You always look like this, no matter who you’re speaking to or the scenario.”

He laughs and flattens his body against yours, head resting on your chest and you run your fingers through his hair, “We’ll find him, Aaron. I promise.”

He doesn’t respond, but you both quickly fall asleep like that, unaware of what horrors the next day would bring.

***

“Good morning sunshine, what can I do for you this early?” Penelope answers your phone call with a yawn.

“Hey, Garcia, sorry to call so early. Would it be possible to pull up a list of all the cases Hotch worked before he was unit chief and see if any of them are similar to this case? Maybe the victimology or the MO?”

“Might take a while, our favorite unit chief has been fighting crime for a very long time, but I’ll get back to you if I find anything.”

“Thanks Penelope.”

“Ciao bella!”

“Garcia’s looking.” You said as you hung up the phone, Aaron just finishing tying his tie. You stood and reached out to straighten it. “Try not to think about it, you work best when you’re calm and detached.”

He frowns, “Detached?”

You smile and go up on your tip toes to give him a kiss, “Yes, when you check your ego at the door.”

He cradles your face in his hands and gives you another kiss, “Okay, no more kisses until the end of the day, you’re too distracting.” And he turns away from you, walking out the door before he can even see the way you’re pouting. “Come on, let’s go. We’re running out of time.”

You nod and head after him.

***

“Garcia, you’re on speaker.” You say, pushing your phone into the middle of the conference table. The rest of the team had been brainstorming the last couple hours, but had gotten nothing. No evidence of anyone buying a taser recently, at least not locally. There was little that connected the victims, just that they were all young white women. 

“You guys, I… I really hate when this happens, but it seems that the unsub is trying to contact me.”

“What do you mean?” Hotch asks.

“I mean,” You can hear her typing quickly on her keyboard and suddenly there’s another video feed on the screen, “He obviously wants to show us something.”

“Can you trace this?” Reid asks.

“No,” She sighs, “His IP address keeps changing automatically every thirty seconds.”

“Agent Hotchner,” A distorted voice comes from behind the camera. In front of it there’s a tank of water and a girl frantically trying to swim with her hands and legs tied. “Have you figured it out yet?” The voice continues as he walks in front of the camera, never allowing the camera to see his face. You look closer at the girl, Tiffany, and see she has the consistent taser burns all over her body. “I’m tired of waiting.” He walks over to the girl, pulling her up out of the water as she screams before putting the taser next to her temple and pulling the trigger. She spasms for close to a minute before he drops her back in the water, her now lifeless body floating to the top. “I thought you were smarter than this.” The voice says before the feed cuts out.

Everyone is silent for a moment, “The hell was that about?” Prentiss finally interjects, looking to Hotch.

“Garcia, do you have that list for me I asked for this morning?” You say, swallowing away the bile that rises in your throat from witnessing Tiffany’s murder.

“Yes.” Garcia’s normally bubbly voice is quiet and subdued, “Yes, I do. The closest thing I could find was a series of murders back in the 90s. A bunch of women were tortured for hours in a salt water tank before their throats were finally slit and they were dumped behind various dumpsters in town. ME reports showed significant brain damage from repeated lack of oxygen. A Mister Garret Hughes was arrested for the murder, tried, and put to death… Oh boy, three weeks ago, right before our first victim popped up.”

You look at Aaron, “Does that sound familiar now?”

He nods slowly, “It was one of my first cases as lead profiler.”

“Well it sounds like Hughes’ death was the trigger.” Morgan says, “Hotch, maybe he blames you for Hughes’ death.”

“Judging from the body type on camera, it has to be a male, maybe a friend? Brother?” JJ muses.

“Or a son…” Aaron says, “Garcia, did Hughes have any children?”

“Uhhh, yes sir, he has a son named Cameron Hughes who was about seven at the time of the murders and is now twenty five.”

“What do we know about him?” You ask.

“Well, after his father was arrested, Cameron was put into foster care, his mom had left his dad years ago and seemed to drop off the map which sounds a lot to me like she was afraid of Garret.”

“Rightfully so.” JJ murmurs.

“Yeah. After that, Cameron bounced from home to home, reports of abuse from nearly every one until he turned 18. He got a job as a prison guard not long after and he’s been there ever since. And that explains how he was able to get a taser.”

“Any run-ins with the law?” You ask.

“Yeah, several when he was a kid, but after he turned eighteen and got his prison job he was squeaky clean.”

“What were the arrests for, Garcia?”

“Well, we have some petty theft, some fires set and… Oh, no.”

“What is it?”

“His last arrest when he was sixteen was for torturing and killing a neighbor’s dog… via drowning.”

“Do we have an address, Garcia?” 

“Already sent to your phones.”

Everyone starts grabbing things and running to the SUVs. “This can’t be where they’re holding them,” Spencer says as you all pile in and Aaron starts the car, “It’s too residential and it doesn’t match the geographical profile.”

“Well, let’s hope that we can bring him in or we find something in his house that tells us where he is holding them.” You say.

***

When you arrived, Aaron directed you, Morgan and JJ to the back. Aaron and Reid took the front while Emily and Rossi went around the side.

You were behind both Morgan and JJ, your guns raised when you spotted a shed behind the house. “You guys go in, I’ll check the shed out back.” You say. They both nod their heads and then head inside. You hear the distant sound of your team calling “Clear!” As you head to the shed, and you admit it, you let your guard down.

When you open the shed door, it’s dark and with your flashlight on, you turn to the right first, leaving your back exposed for Cameron to hit you over the head with a hammer. There’s no time to scream or fight back. A big guy, he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and heads out a back door, into the woods where his truck is waiting for him to load you into.

***

At first, no one notices that you’re missing. To be truthful, JJ and Morgan had forgotten about the shed out back. But then Aaron looks up and around the house. There’s JJ and Morgan, carefully sorting through mail on the kitchen table. “Morgan, where’s Y/L/N?”

There’s a moment of silence when it dawns on all of them what may have happened and suddenly everyone’s guns are drawn and Morgan is sprinting to the shed, JJ and Aaron on his heels. When they walk into the shed, they see your badge and gun on the ground along with little dots of blood. And then the start of an engine. Aaron wastes no time running out the back door and starts shooting at the truck, but he’s already too far down the wooded path. 

He has you. He has you and Aaron is stuck here, useless, because there are no other leads. “Why was she out here by herself?” Hotch’s voice is deadly calm.

“I… she was behind us and then she said she was going to clear the shed and we just thought…” JJ trails off, “We thought she could handle it.”

It’s not their fault, he tries to remind himself. But the rage is boiling just beneath his skin. “Hotch, we’ll find her.” Reid says when he storms past, back into the house, “Something here will give him away.”

“There wasn’t a license plate on that truck.” Morgan says as they all follow Hotch back inside.

“What’s going on?” Rossi frowns as the rest of the team comes back in the house, “Was he out there?”

“He has Y/N.” Is all Hotch says before he starts ripping the house apart, trying to find some clue of where he would take you. He slams doors and curses to himself throughout and the rest of the team helps him look without a word.

“JJ?” Reid murmurs when he notices she’s crying as she looks through the house.

“I shouldn’t have let her go out there alone.” She says, her voice thick with tears, “It’s like when I left you alone all over again.”

“You know as well as I do she made that choice to go by herself. She wouldn’t want you blaming yourself.” JJ just shakes her head, “If we want to find her we need you to focus now. This unsub is arrogant, he won’t be expecting us to find him.”

They continue searching, seeing if Garcia can find any evidence of abandoned buildings nearby, but nothing. Until Cameron reached out to Garcia himself, again.

Garcia’s panicked voice fills Cameron’s home, “Guys, he’s here again and I can see Y/N.” 

Emily quickly opens a laptop and the stream fills the screen. Aaron fills with temporary relief at seeing you sitting on the floor in front of the camera. “No blindfold or gag, just like the other victims, only her wrists and ankles are tied.” Emily observes.

“If he didn’t blindfold her at all, she might be able to tell us where she is.” Reid says, and everyone knows he’s thinking of the coded message he gave this same team years ago when he was taken.

You sit there and stare at the camera silently. You don’t appear to be injured or hurt in any way, besides the blood that drips from your temple. You most likely have a concussion from the blunt trauma. “You know, Agent Hotchner,” Cameron no longer bothers to disguise his voice, “I debated for a while who to take from this team to hurt you the most. I researched you for years while my father rotted in jail. It’s a shame Foyet got to pretty miss Haley before I had the chance. I thought about taking Jack, but I draw the line at children. Feels wrong somehow, even to a psychopath like me.” 

He starts touching you and the chair beneath Hotch’s fingers creaks as he clenches his fists. You don’t show him any fear, no tears, you don’t even flinch away from his touch. “So I focused on the team, tried to see who you had the strongest relationship with. Who would hurt the most? Dr. Spencer Reid, boy genius who you treat like a son? Agent Morgan, the little brother you wished Sean had turned out to be? What about Agent Prentiss? She was so damn pretty and smart I thought you had to have been sleeping with her. But then,” He pulls your hair so hard, your head snaps back and you grunt. The closest thing to a reaction you’d given him so far, “I saw that you shared a hotel room with this one more than once when working cases together. I’ll give you props Hotchner,” He chuckles and lets out a whistle, “I didn’t even consider her because I thought she was so far out of your league. Nice work.” He produces a taser and pulls the trigger while pressing it to your ribcage and you convulse until he pulls his hand away.

“Oh, boy. This one’s going to be fun, aren’t you?”

“I have a name.” You grind out.

Cameron responds by ripping off your shirt and producing scissors to cut off your pants, “Yes, Y/N. I know your name. Time for a swim, I think.”

What Cameron doesn’t see as he undresses you is the way you close your eyes and take several deep breaths to calm yourself. Panicking leads to faster drownings. He picks you up and tosses you in his makeshift tank. Your body becomes perfectly still, everyone on the team looking at their screens in horror until you break the surface, taking in another breath.

“Garcia, do you have anything?” Aaron does his best to keep the impatience out of his voice, but you scream for the first time when Cameron holds the taser to your side for more than a few seconds and it shatters him. 

“Sir, I’m trying everything, I can’t hack him. I’m so sorry.” She sniffles.

“Reid, give me something.” Hotch practically begs, but Reid looks back at him hopelessly and you’re screaming again. 

“Oh, God.” JJ says, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Hotch kicks over his chair as you finally break and begin crying and then you’re under water again.

“We’re missing something, we have to be.” Rossi says.

Cameron pulls you up out of the water by your hair, “Are you listening, Agent Hotchner?” He screams as you cough the water out of your lungs, “Beg him to help you, baby, go on.”

You take some shuddering breaths and then you look at the camera, “Aaron,” You say breathlessly and Hotch feels like all the air has gotten sucked out of his lungs, “It’s beautiful here and I’m not afraid.” Cameron shoves you back under and tases you while you struggle.

“What the hell does that mean?” Morgan demands, looking at Hotch who’s staring at the laptop in awe.

“Garcia, how far is Mount Si from here?”

“Not far at all sir, maybe a couple of miles if that.”

“Are there any remote cabins or caves there that wouldn’t have come up on your initial search of Cameron?”

“Um, it’s possible that there is land there that is owned by a relative that wouldn’t have come up in his background, let me check and…” She sighs, “Yeah, there’s a small cabin right off of a hiking trail that looks like it used to belong to Cameron’s mother. She never sold it so it’s sat there empty since she left town.”

“Let’s go.” Hotch says, practically running out the door before anyone can follow, “Garcia, keep the audio of the stream on while we drive.”

“You got it, go get her, please.”

“How did you know?” Prentiss asks when they’re in the car.

“Y/N is afraid of heights. We went hiking once, early on, and I convinced her to climb a mountain with me. When she got to the top I asked her how she was feeling and she looked at me with this big smile on her face and said ‘It’s beautiful up here.’ And then she looked over the edge and I held her from behind and I asked her if she was scared and she said ‘No, I’m not afraid.’” Your screams ring out in the car and Hotch presses his foot down harder on the gas. They were almost there, you just needed to hold on a little longer.

“We’re gonna get her, Hotch.” Rossi says reassuringly from the back as your sobs ring through the car.

“Garcia, how does she look?” Hotch asks. He was just down the road now.

“As you would expect, sir.” She says quietly, “If you’re asking if I think he’s going to kill her anytime soon, no I don’t. He is having far too much fun with her. Please get that creepy man in cuffs.”

Aaron throws the car in park and everyone jumps out, pulling out their guns as they run in. “FBI, Cameron, drop the weapon.”

You’re dripping wet and shaking and out of the tank, barely able to stand. But you smile at Aaron as Cameron holds a knife to your abdomen. You thought when you had given him that hint that you’d be leading him to your body, you never expected to see him alive again. But here he was, your Aaron, prepared to rip the world apart to get you back alive.

“Thanks for the suggestion, Agent Hotchner, but it’d be so much more fun to see the look on your face when I do this--” Aaron fires the shot and it lands in Cameron’s forehead, killing him instantly, but not before he thrust the knife into your stomach.

“We need a medic, federal agent down.” He says quickly into his watch before running to your side.

Your eyes dart back and forth as he kneels next to you and warm blood starts pooling on your stomach. “Aaron?” You manage.

“It’s okay, I’m here, I’m here, it’s gonna be okay.”

“You remembered.” You say softly, your eyes losing focus, “You found me.”

“Of course I remembered,” Hotch says, tears filling his eyes, “You gotta stay with me, Y/N. Stay awake, okay?”

“I’m so… tired.”

“I know, I know, but you have to keep your eyes open. Please.” He shouts over his shoulder, “Where’s my medic?!”

“I’m glad I… got to see you again, Aaron.”

“Don’t talk like that.” He’s crying now as you’re bleeding out in his arms. He can vaguely hear Morgan yell again for a medic.

Hotch’s memories get all scrambled up after that. He remembers you passing out in his arms, thinking you were gone as the medics forcefully remove you from him. The way the team tried to take him with them as you rode to the hospital, but he insisted on going with you.

He remembers that it was touch and go for a while in the ambulance. That they had to have Derek pull him away from you when they wheeled you into trauma. His arms were covered in blood and he shoved Morgan off him. 

“Hotch, relax.”

He eventually sat down in a waiting room seat, legs bouncing, “She was talking to me like she was about to die.”

“She’s not gonna be out of there anytime soon, why don’t you go wash the blood off your arms.” JJ says.

“Yeah.” He says and stands, “Yeah, right.”

When he’s gone down the hall the rest of the team look at each other, “I haven’t seen him like this since Haley.” Emily says.

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” Spencer’s voice is soft.

JJ puts an arm around him as Morgan’s phone rings, “Please tell me she’s okay.” Comes Penelope’s panicked voice on speaker.

“She’s in emergency surgery right now, we don’t know much.”

“And how’s Hotch?”

Morgan sighs, “She practically bled out in his arms, Garcia. He’s not good.”

She sighs, “I hate being across the country, call me when you hear something.”

Hotch walks back over, still looking dazed, but at least not covered in blood. They waited like that in silence for hours until the doctor came back over and Hotch stands immediately.

“We were able to stop the internal bleeding and stabilize her,” The doctor starts, “She’s in the recovery room now and should be waking up soon. She’ll have to stay in the hospital for at least a week to be monitored.”

The relief hits everyone in the room tenfold. Hotch feels like his legs might give out and there’s a collective sigh of relief from the rest of the team.

“Could we airlift her to DC?” Aaron asks. He doesn’t want you here by yourself.

“I’d like to at least monitor her overnight, but yes, that can be arranged.”

“Can we see her?” Spencer said from behind Aaron.

“Of course, follow me.”

Your eyes are still closed when they all file in, the doctor quietly exiting as they all crowd around your bed. Aaron is crying when your eyes begin to flutter open, a lazy smile forming on your face, “What happened?” You say slowly, your voice raspy.

“You just got out of surgery, you’re gonna be okay.” Aaron says.

“We were so worried about you.” Spencer’s voice cracks as he steps forward and gives you a hug.

“Oof.” You grimace a bit at the sudden weight, but manage to hug him back. “I’m fine, promise.”

The team all give you hugs and put Garcia on speaker so she can hear you alive and well before leaving Aaron alone with you. “Why are you crying, my love?” You ask, reaching out a hand to him.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, “I thought you died in my arms.”

You shake your head, “But I didn’t.”

“I can still hear your screams from when he was torturing you. I didn’t do enough to protect you.”

You flinch a bit at the mention of the torture, but recover quickly, “Aaron, our jobs come with a certain amount of risk. You know that. You can’t always protect me.”

“I know, I know, I just…” He wipes his tears with the heel of his hand, “He took you because of me.”

You shake your head, “He just got lucky that I went off by myself. He would’ve taken anyone who walked in by themselves. He wasn’t as diligent or organized as Foyet. I’m sure he did stalk us, but he had no solid plan to target me specifically.” He looks down at his hands sniffling, “Aaron, even if he did take me because of our relationship, I don’t care.”

“How can you say that?”

“Our relationship is also what saved me, don’t you realize that?”

“You would’ve found another way to tip us off--”

“The whole time I was there, I just kept thinking about you. I’m not like Reid or Prentiss, I can’t think like that under pressure. I was only able to think of that because I was thinking of you, of us the whole time.” He still can’t look at you and you can see tears still falling to the floor.

“Aaron, look at me.” You say gently and he complies. You beckon him over to the bed until he sits on the edge and you can touch his face, “I love you.” It’s the first time either of you have said it. You were so nervous to before, but nearly dying without telling him had scared you badly.

He manages a smile, “I love you too.”

You smile back at him and reach up to cup the back of his neck, pulling his face down to meet yours. His kiss is gentle, as if he’s afraid of breaking you and then he rests his head just beneath your chin.

“They said you have to stay in the hospital for at least a few days.” You immediately groan and begin to protest, but he shushes you, “I’m going to arrange for you to be airlifted to DC tomorrow morning and I’ll stay with you until then. The rest of the team is flying home tonight.” You’re pouting at having to stay in the hospital and he cant help but laugh at you a bit, “Hey, it won’t be so bad. I’ll bring you all your favorite books and takeout and I’ll bring Jack, too when I can.”

“Will you bring me coffee in the morning before you go to work? Hospital coffee is terrible.”

He smiles, “Yes and I’ll even bring you a chocolate croissant from that bakery you love.”

You finally crack a smile, “You spoil me, Hotchner.”

He kisses your forehead, “I’ll probably spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”

You smirk, “Hey, at least now we can both say a serial killer almost stabbed us to death. We even have matching scars.”

Despite himself, Aaron laughs, “You’re ridiculous.”

You giggle, “Yes, ridiculously in love with you, Aaron Hotchner.”

[honorhearted]

"Not long ago...he's been so distant -- so angry lately...but it all began to make sense when I discovered the correspondence between him and a Major John Andre."

Brows furrowing, Benjamin appraised Peggy more carefully, his heart leaping into his throat at the familiar name. "And his anger...why should Arnold be so upset about this correspondence? If they are truly aiding one another, does his turmoil stem from potential regret?"

Benjamin didn't know why he wished so badly for this to be a fluke -- that Benedict was more of a pawn in need of aid than some sort of mastermind -- but he foolishly held fast in his hope that the man could be saved. He would be punished, absolutely, but what if they could turn him into a double agent?

Peggy seemed to soften at the contrition in his face, and then her hand was on his shoulder, gently stroking. "You have my deepest, most sincerest condolences, Benjamin. Truly."

With a lump in his throat, he reached up and caught her hand in his, offering her a threadbare smile. "I'm not the only one to endure loss in this war," Benjamin softly said, "but I thank you...most humbly."

All at once, the color seemed to drain from Peggy's face and she straightened, her hold on him tightening in alarm. "I...I didn't know what to do," she said. "I've been so afraid of speaking about it, with my family being known to lean toward the favor of the crown and now this..."

Attempting to soothe, Benjamin stroked his thumb over her knuckles. "Even with a loving family, you can never guarantee a warm reception," he agreed. "It's brother against brother in today's cruel, unfeeling world, and I don't doubt that in the wrong hands, your fate could've been turned over to the Crown...you were right to wait. And I thank you for trusting me."

Seemingly overwhelmed, Peggy spun away from him and gripped at her stomacher, her breasts heaving as she struggled for breath. "I thought I was to marry a Patriot soldier, but with the truth so evident before me, how could I allow such a betrayal to continue?"

Pity stung within his heart, and following after, Benjamin placed his hands upon her shoulders and gently drew her back against his chest, his chin nudging into her upswept hair as he closed his eyes. "I know what it's like to give your heart to another, only to suddenly learn they're not at all who you initially believed," he murmured. "It hurts...it stings, but there is always a new dawn. You don't have to face this alone, Margaret. Not even for a moment."

With a whimper, Peggy turned in his arms and gripped at his lapels, her eyes bright and shining, and weakening his knees with just how lost she appeared.

"Just tell me what I must do, Benjamin. I'm at the mercy of your good General, but my fate ultimately rests in your capable hands."

Cupping her face with said capable hands, Benjamin grimaced and nudged their foreheads together. "I will do everything in my power -- everything -- to help you, but I fear it won't be enough... It helps that I have Washington's ear, but he is often stubborn and volatile, and may not be persuaded by your charms." Drawing away again, he added, "But mercifully, he is also a fair man -- a good man -- and I sincerely doubt he would brand you with Arnold's same crimes."

Peggy's featured softened, and then she held his face and tugged his mouth down over hers, sweet and warm and alive before she parted their lips. "Thank you," she whispered. "I don't believe I'd have had the courage to go through with this were it not for you..."

A needle of guilt stabbed through him, stark and white-hot, before Benjamin gently squeezed her hand on his face. Was he truly doing enough? And most especially since this night had started based on lust rather than true sentiment.

Rolling his lips inward, Benjamin's eyes lit up as an idea finally came to mind. "Perhaps we can forge some letters," he said. "You mentioned earlier that you believed you were marrying a patriot, so perhaps I can falsify letters from your sister?" Growing all the more animated, he said, "We can claim that during your marriage, you wrote to her bemoaning Arnold's change of heart and asking for advice...that you were terrified of confronting him, and felt unsafe to do so, for fear of both his wrath and him potentially turning you over as a traitor in his stead."

Squeezing her hands, Benjamin asked, "Can you show me any examples of your sister's writing? Although it doesn't have to be an exact match, I would feel far better, should the differences not be discernible to the naked eye."

"When did this come to your attention?"

"Not long ago...he's been so distant -- so angry lately...but it all began to make sense when I discovered the correspondence between him and a Major John Andre."

Her former lover's name left her lips without a trace of familiarity or bitterness, though inside Peggy was screaming scornfully.

"Your fiancé, he…he spoke so kindly of my brother. He was the only one to commend him, in fact, so I just…"

Remorse caused her heart to twinge as she saw the pain flicker behind the major's eyes. The way he spoke of his brother told her all she needed to know about the unfortunate situation.

"You have my deepest, most sincerest condolences, Benjamin," she replied as she placed a hand on his shoulder, "Truly."

As Benjamin's face fell, Peggy's gut twisted and her heart ached. In condemning her fiance, she never wanted to hurt Benjamin -- especially after all they'd shared tonight. He didn't deserve the betrayal, a betrayal that had largely been brought about by her own persuasion.

"You do realize that once this comes to light, Washington may look to you, as well?"

"I...I didn't know what to do," she found herself saying, "I've been so afraid of speaking about it, with my family being known to lean toward the favor of the crown and now this..."

If she was going to protect herself, she needed to remain convincingly innocent. Peggy turned away a moment and took a few steps, clasping at her stomach and chest as she feigned difficulty breathing.

"I thought I was to marry a Patriot soldier, but with the truth so evident before me, how could I allow such a betrayal to continue?"

"I do not believe you complicit -- not at all --"

Good...good.

"But couples tend to share everything with one another: fervent affections, plans, secrets, and we need to make sure Washington won't ever suspect that. Not even for a moment."

Spinning on the heel of her boot, she grasped softly at his forearm and presented her best expression of distress, the one that made her eyes sparkle with naivety like that of a doe and had been known to bring even the strongest of men to their knees.

"Just tell me what I must do, Benjamin. I'm at the mercy of your good General, but my fate ultimately rests in your capable hands."

"We need to prove to him you are innocent in this and have no prior knowledge of Arnold's accounts. Perhaps if you seem unwell..."

"Would that be enough?" she asked, sincerely doubting it.

"Washington is a hard sell. Since I, myself, initially questioned how you came to know of his letters, so will he. I could always say I found them, but then the question would arise as to why I was snooping through a superior's home office to begin with."

"We've found ourselves in a rather muddled conundrum indeed."

Ben took her hand and her chest fluttered the way it had when he'd first taken her by the waist, "You and I...we need to work together."

How cruelly ironic that she'd heard similar from a man she thought she could trust only months before.

"Together," she echoed, fearing that she may very well be alone no matter what she did.

Wanting to chase away the feeling of dread, Peggy cradled Benjamin's face and kissed him fervently, wishing they were still back in her chambers beneath the safety of the sheets and pretending the rest of the world did not exist.

"Thank you," she breathed, "I don't believe I'd have had the courage to go through with this were it not for you..."

[batgurl1989]

A Campsite To Remember

Summary: You and Henry go camping

Word Count: 2522

Warnings: None that I can think of. Fluff

A/N: This is a continuation of ideas from @henrynerdfan​ and @stephartrave​. A camping date. This follows after A Hike to Remember, A Picnic to Remember, and A Beach to Remember, and is currently the last of this series, unless another idea comes in that runs in this same vein. It has not been beta-ed, so all mistakes are my own. If you want to be added to my taglist let me know.

Taglist: @rmtndew​ @henrynerdfan​ @cynic-spirit​ @princesssterek​ @summersong69​

The sun was warm when we arrived at the campground. Setting my backpack down, glad to be free of its weight, I looked around the site. There was a wood platform for setting up the tent so it would stay dry on one side of the clearing. Across from it was a picnic table and a firepit with a grill over it, perfect for cooking. Back down the path was a pair of outhouses. Not going to lie, that was one of the reasons for picking this campsite to rent when I looked it up online. Not having to balance while squatting over a hole seemed like something I would not want to do in the middle of the night if the need arose.

Henry scooped up my pack and moved it over to the wooden platform. He had been carrying the tent and the food. I had lugged our clothes and miscellaneous essentials we thought we might need, along with anything Kal might need. The Akita bounded around the clearing, barking at squirrels, letting them know he was moving in for the weekend.

“We made good time.” Henry smiled at me as he passed by on his way to set up the tent. I grinned, throwing a stick for Kal. I had offered to help build the tent, but Henry insisted he could handle it alone. Probably for the best, anyway, as tents and I didn’t seem to get along well.

Kal and I decided to explore the nearby forest, enjoying the fall weather. The leaves had changed once again, and the sun warmed the scenery, turning the whole area into a fiery display of colours. Kal pranced beside me, proudly carrying a stick in his mouth as though he had conquered it. I scratched his head as we walked, excitement blooming in me about this weekend. In honour of us being whatever we were for a year, Henry had flown back to Washington for a camping weekend.

Since our picnic date, we had kept in touch as best we could. His filming schedule kept him busy, and my job was becoming ever more demanding. We made sure to text as often as we could, call each other when the times aligned across time zones. Thankfully, we lived in a time where video calls were a thing. He had even flown me out to set one week for a beach getaway when filming went on a short break. We weren’t boyfriend/girlfriend, no labels, but we somehow knew that this was exclusive without ever blatantly saying it.

By the time Kal and I returned to the campsite the tent was up, and the sleeping bags were unrolled inside. Henry had gotten a fire roaring already. Even though the sun was still shining, it would soon set, and the bite of Autumn would follow quickly behind it. Even now the breeze that soughed between the trees brought with it a chill. The fire was a welcome balm to that chill.

When I stepped up beside Henry as he watched the flames lick higher, I slid my hand into his large warm one. He entwined our fingers, giving my hand a comforting squeeze. I leaned into his muscled arm, trying to absorb as much of his heat as I could.

“Cold?” Henry chuckled, dropping my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders. He tugged me into the side of his body, tucking me close under his arm. He pressed a kiss to the side of my head, lingering there, resting his head on mine. “I missed you. I missed this.”

“I missed you too.” I whispered, wrapping my arm around his back as I snuggled closer. I sighed; it felt so right to be here, in nature, like this. Nature was sort of our thing, so it was kind of perfect we were celebrating with a camping trip. Kal bumped my free hand with his big head, causing laughter to burst from both of us. “Of course, I missed you too.”

Henry and I moved about the campsite in perfect harmony, getting things ready for dinner. I had prepared a few things ahead of the trip so we would need to bring less things with us, and still be able to have nutritious meals. That didn’t mean I didn’t also bring the ingredients for smores. Every camping trip need smores.

The tinfoil packets filled with chopped veggies grilled nicely on the open fire, and the steaks were done to perfection. I don’t know if I could have pulled it off if I didn’t have Henry with me. I know it’s a stereotype that men are good at grilling, but it must be for a reason. Kal munched happily on the dog food I had made for him while we ate, his tail wagging the whole time.

“Watch out! It’s going to burn!” Henry laughed later as he watched my marshmallow catch on fire. He reached over to pull it out of the flames, blowing the fire out while still laughing. I hit his shoulder lightly for making fun of me, but I was laughing too. “You can’t put it in the flames. You have to put it down by the smoldering coals. Have you never done this before?”

“I did it lots as a kid, but it’s been a while.” I admitted, tossing my burnt marshmallow into the fire, before stabbing fresh one on. Henry shifted closer to me, guiding my skewer down to the edge of the fire where there were a few coals glowing with a warm orange heat.

“The trick is to keep rotating it like it’s on a rotisserie, not letting any side get more heat than the others.” Henry slowly spun my skewer in my hand, showing me his technique. I was distracted by his closeness, so it was a good thing he had a hold of the stick, otherwise this marshmallow was going to end up covered in ash. Risking it anyway, I kissed his cheek. A smile broke out on his face, but he kept his attention on the fire. “If you keep doing that, you definitely will burn your marshmallow.”

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” I admitted, pretending to take his smore making seriously. I had to suck my lips into my mouth to stop myself from laughing. He kept spinning the skewer, concentrating on it as the gooey confection on the end turned gold.

“Graham cracker and chocolate.” Henry instructed, getting ready to pull it from the heat. I held out the pieces I had prepared for the doomed marshmallow. He placed the warmed pillow of sugar on the piece of chocolate, and when I pressed the second graham cracker on top, he slid the skewer out. “And that is how you make the perfect smore.”

“Yum! Thank you.” I stared at the perfect little dessert sandwich, watching the marshmallow ooze out the sides. When I looked up to thank him again, Henry surprised me by pressing his lips to mine softly. It wasn’t as demanding as some of our kisses could be, or as chaste. It walked the line between the two, flirting with both sides equally.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” Henry grinned when he pulled away, tossing my words back at me. I slowly opened my eyes. I would never complain about surprise kisses from this man. “You had better eat that before it gets cold. Cold smores are not as enjoyable.”

I mentally snapped out of the daze his kiss had put me and concentrated on eating my smore before the thing melted anymore. As it was chocolate was running down my thumb, threatening to drip off my hand and on to my jeans. I licked it up before that could happen, catching Henry watching me as I did. A blush crept up my neck, heating my cheeks when I realized what my action must have seemed like. Henry quickly looked away when he saw that I caught him, a blush painting his cheeks as well.

Night fell fast out here, and between the fresh air and the hike to get out to the camp, I was exhausted early on. My full stomach probably didn’t help as I fought off a food coma. Henry noticed me trying to stifle my yawns, covering them up behind my hand as I looked away from him. Chuckling, he patted my leg. We had already cleaned up the food and hid it in the cache to keep bears and other critters away from it. We had just been enjoying the fire and the clear night.

“Time for bed, love.” Henry encouraged as he stood up. He offered me his hand, which I gladly took. My body felt limp and sated after sitting by the fire with good food warming me from the inside, and the guy I was camping with warming me from the outside. He wrapped his arm around my body, his hand resting on my opposite hip as he guided me to the tent using a flashlight to see with. “Go in and get changed. I will wait.”

Kal had already put himself to bed in the tent, but he raised his head in greeting when I entered. He had taken over Henry’s sleeping bag, claiming it as his own. I laughed as I shone my flashlight at my pack so I could find my pjs. I pulled out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt for Henry so he wouldn’t have to go digging through the pack as well. I quickly changed in a pair of flannel pajama pants, tugging on warm wool socks. My heart sang as I pulled on one of his old shirts that he had left last time he visited, just for me. It didn’t smell like him anymore, but he promised he had brought some more to swap out this one with.

“Your turn.” I smiled, unzipping the tent flap to step out. Henry ducked inside, and faster than I had been, changed.

Kal was unmoveable, even though Henry tried to pull his sleeping bag out from under the Akita. The dog just grunted and seemed to make himself weigh more. I chuckled, flipping open my sleeping bag in invitation. I certainly wasn’t going to complain about sleeping beside Henry. If nothing else, he radiated heat and could be my personal furnace.

“Are you sure?” Henry double checked before climbing in to join me. Up until now, we had never slept together. Even during our beach getaway, we had two beds in the room. It had been really hard to resist the temptation to crawl into his bed that night, but I didn’t want to cross a boundary he might not be ready for. I found out later, he had been thinking the same thing.

“I’m sure.” I promised, letting as much of the promise show in my eyes as it did in my words. Henry carefully slid into the cramped space of my sleeping bag. I found it adorable that he seemed to try to make his massive body smaller, to take up as little room as possible.

“Maybe if you…” Henry trailed off as we tried to figure out how we were both going to fit in the sleeping bag. Our legs were tangled together already, and his arm was under my head. I nuzzled into his chest, breathing in his scent deeply, trying to cover it up by pretending I was just searching for a comfortable position.

Suddenly I was being rolled up, so I was laying basically on top of Henry. He smiled as he flattened himself underneath me, his shoulders spanning the width of the sleeping bag. Both his arms were around me, shifting me so I was more on top of him. I wanted to fight him, but there wasn’t a lot of wiggle room.

“Just give in.” Henry whispered in my ear before I pulled my head away to search his face. The smile gracing his face reached his eyes, letting me know he was fully onboard with this position. “Unless its too uncomfortable for you.”

“No… No, it’s not that.” I tried to relax. This was the closest we had gotten other than when we were hugging in the ocean. His hand smoothed down my back, sending tingles up my spine. Being this close to him was shorting out my brain and I couldn’t think straight. His finger under my chin had me looking back at him, his eyes searching mine for what might be wrong. “I just… don’t want to squish you.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” Henry laughed. I had to laugh at my reason too. This man was the strongest he had ever been and could easily bench me plus some. He cupped my cheek after tucking my hair away from my face. “How about this? If during the night either of us gets uncomfortable, I will sleep with Kal. Just say the word, and I’ll move.”

“Okay.” I said quietly, scared he would move now. I really was enjoying being this close to him. Though I am positive sleeping beside Kal wouldn’t be a new thing for him, I would feel bad kicking him out of the warm sleeping bag. Henry’s eyes searched mine again, making sure I was 100% okay with this.

“Oh. And to warn you, Kal snores.” Henry chuckled, wrapping his arms around me again, pulling my weight fully onto him. I hadn’t even noticed I was trying to hold myself off him until he did that.

“I remember.” I laughed, reaching over to give the Akita a pat good night, before tucking myself into Henry’s body. I was about to tuck my face into his neck, probably about to shock him with my cold nose, but I wanted one more thing.

I lifted my head back up, looking down into Henry’s blue eyes, getting momentarily lost. He looked up at me, his eyebrows raised in question. I smiled, and slowly lowered my face to his, pressing a warm kiss to his lips. I savoured the way our lips moved against each other, the way his tongue gently explored my mouth, getting reacquainted. The kiss wasn’t rushed, but it still made my toes curl and my skin tingle with goosebumps. The passion was slow burning, drawn out in long languid reverence.

As far as good night kisses went, this one was my favourite. Probably because it was our first true good night kiss. It wasn’t the chaste one we had offered each other at the beach hotel. This one was a kiss people more familiar with each other shared. I couldn’t help the grin on my face when we pulled away from each other. It was still on my face when I tucked my face into his neck, biting my slightly swollen lip, going over what just happened in my mind.

“Good night, sweetheart.” Henry whispered, smoothing my hair down before kissing the top of my head. I pressed a kiss to his neck, whispering the words back to him, silently praying Kal would hog his sleeping bag tomorrow night and we would have to do this again.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 2

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

The Hoover building is still quiet at 8 am, weary agents are sipping their second cup of coffee and wrapping their brains around the task of the day. Studying the minds of murderers, rapists and sadistic torturers is enough to spoil anyone’s breakfast, and yet they approach it clinically, objectively. The reward of knowing that you helped take a monster off the streets is barely enough to keep them going, but they do. Maybe even more than that, they live with the guilt of knowing that if they stopped, it might mean one more murdered child or assaulted woman. One more man found floating in the river. So they get up every day and do it again.

Mulder stops by A.D. Kirkbride’s office to say good morning and finds the man angrily shoving the phone back on its cradle with a plasticky crack.

“Morning, sir. Going great so far I gather?” he quips from his spot in the doorframe.

A.D. Kirkbride scoffs, running a hand through his short cropped sandy-blonde hair. Diminutive in stature, Kirkbride is someone to be taken seriously. His pointed features and gold-rimmed glasses convey the gravity of the work they do here each day in his ever-present frown.

“These goddamn worthless couriers are on my last fucking nerve,” he laments, gathering the papers on his desk into one pile with jerky, frustrated movements. “This is the third goddamn time one of them has no-showed. We need that autopsy report from Quantico today, and because this worthless fucking courier decided to get the flu or something, we have to send an agent down there to get it.” He sighs and sits back in his chair, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Can you send Agent Wilkes in here, please, so I can let him know he has to waste two fucking hours of his day driving down there?”

Mulder shrugs. “I can go get it, I haven’t even started on the Marino file yet. It’s a nice day for a drive.”

Kirkbride eyes him skeptically. “You’re a senior agent, Mulder. You’ve earned the right not to be the bitch-boy.”

Mulder laughs good-naturedly. “I appreciate that, sir, but I really don’t mind. I just got the new Radiohead cassette, it’ll give me a chance to listen to it.”

Kirkbride nods and puts his glasses back on. “I guess it’s Wilkes’ lucky day, then. It’s the autopsy report for the Dugan file, you should be able to get it from the pathologist on duty. And don’t fuck around, we need it ASAP.”

Mulder puts a hand to his chest and makes a mock-wounded face. “Me? Fuck around? I would never, sir.”

Kirkbride shakes his head with a smirk and turns back to his computer. “Get the fuck out of here, Mulder.”

It’s a beautiful late-Spring day and Mulder really does appreciate the opportunity to take a drive to Quantico, even during the morning rush hour. Removing his suit jacket and loosening his tie, he pops in the cassette and merges onto I-395 South as Thom Yorke sings Paranoid Android.

Ninety minutes later, he’s parked near the morgue; having worked out of Quantico for years before securing a spot on the small team of criminal behavioral analysts who operate out of the Hoover building, he knows his way around. He first pokes his head into the office the pathologists share and, finding it empty, he moves on to the autopsy bay. The slabs are all clean and free from corpses, which is a relief. As many crime scene photos as he’s seen, the live version always gives him the creeps. A young woman in blue scrubs is perched on a stool with her back to him, filling out a form by hand. He approaches her, speaking when he’s still several feet away so he doesn’t startle her.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the pathologist on duty,” he says, and she swivels on her seat, her shoulder length auburn hair swinging gently with the motion.

When she turns to face him, he’s momentarily struck by how pretty she is. Her red hair is complemented by ivory skin, a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her Grecian nose. Her eyes are a brilliant shade of blue, not unlike the morning sky he’d enjoyed on his drive down.

“I’m the pathologist on duty, how can I help you, Mr.-” she looks at him expectantly.

“Mulder, Agent Mulder,” he replies, stepping forward to offer his hand.

“How can I help you, Agent Mulder?” she asks, taking his hand with a firm, confident grip, though her palm is dwarfed by his own broad paw.

“I’ve been tasked with picking up the Dugan autopsy report. Seems like there was a snafu with the courier,” he offers, stuffing his hands in his pockets in an attempt to act casual.

She stands, and he’s again struck, but this time by how short she is, barely reaching his shoulder in her sneakers. “That’s an odd task for an agent, isn’t it?” she says as she moves to a small filing cabinet and rifles through its contents.

He moves to stand beside her, leaning against the wall. “I suppose so, but I don’t mind. Nice to take a break from profiling sociopaths now and then.” He feels his heart do a little leap at the small smile that quirks at the corner of her mouth in response. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” he continues.

She turns to him, holding out a file. “I didn’t give it,” she says dryly. “It’s Dana Scully. I did this autopsy myself, actually, and I’d be interested to know what you make of it.”

He opens the file and leafs through its contents as she returns to her post on the stool, picking up her pen. She appears to see this conversation as concluded, but he doesn’t feel ready for it to end just yet.

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard a bit about this case, though it’s not one I’m assigned to. What interests you about it?” he asks as he follows her back to where she’s sat down, taking the stool beside her without invitation. She quirks an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything about it.

“My findings indicate that though there is only one entry point for the stab wound, there were at least 15 distinct entries into that same location, which would suggest that the assailant stabbed him in nearly the exact same location repeatedly. I suppose I’m wondering what would possess someone to do that.”

He watches her speak with rapt attention, transfixed by the soft, sibilant S’s that pour from her pouty mouth.

“Hey Scully, do you know of any good coffee places around here?” he asks hopefully, completely changing the subject.

She gives him a curiously incredulous look. “Scully is my last name, my first name is Dana,” she answers.

He studies her for a moment, then shakes his head slowly. “You don’t look like a Dana,” he finally says.

Her eyebrows lift and he can see that she’s fighting back a smile. “Really? What do I look like then?”

“A Scully,” he says plainly, and his heart fills to bursting at the wry smile he gets in response.

She shakes her head and turns back to the form she was filling out. “There’s a place called Cafe Adamo a few minutes away that’s pretty good,” she answers his question.

“Great, are you free now?” he asks, forcing a calm demeanor even as his palms are becoming clammy.

She snaps her head up from the form to look at him with an open-mouthed expression of surprise, and he sees a bit of panic in her eyes. Not a good sign.

“Oh,” she stammers, “I’m sorry, Agent Mulder, I have a boyfriend.” Her cheeks are reddening in a devastatingly cute way.

He keeps his expression neutral, and can’t resist messing with her a little.

“I just meant as colleagues, Scully, to discuss the file,” he says matter-of-factly.

If she was blushing before, she’s morphing into a tomato now. She closes her eyes briefly and takes a breath. “I-I am so sorry, Agent Mulder, that was very presumptuous.”

He smiles broadly, no longer able to contain how much fun he’s having with this exchange.

“I’m just messing with you, Scully. I was definitely asking you out,” he admits, and her eyes go big before she deflates a little with relief, biting her lip and looking away with a soft smile on her mouth. “Thank you for this,” he says, holding up the file. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

He stands and moves to the door, stopping just before he exits. “Say hi to that boyfriend of yours for me,” he adds, “he’s a lucky guy.”

She blushes again and he takes a moment to soak up the image before he returns to his car. Tossing the file onto the passenger seat, he flips the cassette to side B and hits the road back up to Washington, finding that he can’t seem to get his mouth to stop smiling.

————————————————————————-

She slumps through the door at half-past six, dead on her feet.

“Hey,” Ethan calls from in front of the stove, “dinner will be about twenty minutes, if you want to take a shower.”

He knows that she always likes to shower when she’s performed autopsies, not wanting the stink of the morgue to find its way onto any of their furniture.

“Thank you,” she replies, toeing off her shoes and stopping by to give him a quick kiss before she moves to the bathroom.

The hot spray of the shower is a welcome relief and she emerges feeling much more alert. They sit at the table, sharing the details of their days over shrimp scampi and white wine. They tend to be very thorough in their retelling of their workdays, and Ethan gives a play by play of a meeting with his boss before Dana tells him all about a student who challenged her in front of the class and how she shut him down. She doesn’t intentionally leave out the interaction with Agent Mulder, but it doesn’t come up somehow.

After dinner, they curl up on the couch to watch ER together. Ethan is on his back with his head propped up on the arm of the couch, and Dana fits herself into the vee of his legs, her back resting on his chest. He idly traces his fingers across her collarbone and shoulders while they watch George Clooney and Julianna Margulies grapple with being both coworkers and lovers.

This is their favorite show, and yet her mind continues to wander to those hooded green eyes, and the boyish smile that played across his pouty lower lip. He was very cute, that’s without question, but she interacts with handsome men all the time at work; why is this particular one worming his way into her brain? She shakes her head to clear the thought, then rotates her body so that she’s belly to belly with Ethan, her head resting on his chest. He kisses the crown of her head and she sighs. She’s got a good thing here, that much she knows.

Maybe she should have gotten coffee with him, though, as colleagues. Maybe.

[lunaserenade]

Entangled

Gif by @dornish-queen

Masterlist

Part Eleven of the Meet Me at Sunrise Series

Previous Chapter: Haunted

Next Chapter: Exposed

Author’s Note: Thank you to @icanbeyourjedi , @reddead-trash and @sugarontherims for tolerating me while I overthought everything I wrote for this chapter.

Beta reading dream team: @violentcosmicsymphony and @briefgalaxycat <3

Paring: Marcus Pike x FBI Agent!Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions of blood.

Summary: The team rallies together after a traumatic incident.

“I have an officer down, I need paramedics immediately.” Your voice shook as you rattled off your address to the 911 operator. Snatching a blanket from the couch you reapplied pressure to Marcus' wound, the pain bringing him back to consciousness with a yelp. You gave him a weak smile “Marcus I need you to stay awake. Paramedics are on the way. I-... I'm sorry, I should have disarmed him, I thought I had and I-”

“Baby, I'm okay.” Marcus let out a whine as he tried to sit up and gingerly reached to touch the back of his head, a faint smear of blood from when Pearce slammed him onto the floor. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Says the man bleeding in our living room.” You let out a slightly hysteric laugh at his lack of concern to his own wellbeing. The seven minutes it took for the paramedics to arrive were easily the longest minutes of your life, and you clung to Marcus' hand as they went to work. Once he was loaded on the stretcher, and you had waved off the medics who were trying to tend to your cut cheek, you followed them downstairs and into the ambulance.

“See honey? I'm going to be fine.” Marcus gave you a weak smile. “It was only a light stabbing.”

“... I'm going to let that slide on account of the blood loss.” You gave his hand a squeeze and pressed your lips to his knuckles, the sound of the ambulance siren ringing in your ears as it raced toward the hospital.

-------

Standing in the ER waiting room you knew you must look like something out of a horror film: hair wild, a shallow cut across your cheekbone, and your hands still covered in Marcus' blood. You could feel yourself trembling as you awaited Regina and Maddox's arrival, they had been your first call after Marcus' father. You had promised to keep him updated but it did look like Marcus would be fine as he had insisted the entire ride to the hospital. You heard your name, turning to see Regina, her wife Amber, and Maddox at the Emergency Room entrance. Regina was at your side in an instant, it wasn't until she wrapped her arms around you that the true gravity of the evening hit you, your chest heaving with sobs. You barely registered Amber attempting to clean the blood off your hands with wet wipes from her purse as Regina whispered soft reassurances into your hair.

“Mads, go see about getting us back there to see Pike. Flash your badge if you have to.” Regina said to the younger agent as she surveyed your face, the cut across your cheek had finally stopped bleeding. “Hon, what happened?”

“Ioan Pearce. He was waiting in our apartment when we got home. He must have been following us this week... I should've known... This is my fault, I brought Marcus undercover with me. If it wasn't fo-” You felt yourself spiraling quickly.

“No. You need to stop. This is Laurent and Pearce's fault, no one else's. Tonight, we make sure Marcus is alright. Tomorrow we tie up these loose ends and get Pearce in cuffs.” Regina reassured you.

“Cuffs... body bag, same difference.” You muttered.

“And that's why you probably shouldn't be joining us.” Regina laughed as a nurse came out calling for the group of you, you could finally see Marcus.

“I'd love to see you try and stop me.” You said with a smile, although your words were deadly serious.

-----

Marcus was sitting up on the edge of the bed in the ER, freshly stitched up, and he looked instantly relieved when his eyes met yours. You immediately rushed into his arms, silent tears streaming down your cheeks as you saw the bandage on his abdomen and buried your face in his shoulder.

“-‘s my fault. It’s my fault you’re hurt. I can’t live without you.” You whispered against his neck and felt him shake his head.

“Sweetheart, I’m alright. They’re even going to discharge me soon.” Marcus looked up, noticing the rest of the crew for the first time and gave them a smile. “Ten stitches, nothing vital hit, and a bump on the head. All I really need is a change of clothes and sleep.”

Needing to see for yourself you peaked at his torso, your fingers ghosting over the dressing covering his stitches. Marcus pressed a reassuring kiss to your forehead, his hands drifting to your waist.

“We’re glad you’re alright, boss. We’ll catch this psychopath.” Maddox said from beside Amber and Regina, handing Marcus a fresh shirt to change into.

“I reached out to the office, let them know what happened. They posted officers outside your apartment, I told them they’d have to wait until tomorrow for a full statement. Tonight, the two of you need to rest.” Regina said, squeezing her wife’s hand, relieved to see Marcus relatively unharmed.

“Gina, thank you. For everything.” Marcus said sincerely.

“We’re family, we always take care of our own.” She said with a fond smile.

-----

The search for Ioan Pearce was on, and undeterred by push back from the higher ups you and Marcus insisted on being involved. Pouring over CCTV footage and any new leads on Pearce’s whereabouts. It'd been a week since the break in and though he wasn't fully healed yet Marcus was relentless in his pursuit, but they were getting close. Maddox and Regina had been staking out a location that was a possible safe house for Pearce and his associates, they were sure he would surface any day now. You were camped out on Marcus' office couch with Regina, Maddox was dozing off at his desk but none of you had the heart to wake him. The effort he was putting in tailing Pearce's associates was admirable, and he seemed to have a natural knack for going unnoticed while trailing a suspect.

“I think he'll finally give in and end up at that safe house any time now. He's assuming we've lost any trace of him and he's starting to get cocky. He'll let his guard down and that's when we'll strike. I've got people watching the safe house twenty-four hours a day now, so I think we should all be prepared to move as soon as he's spotted.” Marcus said from his desk, giving a small stretch and wincing lightly as it tugged at his stitches.

“I agree, I think Pearce is getting impatient. That’ll be his downfall.” Regina said, buried in Ioan Pearce’s file trying to see if there was anything she missed that could finally end this.

“I'm just ready to put this bastard behind bars like Laurent.” You said with a small huff as a half-asleep Maddox poked his head into the office.

“My CI just called. Pearce should be going to the safe house in the morning.” Maddox said as he rubbed at his eyes.

“Fantastic! Then I want everyone to head home and get some rest. We take this guy in, come morning.” Marcus said with a smile.

As everyone packed up and headed out for the night Marcus wrapped his arm around your waist. You stood on your tip toes to press a few soft kisses to his jaw. Finally, this nightmare was almost over.

—-

The early morning sun was beginning to creep across the sky as you prepared for the raid on Ioan Pearce’s safe house. Considering how deeply personal this mission had gotten for you and Marcus you both agreed to take a back seat and cover the back door. Regina, Maddox, and a small team would breach the front door to apprehend Pearce; You and Marcus would cover the back door in case he tried to make a break for it.

“I won’t lie, I’m a little disappointed I won’t get to lay hands on this creep.” You gave Marcus a small smile as you adjusted your earpiece.

“As long as we finally get this guy in cuffs, I'm happy.” Marcus said as he adjusted the Velcro straps of your bulletproof vest.

“Breaching door in 10 – 9 – 8” Regina counted down over the earpiece as she prepared to break into the front of the house. You planted your feet and held your gun loosely in your hand, Marcus at your side as you covered the rear entrance. The shouts and sound of the front door breaking echoed loudly in the otherwise silent neighborhood. You could hear scuffles coming from inside the house when suddenly Maddox's voice came through your earpiece.

“He's heading for the back! He's running!” Maddox shouted.

Ioan Pearce burst through the back door and putting your full body weight behind your shoulder you slammed into him, knocking him off balance and to the ground roughly. In an instant Marcus had him flipped onto his front, handcuffing him while reading him his rights. Marcus looked up at you and smiled. It was done, this insane case was conclusively solved and everyone involved in custody. Maybe now the two of you could finally relax.

------

That evening after an early celebratory dinner and drinks with the rest of the team you walked hand in hand with Marcus down the path alongside the Reflecting Pool on the National Mall. The stress of the last few months with this case hanging over both your heads was settled and maybe the two of you could relax, if only for a little while. You would have never thought you would be where you were today when Marcus had finally asked you out nine months ago, in this very spot no less. He was particularly contemplative tonight, but it was a comfortable kind of silence. Just happy to be in each other's company as the pair of you strolled quietly, the purples and pinks of the sunset streaked across the sky behind the Washington Monument as you reached the end of the Reflecting Pool. Tugging Marcus close, you snaked your arms around him and tucked your head against his chest. Marcus smiled down at you and pressed his lips to your hair, but his nerves were starting to get the better of him.

“Mmm I can't wait to get home. We can curl up on the couch with a movie.” You pulled back to look up at him and smile. “Maybe have a glass of wine and an early night.” Giving him a suggestive eyebrow wiggle you captured his lips in a lingering kiss.

“That sounds like a perfect night in.” Marcus said and paused for a second. “Before we head home, there is something I need to ask you.”

“Of course honey, anything.” You replied with an adoring smile.

“I know we haven't been together for a long time, but I do know that my life is better with you in it. I love you and I can't see a future without you next to me.” Marcus took a deep breath, reached into his pocket, and dropped to one knee. “Sweetheart, mi corazón, will you marry me?” He gently took your left hand and held out a simple but beautiful cushion cut engagement ring with a thin platinum band. Your heart was pounding, eyes welling up as you grinned down at Marcus. It was never a question; your heart truly was his and had been from the moment the pair of you had sat here that early morning watching the sunrise.

“Oh Marcus, yes! I can't think of anything I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you.” Your hand trembled slightly from excitement as he slid the ring onto your finger. Marcus stood up quickly and kissed you deeply, holding you tight to his chest.

“I love you. I love you so much.” He said reverently between kisses, you could feel his smile against your lips. You had both been through so much recently and now? Now a new and amazing chapter of your lives was about to begin, and you couldn't wait to see where it would take you.

tagged: @diva-1992, @yespolkadotkitty, @sarahjkl82-blog, @seasonschange-butpeopledont, @mrsparknuts, @disgruntledspacedad, @mrschiltoncat, @giselatropicana, @sugarontherims, @cynic-spirit, @supernaturalgirl, @farfromjustordinary , @keeper0fthestars​

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tags.

[thatsgay-writes]

Elle Greenaway x Reader

Summary: Elle makes a shocking discovery after they catch an unsub. (Follows along season 1 episode 7)

Warning: Criminal Mind stuff

The reader is given a name, for certain purposes and it is third person on purpose.

Word Count: 2.5k

Dr. Thomas Fuller wrote, “with foxes, we must play the fox.”

---

“Bad?” Agent Hotchner asks as Elle handed him a folder. “The worst.” Elle responds as they head to the round table room. Gideon stood in front of a board as he looked at all of the images. “Crawford family. Murdered 3 days ago.” He says just as Derek walked in, “Saw it on the news.” He says as he takes a quick look at the board as he walks by. “They were found in the basement of their house...” Gideon says, still staring at the images. “Bags packed for a vacation they never took.” JJ continues for him. “Report said it was a murder/suicide. The father stabbed the mom, then shot himself.” Derek says as he sits down, still not fully sure as to why they were taking it as a case. “That’s the conclusion the Maryland State police came to. The gun was next to the father, he had gunpower residue on his right hand.” JJ states as she states a few things listed on the report in front of her. “And now you must have some compelling reason to think that Chris Crawford didn’t off his family?” Derek asks, looking to JJ for a response. “Yeah. Another murdered family. The Millers-- found a month ago. The mother, Reese Miller, her two children and her new husband. Again, they were found in the basement and like the Crawford's, their suitcases were packed for a vacation.”

---

“Elle!” Bailey yelled as she ran towards her girlfriend. Elle Greenaway and Bailey Woods had been friends since Kindergarten, both managing to stay in the same school all the way through middle school and up to high school. In 8th grade, they both finally confessed the feelings they held for each other. “Bailey?” Elle asked in concern as she watched her girlfriend run up to her, tears visibly rolling down her face. “Bailey, baby, what’s wrong?” Elle asked as she scooped the younger girl, by a few months, into her arms. “Did someone do something? Tell me who and we can beat them up together.” Elle said, semi-seriously. You just shook your head as you held onto her shirt tightly. It was the week before Junior year ended, the only tears falling from your face should be happy ones. “What happened?” Elle asked concerned, you had never acted like this before. She knew it couldn’t have anything to do with your dad since he was home for the next few months.

Elle made a split second decision and led you out of the school before any of the teachers could notice. “C’mon, let’s go.” She said to you as she opened the passenger door to your car. She had taken the keys from your pocket, knowing you were in no condition to drive. As she drove to your secret spot, you managed to calm down some and were taking deep breaths to calm all the way down. Elle parked in one of the parking spots at the top of the abandoned parking garage and turned off the car. “Can you tell me what’s wrong now?” She asked as she reached over the middle section and grabbed your hand. You took a few more deep breaths before looking up at her, heartbreak shone through your eyes. “I’m moving.”

---

Elle stood outside the interrogation room as she watched Reid talk to Eric Miller. “Is that what this is about, hmm? You think I’m crazy, man? You think I suddenly snapped and slaughtered my own wife and kids?” Eric kept asking questions as he got more and more agitated. “You think I did this? Huh? Is that what you think!?” Eric yelled as he suddenly stood up. Elle looked to Hotch with wide eyes before they entered the room. “Sit down.” Hotch told Eric firmly. Reid was the youngest on the team and it was his first time doing an interrogation solo, so Elle and Hotch were a little protective over him. “Is this your daddy?”

--- South East Washington D.C

Elle sat quietly in her seat as she sat in the back seat of the car as they drove towards the address Hotch and Garcia had found while snooping through the Crawford’s financials. Reid and Hotch both shared a look at the unusually quiet Elle. Usually when in the car, she would be looking over a file or talking to others to understand more about the case but tis time she was just staring out a window. “Is... Um, is everything okay?” Reid asked, his voice going a little high at the end of his question. His question shook Elle out of whatever she was thinking about, “Yeah... Maryland just brings back some memories...” You’ve been here before?” Hotch asks, concerned about the other agent but also making sure that nothing would intervene with the case they were working on. Elle sat silently for a few seconds before answering right as they pulled up to their destination, “No.”

“Federal Agents!” “FBI” “Federal Agents!” “Clear!” Hotch, Elle, and Derek all yelled simultaneously as they busted through the front door of the home. Elle scrunched her nose in disgust at the sight of the home, “Cleanest thing in here...” She muttered as she kicked what looked like an empty dog bowl. She stayed at the front of the house with Gideon and Reid as Derek and Hotch went deeper into the home. She watched with a questioning gaze as Gideon walked over to the wall and picked up a single painting that was hanging. “What’s that?” She asked as Gideon looked down at the drawing. “It’s a child’s painting. It’s a colonial house. Mom, dad, 2 children out front holding hands.” Gideon listed what he saw. “And a big dog.” She states as she looks over his shoulder.

---

Bailey and Elle laid together in her bed, the end of summer coming faster than ever before. She and Elle had spent almost all their time together, going on dates, spending nights at each other’s houses, etc. Anywhere Elle went, Bailey were there, and anywhere Bailey went, Elle was there. Right now the two of them were laying in Bailey’s bed watching T.V. “Stop staring at me.” Elle mumbles as she stares at the television. Bailey lets out a breath of air and rolls her eyes with a groan, “Love meeee, I want attentionnnnn.” She draws out causing Elle to playfully roll her eyes in response. “Fine, come here.” Elle says as she opens her arms out for Bailey to lay in. Bailey plays with Elle’s hair as she laid her head on her girlfriends chest. “I want kisses...” “Bailey repeats over and over again, like a chant. “Geez, someone is clingy today.” Elle states as she sits up and leans back against the wall. Bailey shifted around so she was now straddling Elle. “I leave in 3 weeks... I just wanna kiss my girlfriend.” Bailey pouts as Elle finally gives in. “Okayyyy.” She says with fake annoyance.

Bailey and Elle were deep into a make out session when her door suddenly busted open. “Eww!” “Ezra!” Bailey yelled as her sister covered her eyes with her arms. “Eww! Not you too! Mommy and daddy were doing that too!” The 5 year old yelled causing Bailey to laugh. Bailey gets off of Elle’s lap and picks up her little sister. “Aww,” Bailey says with a fake pout, “Do you feel left out?” Bailey starts kissing all over Ezra’s face causing the little girl to giggle and try to get away. “No! Eww! Stop it!” Ezra yells as she gets out of Bailey’s hold and pretends to rub away the kiss in fake disgust. Bailey just rolls her eyes at her sisters action. “C’mon, let’s go see if Benson is awake. We’ll be right back Elle.” Bailey says over her shoulder as she and Ezra leave the room. Elle laid back on Bailey’s bed as she left the room, staring at the ceiling. All she could think about was how in love with the younger girl she was.

Her train of thought got cut off as a small body was laid on top of hers. Elle immediately moved her arms to hold him and make sure he didn’t fall off of her. “Hey buddy...” She said in a baby voice as Bailey laid down next to her and pulled her into her. Bailey let out a groan as Ezra jumped on top of her before snuggling up. “Alright... What do you want to watch?”

---

“Okay. No, I understand. Yeah, I figured as much. Thank you.” Derek says as he gets off the phone. “He’s been staring at those pictures all morning.” Elle states as she stares at Gideon who is staring at the drawings done by the murdered children. “well, I sure hope he sees a connection cause I’ve checked doctors, lawyers, travel agents, tutors, contract workers. I got nothing.” Derek says as Hotch walks by. “Why target those families?” Elle wonders still watching Gideon. “Well, to know that, we have to know how.” Hotch says as he sits down and continues looking at the file in his hands.

“ We know organized killers are often skilled workers with above-average intelligence. High birth status. And in most cases...male. In the workplace, he's socially confident. And with women...sexually confident. Every offense...is preplanned. Targeting the victim is almost as pleasurable as the actual kill. These guys, they're...they're meticulous. It's a compulsion. Everything has to have its proper place. They do exhaustive amounts of research on their victims. They watch their every move every last detail is observed. Everything has to be written ever so neatly in a book or possibly a journal. When the kids are comin' home from school. When daddy'll be home. Playtime. Suppertime. Bath time. Bedtime. Plan the work...work the plan. This is the way that he maintains control. It's also how he personalizes his target... So nothing's left to chance. Absolutely nothing... Is left out of place, ever. So he plans the work... And when he's good and ready, he works that plan. He takes great pride in his job. I think the workplace has to be the connection.” Derek says as they go over everything they have learned about the unsub.

Gideon walks out of the room he was in with two drawings in his hands. He holds both the pictures up side by side. “Both are by Emily, painted months apart.  This one...is full of color, life. The one I found at Emily's house has lines, dimensions. No color. I believe Emily was coerced to make this. It's a point of view. It is his point of view. This is where the killer stood, just watched the family.” Gideon says after having finally figured out the connection of the paintings to the case. Hotch drops a ring on the desk he was leaning on, letting it spins some before picking it up. “Each of the dead husbands was missing his wedding ring. This is the unsub’s trophy.”

---

Bailey and Elle sat on the edge of the cliff at their special place. Trying to soak up as much time as they could before Bailey had to leave in a few hours. “I can’t believe you’re leaving...” Elle state as she leans her head against Bailey’s shoulder. “We had everything planned out too...” She trails off, looking at the scenery in front of her. “Hey don’t speak like that...” Bailey says as she holds Elle’s face in her hands. “It’s just one school year apart and then we will go to college together like we planned.” Bailey states before she pauses. “Look, I’m going to make you a promise, okay?” Elle raised an eyebrow at Bailey skeptically, promises were a big thing for Bailey, she never broke them. Bailey lets go of Elle’s face and pulls a ring from her pocket. “No before you freak out, this is my dad’s ring.” Bailey says with a slight laugh as she watches Elle’s eyes get big before returning to normal. “Now, you know me and my dad are close... When I was 5 and he got sent on the first deployment I remember, I cried like a baby for weeks on end. It actually got so bad my mom had to take me out of school one time.” Bailey says with a smile as she stares down at the ring in her hand.

“When dad came back and heard about it, he got his ring modified.” Elle watches with slight confusion as Bailey slid the ring a certain way and it split in half. “And now, whenever he gets deployed, I get this half of the ring so I always have a piece of him with me.” Bailey continues her story as she puts the larger part of the ring on a chain. “It’s obviously too big to fit on my ringer so mom bought a chain to put it on.” Bailey says as she puts the chain around Elle’s neck and closes the clasp. “I asked my dad and he said it was okay for me to give my part to you so you know that I am always with you and thinking about you.” Bailey says as she gives Elle a goofy smile. Elle tries to cover her crying but lets a few tears slip. “Hey, it’s okay...” Bailey says as she pulls the girl she loves into a hug. “Senior year will be over before you know it and we’ll be back together again.”

---

The group all sits around the table in silence as Gideon stares into the box that Hotch had found in Karl Arnold’s office. Everyone’s heart dropping as Gideon lets the contents of the small box drop and 8 rings fall onto the table. Every sat in silence feeling remorse for whatever families had lost their life’s to Dr. Arnold. Elle takes a moment to look at each ring and feels herself get nauseous at the sight of one ring that looks a little different from the others. It can’t be... She thinks as she slowly reaches out, ignoring the looks from her friends, and grabs the ring that made her feel sick. She takes a minute to study the ring, her heart beating faster at how familiar it is. She can feel her friends and coworkers staring at her in confusion, wanting to know why she had picked up the ring.

Elle reach's into her shirt a little and pulls out a ring of her own. The group shares a confused look, wondering where the ring had came from and how long she had had it. Elle takes it off the chain and slides the two rings together like she had seen you do ten years ago. The clicking sound it made not only signifying the two rings becoming one but also her heart breaking into two. Elle looks up to see Hotch and Gideon looking at her with a worried face, it was obvious that Elle knew who that ring belonged to. Seeing her friends face’s filled with sorrow was enough for the dam to break and the tears to flow.

---

“Elle! Guess what!” Bailey yelled excitedly into the phone as Elle picked up. Elle laughed at her excitement. “What?” “I get to go on vacation tomorrow!”

[stxrrywildflower]

family

pairing - bau team x teen!reader

summary - you never knew something so good could come out of something so bad

warnings - kidnapping, injuries, cursing

word count - ?

requested by @marvelxmendes

by the urgency of hotch’s message, the team knew they were in for a tough case.

another key factor in their suspicions was the fact that garcia was seated, not presenting the case. instead, hotch stood with the remote in his hand, a serious look on his face.

“four bodies have been found in indianapolis. all of the victims have been either teenagers or young adults. another person was just taken, nineteen year old victim. the time between the abductions and killings have been becoming shorter. wheels up in thirty,” hotch announced. 

with that, the team grabbed their bags and took off to the airport. the flight over was spent reviewing the case and bouncing possible theories. emily and rossi were sent to talk to the victim of boy who was just taken. hotch and j.j. were due at the police station while morgan and spencer were going to the latest crime scene.

just hours into their individual assignment, the body of the latest victim was found. the unsub wasn’t slowing down and if anything, was becoming more and more violent.

examining the body was incredible difficult for everyone. the local police had all refused as the boy killed was very active in the local community. hotch and rossi remained at the station while the other agents headed out to the crime scene.

“victim was david mitchell. he was staying with his mom. she worked almost all day,” one of the cops informed.

“well the unsub is obviously going after people who are alone. makes it a lower risk,” morgan concluded.

after a few more minutes of examining the body, the team all headed back to the police station. they didn’t have a ton of information to go off of. all they knew was that they needed to act quickly or else more people would die.

____

stepping into your home, you used your foot the close the door behind you as your arms were filled with groceries. the only sound throughout the house was your shoes scuffing against the floor.

you were only 17 and a senior in high school. your parents ‘worked’ leaving you alone almost all of the time. they had people check in on you and showed up sometimes, making it semi-legal. it had started a year and a half ago. you were shocked at how quickly you adjusted to being alone all the time. honestly, it didn’t feel much different then when they were actually around.

as you turned on the tv to the local news station, you began putting the groceries away. “in regards to the recent murders, the fbi have arrived and are working with the police to catch this criminal. all residents are advised to be on the look out for any suspicious activity and keep their doors locked at all times,” one of the reporters spoke. you peered around the doorway, double checking that your doors were in fact locked.

once you put everything away, you headed upstairs to your room. in an hour, you were due to meet a classmate for a study session. if you were being honest, you didn’t really need a whole study session. you were already accepted to georgetown in washington d.c. for college with a pretty large scholarship. however, you were always willing to help someone study.

it was when you opened your closet and looked in the mirror that you noticed the presence of a figure in the corner of your room. you could barely turn around before the masked figure was rushing towards you. his hand clamped over your mouth. “you scream, i take this knife and stab you. you hear me?” he whispered harshly.

tears began to flow freely down your cheeks. in an effort to save yourself, you bit down on his hand hard. the man was wearing latex gloves allowing for you to tear through them. a metal taste was then in your mouth, letting you know that you had broken the skin.

the man clutched his now bleeding hand, allowing for you to slip out of his grasp. you took off running towards the door. just as you thought you would finally be able to escape, a sharp pain in your shoulder stopped you.

you fell to the ground, screaming as you clutched your shoulder. the man pulled the knife out of your body just as you fell. “fucking bitch,” the man spat. he then raised his foot and kicked you hard in the head, knocking you unconscious.

the local police chief rushed in, clutching a phone in his hand. the teams eyes all darted up. “we think the unsub may have another girl. a local student just called in about y/n y/l/n. they were supposed to study together but y/n never showed,” he informed everyone. “she could have just forgotten,” morgan offered.

“y/n isn’t like that. kid’s had a tough life. but, she’s a straight-a student, set to be valedictorian, and always helps any kids who need help. hell, she’s even helped my son in math,” the chief replied.

“tough life?”

the chief nodded, “her parents work almost all the time. they pop in every once in awhile but y/n is basically on her own. friends and neighbors always check in on her to make sure she’s okay.”

“all right, we’ll all head over to her house. try and find out anything we can. it’s the only lead we have right now,” hotch ordered.

after arriving at your house, the team exited their cars and made their way up to the front door. j.j. stepped forward, knocking on the door. they waited all of two minutes before agreeing to enter. suprisingly, the door was unlocked, adding to the teams growing suspicion of your kidnapping.

spencer, morgan, and emily all headed up the stairs while the other three agents took the first floor. “we have blood!” morgan called as soon as he entered the bedroom. the team regrouped upstairs. blood was on the floor right by the door.

“signs of struggle,” emily spoke as she kneeled down, “it’s fresh.”

“well we know the percentages of kidnappings with minors. take a room and find out more about y/n’s life,” hotch once again gave out orders.

j.j. and emily found themselves in the hallway leading to the living room. “look, there’s no family photos. not even any in the past. all of them are of y/n, her friends, and then accomplishments,” j.j. pointed out.

that was common throughout the house. every room had the basic furniture but but besides that, it didn’t feel like a true home. even your room was incredibly bare. “hey look at this,” emily called, taking one of the frames off the wall.

“an acceptance letter to georgetown. practically a full ride,” emily said as she handed the frame over. “what have you two got?” rossi asked, entering the room. “she’s incredibly smart. already had plans for college. other than that, this house lacks any family value.”

“same for upstairs. everything has been modified for a single person living here,” rossi added.

“we need to find her,” j.j. blurted, her heart already aching for you. obviously, with the fact that you were currently in the hands of a killer but also with your current life. growing up with parents barely in your life was tough, no doubt. by the looks on the faces of the team, they all felt the same way.

when you woke up, your entire body ached. your head was pounding, no doubt from being knocked unconscious with a swift kick to the head. through your blurred vision, you managed to make out your surroundings. the room itself is was a simple square, no windows with concrete floors and walls. you were tied a metal chair which was then bolted to the ground.

naturally, you began to thrash around. you instantly regretted it as your shoulder began to throb once again, the stab wound still bleeding slightly. the ropes that retrained your hands grinder against your skin, creating burns on your skin. your body felt like it was on fire.

“don’t get to comfortable girl,” a new woman called, making you jump slightly, “the fun hasn’t even started.”

the team worked almost nonstop for three days. for a short period of time, they had thought the unsub had already killed you. however, they had received a lock on your hair, letting them know that you were in fact alive.

it was around 10pm when they had a break in the case. garcia had been doing excessive digging and somehow managed to find a warehouse. it was only secluded location in the area which was the best lead they had. after putting on their vests, the team quickly got into their cars and began the drive.

your head hung loosely, no strength was left in you to even pick it up. your eyes were slits, only open enough to see the floor below you. the once grey color was now stained red from blood. some areas were slightly darker, due to the fact that you were practically waterboarded. the stab wound in your shoulder was even worse now. hours ago, you had lost feeling in it entirely.

it turns out you were taken by a man but he was apart of a pair. the man had sat back and watched while the woman tortured your excessively. she only showed up for a few hours while the man stayed with you 24/7.

various cuts, some shallow and some deep, littered your body. a concussion was already inevitable, as you have had one since the first day you had been taken. your left wrist was no doubt broken. the woman had decided to experiment with hammers. your hand was the first thing she hit.

when the sirens had began blaring outside the warehouse, the mans face shifted to panic before completely changing back. “one more for good measure,” he smirked, grabbing a large knife from the rack. suddenly, he plunged the knife into your side. thankfully, he didn’t hit any major organs. blood gushed out of the wound, now soaking your shirt. you couldn’t even cry out, all you could do was hope that the sirens got to you in time.

a cloth was harshly placed over your mouth before being tied around the back of your head, silencing you. the man then pulled your hair, bringing your head up to face the door. “they may get me but they will never get her,” he whispered harshly. your eyes widened at knowing your one kidnapper would still be at large.

the doors suddenly slammed open. two women rushed in, one blonde the other with dark hair, along with two men, one extremely muscular and the other as skinny as a twig. the cold metal tip of a gun was pressed into the side of your head. fear coursed through you.

“put it down,” the muscular man ordered.

the gun was jammed further against your head. pain exploded as your already damaged head was hurt yet again. the muffled discussion between the fbi agents and the man went on for a few more moments.

finally, the man stepped back. you thought that it would be over and you would finally be saved. however, the man pulled the trigger, sending a bullet towards the agents.

the bullet wizzed passed your ear, creating a ringing that no doubt made your ears bleed. another wave of pain exploded from your left ear as well as your head. turns out that the bullet had grazed your ear and head, making more blood flow. another gunshot sounded, the man behind you dropping dead.

the realization that you almost just died finally set in. your eyes widened once again as your breathing became heavier and faster. the one blond woman rushed over and went to untie your legs. a burst of adrenaline came over you as you did everything in your power to push her away. when the cloth around your mouth dropped, you let out a loud sob as tears freely flowed down your cheeks.

“get away, get away!” you screamed as you jerked around.

the blonde woman’s face fell. she stepped back to stand by the other woman. hesitantly, the two male agents stepped forward.

“hey, i’m agent morgan and this is doctor reid. i’m going to take this ropes off of you. is that okay?” morgan asked. you nodded, pressing your lips together. as morgan went to begin to untie the ropes, reid kneeled down beside you.

“help is on the way. but now i need you to breath with me,” reid started, motioning with his hands to get you to follow his breathing pattern. you did as he said, your eyes still continuing to dart around the room. “he can’t hurt you anymore,” reid reassured you.

you jumped again. “p-” was all you could get out before a series of coughs racked your body. your uninjured hand clutched your side. morgan kneeled down beside reid. “what?” he asked.

“partner,” you slurred, eyes finally closing as you fell unconscious.

the second you passed out, morgan and reid immediately went into action. morgan layed your body to lie on the floor as he started applying pressure to your hip. spencer moved your head into his lap, his knee against your shoulder to help with the injury there while his hands were pressed against your head. “you think she has a head injury?” morgan asked.

spencer nodded, “definitely.” meanwhile, emily and j.j. rushed outside to find hotch and rossi. “unsub is dead. y/n is hurt pretty bad but she mentioned a partner,” emily informed the other two agents. “it’s most likely a woman. she freaked out when i went near her but are much better with reid and morgan,” j.j. added, “most likely a dominant and submissive type.”

the ambulance pulled in a minute later. the emt’s rushed in, your body being placed on a stretcher and moved out of the building quickly. the team regrouped outside of the warehouse, all at a stand still on what to do.

“alright, emily and i will head back to the police station. you four go to the hospital. we’ll need to interview y/n after she is treated,” hotch ordered. from there, they all went there separate ways.

at the hospital, you were rushed into a quick surgery to repair both your hand, and stitch up the stab wounds as well as the other cuts on your body. it only took three hours after your initial admission for you to be back to your room and set to wake up any minute.

the four agents stood outside of your room, glancing in through the window to where you were. “poor kid,” morgan spoke. “have you had any contact with her parents?” reid asked from his seat.

j.j. shook her head, “yes and no. the first time i called when she was first taken they didn’t even pick up. just now they did answer but said they wouldn’t come home.”

rossi scoffed at that answer. “can’t that be classified as child neglect?” the senior agent questioned. “she isn’t 18 yet, not a legal adult,” morgan piped in.

“all i know is that y/n can’t be under their care anymore,” rossi concluded.

“what are you thinking?”

rossi shrugged, “not sure yet. we just need to wait for her to wake up. then we can talk.”

twenty minutes later, you began to stir. in an instant, nurses entered your room, changing out your iv’s and helping you wake up properly. they left you alone for a few minutes before the team would come in, no doubt to interview you.

you toyed with the fabric of your hospital blanket as the door opened. in walked morgan and reid since they were the most familiar. “hey y/n, how are you feeling?” reid asked.

“whatever they gave me is helping. thanks for saving me,” you smiled slightly. “it’s what we do. now there’s two of our agents outside. they aren’t going to hurt you. is it alright is they come in two?” morgan asked, his voice soft.

nodding, you adjusted yourself so you were sitting up better. the woman from before and an older man were the next in your room. “hi y/n, i’m emily and this is dave,” she introduced. you instantly felt a lot more comfortable around the people in your room. your eyes flickered down to your casted hand before looking back up.

“what do you want to know?” you asked quietly.

“what can you tell us about the woman who hurt you?” emily asked. you visibly flinched when she mentioned the woman. “i think her name is ashlyn. i overheard them talking. she-” you got choked up slightly. after taking a deep breath, you continued, “she did most of the beating and torture. he just stayed with me and watched.”

rossi sat down in the chair by your bed. “we are going to do everything in our power to find her. i promise,” he spoke. “you promise?” you questioned. “i promise,” rossi reassured you.

you were released from the hospital the next day. the team was still in town as the second unsub had yet to be caught. j.j. was in the room with you while you were getting ready to go. the memories were still slightly blurry but you had apologized profusely about screaming at her. the profiler and brushed it off, saying that it was okay. just after slipping your t-shirt on, you turned to the woman.

“my parents?” you asked.

“i tried calling them-,” j.j. started. as soon as you heard her words, you broke down. “of course they’re not here,” you seethed. j.j. shot you a sympathetic look. “they’re never here. i need them and they leave me in the fucking dust!” you yelled, allowing yourself to curse them out.

you collapsed against the bed as you began sobbing. all your emotions combined with everything that had happened in the last few days came out. j.j. stepped forward hesitantly, moving to sit beside you much to your suprise, she hugged you. you rested your forehead on her shoulder, feeling instant comfort from having someone there for you.

back at your home, reid and morgan stayed with you with the other agents visiting and checking up on you. hotch was the one you had seen the least. after introducing himself, he had to leave pretty quickly due to something about the case.

it was almost two in the morning when you were gently shook awake. with tired eyes, you turned on your lamp to see morgan and reid already dressed and putting on their vests.

“did you find her?” you asked, incredibly hopeful.

morgan nodded, “we have a lead. we all need to be there though. but i do have someone for you to talk to while we are gone.” you shot the agent a questioning look as he handed you a phone. “hello?” you spoke tentatively.

“oh my gosh hi sweetie! my names penelope. derek has been telling me a ton about you,” the woman on the other end greeted.

you instantly smiled at penelope’s voice. as the two of you began talking, morgan and reid slipped out of the room.

when they returned, you were in the kitchen, still talking to penelope and getting a glass of water. “we got her,” reid revealed. you gasped, your hand moving up to your mouth. as a natural reaction, you hugged the agent as a thank you.

you were now finally safe.

the team stayed in town for two more days. they may have lied a bit to do their paperwork there but the real reason was to keep an eye on you. when it was time for time for them to depart, you had almost cried.

after hugging each agent individually, you stepped back onto the foyer of your home, rubbing your fingers over your cast. rossi, however, remained behind. you turned towards the older man, confusion written over your face.

“are you staying?” you asked.

he nodded, “i have a few vacation days. the doctor didn’t recommend leaving you alone.” deep down, you were greatful for his presence.

one night, after a traditional italian dinner, rossi sat you down. “i know this is a sensitive topic for you but we need to talk about it,” he started, “you cannot he under the care of your parents anymore. it’s child neglect and you are not safe there. now, you’re almost 18 and heading to washington d.c. in just a few months. how would you feel about being put under the care of one of us on the team?”

after noticing your slight uneasiness with the question, rossi spoke up again, “i know you’ve only known us for a short period of time but i’m going to be honest. we don’t get cases involving teenagers a lot. we just want you to be safe.”

tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. you couldn’t help it honestly. knowing that there were people out there that actually wanted you to be safe and take care of you made you extremely emotional. “i would love that,” you concluded.

____

the team is as incredibly active in your life from that moment on.

they had suprised you at your graduation, cheering for you as your name was called and after your valedictorian speech. when the official procession was over, you had practically ran over to them, accepting hugs from all.

a week after that, you were put officially under rossi’s care. your birthday wasn’t for another two months making the process easier. with the information presented to the jury, it was no doubt that your parents were deemed unfit to take care of you anymore. you cried when the judge had made it official, hugging rossi over and over as you thanked him.

just two weeks later, you had packed up your things and made the official move to washington d.c. the house remained under your parents name. all you packed was all of your clothes, personal items, and toiletries. there wasn’t a single thing in that house that was yours.

when rossi showed you your room with the promise that you could decorate it anyway you wanted, you hugged him once again. it almost felt like you were starting over and you were extremely thankful for that.

despite him and the team being away often for cases, rossi has always called to check up on you. team dinners became more and more frequent with you meeting the teams extended family also. you eventually became the go to babysitter for henry and jack.

sure there were countless nights you had woken up crying, memories about your kidnapping coming back to you. rossi or whoever was around was always there to comfort you and help you calm down. the past two months were a mess but having the team by your side to celebrate all of your little victories and help you overcome your challenges almost made it all better.

they were your family after all.

[macbetha]

below the cut, you'll find an interest check chapter for quatervois, a nancy drew pc fic. it's francy and also my idea of my absolute dream game. please let me know what you think and enjoy!

+++

After Ned breaks up with her and she loses her father, Nancy struggles to find her old vigor for detective work. While on vacation in London with Bess and George, Nancy accepts the urgent invitation to return Blackmoor Manor. Her English getaway quickly turns into an investigation once Nancy realizes the true reason Nigel Mookergee asked her back to the moors. Finding Deirdre Shannon at the manor under the same pretense only sets Nancy’s nerves further on edge. It isn’t until the Hardy Boys show up in Blackmoor that Nancy gets a glimpse of who she once was. With a manor full of suspects and a glass heart cracked open, Nancy is determined to find the truth.

Dear Ned,

How are you? It’s been a while. I’ve always started off my letters telling you about my latest case, but I’m not on one right now. I’m sure that’s hard to believe. Bess and George have whisked me away to London. I’m sure you would love it here. This is the first time I’ve seen Bess and George since I sold the house in River Heights. I stayed with Kyler and Matt in Ireland for a while. I needed a change of scenery. Their daughter just turned two. I’m somewhat jealous I’m happy for them. Anyways, I miss you I hope you’re doing well. I’m sure New York is lovely at Christmas time. I hope Stephanie is I wish Stephanie well How is Stephanie? I hope Stephanie is doing all right. I appreciated the card Stephanie sent when dad passed away. Warm regards, Merry Christmas, Love Nancy

She stares down at the letter as if the red ink were her own blood. It feels just as wounding, seeing her emotions made physical in the words on the paper. Only when a tear splatters on the page does she break free from her trance to the past. Nancy is the only person in her hotel suite, yet she works to rid the evidence like one of her own suspects. She pulls her feet up in the desk chair and crosses her ankles, holding the arch of her right foot – it recently became the victim of her latest culprit. Nancy’s foot got caught under the getaway car’s tire, and she is lucky to even be able to walk after the event. Months later, it’s stiff as hell with the most intense cramps she’s ever endured. Heart racing to forget the night it happened, she focuses on the snowfall out the window – counting little sparkles of snowflakes, though the world blurs when she squints. The doctor thought her failing sight as well as the daily headaches were on account of being hit in the head so many times.

She busies herself with choosing a postcard to send Hannah and Nancy selects one with a cat dressed up as a royal guard. The cuteness puts a smile on her face, however small – she hopes it’ll do the same for Hannah, but there is no telling. Nancy had the gut-feeling Hannah was lying about recognizing her the last time Nancy visited the nursing home. Torment swirls like wind to fallen leaves. She doesn’t have Hannah or Togo to come home to. Togo passed just before Nancy’s thirty-second birthday, and Carson fell ill soon after that. Nancy looks to her hotel bed where Mr. Woogle Woggle sits tucked between two pillows. It seems he is the only one that hasn’t left her. A knock on her hotel door reminds her that is simply not true. Nancy rights herself, fixing her posture to the stance of someone passionate, and she opens the door. Bess and George greet her with blazing smiles; Nancy gives silent thanks for their presence in her life. She would still be in Scotland with Kyler and Matt, had Bess and George not insisted to take her on a vacation. Nancy imagines that their insistence was due to them wanting to keep Nancy from spending Christmas alone on the road again like last year. “Nancy,” Bess stresses. “You’re never going to guess who we ran into in the lobby!” Horror strikes dull and loud in her ears. Surely, it’s not Ned. Please, don’t let it be Ned. George says, “Give you a hint: they were involved in one of your cases.” Nancy’s despair leaves her throat tight. She glances down the hallway, preparing to yank Bess and George into her room and dial her Cathedral contact to get them set up in witness protection.

“That didn’t narrow it down at all, George,” Bess says with a roll of her eyes. “Nancy’s been on hundreds of cases.” Nancy’s strain creeps into her one word: “Who?” Bess and George beam. “Maya Nguyn!” ++

Nancy follows Bess and George to the elevator in a hurried stupor. No thoughts can she conjure as she steps free from the elevator walls which seem to close in on her; Nancy marches into the lobby and notices a woman in the crowd of tourists. She stands with her back to Nancy, her hair drawn up in a bun, and her chin is lifted high with no time for games. Maya turns around and her bright red mouth stretches into a smile. “Nancy!” “Maya,” Nancy huffs in disbelief. She tenses in Maya’s sudden embrace before all but falling into it. This is something good I did; Nancy cherishes with shut eyes. This is someone I helped. When Maya pulls back, Nancy says, “What are you doing all the way out here? You said in your last letter, you were still in Washington.” “My house is technically there,” Maya nods. “But I get to work on the road more these days.” Her brows crease over a sympathetic smile. “Bess and George tell me you’re kind of in the same boat.” Nancy shrugs, struggling to hold Maya’s concerned gaze. “It’s just easier,” Nancy lies. Maya seems to see right through it, but she doesn’t speak on it. Nancy will have to thank her later. George says, “Maya offered us free tickets to a play she’s reviewing tonight and get this – it’s at the Globe Theater!” “Remind me what’s so special about a globe theater,” Bess sighs, checking her nails. “Not ‘a’, Bess, the.” George shakes her head. “The Globe Theater – well, technically it’s a reconstruction of the first one, but it’s where Shakespeare wrote his plays.” “It’s the opening night of a new play,” Maya explains. “And Nancy, you’ll never guess who the star is.” Nancy cannot take anymore guessing games. “Brady Armstrong.” Maya blinks. “Well – yes, actually.” Nancy frowns. “Wait, really?” “Yes,” Maya laughs. “I’ll be conducting an interview with him after the show if you want to go backstage and chew him out for all the stunts he pulled back in the day.” A spark of vigor heightens Nancy’s senses. That doesn’t sound bad at all. Still – “Are you sure we won’t be a distraction or –” “Nancy.” Maya’s hand falls on her shoulder. “You saved my life. You’re the furthest thing from a distraction.” Gratitude floods her before Nancy nods. “All right, then.” +++ The walk to the Globe would be depressive what with the sky being the color of a soaked napkin, but the Christmas decorations lift everyone’s spirits. Nancy limps by a shop playing Christmas oldies through the open door and she is borne back to her father listening to records over cocoa on Christmas morning. She tries to push the memory from her mind, then she thinks of building snowmen with Ned and having snowball fights that turned into the sweetest kisses she’s ever received. The music won’t stop. There are three Christmas trees in the display window and their flashing lights strike pain behind Nancy’s eyes. She pants through a sensory overload before someone squeezes her hand. Maya smiles in understanding as Bess and George walk obliviously in front of them. “It’s hard,” Maya says. “This life on the road. You pick up a few habits.” Nancy squeezes her hand in thanks before tucking her own in her peacoat’s pocket. “I want to enjoy this,” she admits quietly. “But I think the holidays are always hard.” Maya nods. “It won’t be this way forever, Nancy,” she promises. “I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.” Cross your fingers, there’s a story behind this door! Nancy swallows around the lump of panic in her throat. She plasters on a smile. +++ The theater is packed with noise and touching and all-around boisterous patrons. They find their seats in the crowd and Nancy doesn’t watch where she’s going – she must keep her eyes on the open ceiling to remember how to breathe. She sits down at the end of the group and Maya passes out programs. Quatervois, the title reads. Bess says, “What does that mean?” “It means you’re at a crossroads,” Maya says. “A turning point.” “Sounds a little dramatic,” George grumbles. Nancy traces the swooping lines of the title with

her thumb, repeating the process until the lights go down. The masked chorus emerges from the shadows and gives a synopsis: Down from Olympus a great hero emerges, Mighty in his strength and courage! A choice he must make Shall he ignore fate? Will he choose love, Or follow his destiny there-of? When Brady saunters on stage in an impossibly short silk chiton, it’s an out-of-body experience for Nancy. He still hasn’t grown his ponytail back, so Simone could very well be in the audience right now. Nancy rubs her aching temple at the thought. Brady begins his journey as the character Diogenes, a demigod that was supposedly – according to the play’s plot – written out of ancient Greek mythos. Diogenes must defeat those who want to leave him forgotten in history, lest he admit that he can’t win this fight and live his life like everyone else. Nancy assumes the play’s ending too soon. She imagines this will be a droll experience written only to paint Brady as a glorious hero that can conquer anything – but she is quickly surprised. Brady is stabbed in the final act and addresses the audience in a wail: And so my story ends a breath too early, No time to even be weary! The moon shall pass over my corpse, And the sun will beat down on my ashes with no remorse. Today, I have failed my quartervois Alone, forgotten, and lost. When the curtain falls, Nancy’s mouth is parted in disbelief as a tear burns down her cheek. They don’t receive a proper goodbye with Maya since the rest of the crowd is bustling toward the exit. She does have time to say that Brady is producing a new television series and will be scouting some locations further into Essex; Maya will be following the film crew there for test shoots. She embraces each girl individually and holds Nancy for a beat longer, whispering, “You’ll call if you need to talk?” “Of course,” Nancy says by impulse. “Same to you.” +++ Nancy is proud of herself for going out, but when she closes the door to her hotel suite, her back thunks against the wall and she must take deep breaths for several minutes. She decides to treat herself to a bubble bath even though it’s nearly midnight. She rolls her hair up into a bun and looks at it in the mirror, how haphazard and messy hers is in comparison to Maya. Nancy isn’t jealous – but she can’t help but notice when people are thriving. She wants to figure out how to do it herself and hasn’t found the cure yet. The bath is claw-footed and deep. Nancy sinks into the steaming water before goosebumps rise on her arms, and her freckled skin blushes in the heat. The water does wonders for her foot. She eases her head back on the lip of the tub and nears a light doze when her cell phone rings. It rests atop a stack of towels by the tub. Nancy wipes her damp hand off before looking to the screen. Frank Hardy. Nancy answers and taps the speaker button to relax back in the tub. “Hey.” “Hi, Nance,” Frank says, his voice a familiar balm after such a stressful time. “What’s going on?” “Things aren’t too different from last week’s call,” Nancy smiles. “But I’m on vacation with Bess and George.” “Oh wow! That’s awesome. I hope it’s been fun.” Nancy’s glazed eyes blink. “Yeah,” she rasps. “It’s nice.” She clears her throat, searching for her old enthusiasm. “But what about you? How’s Joe?” “Same as usual, a pain in my ass.” Nancy chuckles before a distinctive lift raises Frank’s voice. “We’re actually getting ready to get on a plane for a case – but I wanted to make sure everything’s good with you.” Nancy’s hand closes in a fist on her raised knee. “Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a case.” “Not really. You just took a few months off to stay with Kyler, right?” “Yeah, but that’s the longest I’ve ever gone without a case since I started.” “I’d give you ours if I could,” Frank says. “Really not looking forward to such a long plane ride. Oh, they’re calling for our gate – but do you want me call you when I land?” Gratefulness is a warm glow in her heart. “No, that’s okay – but

thank you. Be safe on your trip and tell Joe I said hi.” “Can do.” Frank pauses. “I – tell Bess and George I said hi.” “Can do,” Nancy repeats. She chews her lip. “See you soon?” She feels foolish for saying something when Frank is headed to a case. While the weekly phone calls have kept Nancy sane, it would be even better to see the Hardy Boys. “I’ll make it happen,” Frank promises. “See you, Nance.” After they hang up, Nancy struggles to get out of the tub with her swollen foot. She gets into a pair of sweats and wraps up some ice in a washcloth, then holds it against her foot. Nancy mulls over her conversation with Frank, wondering how much of her poor mood could be due to not solving a mystery. With a deep yawn, she tosses the soaked washcloth in the wastebasket, not able to walk to the bathroom to put it in the sink. She cuddles up to her teddy bear and flicks the lamp off when her phone rocks to life on the nightstand. Bewildered, Nancy turns the lamp back on to look at the screen. The number is unknown; she sees her hand tremble around the phone. She lets the call go to voicemail before the phone vibrates to life once again. Bracing herself, Nancy answers. “Hello?” “Yes, hello – I’m trying to reach a one Nancy Drew?” The voice is British and eerily familiar, like Nancy heard it in a dream. “This is she.” “Splendid! Oh, you wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve gone to in order to find your number.” “Sorry? Who is this?” “Why, Nigel Mookergee. We met at –” “Blackmoor,” Nancy whispers. “Nigel, hi. What’s going on?” “I’m afraid the manner of my call is not a jovial one,” he says. “How should I explain this? Well, I suppose from the start. You see –” He sighs. “Don’t tell anyone I’m speaking of this, but the Penvellyns have fallen into a bit of… financial trouble.” Nancy says, “’Financial trouble’?” “It’s certainly not my business to spread, but yes. It’s not that they are a poor family by any means, but one diplomat’s salary is not enough to keep up a castle.” Nancy sits up, grabbing a pen and notepad from her bedside table. She jots as Nigel continues. “The Penvellyns began to host historical tours at the manor – much to Mrs. Drake’s dismay, I might add. Jane wishes to expand the business to the paranormal side of things, and I don’t quite agree with the idea myself, but she insists it’s just what the manor needs.” Nancy finishes scrawling and says, “So, you’re working for the Penvellyns now?” “Yes. I’m afraid there’s been some situations – inconsequential events, if you will – that need a glance over.” Nancy arches a brow. “You mean an investigation.” “Ah, such a serious word. I simply want to make sure we are fully prepared to expand the business.” Nancy’s eyes narrow. “Right. When would you need me there?” “As soon as possible -” Nigel catches himself. “I mean, at your earliest convenience.” Nancy glances over her notes, running her hand over the page filled by red ink. She closes her eyes against the sight and says, “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

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