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magical-reid · 24 days ago

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The Quiet One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: Reader gets taken during a case and starts isolating herself

Word count: 11.1K (It's long, I know)

Spencer’s POV

Spencer Reid didn’t need to be an expert in psychology to know that Y/N was hiding something. It wasn’t a dark secret—at least, he didn’t think so—but it was a part of herself she kept locked away.

She was new, sure, but most new agents took Garcia’s boisterous affection or Morgan’s teasing in stride after a week or two. Y/N, however, stayed remarkably quiet unless the conversation turned to a case. Then she was brilliant—her analyses sharp and concise, her physical prowess undeniable in the field. Even Hotch had complimented her work ethic within the first month, which was rare.

But socially? She was an enigma, answering questions with one-word responses or polite nods. Garcia had deemed it her “personal mission” to get Y/N to loosen up.

And now, Spencer found himself curious too.

Reader’s POV

The BAU bullpen was oddly calm for once. Cases were lighter this week, leaving the team to catch up on paperwork. You didn’t mind it—it gave you time to settle into the rhythm of things.

Sitting at your desk during lunch, you pulled a battered paperback from your bag. It was a comfort read, one you returned to when the world felt overwhelming. The words on the page blurred slightly as you chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the faint hum of conversation between Morgan and JJ.

Then came the voice.

“That’s Jane Eyre, right?”

You glanced up to find Dr. Spencer Reid standing by your desk. His hands were shoved awkwardly into his pockets, a rare flicker of nervousness in his expression.

“Uh… yeah,” you said, holding up the book. “It is.”

“You know, Charlotte Brontë originally published it under the pseudonym Currer Bell because women authors weren’t taken seriously in the 19th century,” Spencer said, his voice gaining confidence as he dove into familiar territory. “It was actually one of the first novels to really explore the concept of the ‘modern woman.’”

You blinked at him, unsure whether to be impressed or amused. “I didn’t know that.”

His eyes lit up, and you instantly regretted not saying something more engaging.

“Well, there’s actually a lot of debate about whether Jane Eyre is autobiographical. Brontë infuses so many elements of her own life into the story, especially Jane’s resilience and independence—”

“Reid!” Morgan called from across the room, grinning. “Are you giving another one of your literary lectures?”

Spencer flushed, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I, uh… I was just—”

You shut the book and offered a small smile. “It’s fine. I didn’t mind.”

That placated him, and he nodded quickly before retreating to his desk.

You couldn’t help but replay the interaction in your head for the rest of the day. Spencer had an undeniable passion for knowledge, and for the first time since joining the team, you found yourself wondering if you’d like to hear more of what he had to say.

Spencer’s POV

It started as a casual observation: Y/N always ate lunch alone.

After their brief interaction earlier that day, Spencer couldn’t help but notice her more often. She stayed on the periphery of conversations, her focus always sharp, but there was an unshakable air of… loneliness about her.

Garcia was determined to change that.

“I swear, my magic isn’t working on her!” Garcia huffed as she leaned against his desk later that afternoon. “But mark my words, Reid, I will crack that shell.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “You’re treating her like a puzzle.”

“Because she is a puzzle! She’s this brilliant, badass, stone-cold agent who also reads classics on her lunch break? She’s practically you in a different font.”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond but shut it again. The comparison caught him off guard. Was that why he was so fascinated by Y/N?

Reader’s POV

Over the following weeks, Spencer became a surprising constant. It started with the occasional factoid about the books you were reading, but it soon extended to case-related conversations. You found his intelligence refreshing, and his quiet, thoughtful presence felt like something you could trust.

Garcia, on the other hand, was a force of nature.

“Okay, Miss Mysterious, you are coming to Rossi’s this weekend, and I will not take no for an answer,” she declared one Friday afternoon, her hands on her hips.

You tried to protest, but Garcia had a way of steamrolling right over you. Before you knew it, you were at Rossi’s house that Saturday evening, surrounded by your team.

Spencer’s POV

He watched from across the room as Y/N sat next to Garcia, a soft laugh escaping her lips as the tech analyst recounted some over-the-top story. It was the first time he’d seen Y/N genuinely relaxed, her quiet demeanor giving way to something brighter.

She caught his gaze and smiled hesitantly.

Spencer felt his heart skip a beat.

Reader’s POV

Rossi’s house felt warm in a way you hadn’t expected. The deep wood tones, the glowing fire in the hearth, and the hum of your team’s laughter filled the space with an almost familial intimacy. You’d arrived tense, unsure of how to handle this uncharted territory, but Garcia had stuck by you like glue, coaxing you into conversations with her sunny enthusiasm.

To your surprise, you didn’t mind.

“You’re not allergic to wine, are you?” Garcia asked, pressing a glass into your hand before you could protest. “This is Rossi’s best stuff. Don’t embarrass me by turning it down.”

You gave her a faint smirk and took a small sip, letting the rich flavor spread across your tongue. “It’s good.”

“Good?” Rossi barked from across the room. “That’s a $300 bottle! Show some respect!”

You startled, but Morgan waved him off. “Don’t let him scare you, Y/N. Rossi says that about every bottle he pulls out of his cellar.”

The group laughed, and you felt yourself relax by a fraction. You didn’t belong here, not fully—not yet—but it was nice to pretend for a little while.

It wasn’t until later in the evening, when the group had spread out into smaller clusters, that you found yourself wandering onto Rossi’s back patio. The cool night air was a relief after the heat of the crowded living room, and you leaned against the railing, gazing out at the sprawling yard.

The sound of the door opening behind you made you glance back. Spencer stepped outside, a mug in hand.

“Coffee?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

He nodded sheepishly. “I don’t drink, so… this is my go-to.”

You turned back to the yard. “Makes sense.”

Spencer hesitated before moving to stand beside you. For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the faint hum of conversation from inside fading into the background.

“You handled yourself well tonight,” he said finally.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“With the team,” he clarified, his gaze flicking to yours. “I know how overwhelming it can be. They’re… intense.”

A small laugh escaped you. “That’s one way to put it.”

He smiled at that, his face softening in a way that made your chest ache.

“I’m not great at these things either,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Social gatherings, I mean. But… it gets easier.”

“Does it?” you asked, surprising even yourself with the vulnerability in your tone.

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “They’re good people. It just takes time to feel like you belong.”

You studied him for a moment, his profile outlined by the soft glow of the patio lights. It was strange, how he seemed to understand you in a way that no one else had tried to.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to you fully, his eyes searching yours. “For what?”

“For… being you, I guess.”

His brow furrowed, but before he could respond, Garcia’s voice rang out from the doorway.

“There you are, lovebirds! C’mon, it’s picture time!”

You flushed, stepping back instinctively, but Spencer’s soft chuckle eased your embarrassment.

“Let’s not keep her waiting,” he said, gesturing toward the door.

As the two of you returned to the chaos inside, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, you were starting to belong after all.

Spencer’s POV

The next few weeks were… different.

Y/N was still reserved, but something had shifted. She smiled more, lingered a little longer when the team joked around, and even initiated conversations once or twice.

Spencer found himself drawn to her even more. He wasn’t sure when his interest had crossed into something deeper—maybe it was the way her eyes lit up when she talked about a case, or how she always seemed to carry herself with quiet determination.

What he did know was that he wanted to spend more time with her.

Reader’s POV

It was late when you returned to the office after a long day in the field. Most of the team had gone home, but the glow from Spencer’s desk lamp caught your eye as you passed by.

“You’re still here?” you asked, leaning against the doorway.

He looked up, startled. “Oh, yeah. Just… catching up on paperwork.”

You hesitated before stepping into the room. “Do you want some company?”

Spencer blinked at you, clearly surprised, but he nodded. “Sure.”

You pulled a chair up beside him, glancing at the neat stacks of files on his desk. “You’re ridiculously organized, you know that?”

He chuckled. “Comes with the territory.”

For a while, the two of you worked in companionable silence, the quiet hum of the office almost soothing. It wasn’t until you reached for a file at the same time that your hands brushed, and you both froze.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pulling back quickly.

“No, it’s—” He cleared his throat. “It’s fine.”

Your eyes met, and for a brief moment, the air between you felt charged with something unspoken. But then the moment passed, and you both returned to your work, your hearts beating just a little faster.

Reader’s POV

The call came in at 3 a.m., pulling you out of a restless sleep. By the time you arrived at the BAU office, coffee in hand and exhaustion tugging at your limbs, the rest of the team was already gathered in the briefing room.

“Morning, sunshine,” Garcia greeted with mock cheerfulness as you slid into your seat.

“Morning,” you mumbled back, earning a sympathetic smile from her.

Hotch wasted no time launching into the details. “We’ve got three bodies in the last week, all women in their early twenties. Each victim was abducted, kept for approximately 48 hours, and then left in a public location. The cause of death is strangulation. The local PD in Richmond has requested our assistance.”

As the photos of the victims flashed across the screen, your stomach tightened. Young, bright faces extinguished too soon.

“Are we looking at someone who knew them?” you asked, your voice steady despite the knot forming in your gut.

JJ shook her head. “The victims don’t seem to have any connections to each other. Different neighborhoods, different jobs, no shared social circles.”

“So we’re dealing with an unsub who’s opportunistic,” Rossi said, leaning back in his chair.

“Most likely,” Spencer chimed in. “The cooling-off period is short, which could indicate a lack of control or a growing compulsion.”

As the team delved into theories and assigned tasks, you felt Spencer’s gaze linger on you for a moment. When you glanced his way, he offered a faint nod, as if to say, We’ve got this.

Spencer’s POV

Something about this case felt different.

It wasn’t the pattern—he’d seen similar cases before—but the look in Y/N’s eyes as she examined the crime scene photos. She was usually composed, but there was a flicker of something raw beneath her quiet exterior.

“Spence?” JJ’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “You ready to head to the ME’s office?”

He nodded quickly, grabbing his bag. As they left, he caught sight of Y/N slipping into the SUV with Morgan and Rossi, her expression unreadable.

Reader’s POV

The first day in Richmond was grueling. You’d interviewed families of the victims, combed through hours of CCTV footage, and spent far too long staring at a map of potential dump sites. By the time the team regrouped at the precinct that evening, the weight of the case was pressing down on you like a vice.

“Y/N,” Spencer said softly as you sat down at a desk in the corner, your head in your hands.

You looked up to find him holding out a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking it from him.

He hesitated before sitting beside you. “You okay?”

You nodded, though the lump in your throat betrayed you. “It’s just… hard. They’re so young.”

Spencer’s expression softened. “It’s okay to feel that way. It means you care.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “How do you deal with it? Knowing that… we can’t save them all?”

“I remind myself that we can save the next one,” he said quietly. “That’s what keeps me going.”

His words settled over you like a balm, easing some of the tension in your chest.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said after a moment.

He offered a small smile. “Anytime.”

The break came on the second day. Spencer had been poring over geographical profiles when he noticed a pattern in the unsub’s movements—a cluster of locations that centered around a local park.

“It’s a comfort zone,” he explained as the team gathered around. “The unsub likely lives or works nearby.”

With Garcia’s help, you narrowed down a list of potential suspects. One name stood out: Michael Devlin, a maintenance worker with a history of domestic violence.

“We’ve got enough for a warrant,” Hotch said, his voice clipped. “Morgan, Rossi, Y/N—head to his residence. Reid, JJ, and I will coordinate with SWAT in case he runs.”

Your heart pounded as you pulled on your vest and climbed into the SUV. The tension was palpable as Morgan briefed the team on the way to Devlin’s house.

“He’s dangerous, but he’s not expecting us,” Morgan said. “Stay sharp.”

The house was eerily quiet when you arrived. Morgan motioned for you to take the back while he and Rossi approached the front.

Gun drawn, you moved silently around the perimeter, your pulse thrumming in your ears. A faint noise from inside made you freeze—a muffled cry.

You signaled to Morgan, who nodded and motioned for you to breach the back door.

The next moments were a blur. The door splintered under your weight, and you swept through the darkened hallway, your flashlight cutting through the gloom.

“FBI!” you shouted. “Hands in the air!”

In the basement, you found Devlin with his latest victim—a young woman, bound and gagged but alive. Devlin lunged toward her, but you didn’t hesitate. One precise shot to his leg sent him crumpling to the ground.

“Suspect down!” you called, rushing to the woman’s side.

Morgan and Rossi were there seconds later, securing Devlin while you freed the woman.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, your hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you. “You’re safe now.”

The team returned to the hotel late that night, exhausted but victorious. You’d saved someone.

As you sat on the edge of your bed, the weight of the day finally caught up to you. A knock at the door startled you, and when you opened it, you found Spencer standing there.

“I thought you might want some company,” he said, holding up a bag of takeout.

You stepped aside, letting him in.

The two of you sat in companionable silence, the unspoken bond between you stronger than ever.

“You did good today,” Spencer said softly, breaking the silence.

“So did you,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you looked away. The air felt charged again, but this time, you didn’t retreat.

“Thank you,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Anytime.”

The weeks following the Richmond case brought you and Spencer closer in ways you hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t anything dramatic—no sweeping gestures or long, soul-baring conversations. Instead, it was the little moments that built a quiet, steady foundation.

You started spending more time at his desk between cases, initially just to borrow books or bounce ideas off him, but it became something more. A shared cup of coffee here, a late-night brainstorming session there. The rest of the team noticed, of course, but they didn’t say much—except for Garcia, who gave you a sly wink whenever she caught you lingering near Spencer.

It wasn’t just Spencer, though. You were starting to feel more connected to the entire team. Rossi’s dry humor, Morgan’s teasing camaraderie, JJ’s quiet support, and Garcia’s unrelenting cheerfulness—all of it felt like pieces of a puzzle finally snapping into place.

But Spencer… he was different.

Spencer’s POV

It had become second nature to seek out Y/N when he needed a fresh perspective. Her sharp mind complemented his own, and her methodical approach often helped him piece together details he might have overlooked.

But it wasn’t just her intelligence that drew him in—it was the way she listened. Spencer wasn’t used to people really listening when he rambled about obscure facts or spiraled into tangents. Y/N didn’t just tolerate it; she seemed genuinely interested, even when he went off-topic.

He found himself looking for excuses to talk to her, whether it was about a case, a book, or even something as mundane as coffee preferences.

“You’re spending a lot of time with our newbie,” Morgan teased one afternoon as Spencer returned to his desk.

Spencer bristled. “We’re just… working well together.”

Morgan’s grin widened. “Sure you are, kid. Sure you are.”

Spencer tried to ignore him, but the comment stuck in his mind for the rest of the day. Was it really so obvious?

Reader’s POV

The next case was in Chicago—three bodies were found in abandoned buildings, each with eerily similar staging. The unsub was methodical, leaving almost no evidence behind. It wasn’t until the fourth victim was found that a pattern began to emerge.

“We’re looking at someone with a background in construction or architecture,” you said during the briefing, pointing to the detailed layout drawn on the whiteboard. “Each site was chosen for its isolation and structural integrity. He’s not just picking random locations; he’s planning this down to the last detail.”

Spencer nodded, adding to your analysis. “It’s possible he sees himself as an artist. The staging suggests a need for control, but also a desire for recognition. He’s leaving a signature.”

Hotch glanced between the two of you. “Work with Garcia to identify anyone with the right skill set and a history of violence. We need to narrow this down before he strikes again.”

You and Spencer were paired up to interview a potential suspect—a reclusive architect with a history of volatile behavior. As you drove through the quiet streets of Chicago, the conversation drifted to more personal topics.

“Do you miss it?” Spencer asked suddenly, his gaze focused on the road ahead.

“Miss what?”

“The academy,” he clarified. “Before the field. Before…” He gestured vaguely.

You considered the question for a moment. “Not really. I mean, it was challenging, but I always knew I wanted to be out here, making a difference. What about you? Do you miss… normalcy?”

Spencer laughed softly. “I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced normalcy. But I think I’ve found something better.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt your chest tighten.

Before you could respond, the GPS announced your arrival, pulling you back to the present.

The interview didn’t yield much—your suspect was uncooperative, but there wasn’t enough evidence to hold him. As you and Spencer left the building, the frustration was palpable.

“He’s hiding something,” you muttered as you walked to the car.

Spencer nodded. “Agreed. But without concrete evidence, we can’t—”

A sharp noise interrupted him—a metallic clang, followed by a figure darting into the alley beside the building.

“Stay here,” you said instinctively, drawing your weapon.

“Wait—” Spencer started to protest, but you were already moving.

The alley was narrow and dimly lit, and the figure was fast, but your training kicked in. You rounded a corner just in time to see the man scaling a fence.

“FBI! Stop!”

He didn’t.

You followed, adrenaline surging as you climbed the fence and hit the ground running. The suspect turned sharply, heading into an abandoned warehouse.

You slowed as you entered, your heart pounding. The faint sound of footsteps echoed through the cavernous space.

“Y/N!” Spencer’s voice called from behind you, and you turned to see him catching up, his own weapon drawn.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, your voice tight.

“And let you go in alone? Not a chance.”

Before you could argue, the suspect lunged from the shadows. Spencer reacted instantly, stepping between you and the attacker. The fight was brief but chaotic, and by the time you secured the suspect with cuffs, your hands were trembling.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, his eyes scanning you for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, though your heart was still racing. “You?”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I’m fine.”

For a moment, you just stood there, the weight of the encounter settling over you. Then, without thinking, you reached out and placed a hand on his arm.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Spencer’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Anytime.”

The suspect turned out to be a crucial lead, and the case wrapped up soon after. On the flight home, you found yourself sitting beside Spencer, the two of you poring over a book he’d brought.

“You’re starting to remind me of Reid 2.0,” Morgan teased as he walked by.

You rolled your eyes, but Spencer smiled.

“Is that such a bad thing?” you asked, glancing at Spencer.

He shook his head, his expression unreadable. “Not at all.”

As the plane soared through the clouds, you couldn’t help but feel that your partnership with Spencer was becoming something more—something you weren’t quite ready to name yet, but something that felt right all the same.

(Next Case)

The case had felt off from the start.

You’d arrived in a small Colorado town after two young women disappeared within days of each other. The unsub had a clear pattern—abducting women in their twenties, keeping them for a few days, and leaving their mutilated bodies in remote areas.

You’d all felt the clock ticking with each passing hour. But even as the team worked tirelessly to profile the unsub and narrow down suspects, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong—something you couldn’t quite put into words.

You were walking back to the SUV alone after canvassing a witness when it happened.

A sharp sting at the base of your neck.

Then, darkness.

Spencer’s POV

“She should have been back by now,” Spencer said, his voice tight with worry.

The team had regrouped at the precinct, but Y/N’s absence was glaring. She’d been checking in regularly all day, but her last update had come nearly an hour ago.

“She probably just got held up with a witness,” Morgan offered, though even he sounded unconvinced.

“No,” Spencer said, his jaw clenched. “Something’s wrong.”

Garcia’s voice crackled through the speakerphone. “I’ve got her GPS! It’s… oh, no. It’s not moving. Her phone’s near a deserted building on the outskirts of town.”

Hotch didn’t hesitate. “Morgan, Reid, let’s go. JJ, Rossi, stay here and coordinate with the local PD. Garcia, keep tracking her phone.”

Spencer’s chest tightened as they raced toward the location, dread clawing at his insides.

Reader’s POV

You woke to blinding pain.

Your arms were wrenched behind you, your wrists bound with coarse rope that cut into your skin. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of a single bulb overhead.

A figure loomed above you, his face obscured.

“Finally awake,” he said, his voice calm, almost casual.

You struggled against the restraints, your breath coming in sharp gasps.

“Don’t bother,” the man said, crouching to meet your gaze. “It’s just you and me now. And I don’t like it when people scream.”

He raised something shiny—a blade—and you froze.

The first cut was shallow, a deliberate line across your arm. Pain bloomed, sharp and hot, and you bit down hard on your lip to keep from crying out.

“Good,” he murmured. “You’re strong. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Time became a blur after that. The pain was relentless—cuts, bruises, burns. He was methodical, asking questions he didn’t seem to care if you answered. You tried to focus on anything else—your training, the team, Spencer—but the agony kept dragging you back.

At some point, you lose consciousness again.

Spencer’s POV

When they found you, Spencer nearly collapsed with relief—and horror.

You were slumped in the corner of the room, your clothes torn and blood staining your skin. Cuts and bruises covered your body, and your face was pale, almost unrecognizable.

“Y/N!” Spencer was the first to reach you, dropping to his knees beside you.

Your eyes fluttered open, but there was no recognition in them, only fear.

“It’s me,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “It’s Spencer. You’re safe now.”

Your lips moved, but no sound came out.

Hotch and Morgan secured the unsub, who was screaming as they dragged him out of the building. Spencer barely registered it. All he could focus on was you—broken, fragile, and trembling in his arms.

Reader’s POV

The ride to the hospital was a blur. You were dimly aware of Spencer’s hand gripping yours, his voice low and soothing as he spoke to you, though you couldn’t make out the words.

The pain was overwhelming, but worse than that was the fear—the raw, unrelenting terror that you were still there, still in that room.

It wasn’t until you were in the hospital, surrounded by the sterile smell of antiseptic and the soft hum of machines, that you began to feel grounded again.

Spencer stayed by your side the entire time.

You didn’t want to go home.

The thought of returning to the BAU, to the same desks and faces, felt impossible. But Hotch had insisted you needed to recover somewhere familiar, and the team had gently assured you they’d be there every step of the way.

You sat alone on the plane, staring out the window, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The team kept their distance, speaking in hushed tones as they gave you space.

You hated how broken you felt. You hated the way the memories of that room kept flashing through your mind, the way your skin still crawled despite the warm blanket Garcia had draped over your shoulders.

And yet, when Spencer moved to sit beside you, you didn’t pull away.

You stayed silent as he settled in, the faint scent of his cologne reaching you. After a long moment, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Spencer stiffened for half a second before relaxing, his arm curling around you protectively. He didn’t say anything—didn’t need to.

The rest of the team exchanged quiet glances but said nothing. They knew better than to interrupt.

For the first time since the ordeal, you felt… safe.

Spencer’s POV

She didn’t say a word the entire flight, but Spencer didn’t mind.

When she’d leaned into him, something in his chest had cracked open. He didn’t know what to say or do, but he knew he’d do anything to protect her from feeling that way again.

As the plane descended toward Quantico, he tightened his arm around her, silently promising her—and himself—that he’d be there for her, no matter what.

Reader’s POV

Recovery wasn’t linear.

You thought it might be—thought you could box up what happened and file it away in some corner of your mind. But the scars on your body weren’t just physical, and no matter how hard you tried, the memories of that room clung to you like smoke, thick and suffocating.

You barely left your apartment in the weeks after the case. The team gave you space but stayed present in small ways: a text from JJ checking in, a phone call from Morgan offering to bring dinner, Rossi dropping off an expensive bottle of wine “for when you’re ready.”

But Spencer and Garcia… they were different.

They didn’t just check-in. They showed up.

It started with the nightmares.

They came like clockwork, dragging you from sleep with a gasp and leaving you trembling in the dark. At first, you tried to handle them on your own. You’d curl up on the couch with a blanket, the TV murmuring softly in the background as you willed yourself to calm down.

But after one particularly bad night, your hands shaking so hard you couldn’t hold the phone steady, you called Spencer.

He answered on the second ring, his voice groggy but alert. “Y/N?”

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, immediately regretting the call. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupted gently. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. But he waited, his patience endless.

“I had a nightmare,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

There was a pause, then: “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the line had already gone dead.

When Spencer showed up at your door, his hair mussed and his sweater slightly wrinkled, you felt a pang of guilt.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly, stepping inside.

He didn’t press you to talk about the nightmare. Instead, he made tea while you curled up on the couch, his calm presence enough to ground you. He stayed until the sun came up, his hand resting lightly on your arm as you drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep.

That became your new normal. Every time the nightmares came, Spencer would be there, no matter the hour.

Garcia was the first to call you out on your self-imposed isolation.

“Okay, honey, I love you, but you’re starting to worry me,” she said one afternoon, her voice tinged with concern.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though even you didn’t believe it.

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly unconvinced. “So fine that you’ve become a hermit. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m just… not ready to go out yet.”

Garcia was quiet for a moment, then her tone brightened. “Alright, challenge accepted. If you won’t go to the world, the world will come to you.”

The next day, Spencer and Garcia showed up at your apartment with an armful of books.

“Welcome to the world’s tiniest bookstore,” Garcia announced, sweeping into your living room like a tornado.

“I may have gone a little overboard,” Spencer admitted, setting the books down on your coffee table.

“A little?” Garcia scoffed. “Reid, this isn’t overboard—it’s a full-on invasion.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you flipped through the stack, your chest tightening at the sight of your favorite titles mixed in with a few new ones.

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Garcia waved you off. “Please. This is nothing compared to the epic coffee shop we’re planning for tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Coffee shop?”

“Just wait,” Spencer said with a small smile.

The next morning, your living room was transformed.

Garcia had brought fairy lights, a Bluetooth speaker, and pastries from your favorite bakery. Spencer had set up a coffee station, complete with syrups and a milk frother.

“Order up!” Garcia called, handing you a steaming cup of your favorite drink.

You curled up in your armchair, the faint sound of jazz playing in the background as you sipped your coffee. For the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of something like peace.

It was Spencer’s idea to bring the theater to you.

He showed up one evening with Garcia in tow, a projector tucked under his arm and a bag of popcorn balanced precariously in Garcia’s hands.

“Movie night!” Garcia declared, dropping the popcorn onto your kitchen counter.

“What’s all this?” you asked, watching as Spencer set up the projector.

“Well, we figured since you’re not quite ready to hit the theaters yet, we’d bring the theaters to you,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes warm.

They went all out, dimming the lights and piling your couch with blankets and pillows. Spencer even gave a little lecture about the history of film before the movie started, earning an affectionate eye-roll from Garcia.

By the time the credits rolled, you were smiling—a real, genuine smile—and for the first time since the case, you felt like yourself again.

You weren’t fully healed. The nightmares still came, and there were moments when the memories felt too heavy to bear. But Spencer and Garcia didn’t let you carry it alone.

With every late-night visit, every carefully planned surprise, they reminded you that you weren’t broken. You were still you, even if it took time to feel whole again.

One night, as you sat on the couch with Spencer beside you, your head resting on his shoulder, you found yourself whispering, “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, his voice soft.

“For… everything,” you said, your words faltering but earnest.

He didn’t respond right away, but his arm tightened around you.

“Anytime,” he said, and you knew he meant it.

The turning point came on a quiet Thursday night when the weight of everything finally broke through the walls you’d built around yourself.

It started innocuously enough. Spencer had come over, as he often did, with takeout from your favorite Thai place and a new book he thought you’d enjoy. The two of you had eaten in companionable silence, the TV murmuring in the background as the sky outside darkened.

You hadn’t planned to say anything. You hadn’t planned for any of it.

But then Spencer said something—something small and offhand about how strong you were—and it hit you like a freight train.

The tears came suddenly, unstoppable.

Spencer’s POV

He’d never seen her cry before.

Not during cases, not after the ordeal in Colorado, not even during the nightmares that haunted her nights. She’d always held herself together with an almost unnerving composure, her pain buried so deeply that even Spencer, with all his insight, couldn’t reach it.

But now, as she sat across from him on the couch, her head in her hands and her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, Spencer felt utterly helpless.

“Y/N,” he said softly, setting his food aside and leaning toward her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, her voice muffled. “I—I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” he pressed gently.

“I can’t keep pretending I’m okay,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m not okay, Spencer. I keep telling myself to move on, to be strong, but I—I don’t know how.”

Her admission shattered something in him.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he said, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. “Not with me. Not with any of us.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes red and shining with tears. “But what if I never feel normal again? What if I’m always this… broken?”

Spencer didn’t hesitate. He reached out, his hands enveloping hers.

“You’re not broken,” he said firmly. “You’re healing. And healing isn’t linear—it’s messy and hard, and sometimes it feels impossible. But you’re not alone in this. I’m here. We’re all here.”

For a long moment, she just stared at him, her breath hitching. Then, slowly, she let herself lean into him, her forehead resting against his shoulder.

Spencer held her carefully, his arms wrapping around her as though she might shatter.

“You’re going to be okay,” he murmured. “I promise.”

Reader’s POV

It felt like something had shifted that night.

You’d spent so long keeping your pain locked away, afraid that letting it out would make you weak, make you a burden. But Spencer hadn’t turned away. He’d held you, his presence steady and unwavering, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe.

Over the next few days, you found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t before. Little things at first—a comment about how much you missed running, a quiet confession about a song that made you cry. And then bigger things, like the fear that still gripped you every time you stepped outside, or the way your scars made you feel like a stranger in your own skin.

Spencer listened to it all, never interrupting, never judging.

And when the words ran out, he simply stayed.

The real turning point came a few weeks later, when you found yourself standing in your kitchen with Spencer, the two of you cooking dinner together.

You’d insisted on making something from scratch, though Spencer had warned you that his cooking skills were questionable at best. He was carefully chopping vegetables under your watchful eye when he suddenly stopped, his brow furrowing.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He hesitated, his gaze flicking to you. “I was just… thinking about how different things are now.”

“Different how?”

He set the knife down, leaning against the counter. “When you first joined the team, you were so… reserved. It felt like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. And after Colorado, I thought…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You thought what?” you prompted, your voice soft.

“I thought I might lose you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The air between you seemed to shift, the unspoken tension that had been building for weeks finally coming to a head.

“You didn’t lose me,” you said quietly.

Spencer met your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “But I almost did. And it made me realize how much you mean to me.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I know this might not be the right time,” he continued, his voice steady but laced with vulnerability. “And I don’t want to make you feel pressured. But… I care about you, Y/N. More than I think I even realized until now.”

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

Then, slowly, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his.

“I care about you too,” you said, your voice trembling. “More than I’ve let myself admit.”

Spencer’s expression softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“We don’t have to rush this,” he said. “Whatever you need—however long it takes—I’ll be here.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but this time, they weren’t from pain.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Spencer squeezed your hand gently, his presence grounding you once again.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on your chest began to lift.

In the weeks that followed, the fragile threads of your connection with Spencer began to weave into something stronger. There were no grand declarations or dramatic shifts—just quiet, intimate moments that built on the foundation you’d already created.

The nightmares still came, though less frequently now. Spencer was always there when you needed him, showing up at your door with that same gentle determination. But the dynamic had subtly changed.

One night, after a particularly vivid dream, you didn’t wait for him to pull out his phone or suggest tea. Instead, you moved closer on the couch, resting your head against his chest.

His arms came around you instantly, holding you securely as his steady heartbeat anchored you to the present.

“Better?” he murmured after a while, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded against him, your fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his sweater. “Better.”

From then on, it became your unspoken ritual. Spencer would hold you through the worst of it, and when the panic began to fade, you’d sit together in comfortable silence, your breaths syncing as the weight of the dream dissipated.

One evening, as the two of you sat at your kitchen table playing chess—well, he was playing chess, and you were doing your best to keep up—Spencer spoke quietly, his gaze fixed on the board.

“You know,” he said, moving a pawn, “I’ve never been very good at relationships.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

He gave a self-deprecating smile. “It’s true. My job, my… personality—it doesn’t exactly make things easy. But with you, it feels… different.”

“Different how?” you asked, leaning your chin on your hand as you studied his face.

He hesitated, then met your gaze. “Like I don’t have to try so hard to be understood.”

Your chest tightened at his words. “You don’t,” you said softly.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile, and you knew you’d said exactly what he needed to hear.

Spencer showed his affection in quiet ways.

He’d slip a bookmark into the pages of your latest read with a handwritten note—a quote he thought you’d like or a simple “this reminded me of you.”

He’d remember your favorite tea and make sure the cupboard was always stocked, even if it meant sneaking a box into your cart during a grocery run.

He’d lend you his scarf on cold mornings, looping it around your neck with an almost reverent care.

You found yourself returning the favor in your own subtle ways. You’d leave post-it notes on his bookshelves with little comments about the titles you borrowed, enjoying the way he’d chuckle when he found them.

You’d teach him how to cook simple meals, laughing as he fumbled with the stove but never letting him give up.

And once, after he’d spent an exhausting day at the BAU, you’d shown up at his apartment with takeout and a copy of his favorite movie, sitting with him on the couch until he finally let himself relax.

The turning point in your growing relationship came during a particularly hard day at work. The case had been brutal, dredging up memories you’d tried to bury, and you’d found yourself withdrawing again.

Spencer noticed immediately.

“Y/N,” he said gently as the two of you worked late in the bullpen, the rest of the team long gone. “Talk to me.”

You hesitated, your hands tightening around the file in front of you. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t press, but his silence spoke volumes.

Finally, you set the file aside and looked at him. “It’s just… this case. It reminds me of Colorado. And I thought I was past that, but…” You trailed off, the words sticking in your throat.

Spencer reached across the desk, his hand brushing against yours. “Healing isn’t a straight line,” he said softly. “You’re allowed to have bad days.”

You swallowed hard, his understanding breaking through your defenses. “I don’t know how you always know exactly what to say.”

He gave a small shrug, his fingers curling around yours. “Maybe it’s because I know what it’s like to feel broken. And I know how much it helps to have someone who understands.”

You held his gaze, something unspoken passing between you. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“Always,” he said, his voice steady.

It happened on a quiet Sunday afternoon, as the two of you sat on your couch reading. The sunlight streamed through the window, casting a golden glow over the room.

You weren’t sure what prompted it—maybe it was the way Spencer had leaned closer to point something out in your book, or the way his hand lingered on yours for a beat too long.

Whatever it was, when you turned to look at him, you found him already watching you.

“Spencer,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze flicked to your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might pull back. But then, slowly, hesitantly, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative and unsure. But as you relaxed into him, his hand came up to cup your cheek, deepening the connection.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads resting together, you couldn’t help but smile.

“That was…” you began, struggling to find the words.

“Long overdue?” he finished, his lips quirking in a shy smile.

You laughed softly, nodding. “Yeah. Long overdue.”

From that moment on, things felt… lighter.

You still had bad days, and Spencer still had his own struggles, but together, you found a balance. The quiet intimacy you’d built over months became the foundation for something stronger, something unshakable.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could face whatever came next—because you weren’t alone anymore.

Being with Spencer wasn’t like anything you’d experienced before.

It wasn’t a whirlwind romance filled with grand gestures or dramatic declarations. It was quiet, steady, and deeply rooted in trust. Spencer was the kind of person who noticed the small things—when you were fidgeting with your hands because you were nervous when you couldn’t quite meet his eyes because something was weighing on you, when your lips twitched ever so slightly at a joke you pretended not to find funny.

And, in return, you began to notice him.

The way he’d drum his fingers on his desk when he was deep in thought. The way he’d tilt his head slightly when he was about to say something he thought might make him sound awkward. The way his eyes lit up whenever you spoke, as though nothing else in the world mattered.

It was terrifying and comforting all at once, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Spencer’s POV

Spencer wasn’t used to feeling this… settled.

He’d been in relationships before, but none of them felt like this. With Y/N, he didn’t feel the need to explain himself or hold back parts of who he was. She saw him—really saw him—and still chose to stay.

It scared him sometimes, the intensity of his feelings for her. But then she’d laugh at one of his rambling stories, or brush a strand of hair out of his face with a soft smile, and all his fears would melt away.

He didn’t know where this was going, but for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t afraid to find out.

One rare day off, Spencer showed up at your apartment with a grin that immediately set you on edge.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Put your shoes on,” he said, his tone practically vibrating with excitement.

You frowned. “Why? Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said cryptically, rocking back on his heels.

You groaned, but his enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself grabbing your jacket.

The “surprise” turned out to be a day at a local botanical garden. Spencer’s excitement was almost childlike as he led you through the winding paths, pointing out rare plants and rattling off facts about their origins.

“This one,” he said, stopping in front of a sprawling orchid, “is called Paphiopedilum rothschildianum. It’s one of the rarest orchids in the world and can take up to 15 years to bloom.”

You tilted your head, pretending to be unimpressed. “That’s nice, but can it make coffee?”

Spencer chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll add that to my list of criteria for impressive plants.”

Despite your teasing, you found yourself captivated by his passion. Watching him light up over something so simple was a reminder of why you cared for him so deeply.

Later, as you sat together on a bench surrounded by blooming flowers, Spencer reached for your hand.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“For what?” you asked, genuinely puzzled.

“For letting me share this with you,” he said, his voice earnest.

Your chest tightened, and you squeezed his hand. “Always.”

Dating someone you worked with was tricky, especially at the BAU, where boundaries between personal and professional were already blurry.

You and Spencer had agreed to keep your relationship private—for now, at least. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust the team, but you both valued the quiet intimacy of what you’d built and weren’t ready to share it yet.

Still, there were moments when it was hard to hide.

Like when Spencer brought you coffee in the middle of a particularly stressful day and lingered just a little too long by your desk.

Or when Garcia caught the two of you exchanging a look across the bullpen and immediately raised an eyebrow.

“Spill,” she whispered to you later, cornering you in the break room.

“Spill what?” you asked innocently, though your cheeks betrayed you by turning red.

Garcia narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh. You’re lucky I love you, or I’d make it my personal mission to find out what you’re hiding.”

You laughed nervously and quickly changed the subject.

The first argument you and Spencer had wasn’t dramatic, but it rattled you nonetheless.

It started over something small—he’d forgotten to text you after a particularly dangerous case, and you’d spent the night worrying.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Spencer said, his voice tinged with frustration as you stood in your living room. “I was just… caught up in the aftermath.”

“I get that,” you said, your arms crossed. “But you know how I feel about not knowing if you’re okay.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not used to this,” he admitted. “Having someone who worries about me.”

The vulnerability in his voice softened your anger, and you stepped closer, your expression gentler.

“I’m not trying to smother you,” you said quietly. “I just… I care about you, and I need to know you’re safe.”

Spencer’s shoulders sagged, and he nodded. “I’ll do better,” he said, his voice soft. “I promise.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “That’s all I ask.”

The tension melted, and as Spencer pulled you into his arms, you realized that even your arguments brought you closer.

As the months went on, your relationship deepened in ways you hadn’t thought possible. Spencer became your safe haven, the person you turned to in your darkest moments. And in turn, you became his—a steady presence in a world that often felt overwhelming.

There were still challenges, of course. The job was unforgiving, and your own lingering fears sometimes crept back in. But with Spencer by your side, you felt stronger—more capable of facing whatever came your way.

One night, as you lay in bed together, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm, he spoke softly.

“I love you.”

The words were quiet, almost hesitant, but they hit you like a tidal wave.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding. “I love you too,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes.

Spencer’s lips curved into a small smile, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

In that moment, you knew you’d found something rare—something worth holding onto with everything you had.

It wasn’t like you and Spencer were trying to hide your relationship, exactly. You just… hadn’t told anyone yet. There was something comforting about keeping it to yourselves, about having a part of your lives that existed outside the chaos of the BAU.

But the team wasn’t made up of fools.

Between Garcia’s laser focus, Morgan’s teasing intuition, and JJ’s quiet observations, it was only a matter of time before someone put the pieces together.

The unraveling began on a Wednesday afternoon when Garcia came storming into the bullpen, waving her phone like a sword.

“Explain this to me!” she demanded, stopping in front of your desk.

You blinked up at her, confused. “Explain what?”

“This!” she said, thrusting her phone into your face.

On the screen was a photo Spencer had posted to his rarely-used Instagram: a blurry shot of a chessboard and two coffee cups sitting on a familiar coffee table—your coffee table.

“Why is Reid at your place drinking coffee?” Garcia asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

You scrambled for an excuse. “Uh, we were… playing chess. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” Garcia echoed, her tone incredulous. “Reid doesn’t even post pictures of his cat! And now he’s posting pictures from your apartment?”

Before you could respond, Morgan sauntered over, clearly intrigued. “What’s this about Reid and Y/N?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, your face burning.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Sure doesn’t sound like nothing.”

You glared at him, but before the conversation could go any further, Hotch called everyone into the briefing room, saving you from further interrogation.

For now.

___________________________________________________________

The second slip came a week later when the team was out on a case in Seattle. You and Spencer had ended up sharing a room at the hotel due to a booking error, and you thought nothing of it. After all, you’d spent countless nights together—this was no different.

Except it was.

When Garcia called Spencer for an update, you could hear her voice loud and clear through the phone.

“Wait, what?” she screeched. “You’re sharing a room with Y/N?!”

“It’s not a big deal,” Spencer said, his tone even.

“Not a big deal?” Garcia repeated, her voice rising in pitch. “Are you two—oh my God. You are, aren’t you?!”

Spencer’s eyes darted to you, his face a mix of panic and amusement. “Garcia, can we focus on the case?”

“Oh, we’ll talk about this later,” she said ominously before hanging up.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “She knows.”

“She suspects,” Spencer corrected, though he didn’t look particularly convinced.

___________________________________________________________

It all came to a head during one of Rossi’s famous dinners.

You and Spencer had arrived together, as usual, but this time, you’d carpooled, which immediately caught JJ’s attention.

“Did you two come together?” she asked casually as you handed her your coat.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “It was just easier.”

“Right,” JJ said, her smile a little too knowing.

The evening went smoothly—until it didn’t.

You were helping Spencer carry dishes into the kitchen when Garcia cornered you, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You know, you two make a terrible couple,” she said, her tone dripping with faux innocence.

You froze, a plate halfway to the sink. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on,” Garcia said, waving a hand. “We all know. You and Reid are about as subtle as a neon sign.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, Morgan walked in with a wide grin.

“What’d I miss?”

“Garcia’s accusing me of dating Spencer,” you said, your voice a little too defensive.

“Accusing?” Morgan repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, sweetheart, we’re just confirming.”

Your face went red, and you glanced at Spencer for backup, but he just sighed and set the dishes down.

“They’re not wrong,” he said simply.

The room went silent for a beat.

“Wait,” JJ said, walking in with Rossi and Hotch close behind. “Are you serious? You two are together?”

You looked at Spencer, your heart racing. He met your gaze, his expression calm, but you could see the faint tension in his shoulders.

“Yes,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “We’re together.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Garcia’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “I knew it!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Oh my gosh, this is so much better than I imagined. You two are like—like a bookish rom-com come to life!”

“Garcia,” you said, your face burning, “can we not make a big deal out of this?”

“Are you kidding?” she replied, her voice high with excitement. “This is the biggest deal! You and Reid? It’s like finding out Clark Kent and Lois Lane are secretly dating!”

“Technically,” Spencer started, “Lois Lane wasn’t actually aware of—”

“Not the time, Reid,” Morgan said, grinning as he leaned against the counter.

JJ folded her arms, her smile soft. “So how long has this been going on?”

“Uh…” You exchanged a glance with Spencer.

“A few months,” he said, his tone even.

“A few months?” Rossi interjected, his eyebrows raised. “You’ve been hiding this from us for months?”

“It’s not like we were trying to hide it,” you said quickly, your hands fidgeting. “We just… wanted to keep it private for a while.”

Hotch, who had been standing silently in the doorway, finally spoke. “And your relationship isn’t interfering with your work?”

“No, sir,” Spencer said immediately. “We’ve been careful to maintain professionalism in the field.”

Hotch studied the two of you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. “As long as that remains the case, I have no objections.”

Relief flooded through you, and you gave him a small, grateful smile.

Morgan, however, was clearly enjoying himself. “So, Reid,” he said, clapping Spencer on the shoulder, “you finally made a move, huh? About time.”

Spencer’s face turned pink. “It wasn’t— I mean, we— It wasn’t like that,” he stammered.

“Sure it wasn’t,” Morgan said with a wink. “I’ve been watching you moon over her for months.”

“Morgan!” you protested, your own face heating up.

JJ chuckled. “Don’t let him get to you. We’re happy for you guys. Really.”

Garcia practically bounced on her heels. “Does this mean I can officially call you my favorite BAU couple? Because I’ve been holding back for so long, and—”

“Garcia,” you interrupted, laughing despite yourself, “let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”

Spencer’s POV

The teasing didn’t stop after dinner.

By the time everyone had moved into the living room, Garcia and Morgan were in full swing, grilling the two of you with questions about how you got together.

“Come on, give us something,” Garcia pleaded, her hands clasped dramatically. “Was there a grand romantic confession? A surprise kiss? A late-night stakeout where you realized you couldn’t live without each other?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Spencer said, his face still pink.

“She’s right,” JJ added with a laugh. “If anyone’s earned some privacy, it’s these two.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Fine, fine. But don’t think this means we’re letting you off the hook completely. I’m keeping an eye on you, Reid.”

“Duly noted,” Spencer said dryly, though his lips twitched in a faint smile.

Reader’s POV

By the end of the night, you were exhausted but relieved. The team’s reactions had been overwhelming at first, but their acceptance and teasing affection had left you feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

As you and Spencer walked to his car, the cool night air brushing against your skin, you glanced at him, your heart full.

“Well, that could’ve gone worse,” you said with a small smile.

Spencer chuckled, unlocking the car. “I think Morgan’s never going to let this go.”

“Probably not,” you agreed, sliding into the passenger seat.

As he started the engine, you reached for his hand, your fingers threading through his.

“Thanks for being honest with them,” you said softly.

Spencer glanced at you, his expression warm. “I wasn’t going to let you handle that alone.”

The drive back to your apartment was quiet but comfortable, the tension of the evening melting away.

When he walked you to your door, you hesitated for a moment before pulling him into a gentle kiss.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you murmured, your voice soft.

“Goodnight,” he replied, his eyes shining with affection.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but smile.

The team knew now, and while things might be different going forward, you felt ready to face it—together.

___________________________________________________________

The team adjusted to your relationship with Spencer in their own ways, but the teasing never let up. It became a new dynamic, woven into the fabric of your daily lives at the BAU, and while it was occasionally embarrassing, you couldn’t deny that it brought a warmth to the team that hadn’t been there before.

___________________________________________________________

Garcia

Garcia, predictably, went all in.

She was ecstatic that her two “favorite nerds” were finally together, and she wasn’t shy about expressing it. She’d leave little notes on your desks with messages like “Lovebirds hard at work!” or “OTP: Reid & Y/N forever” scribbled in glittery pen.

One day, you caught her sneaking a photo of you and Spencer sitting close together during a case briefing.

“Garcia,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she said, attempting (poorly) to hide her phone.

“Penelope,” Spencer said, his tone exasperated but fond.

“Fine,” she relented with a dramatic sigh. “But you two are too cute, and it’s practically my duty to document it. What if your hypothetical future kids want to see their parents in their adorable early days?”

You buried your face in your hands as Spencer stammered, his ears turning pink.

___________________________________________________________

Morgan

Morgan was relentless in his teasing, but you knew it came from a place of affection.

He had a knack for making both you and Spencer squirm in the most public ways possible.

“Reid,” he called out one morning as you all sat in the bullpen, “did you finally teach Y/N the quadratic formula last night? Or was it more of a hands-on tutoring session?”

You groaned, your face heating up. “Morgan, seriously?”

“What?” Morgan said with a grin. “Just trying to keep the workplace educational.”

Spencer rolled his eyes but shot you a small, reassuring smile. You’d both learned that ignoring Morgan was usually the best defense.

___________________________________________________________

JJ was quieter about her support but no less kind.

She’d give you subtle smiles when she caught you and Spencer exchanging glances or a soft nudge when the team’s teasing got out of hand.

One day, while you were working on a case together, she leaned in and said, “You’re good for him, you know.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Spencer’s always been… a little isolated,” she said thoughtfully. “He has us, but he’s never really let someone in the way he’s let you in. It’s good to see him happy.”

Her words stayed with you long after the conversation ended, filling you with a quiet warmth.

___________________________________________________________

Rossi

Rossi was the least vocal about your relationship, but his approval came through in other ways.

He started inviting the two of you to his dinners more frequently, always seating you next to each other and making subtle comments like, “It’s nice to see Reid eating something other than takeout. You must be a good influence, Y/N.”

Once, when you thanked him for the meal as you were leaving, he gave you a knowing look. “Just take care of each other,” he said simply.

You nodded, the weight of his trust settling over you like a blanket.

___________________________________________________________

Hotch

Hotch was, as expected, professional about the whole thing. He never made any overt comments about your relationship but made it clear through his actions that he trusted you both to maintain your professionalism in the field.

That trust came to the forefront during a high-stakes case in New Orleans. You and Spencer were paired together to investigate a lead, and when the situation became tense, Hotch’s calm voice came through the comms.

“Reid, Y/N,” he said, his tone even. “I need you both to stay focused. You’re a team first.”

You could hear the unspoken meaning in his words: I trust you to keep your relationship separate from the job.

When the case wrapped successfully, he pulled you aside.

“You handled yourself well out there,” he said, his expression unreadable.

“Thank you, sir,” you said, standing a little straighter.

His gaze softened slightly. “You and Reid are good for each other. Just don’t let it cloud your judgment when it matters.”

“We won’t,” you promised, meaning every word.

___________________________________________________________

As time went on, your relationship with Spencer became a natural part of the team’s dynamic. The teasing remained, of course—Garcia’s glittery notes, Morgan’s innuendos, and Rossi’s subtle smirks were constants—but there was also an unspoken sense of support that ran deeper than you’d expected.

When cases got tough, the team knew to keep an extra eye on both of you, making sure the weight of the job didn’t pull you down too far. And when things were calm, they celebrated your happiness in their own unique ways, whether it was Garcia baking cupcakes with “R+Y” frosted on top or Morgan giving Spencer a mock toast at Rossi’s next dinner party.

You and Spencer never felt alone in your relationship—not with this group of people who had become your family.

___________________________________________________________

Months turned into a year, and your relationship with Spencer became a steady, unshakable part of your life. What had started as a quiet connection had grown into something deep and enduring—something that didn’t just survive the pressures of the job but thrived despite them.

It was a rare night off, and you and Spencer were curled up on your couch. The soft glow of a lamp cast long shadows across the room, and the faint scent of coffee lingered in the air. A chessboard sat between you, though neither of you had made a move in over an hour.

Instead, your attention was focused on Spencer as he explained a theory about quantum mechanics with the same enthusiasm he brought to every subject. His hands moved as he spoke, his eyes alight with the passion you adored.

“Am I boring you?” he asked suddenly, noticing your quiet smile.

“Not at all,” you said, leaning forward to rest your hand over his. “I just love listening to you.”

Spencer’s expression softened, and he turned his hand over to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“You’ve changed my life, you know,” he said quietly.

You tilted your head, caught off guard. “I could say the same about you.”

He smiled, his eyes searching yours. “I mean it. Before you, I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who really… understood me. But you do.”

Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice, and you reached up to cup his cheek. “You make me feel the same way, Spencer.”

The kiss that followed was soft and unhurried, a quiet affirmation of everything you’d built together.

___________________________________________________________

Rossi’s house was alive with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. The entire team had gathered for one of his famous dinners, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how far you’d come.

You stood in the kitchen with Garcia, the two of you laughing as she recounted an over-the-top story about a case from her early days at the BAU. Across the room, Spencer was deep in conversation with Rossi, his hands gesturing animatedly as he explained something.

Garcia nudged you, her grin wide. “He’s crazy about you, you know.”

You smiled, glancing at Spencer. “I’m pretty crazy about him, too.”

“Well, duh,” she said, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “I mean, you’re practically the BAU’s golden couple at this point.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” you asked, suddenly curious.

Garcia tilted her head, her expression softening. “Honey, weird doesn’t even come close to describing the BAU. But you two? You’re good for each other. And we’re all lucky to have you both.”

Before you could respond, Morgan called out from the dining room. “Come on, you two! Food’s getting cold!”

Garcia grabbed your hand, dragging you toward the table.

As you sat down beside Spencer, his hand found yours under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. You leaned into him, a quiet smile playing on your lips as the team fell into their usual rhythm of teasing and storytelling.

___________________________________________________________

Later that night, as you and Spencer walked back to your car under the glow of the streetlights, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t known was possible.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, his voice soft.

You nodded, your fingers laced with his. “Always.”

He glanced at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “What are you thinking about?”

You stopped walking, turning to face him. “How lucky I am,” you said simply.

Spencer’s eyes softened, and he stepped closer, his hands resting on your waist. “I’m the lucky one.”

The kiss you shared under the stars was filled with the quiet certainty that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you’d face them together.

You’d found your place—with Spencer, with the team, with the life you’d built. And for the first time in a long time, you felt whole.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x yn #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid series #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds series #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines #magical-Reid

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toobusybeingdelulu · 29 days ago

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The thing I love most about Billy Hargrove is his unpredictability, in a show where we can see every other character’s moves from MILES away. Even those who had the potential to be the most interesting are either side-lined, ignored or return to old patterns (see Johnatan, Will or Steve). Also, they all have one thing in common, even El: they all want to be good. To do good. To be heroes. And I would not find anything wrong with that, if it only weren’t for the predictability of it all.

We see Steve Harrington with the kids in a dangerous situation. What do we assume? That he is gonna throw himself in danger for them, because it’s what he has always done.

We see Nancy Wheeler on the battle field? Then there is a 100% chance she is gonna shoot at something.

Will Byers? He is gonna protect his friends, just like the rest of the party.

Jim hopper? Joyce Byers? Yeah. Same thing.

Billy Hargrove, tho? Jesus. He is introduced to this metal badass song, then the next minute he is taunting Steve Harrington, but not really because here he is, actually giving him good advice and- yeah no, he pushed him onto the ground again. But wait, wait! He actually told him not to worry about the break up because he could basically have anyone he wanted with a face like that… aaaand yeah, he is back to being an ass.

We see him not giving a crap about his sister, yet later he is asking her if a boy has been bothering her. Then he grabs her wrist and tells her very hurtful things, yet he still tries to make it sound like a lesson. Like he had been that road before himself, many times.

We see him being stone cold, with an absent look in his eyes when he is with other people. Then we watch him dancing in his room and smiling as he gets ready for a date, and later we see him crying for the first time ever after being hit by his father. While watching the first minutes of that scene, I did not expect that to happen in the slightest.

We see him fake his concern for max to mrs. wheeler in order to get information, only to watch him refer to her as his sister when he realizes that Steve Harrington might have done something to her.

We have literally seen him trying to scare Max by driving at an ungodly speed, almost running her friends over, and almost killing Steve in a fit of rage, and then in the next season he is using every inch of his strength to protect a girl he didn’t even know from the Mind Flayer. I don’t know y’all, but I did NOT see all of that coming.

And do you know who, after his death, becomes the most interesting ST character among the protagonists? Max. We see a crack in her armour of perfection, thanks to her rocky relationship with Billy: because she had wished him to die, sometimes. I loved that twist, because FOR ONCE I had a feeling that a character among the mains was deeply flawed and human. This is why billy was needed for longer in this story.

He forced the other characters to face their darkest side, their egotistical desires. Steve Harrington enjoyed violence, deep down. He was the one to start the fight, after all. And Billy had forced him to meet that side of himself again.

Max was so fed up with him that she had dreamed about his death sometimes, even tho we all know now that she didn’t mean it.

Karen Wheeler lusted after a boy her daughter’s age, only to be met with shame when she saw her husband and daughter asleep on the couch.

Honestly, all of this to say that Stranger Things can keep its perfect ‘didn’t-do-anything-wrong-aver’ characters, because honestly? I watch tv series to be entertained and surprised, and since Billy died he also took the dynamism of the series with him.

#billy hargrove #stranger things #stranger things meta #dacre montgomery #steve harrington #harringrove #max and billy

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comicaurora · 1 year ago

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what’s your opinion of the relatively rare trope/scene where the protagonist is ordered to be captured alive so they pull out a gun or a knife or something and hold themselves hostage?

also minor shout out to the otherwise terrible borderlands Telltale game that had a pretty funny bit where the protag does this and his two guards respond by also putting their guns to their *own* heads and instigating a tense reverse Mexican standoff where you have to intentionally fail a QTE in order to chicken out and let the guards just shoot themselves.

It's an interesting one! I think the reason it's so rare is it requires the protagonist to be the type of person who'd unhesitatingly threaten to do that (and be believed by the bad guys) AND wouldn't instead use that badassery to just fight their way out. A character with even slightly normal levels of self-preservation would probably rather take their chance to be able to escape later. It's a slightly delicate balance to strike, which means you either get it in stories that are a little bit internally wacky and can get away with the protagonist doing something deeply silly, like your borderlands example, or in cases that are played dead serious when the protagonist is a stone-cold badass AND the threat of capture is so uniquely horrible to them that they wouldn't hesitate, which is a rare character beat.

I've been recently rewatching Stargate Atlantis, and they actually did a minor variant on that trope in the episode "Sateda" - the protagonists had been captured by some vengeful bad guys who wanted to turn one of them over to the Wraith as punishment for him accidentally leading the Wraith to their settlement years before while they were hunting him, on the assumption that if they turn him over the Wraith will appreciate the gesture and spare them all, and he responds by immediately holding himself at knifepoint and demanding they let his friends go first. It's a notably more-unhinged-than-usual move for the character in question, and an indicator of how bad he thinks the situation is.

An easier-to-execute variant is probably the one where the protagonist's ally immediately takes them hostage when they hear they need to be captured alive, because that can run the spectrum anywhere from "this ally is morally dubious and may legitimately be ok with making good on that threat" to "the ally is the protagonist's best friend and they're just having a great time hamming it up together to scare off the bad guys"

#asks #tropes #writing stuff

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vintagetvstars · 7 months ago

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Diana Rigg Vs. Nichelle Nichols

Propaganda

Diana Rigg - (The Avengers, Diana) - Honestly? Just check her out as Emma Peel in any episode of The Avengers. The character herself was a legend - an exceptional spy, wonderful fighter, certified genius, a true feminist role model - not to mention a renowned sex symbol (that leather catsuit... heavens help me...) and fashion icon. As for Diana personally, she was once described by Michael Parkinson as "the most desirable woman he ever met, who radiated a lustrous beauty". She could pivot from funny quips and endearing jokes to stone-cold badassery like it was nothing, and she looked stunning either way. Whenever I look at a pic of her, I have this feeling she's planning some fun mischief and I get the strongest urge to ask her to take me along. Need anything more? Here, have some pics: (pics below the cut)

Nichelle Nichols - (Star Trek) - She speaks for herself. Legendary, iconic, at the forefront of feminism and civil rights in the 60s, she is a triple threat who did so much more. She volunteered from 1977 to promote recruitment diversity within NASA, including some of the first female and ethnic minority astronauts. Martin Luther King Jr. compared her work on Star Trek as a 'vital role model' to the civil rights marches. She refused to be dismissed, fought for visibility and shone whilst doing so. As a woman in stem, and simply a woman she means the world and stars above to me.

Master Poll List of the Hot Vintage TV Ladies Bracket

Additional propaganda below the cut

Diana Rigg:

When people think of The Avengers, they think Steed and Peel (or they think the marvel property but that’s neither here nor there). I know people who thought Mrs. Peel was the ONLY woman Steed worked with, Diana Rigg was Just That Good (she was only on two seasons!). She was one of those actors that could so perfectly play comedy in any form, her dry, sardonic wit was marvelous, but so was her physical and slapstick comedy, and she could do drama too! If you’ve seen her in interviews you’d also know how fabulously humble and kind she was. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more attracted to a TV woman than I’ve been to Diana Rigg. Some photos of her:

the SMILE!!!!

I like a woman that could kill me in one shot

tell me she's not endearing I DARE you

Gorgeous, sexy, competent, superior, so much leather. Diana Rigg as Emma Peel in the Avengers was foundational to my sexuality and personality. She's classy, she's cute, she's cocky, in one episode she whips a bunch of guys while wearing a corset and a spiked collar...

excuse me I'm overcome with sinful thoughts

hello 911 I think I'm having a heart attack

Here's an interview I fell for her in:

youtube

Her first appearance in The Avengers (In series 4, if you can believe it):

The Avengers: Emma Peel First Appearance HD

youtube

Nichelle Nichols:

She is the original badass babe. She was a black woman in a leading role on TV in the 60s, a trailblazer for black actresses for years to come. She is so beautiful and so awesome.

she's fantastic. have you seen her? paved the way for black actresses on TV even while her lines and scenes were being cut and improvised the most iconic uhura line in the series. (sulu: "I'll save you, fair maiden!" uhura, pushing him away: "sorry, neither!") she's incredibly talented and it's a crime the show didn't give her more screen time (or make her sing more often because she also has a beautiful voice!)

“Sorry, neither” in response to “fair maiden” was ad libbed by her. There’s a lot more I could say but what else do you need??

A sci-fi icon!

She was such a trailblazer, and Uhura was such an important character for so many people to be able to see on TV. Apparently Mae Jemison (the first African American woman to go into space) cited her as a reason she wanted to become an astronaut. She was just an absolute legend!

The story of Martin Luther King telling her not to quit Star Trek gives me chills. Representation matters. “Thank you so much, Dr. King. I’m really going to miss my co-stars.” Dr. King's smile, Nichols recalled, vanished from his face. "He said, 'What are you talking about?'" the actress explained. "I told him. He said, 'You cannot,' and so help me, this man practically repeated verbatim what Gene said. He said, 'Don’t you see what this man is doing, who has written this? This is the future. He has established us as we should be seen. 300 years from now, we are here. We are marching. And this is the first step. When we see you, we see ourselves, and we see ourselves as intelligent and beautiful and proud.' He goes on and I’m looking at him and my knees are buckling. I said, 'I…, I…' And he said, 'You turn on your television and the news comes on and you see us marching and peaceful, you see the peaceful civil disobedience, and you see the dogs and see the fire hoses, and we all know they cannot destroy us because we are there in the 23rd Century.'"

She shared the first interracial kiss on Star Trek, helped propel real life African American women into space-related careers, and looks divine in a mini skirt.

HOW DID UHURA WALK BACKWARDS SO FAR??? WOW!

#vintage tv stars poll #tv ladies 3 #diana rigg #nichelle nichols #Youtube

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accio-sriracha · 4 months ago

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No because what even are the Marauders? Like the dynamics are just so absolutely wild with these four characters.

Okay so we have Remus: Literally a werewolf, stone cold sarcasm, could kill a man with one look, sharp mind and sharper tounge, like 6'4 and could 100% tower over you, in general just does not give a shit.

But we also have Remus: Soft Boi, tall and lanky, incredibly socially awkward, just wants naps and chocolate all the time, blushes furiously, way too stressed out about absolutely everything, can't go twenty minutes without complaining that he's cold.

We have Sirius: Punk Rock Badass tm, drives an illegal flying motorcycle, has the coolest animagus form to date, scary dog best friend privileges, the most Noble and Ancient House of Black reject, could kill you without hesitation if you look at his friends wrong, could tower over you even though he's shorter??, his voice is somehow even more threatening when it's quiet.

But then we have Sirius: Perpetual gay panic, will willingly fling himself off a bridge if any of the marauders told him to, terrified of Lily Evans (who's the shortest of all of them), sings along to Dancing Queen every time it plays, needs affection or he'll die, will break down crying because he cant get his eyeliner right, absolute hot mess.

We have James: Over protective, strong enough to manhandle someone easily, also incredibly tall, doesn't care what anyone thinks of him, popular jock, secret charms genius and could come up with a spell to haunt you forever, known for being a Prank God, is best friends with the House of Black reject and a literal werewolf, the untouchable quidditch captain, could probably down eight firewhiskeys and still shoot a quaffle perfectly through a hoop, his angry glare could melt fucking steel.

Then we have James: chased after the same person for seven years, crooked glasses and always messy hair, big doe eyes, literally and figuratively deer in headlights, won't stop whining about everything, takes an hour long shower because he needs to find the right playlist, refuses to eat sandwiches with the crusts on, wears mismatched socks, such a mama's boy, wears croptops for fun, likes being choked.

Well... and then there's just Peter: Not a mean bone in this kid's body, he will bring the snacks to the study group and there is nothing you can do about it, likes cheese, always down for a road trip, desperately needs validation, pins photos of all his best friends to his wall, likes cheese, can make you cry just by pouting at you, literally just a big tedy bear, needs at least three hugs a day, LIKES CHEESE.

#marauders #marauders era #harry potter #marauders headcanon #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #moony padfoot wormtail and prongs #theyre just walking gay disasters #well most of them #dead gay wizards from the 70s

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hexlenx · 1 month ago

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Hii, i don't usually make requests but i find myself of vronski fics after reading all of them. Is it possible perhaps to request a vronski x fem reader who is also in the army? I know it's not exactly periodically accurate, but it'd be fun to fall for a badass cold lady rather than the usual big gown gentle one's(nothing against those, love them too!! Just absolutely want reader in one of those uniforms with buttons😭)

A/N: hello! Thank you so much for the request, I also agree with your idea since most of the fanfics are about the mc being soft and kind as well as a noble. I added some little touches that I hope you don't mind. I also hope that it satisfy your request, I'm not really that good at explaining things in English as it's not my first language but I hope you enjoy!

POINT YOUR SWORD AT ME. — alexei vronsky

note: count vronsky does not belong to me and this fic is mostly written for entertainment purposes!

warning!: violence.

__________________

"—I'm thinking of ambushing them from behind while they're distracted from the front." You suggested in a calculative tone as you and the other generals, admirals as well as colonels surrounded the table that had a map on it while you were pointing at one point where you discussed your plan.

You see, you're one of the rare few female generals in the country. You were well-known for your combative skills such as firing a gun, maneuvering a sword, as well as your hand-to-hand combat. You were, all-in-all, one of the most feared and sought after female warrior in the country.

You did everything in your power to get to where you are, growing up from the streets it wasn't common for people in the streets to dream for something big, but you wanted to prove them wrong. And so, you started from small jobs, working as a waitress in a bar to being a stable girl for one small noble, to being able to sign up for the knights when the opportunity arrived.

It was a hard to become who you are now but, in the end, it was all worth it.

As you discussed your plan, you didn't notice a pair of enigmatic blue eyes locked on your figure as you talked. It's eyes taking in every movement of your figure from the way your hands movement, the heaving of your chest, the way your hips moved while going from one place to another but, what really made him stare at you for so long was your face. The man long has been admiring you from afar, admiring how every time you did something you liked, your eyes would light up like a kid seeing a Christmas tree for the first time.

The way your cheeks would flush whenever you were praised for something, but you always tried to hide it with a stoned face, acting like the compliment was nothing but a comment. He chuckled at the times he saw you looking at chocolates whenever there was an event occurring for your win, but you knew you couldn't do so in public because of your reputation.

But it wasn't just that, no.

The man stumbled as he fell to his back unflinchingly looking at the tip of the sword pointed at him. Panting as he slowly put his gaze on the figure on top of him, his mind going through multiple scenarios as his cheeks flushed from the gaze the figure gave him. God, if this was how he dies, he'd die to her everyday.

"Do you yield, Count Vronsky?" A cold and calculative tone left the figure's mouth. Vronsky let out a groan to mask something deeper he raised both his hands in feign surrender, making you think it was him saying he yields with how you stopped pointing your sword at his neck. Noticing this, he quickly grabbed your hand and flipped you over with him hovering above you and his glock on your temple.

"You should know not to let your guard down, Love." Vronsky taunted with no heat knowing he got her cornered. No matter how strong you are, Vronsky was bigger and more muscular than you.

Huffing in frustration, you accepted your defeat. He was stronger, you admit, and it was a bit irritating for you. This made Vronsky grin as he noticed the multiple emotions going through your eyes, he knew what you were thinking and he liked it, no loved it.

Getting off of you, he held out his hand offering to lift you up, but you slapped it away in disdain making him smirk. After lifting yourself up, you glared at him coldly causing a shiver run through his spine.

"Don't think this is the last time, Vronsky." You said before leaving him in the middle of the empty training field.

Vronsky continued to look at you until your figure disappeared, he lit up a cigarette before blowing out the smoke. He stood there motionlessly as he continued to look at the direction where you left.

Oh, he would never let it be the last time.

#aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #alexei vronsky #count vronsky x reader #count vronsky #anna karenina

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madwomansapologist · 2 years ago

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Shan Yu obsessed with you would include

synopsis: For Shan Yu, it was love at first sight. For you, he was the man that kidnapped you. Oh, young love.

warnings: female!reader. badass!reader. kidnapping. nudity. in this house we hate the misogynist version of Shan Yu in Mulan (2020).

• Villages on the border are not usually targeted by the Hun army, as they are mostly built and maintained by the effort of the population itself. They are part of China, but it would take weeks for the Emperor to be updated on the situation of these villages. There's no need to attack them, and it's not useful either. After all, everyone needs to rest. It is an agreement between the army and the city leaders: peace is maintained if they are well received and well fed.

• It was suppossed to be a quick stay. After a long battle, the army needed to eat and rest. And so needed the horses. Soon after, they would continue their journey. After enjoying the feast offered by an inn, Shan Yu decided to ride alone along one of the mountain trails. This battle showed that the Chinese army is well organized, despite being smaller. As tempting as counting victory is, deluding yourself can be a fatal mistake. Shan Yu needed to think, and he needed silence.

• Hours after leaving the inn, a noise caught his attention. A sneeze. And the sound of running water. Shan Yu searched for the source of the sound, comanded by his own curiosity. It was almost like his body was warning him: This is important. He jumped off the horse and followed his ears, finding a lagoon hidden by ash trees. It's water was dark because of the stone banks, filled with a few carps and low vegetation. Then you emerged.

• Shan Yu almost fall into the lagoon. He never thought he had weak legs, but they were shaking. He couldn't feel knees, but he did feel his heart. It was aching. Like something sharp hold onto it. It was such a hurting feeling, but he never want to not feel it. Because he knows exactly what this mean. Shan Yu just fell in love.

• He saw you whole. Reflecting the moon, water falling down your body, he saw every inch of your skin. Your curves, your beauty, your smile. Your scars, your freckles, your marks. Shan Yu saw your body, but also saw your soul. The way you moved into the water, having fun, even tho you were shivering. It was so, so cold. But you didn't mind. You wanted to swin, so you did it.

• You were brave. Certain about your desires. Resistent. And your laugh... That sound was deserving of a thousand praises. People should give their lifes for the chance of hearing you. Of seeing you. Of being near you. And it would be a pleasure. A small price for such a great gift.

• Then you sneezed. And again. And again.

• Shan Tu quickly notice your clothes stretched on a rock. It appeared to be made from a nice tissue, but he couldn't let you wear something like that. So he came out from among the trees.

• You got scared. Who wouldn't? Even if you didn't knew who he was, you probably heard about him, a man appearing out of nowhere is really frightful. You dived up to your chin, on a attempt of covering your body, and walked away from him. Even scared you were the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

• Shan Yu was glad the inn offered him a bath before the feast. His mustachioed was trimmed, his hair combed, his skin cleaned. You couldn't look away, did you notice his yellow eyes? Did you like it? Shan Yu hopes you does.

• Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he took his wolf fur coat and left it among your clothes.

"Do not approach!" You yelled at him, thinking he was undressing to join you. "I'm warning you: I can fight."

Shan Yu chuckled. If he wasn't sure before, now he knows that you were made to be his. You were deciding between running or fighting, but he turned away. "What the hell," you said to yourself.

Walking back to his horse, Shan Yu did his speciality: he planned.

• The stay was extended. Shan Yu ordered his best warriors to watch you. To discover who you were, where you live, what you do. To make sure you would always be safe. Within days, he already knew your routine, your family, your name. And as time went by, Shan Yu decided to act.

It was a quiet night. Snow started to fall, no more travelers for some good months. After spending the day helping your mother keep the house clean and teaching one of your younger friends how to cook a congee, all you wanted was to sleep. And so you did.

But you woke up with breaking glass noise. You jumped out of bed immediately. And when you noticed the silence, you thought you just had a realist nightmare. You lay backdown, snuggling under the sheets, and closed your eyes to sleep again... and someone pulled you by the feet.

You couldn't see who was hurting you, all candles were out, but you felt it's tight grip around your ankles. You felt on the floor, your neck started to burn, the person pulling while you screamed. You bet he didn't think you would react, 'cuz on the moment you had a chance you kicked the man so hard he fell back. Then you kicked his head, putting him to sleep.

You runned to your parents room to get them out of here, but it wasn't a solo job. Three big man guarded the corridor. Moonlit, you noticed that nothing was damaged. That wasn't just a robbery.

"Touch me," you smiled at then, sure they would see it. After tucking a lock behind your ear, you positioned yourself to fight. "And I will beat the shit out of you."

All you remember after was the sound of bones breaking, blood gushing from noses, screams of pain. They tried to get you, but you always knew how to protect yourself. "I've warned you."

You managed to open your parents' bedroom door, and found them gagged on the bed. As brave as you were, you knew you couldn't release them and defend you three. "I'll be back," you promised. Hearing the sound of people entering your house, you opened the bedroom window. "And with help."

And then you jumped.

Barefoot in the snow, you had only one goal: to reach the bell on the wall between the houses. It is only used in emergencies, its ring is almost an announcement of calamities. No one would ignore it.

You just didn't count that more than five men guarded the perimeter of your house. Now it was clear that the Hun army was attacking you, although you didn't understand why. There was only one thing left to do: run.

You managed to contain them, after all that was the land of your house. You knew where every hole, stone, obstacle was.

Climbing the ladder that connects the walls, there was so little left for you to reach the wire and show everyone what was happening. But your foot was pulled, and you landed hard on the floor.

Breathing was difficult. It burned. It was like someone muzzled your chest and asked you to take a deep breath. It hurt so much that you couldn't protect yourself as they lifted you off the ground, pushing you towards something.

When you started to get used to the pain, you tried to run. But someone grabbed your shoulder and kept you still. After a few seconds, you heard steps. The gate of your house was opened, and your blurry vision couldn't focus on the man marchingon your direction. Less than a minute felt like a decade.

"Who hurted her?" A deep, eery voice asked.

As he come closer, you reconized him. The man that handed you his coat on the most creepy way possible. Now, looking closer and without water on your eyelashes, you understood who he really was. And that scared the shit out of you.

A eagle landed on his broad arm. He was armed, but even if he wasn't it would still give you the creeps. He looked like a predator. A big cat ready to attack. He lived up to his fame. That makes you a prey? Shan Yu was looking at you, and you didn't know if he was the last thing you will ever see.

Whoever was holding you decided to let you go. Shan Yu got closer, but you didn't step back. You wanted to, but didn't. If he want something from you, than he better undestand that you will never submit.

"I'm not hurt." It was a lie, but it wasn't just thay. It was you challenging him. "What do you want from me?"

Shan Yu smiled. He wasn't that close to you, but he made you feel so small. It's impossible to look at Shan Yu without feeling weak. "Are you always that brave?"

"That's me being reasonable" you answered. "In order to be brave I would need to be scared. What do you want from me?"

"Your heart." He took a step back. "Care to join me?'

You did, but you also didn't have an option.

Shan Yu led you to his legion. Surrounded by silence, you saw when the four man stepped out of your house. You didn't know what to do or what to expect, but there was something more important then your future. "Did you kill my parents?"

"No." Shan Yu was succinct. "I ordered them to bring you to me, not to hurt you. They will be punished. I promise you."

"I'm not hurt", it was all you were able to say.

Shan Yu sighed. "You can fight, but you can't lie."

After walking for a few minutes, you saw the Hun army. And they were ready to travel again. Thousands of them ready to invade China.

Your parents are safe. If you run, you can go back to your village and warn them about what happened. You could've try, but you didn't.

What they would do? Fight a whole army because one family was attacked? You wouldn't start a war that you know you can't win. You can fight, but not like the Huns. They just didn't expect you to fight back, but they are bigger and stronger than you could ever be.

"You need to rest", Shan Yu woke you up from your thoughts. You noticed that those other men following you weren't there anymore. Your bravery faded away little by little. "Come here."

You could see now where he is walking you. Compared to the others, it was the biggest carriage. The prettiest. It was long, driven by ten horses, made for sleeping. Shan Yu was leading you to his carriage, and that made you want to vomit.

Shan Yu opened the door, and gestured for you to come in. You stepped back. "I won't be your whore."

He frozed. If you have paid attention, you would've noticed the pain in his eyes. But you didn't. "You won't. I would never do this."

"Don't lie to me!"

"I've told you the truth." Shan Yu licked his lips. He never felt so scared. He would... he would never do that. "I will only touch you if you want me to."

"You kidnapped me!" You shout at him. "You hurted me. You hurted my family. Why would I ever believe on what you said?"

Shan Yu moved foward to you. He bent over, looking at you from your height. "I will give you China as a dowry."

You stumbled back. "What did you said?"

"You will be my Empress." Shan Yu smiled at your response. "My heart is yours. I will wait, don't matter how long it takes, for your reciprocal. So please, rest."

You didn't knew how to react. His face, so close to yours, made you swallow hard. It makes no sense. Why would he do that? You ain't a noble or rich or anything like that. That must be a lie. But why would he bother lying?

You walked past him, completely unsure of what to do. You ignored his eyes, scared to see that he speaks the true. Now your surprise was greater than your fear. This can only be a very weird dream. You pinched yourself, but nothing happened.

Inside the carriage, you realized that everything was actually... beautiful. You'd think an army would have no room for beauty, but Shan Yu's gigantic room proved otherwise. Intricately finished wooden tables with maps and plans, sheets of warm, hard-to-sew fabrics, gold religious items. Everything was beautiful. And probably more expensive than your house and everything in it.

Shan Yu closed the door. It wasn't a quiet night anymore.

• You woke up to footsteps in the carriage. You don't remember falling asleep, but at some point you did. It was cold, you were tired, and it was such a comfortable bed. When you got up, you saw people arranging chests in the center of the room. A lady placed a tray on the table, the food on it looked delicious. They were all just smiles for you, a warm feeling almost didn't take over your body.

• Those trunks had your new clothes. Appropriate clothing for cold weather and long trips. It wasn't a dream. No, it really wasn't. Shan Yu is... in love with you? What a weird kind of love. He really chose to kidnap you rather to talk with you? If feels like a story from a fantasy book, not something actually happening on your life.

• But Shan Yu is honorable. Somehow. You saw him fighting: Shan Yu seens to be joking with others life. Sometimes he allows his enemies to have some kind of advantage, just so he can win in a more humiliating way. But he never touched you. Or disrespcted you. Or let anyone treat you badly. And he also care for his army, for his people. So, yeah, honorable. Somehow.

• Shan Yu slept in the same carriage, after all it was his carriage, but not in the same bed. It was strange, but he said he wouldn't leave you alone at such a vulnerable time. You laugh about it, saying that he wouldn't be able to protect you or anything like that if he was sleeping. That very same night, when you both slept together for the first time, you woke up because of the horses. Within a second, Shan Yu was awake, asking if something had happened. Light sleeper: you will be safe.

• You participated in discussions about strategy. And always sitting next to him. One of his trusted men explained the vocabulary you didn't know. Shan Yu insisted for you to be there. Whether it's battle strategy, discussions about money, meetings with the different troops, mapping the path: Shan Yu wanted you there, paying attention and learning.

Riding down the montain on the sorrel he let you choose, Shan Yu was particularly relaxed. "Who taught you how to fight?"

You were also feeling just fine. The weather was mild, the sun warmed you, and riding had finally become second nature. The night before they held a feast in celebration of the end, and victory, of a battle.

"I was an angressive child, and my grandpa always taught me everything he knew." You smiled, but it was a little bit sad. You miss him a lot. "But I don't really know how to fight. I just hit where it hurts, and then I run as fast as I can."

Shan Yu guffaw. "That strategy is... not enterily wrong." His words were positive, but Shan Yu didn't notice he shook his head. You did. "I can teach you."

"Do you have time for that?" Soon your honest question turned into a joke. "Because I can beat you ass anytime."

As time went on, you kind of forgot that you were angry with him. Shan Yu was surprisingly a good listener. And even his coldness could be funny. And he was honest. Never hurted you or forced you to do anything. You don't love him, but you understood your life beside him would be interesting.

You've learned about war, economics, you can tell what each officer in the army does, and you've learned a thing or two about Huns history. Much more interesting than cooking, cleaning and going out to do something that, deep down, was just a way to make yourself more attractive to a good husband. This was no longer a concern. You could be stubborn, annoying, angry, petty: but you don't have to behave to attract a man's gaze. You could just exist, and it was enough for him. It is... liberating. You miss your family and friends, you miss them so much it hurts, but it's not all bad.

"I will take that as a yes."

• The storm changed everything. It was impossible to set a camp down. Shan Yu was leading his army, as he always will, but not even a man strong as him can defeat nature. In a few days with the cold water giving him no time to rest or eat, everyone around Shan Yu could see that he was sick. But he didn't admit it. Saying that he was just fine, he continued to lead the troops.

• His determined nature didn't allow him to rest, but his body couldn't take anymore: he fell of the horse. Shan Yu was treated with the finest medicines, but he didn't woke up. Didn't even move a finger. You stood beside him the whole day, and when the moonlit touched your skin... You were shaking.

• How could he done that to you? Everytime you went out he made you go back to the carriage so you wouldn't get sick. How could he not care about himself the same way? How could he get so hurt without allowing anyone to help him? Shan Yu is a liar. He told you he would never hurt you, but look what he did to you! You can't breath, you can't think, you can't even look at him without feeling that your chest is about to explode. How dare him lie to you?

• Crying, you lay down next to him. You tucked your head onto the chest that moved slowly with shallow breathing, and hugged his broad waist. Your fingers drew disjointed shapes on the boiling skin, your lips murmured prayers to all the gods and ancestors who could hear you. You just wanted a sign that everything was going to be okay. And muttering prayers as you caressed his skin, you fell asleep.

• You woke up to a caress at the small of your back. Your mind took a while to understand what was happening, but as soon as you opened your eyes and saw him, everything ceased to matter. Shan Yu was awake. And he smiling.

"When did you woke up?" You tried to sit down, but his arm around your waist didn't let you. "You need to eat. I gonna call the maesters. How are you feeling? Why didn't you woke me up?!"

"Calm down", his weak voice almost broke your heart, but his tone showed you that Shan Yu was back. "Stay this way. Just a little longer."

"Do you know how scared I was?" You feel like you were about to cry, so you didn't look into his eyes. "Let me go. Let me help you."

"You've never touched me." Shan Yu caressed your cheek, tucking a strand behind your ear. It was so intimate, it made your stomach ache. But it wasn't a bad thing. "You're warm. And soft. And you smell like tears."

"I thought you..." You couldn't say the words. "You didn't react to anything. I thought you were about to die."

"I would have come back to you." His fingers slid to your chin. A delicate touch, too delicate for someone so rough, made you look into his eyes. "I would crawl out of my grave. Not even death can put us apart."

"I missed you." You admited. "I missed you so much. How terrible it is to love something death can touch."

"You love me?" Shan Yu didn't gave you time to answer. "Love me." It wasn't a demand. Shan Yu wasn't ordering. He was begging. "Please."

"I have your heart." You got closer to him. "And you have mine. Don't break it."

"I wouldn't dare."

Next part!

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #prisoner/bride au #disney villain x reader #disney x reader #disney villain #disney x you #disney villain x you #disney villain x y/n #shan yu x reader #shan yu #shan yu x you #disney x y/n #shan yu x y/n #shan yu mulan #mulan 1998

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t00thpasteface · 7 months ago

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As a fan of both Batman the Brave and the Bold, and Adam West's Batman, its always nice seeing a chipper goofier batman with your art.

!!! (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾)

i'm always so happy when people think my sillier batman is fun and charming, instead of... flippant, or shallow.

i do think batman has a unique ability to tackle heavier themes that a lot of other superheroes can't, as someone with no powers raising equally ordinary adopted kids. btas's moody noir tone is just delicious. and like in btas, i also think that these darker themes shouldn't come at the cost of batman/bruce's entire personality and sense of humor. just because he's dealing with heavy subjects doesn't mean he has to growl and bark like solid snake the whole time.

if anything i think making him an unfeeling wall of permanent anger and grief impedes his ability to handle those themes. tragedies don't only happen to the stone-cold badasses. when you see batman grit his teeth and hold back tears, i think it has a greater ability to hit home if you've also seen bruce genuinely laughing and smiling with his family, friends, etc. and what's more, you also need to be able to see him laugh afterward, too, however long it takes. otherwise what's the message? it gets worse forever? bruce is that child in omelas?

and i've said it before, but the most depressed, traumatized people i know also have the strongest senses of humor and the most brilliant creative minds in the local art scene. at the end of the day, laughing despite everything is the only way to get through it.

anyone doubling down on "realism" and trying to make batman "more like real life" needs to recognize that life doesn't limit itself to one genre. life won't wait for you to finish laughing before it makes you cry, but it also won't wait for you to finish crying before it makes you laugh, too.

#...can you see why i like mash? LOL #shebbz shoutz #ask #batman

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heyclickadee · 1 year ago

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Saw another “why would Tech even be interested in Phee” take out in the wild, so here’s a partial list of Phee’s many attractive qualities, because the double standard of every other character vs Phee is exhausting:

(Quick disclaimer—this isn’t me saying anyone has to like the ship. You don’t. It’s fine. Don’t ship things you don’t want to ship. Dislike the way it’s been written in the show if you want. Ship these two with other people or with no one if you want. I don’t care. This is just me being tired of people being weird about Phee):

1. She’s smart. She can improv her way through dealing with death traps and she’s got an area (areas) of expertise that Tech knows relatively little about. That makes her interesting. Also hot.

2. She’s gorgeous. Look at her. She’s ridiculously pretty.

3. She’s a great storyteller. Yeah, she changes her stories every time, but that’s at least part of why Tech is paying attention, because he notices that.

4. She’s a stone cold badass. And she’s a FUN stone cold badass. Disarmingly charming stone cold badass.

5. She’s a remarkably good person. She steals artifacts so that refugees can hang on to a bit of their culture in diaspora. This seems to be what pushes Tech from, “Oh, she’s interesting,” to, “OH. SHE’S BRILLIANT AND I MIGHT BE IN LOVE.”

6. She’s not nice, but she is kind, and that’s honestly a quality that she and Tech share. Phee isn’t soft, she’s not going to talk in therapy speak, she’ll push a little hard sometimes, but gosh darnit if she isn’t the person who would always stop to help someone with a flat tire (or respond to finding out some friends are broke, jobless, and on the run by immediately taking them back to her secret refuge so they can rest and recoup).

7. She’s incredibly direct and unafraid to speak her mind and…okay. This is going to get long. And I know some people will disagree with this, and that’s fine because everyone is different, and wants different things. But. Speaking personally from my point of view. The fact that Phee gives as good as she gets would be a really reassuring quality to have in a partner. I see a lot of myself reflected in Tech, but one of the many, many ways in which we’re very different is that I’m a consummate people pleaser, and Tech is very much not. At all. I don’t think he has a people-pleasing bone in his body.

But, here’s the thing—about half of my people pleasing comes from being terrified that I’ll say or do something that inadvertently hurts someone, and that person won’t just tell me or give me the chance to explain or make things right. And for how that relates to dating, I had people—friends and family—keep trying to set me up with incredibly shy men through most of my early twenties, no matter how many times I objected, because they had this perception that I was soft, wishy-washy, and needed to be treated with kid gloves. And…no. I’m opinionated as hell. I’m relatively confident about certain things. I just shut down my ability to project any of that because I was terrified of running roughshod over people without meaning to. But when I’m around someone who I know is willing to disagree with me, who I know will explain why, and who I know will push back if I take something too far? About 90% percent of my people pleasing and social anxiety evaporates. I know I don’t have to walk on eggshells around them—and that they aren’t going to walk on eggshells around me, either. They’re going to be direct about their issues and treat me like a freaking adult.

And, honestly, the fact that Phee doesn’t walk on eggshells around Tech (who also gives as good as he gets—Tech isn’t soft, nice, or shy and retiring; he’s confident as hell and he should be, because hot damn)—is. I don’t know. I like that she’s direct, and that she will recognize and pull back if she’s gone too far. This is projecting a bit, but, speaking personally, I would rather be with someone who treats me like an adult and tells me what’s up even if it’s uncomfortable than someone who never, ever tells me when they’re upset because they’re afraid of hurting my feelings and just lets me stew in social confusion all the time.

8. She can more than hold her own in a fight and she carries a sword around. That’s hot, I’m sorry.

9. Phee’s fantastic with Omega. She talks to her like she’s a person, she doesn’t ever shut Omega down, she’ll tell her stories, she’ll joke around with her, and she’s generally very respectful while also not holding her to the same standard she would if Omega were an adult. She’s even a little protective of Omega, even though Omega isn’t at all her responsibility. I think the moment that took Phee from ‘cool’ to ‘fantastic’ for me was towards the end of ‘Entombed’ while the Deadly Giraffe of Death was collapsing; Phee’s right there trying to shield Omega alongside Hunter. And. Like. Omega is Tech’s baby sister, he’s probably going to notice that how Phee treats her. Massive points in her favor for this.

#techphee #I’m tired okay

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 years ago

Text

Shameless

requested: Azriel x reader. but reader is like this super cool and confident and amazing and badass and competent general in like another court. And every now and then Az just gets a glimpse of her while they’re fighting on the same side. and he like looks up to her. utter awe. and then they meet meet one day. and he’s flustered which is so ooc and he doesn’t know what’s happening. i just need to feel powerful tbh

a/n: Okay, I should probably apologize because this really took a turn but I just pushed the gas pedal and zoomed at 250 down the highway with it. I hope you'll still enjoy it. 🙃✨🤍✨🤍✨🤍✨🤍✨

warning: mention of sexual interactions

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Let's get one thing straight. Azriel is not a male who you could rile up easily. He doesn't get flustered. You can't get him out of line. It's always a wall of calmness there. Unreachable, stone-like face. He's an observer. Collecting information from the hubs of the rooms, shadows, and dimly lit corners. He doesn't use his voice if it's not needed. Doesn't waste a breath on a little silly conversation. So when you strolled into his life and his walls suddenly trembled, the sheen of coldness only seemed to thicken.

You were quite a character. With your strikingly sharp features and the way, you carried yourself. Your gaze seemed to pierce souls. The smile made males weak in their knees. Not to mention the sound of your laugh, which could chase death itself away. But then again, Azriel told himself constantly that he shouldn't like you. Any part of you. There shouldn't be a single feature of yours that appeals to him. After all, you were a Vanserra. The cousin of Eris Vanserra, the male Azriel, probably hated the most in this world. You two shared foxy-like features, both being extremely intelligent and calculated. Well, you were, at least. Eris didn't matter to Azriel. But it's the power you had in the court as the General of the Autumn Armies. The one and only. Unstoppable. People only graciously bowed their heads as you walked by. Some males tried to challenge you. Take your position and power away from you. Yet no one ever came close. Sentencing themselves to lifelong embarrassment and humiliation. Most meet their end or shuffle pig shit afterward.

Azriel had seen you on the battlefield as well. He had fought with you multiple times since differently from Eris or Beron, you had always been close with the Night court. And gods give him strength; you were like nothing Azriel had seen before. There was just something about the way you moved. The way you took your steps felt almost too perfect. The way you didn't even huff as you cut through the field. The way enemies on the battlefield field considered whether they should try to fight you. Hoping you wouldn't get in their way. Hoping not to see that bloodthirsty smirk.

After that first battle together, you approached the spymaster. He and his mysterious ways also caught your interest. "You were good out there, spymaster," you muttered, hands slipping through your matted hair as you gazed at the male. The playful, adrenaline-pumped kind of look on your face. Something inside Azriel's chest twisted. He had imagined you talking with him for a while, even if he would deny it. "As an Illyrian bastard to an Autumn scum, I don't care", Azriel wanted to bury himself alive after those words slipped out. Your eyes dimed instantly, lips thinning into a tight smile. That fire that ran through your veins grew instantly hotter. Azriel hoped you would have said something. Completely and utterly mixed him up with the dirt, but you just turned around as you hurried through the camp. And the shadow singer knew that he might have just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Even more so Azriel knew he shouldn't think about this as he walked through the halls of autumn residency with his brothers. Not when you were only a couple of doors away. But he had spent over a hundred years rethinking that moment. The chance that he had. He had sentenced himself for the backstage view at that point. For years of watching you with Cassian. He tried to ease the jealousy by simply telling himself that you both were generals. Most of your businesses ran similarly. Most meetings were shared. But there was more there. There was always more. And it was this that drove the spymaster insane. How every female he desired ended up in the hands of his brother instead.

The loud squeal echoed through the hall, followed by the hurried sound of steps. Azriel lifted his head right as you jumped into Cassian's arms, and the Illyrian spun you around, laughing lightly to himself. Azriel's face instantly turned sour, and if not for Rhys, who stood there with a pleasant smile, the spymaster would have thrown a punchy remark already.

"Your hair has gotten longer," you said, twisting your fingers through Cassian's curls, looking him over. You had been away on a mission for multiple months. To say that you missed that silly bastard would have been an understatement. "Any new cool scars, or were you the one handing them out?", the general teased, twirling you around. It was a rare occasion to see you in a dress. You much more preferred light shirts with corsets and pants. So this was quite a treat, "Oh, you know me too well, general", "Did you send my hellos to Summer?", you let out another laugh that pierced through Azriel's chest. "He just said this," you showed a couple of vulgar gestures to Cassian, and now even Rhys joined in the laughter. "Well, come along. Eris is waiting in the study", you move in that direction, falling into a light conversation with Rhys on your way there.

Even if he doesn't want to admit it. It pained Azriel that you didn't acknowledge him. Not a single hi, or a little nod. Nothing. You had been polite all this time with one another. In all honesty, you probably had long forgotten about it, and it was only Azriel who was still hanging onto it. But then again, you only spoke to him in meetings. A word here and there if you visited Night, but only if the conversation was flowing around the table with everyone.

"I would say it's lovely to see you, but we all know that would be a lie," Eris said, motioning for the males to sit down. However, only Rhys accepted the invitation, leaving the other two males standing on either side of him. "I'm quite delighted personally unless you have bad news to share," Rhys chirped, leaning back into the plush chair. Eris poured the high lord a drink with a smirk on his face, as you leaned against the armchair he sat on.

"My lovely cousin has been away for business", Eris stated, "Let's say the situation is more serious than we thought". The fireling turned to you, giving his silent approval for you to take over from here. "You made some enemies, it seems. Troops are forming", Rhysand frowned at your words. Even Azriel did because he hadn't heard anything about this, and he should have if this information was true. You moved to take out some folded papers before handing them to the high lord, "They are mostly targeting your high lady. She's seen as your weak link."

A scowl on Rhys's face only grew as she turned page after page. "Why am I only now hearing about this?", the male growled. "Be thankful you're hearing about this at all; it appears your puppets are pretty clueless," "Eris!" you warned. Even if his word was final, you never allowed him to get out of line. He might have little respect for his opponents, but you were there to keep the lordling's toes on the ground.

"This seemed like a drunken scum slur for a while. I doubt they are capable of much", you continued, "But out of the procession, I would like to stay in Night". "If you're playing some games, Eris," Rhysand warned the Autumn heir, "It was Y/N idea to share this with you, I'm not too fussed," you instantly cut into Eris's words, "I did what I could to kill off the initial gatherings. Did it without informing you so fewer ears would hear about it". The lord nodded his head, his mind still clouded with what he had heard.

The two of them wanted a private conversation soon after. Leaving you three to stand behind the door. "So, sleepovers at night, huh?", Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at you. You two had your history, marked my endless amount of drinks and messing around. "If I remember correctly, you still owe me a drink or two," you purred, turning a dagger between your fingers, also a gift from the general. "Azriel can join us; he's been awfully uptight lately," the spymaster nearly wiping his head towards Cassian, his face turning into a frustrated grimace. "Like, look at him. I'm growing worried," the male continued to tease. You let out a chuckle, and Azriel's eyes fell on you. And here it was again. That feeling that he simply didn't have good enough words to say. Gaping at you both for a minute more, he turned to leave with one last word, "And you... You're juggling two females? Told her that already?"

Azriel knew it was petty. For all he knew, you and Cassian were never together. Well, not as a couple, at least. Plus, his brother suspected the attraction that brewed in Azriel's heart. And with Nesta now very much in the picture, the spymaster knew that Cassian's priorities lay with her. He moved to the shadowy end of the hall. Even if he didn't want to, his gaze returned to you from the shadows. Your eyes grew wide, your hand reaching to cover your mouth as you listened to whatever Cassian had to say. And then once more, Azriel knew that he shouldn't snoop, but he did send a shadow to listen in. In a way scared that maybe Cassian confessed his undying love to you or that he spilled Azriel's secrets instead. But it was neither of those two. It was Nesta Cassian told you about it. His obnoxiously stubborn mate, "Maybe you could talk or something," Cassian muttered, your hand moving to rest on his shoulder. "I'll have a word with her. Plus, if we train there, she might get curious herself."

That's how the next couple of weeks went. Your time was divided between training with the girls, keeping an eye on Feyre, and attending meetings regarding the security of Velaris. It was almost strange how well you blended into the dynamics of the inner circle. As if you were always a part of it, just temporarily absent. Azriel continued to watch you from afar. Admiring you and how the power you had hadn't gotten to your head. How you shrugged all of your achievements to the side when Cassian would go on yet another praise cycle about you. At moments like this, with a glass of wine in your hand and a lazy smile on your face, you seemed like the most basic townie. Not someone who had huge responsibilities on their shoulders. That was also the side of you that Azriel loved the most.

After swimming through his thoughts on the balcony at the house of wind, Azriel made his way inside. Considering that it was rather late, he was sure that everyone was already asleep or at least occupied by other activities. However, a faint gleam of light from the living room caught his eyes. A breath seized in his throat as he stepped into the room. You were spread out on the sofa, humming to yourself as you looked at the ceiling. It was impossible not to look at you. To not get lost in the shape of your body. The shadow singer was about to turn away, but then, "Oh, what an honor, the spymaster himself."

His heart fluttered just a little, but he tried to keep his face unreadable. Azriel tried not to run into you too often. It was bad enough he had to watch you spar with Cassian. Watch his brother try to tackle you while you straddled the Illyrian and pressed the blade against his neck. Or your sweaty body glistening in the sun. Things like that drove him mad and made him think thoughts he knew he shouldn't. Azriel had messed up, and keeping hops of any kind was foolish. The spymaster quickly shook his head, trying to get the images of you out of it. "I was only going to get some food. I see you are enjoying yourself", gods strike him. You let out a giggle.

Turning to lay on your stomach, the material of the dress you wore crunched up beneath you, tightening around your now even more highlighted breasts. That dress in itself was a curse, not leaving much to the imagination, but with you lying like this, "You would be mistaken then," you purred, and Azriel quickly lifted his gaze from your body. Looking up only to meet your eyes. Eyes that had been watching him "Why... Why is that?", the spymaster swallowed hard, already feeling the heat rising. You let out a chuckle once again, "I'm so lonely here," "I could give you... I mean, I could get one of the girls for you," and Azriel wanted to curse himself for this flustered chaos he was becoming. If this continued, he would be a red mess soon, and he knew you would be enjoying that. It's the same Vansera foxiness that ran through your blood. Made this a game for you. A little chaise.

You swirled back down onto your back, hair falling over the edge of the sofa, head hanging over the side. "What could you give me, shadow singer?", you purr yet again, hands lightly holding the material of the necklace, just so you wouldn't give him a full view of what's underneath. "Some more water; you've drank too much," Azriel said firmly, but he can't help himself. Eyes wondering all over. You're a couple of steps away, and you're acknowledging his presence. The answer doesn't please you as you scrunch up your brows.

"Help me up, would you?", you asked him softly. Azriel hesitated at first, but with you like this and him all hot, it could all go downhill really quickly. But he walked closer to you anyway. Your fingers were already reaching for his hand. Yet right before he fully steps closer, you turn around once again, grasping both of his hands as you drag him onto the sofa. The fall is soft due to the pillows, yet Azriel's eyes are as big as the moon in the sky. His breathing was uneven. A low growl escapes his lips as you move to straddle him, fiery eyes watching him. "Caught you off guard, huh?", you mumbled, leaning closer to him, and Azriel was left there hoping that he would be able to resist this. His mind was racing with the desire to move his hands over your exposed thighs." I...you," the spymaster rasped out, trying to keep his eyes on your face. You let out a laugh, head falling onto his shoulder for a moment, "You caught it bad...".

But Azriel is shaking his head, and you raise your eyebrows at his reaction. "What if I kissed you here?", you lean in, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, fingers quickly moving to unbutton his shirt. Azriel only swallows thickly, his hands gripping the cushions behind him. The lack of reaction on his behalf makes you narrow your eyes at him and ask, "What about here?" Leaning in once again, you leave a wet trail of kisses down Azriel's neck. Nibbling on his skin here and there. Azriel's hands move to grip your legs as a low moan escapes his lips. Your lips curve into a pleased smirk, "Such a good boy you are", "You're dangerous", Azriel muttered, still lost in the feeling of your lips on his skin. "Oh come on, you want it", you tease, hooking your finger behind yet another button of his shit. "Tell me, do you want this? Do you want me?", your eyes meet his, and for a moment you two just look at one another. "I...", the spymaster mumbles but it's no longer the flustered stutter. There's something more. You pull away instantly, climbing off of his lap, and now it's Azriel who is suddenly confused.

"I don't get you. You stalk me all around the place, but you just", you gesture to him, shaking your head, "When I get close to you, you go all ridged as if you stank of shite." How could he not? You were the woman of every man's dreams. "I... just...you", Azriel was trying so hard to make his head snap into place. "I, I. You, you. What the heck is going on with you?" you whine in frustration. Azriel runs his hand through his hair, taking a couple more breaths. "I bloody fancy you; that's what's going on. You just messed up my brain waves. I can't think," he blurted out, now standing right in front of you. Your eyes fall on him again. You can practically see his heart beating extremely quickly in his chest.

"Ain't I an Autumn scum?", "No, I was so stupid. Those words have been eating me alive," Azriel says, reaching for your hand, and you let him take it. The silence falls onto the room again, but this time it's not that uneasy kind. "So... all this time you were just acting like a teenager?" Azriel rolls his eyes at your words, yet he can't deny it; his actions weren't all that mature. "You're not quite a regular female, what do you expect?", "True... Tired of males drooling anyways, this is way more entertaining", you hum, smiling up at Azriel.

"Am I... Are we...fuck", the shadow singer shakes his head at his stutter, but you only giggle softly, "Me, you, I, yes, we can continue", going on your tippy toes, you wrap your hands around his neck bringing him closer to yourself. Azriel gently taps your bum, signaling for you to jump up, and you do just that. His hands host you closer to his body. "You stutter mid-strokes too?", a smirk on your face was way too big for Azriel's liking. "Be careful with your words. I have the biggest wingspan for a reason, vixen."

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #azorar imagine

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taddymason · 1 year ago

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Taddy I know you said that Kaida doesn't refer to Jay as "Dad" like. At all.

BUT I can't stop thinking about a scenerio [that I wanted a write a ficlet about but I don't have the time due to uni work :sob:]

Where after Kaida and Jay are with the Ninja but Jay doesn't have his memories fully back yet.

And Kaida gets caught off guard by the enemy or something and is taken by them as bait. [I know, very unlikely]

And she tries to act cool about it but she is terrified on the inside because shes still just a kid and god Jay is not coming for her.

He got his real family back- he doesn't need her around anymore- shes alone again- shes got abondened again- why should he care about her anymore?

Meanwhile Jay is LIVID.

This is a man who does not remember the honor code of the Ninja.

A man who killed a dragon by himself.

A man who possibly killed way more than a dragon.

A father whos child was taken from him as bait and is in danger.

He's ripping through everything in his path that is between him and his daughter, and the rest of the ninja are terrified as they can only watch the lightning without restrain destroy everything in his path.

Kaida doesn't understand whats going on outside,there are explosions and yells and she can't help but flinch away as someone points a gun at her face.

But then there is a loud crack as the room flashes in the brightest light ever.

And when she opens her eyes back up again, all the men are on the ground twitching in pain.

And Jay is there.

He's sparkier than usual.

And covered in more blood than usual.

And kinda blurry on the edges, his eyes and hands and body burning way brighter with lightning than she ever saw.

[As if he's almost lightning itself]

But he's here.

He came for her.

He didn't leave her.

She can't even say anything before he's suddenly next to her checking her for injuries as his hands shake from the adrenaline and fear of almost losing her.

And she chokes up with tears upon seeing him so scared, terrified of what could have been and lets out a choked up "Dad..."

Suddenly he's hugging her and she can't help but bury her face onto his chest like a baby as shes trying to not to cry, not to be weak, shes picked up and he mumbles a soft "I got you kiddo. Let's get you home." And that's when she breaks down.

And Jay refuses to let go of her during all the way back to the monastery, and if the rest of the ninja see both of them cry at some point none of them say anything.

KEN KEN KEN THIS IS SO GOOD!!!!?!? I LOVE THIS!! THANKS FOR THIS!!! HUSJFBAF

I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH (Like, Kaida definitely addresses Jay as "dad" in situations like this) THAT I HAD TO WRITE AND DRAW SOMETHING RIGHT AWAY BECAUSE I LOVE TORTURING THESE TWO. Also writing Angry Badass Jay is entertaining

I hope I did justice to this scenario because I wrote this really really quickly so I hope you like it

Home

Words: 2.9k

TW: blood and violence.

When Kaida first wakes up, she is in a room with cold lights and no windows, with unknown people moving back and forth through thick bars. She feels tired, her eyelids are heavy with a sickly feeling, and her palate tastes like moldy cotton.

She tries to remember the name the ninjas had given this thing. She thinks it's called Vengestone. A stone that can disable elemental powers.

She had never seen anything like it and terror floods her veins with ice when she realizes that what they said turned out to be true. She didn't know that there was something capable of suppressing that energy that has been in her blood for years. Uselessly she pulls on the metal on her ankle, looks for a way to break or open the lock with some of the tricks she knew, even tries to see if there are any loose bricks in the wall, and only manages to draw blood from under her nails, adding to what already covers her clothes.

She tries not to get scared. She tries to calm down and breathe even though they look at her like little more than an animal and she has no way to defend herself. She wishes she had her gun in her hands, even the knife she always kept in her boot, but even that had been taken away from her, and all she had left as a weapon was to uselessly insult them.

She tries not to panic, but finds it difficult to control her breathing when she can't see through the walls to those approaching and she feels blind. Everything looks dark and she feels stupidly weak when people approach her and without her powers to see them; they look like corpses.

"They are anyway" she tries to tell herself to calm down. They are if Jay was looking for her.

If he was looking for her. If he hadn't already decided she was a burden. Because she is, she knew it.

As the hours pass, the voice she tries to ignore in the back of her head reminds her that she is essentially a nuisance that he went to too much trouble to care for. She is essentially a girl for whom he only felt sorry, and now with the way things are, he may finally want to take a burden off his shoulders and stop having to worry about her.

She knows that she is the reason why he decided to continue working in a place as miserable as the Administration, the reason why he could not return home for so long, the main reason why he was separated from his family. If he had had his memories from the beginning, he wouldn't have even stayed there in the first place.

It's a burden, and if he had finally realized that he had his real family waiting for him, maybe he wouldn't even bother looking for her.

"How do you feel?" one of them ask her with a smile in his voice. She was pretty sure she's been there for a day already.

“Fucking great.” she spits, crossing her arms to try to look confident. If being a ninja included being captured by crazy people like these, she didn't understand why the bother.

He seem to ignore her mockery as he analyze her carefully. That guy, who must be some kind of leader if the way he's the only one talking is any indication, approaches. “You are the elemental master of spirit, aren't you?”

She stares back at him dryly without even bothering to respond. They had asked her name before and she hadn't even given them that.

The man waits in silence for a few seconds before continuing. “I know all ninjas have pretty interesting powers, the main reason why they are so annoying to us. As far as I heard, kid, you can steal someone's soul, right?”

She shakes her chained foot while frowning. “Why don't you take this shit off me and figure it out yourself?”

He smiles and then steps back, leaving the cell as if the exchange had bored him. "Not yet. We have to keep you alive until your friends come after all.”

And then he leaves, and she is alone. Again.

She rests her head on the wall behind her, trying futilely to keep track of the idiots hovering back and forth with threats that leave her shaking inside, and her hand clutches the yellow pin to her chest.

---

Jay's head is somewhere else during the eternal passage of days in which they search for clues to Kaida's whereabouts. He doesn't sleep or even eat. His concentration is solely on the battlefield and clinging to any possible clue. He is determined and alert, aware enough to be able to duck when necessary and able to dodge when shot.

But that's all. He feels nothing when he uses his powers over and over again against them without holding back his blows. It is like a storm that continues to build up until it explodes and he doesn't take into account who it lets that brutal rain fall on.

And the rest of the team isn't much help.

When they stop him for the fourth time to tell him they need a plan, his patience breaks.

He already has a plan; find his kid.

Lloyd, who Jay had learned that he was a kind of master on the team, harshly reprimands him at the end of an interrogation of one of the stupid bastards responsible for taking Kaida. Once the line of questioning ends with the man writhing on the ground in a haze of burning flesh, everyone looks at him with growing horror and fear.

He has no regrets, neither for this one nor for the others before him or for what is yet to come. If it were up to him, he would pull out what other pain that bastard has left to feel.

The green ninja, however, is unfazed by the anger crackling in his eyes and matches it with a stern glare. "Jay, I understand you're worried, but taking it out on them won't solve anything. You can't do that."

He breathes shakily, his hands, covered in blood that is not his, clenching and opening at his sides with sparks still cutting and hissing through the air.

"You are not my leader." He spits tiredly between his teeth. "Don't tell me what to do. You don't understand anything. If you really think I'm going to spare their lives for some stupid ninja shit I don't know about-"

"Jay, relax." The black ninja, Cole, steps forward, his voice heavy and wobbly. He approaches with his hands outstretched toward him, and he hates the anguish in his words, he hated that they acted like they knew him when he couldn't even remember anything about them. He hates all of this, and can barely speak with the guilt creeping down his throat. This would not have happened if they had not left the Administration. “We understand, we really do.”

Jay turns around, can't help but wave his arms in the air in exasperation, his voice rising to the edge of a shout as he shakes his head. "No, you don't. I don't need your help. If it were up to you, we would still have no fucking clue where she is. It's like you don't even care- “

A hand on his shoulder stops him, cutting off his speech as he flinches, and only then does he realize how much he's hyperventilating. The anger that makes his hands shake is as intense as the fear in his chest, and without a target to aim for so long, one becomes stronger than the other. When he turns around in his stupor, he finds the water ninja staring at him with one hand still on his shoulder.

Nya looks at him with understanding and sympathy, a deep grimace creasing her face even though her eyes otherwise remain calm. Her hand squeezes his shoulder tightly, almost as if she wants to hug him instead, and he hates how much they seem to really know him. He only has a vague idea of what they are supposed to be to him (his friends, his brothers, his yang) and that's it, they're still just strangers.

His real family, all he has left, is far away.

“We'll find her, Jay. I swear. You are not alone in this.” she emphasized firmly, and somehow, like a memory washed away by the tide, something in his chest calms at her words. The others look at him the same way, that anxious, worried look that loosens his jaw as his frown softens.

His hands were still shaking, and the power on his skin had not stopped crackling for even a second since they had begun their search. He pulls away from the touch on his shoulder somewhat abruptly, knowing it's probably not good to touch any of them while he's like this, and the others stare at him expectantly.

He takes a deep breath, barely closing his eyes for a fragment of a second where all he sees is bright white, and when he opens them to look at them, he can almost let himself believe that these people are his family.

"Alright." he chew the words through air that is too harsh and cold. His tongue is filled with the taste of ash and blood. “We know where these bastards' base is. Take us there.”

They all nod and leave, and Jay doesn't let anything stop him from getting to his daughter. His first and only priority.

---

Kaida loses track of time while there. She stops trying to count the minutes that pass and any hope she has left slowly dissolves.

And maybe it was for the best anyway. She knew she was a bait. A small fish to catch a bigger one. It was better that they didn't come for her. There was no reason for him to risk it when he already had his real family with him.

The men here don't linger with her any longer than necessary. They need her alive after all. One breaks her ankle so she doesn't even try to flee. Another hits her head particularly unpleasantly against the wall when she spits in their faces and things get confusing from there. It reminds her too much of Boarding School, and if she closes her eyes, she can practically feel the rivulet of blood running down the side of her face from her left eyebrow.

They seem proud of themselves when they finally manage to force screams of pain through her teeth, even if she doesn't even cry. Don't you dare cry. Don't you ever cry, she said in her mind over and over again.

And she tells herself that's not even the reason she's so terrified. It's not because she was deprived of her powers, or because of the pain that was pounding in her body, or because of whatever stupid plan these sons of bitches had, but because of the fact that she knows deep down that no one is coming for her. She knows she deserves it and that's what leaves her shaking as she stares straight ahead.

They should never have left the Administration, if they had stayed home instead of getting involved in saving the world and that stuff, none of this would have happened.

She feels selfish for thinking about it, but she can't help it.

She wants to go home, but she knows it's not even safe to go back there anymore. She hates how much those ninjas always had the power to take him from her, and now they finally did it.

And suddenly, the guards patrolling next to her cell hastily leave. All the people she can see through the bars share worried looks, frightened murmurs as they run to the left with weapons in their hands. Her heart races and all she can do is wait. She cannot see a single soul behind the walls when they all disappear.

There is an icy silence, one that builds in her cell the moment everyone leaves her alone, but that finally breaks when she begins to hear distant screams in the distance.

She stands suddenly, leaning against the wall, ignoring the pain clawing at her ankle and the damn chain that only makes it worse, and concentrates on listening.

She hears gunshots, hears high-pitched cries slowed by the walls. She's heard those screams before, the kind that come up just before a person's light disappears. She knows that they are coming from very far away, she knows that they are from the direction in which everyone ran, and from one moment to the next, the silence of her prison becomes a cacophony of screams that increases the tension that shakes in her chest.

There is also a growing ringing that pulses in her ears, which sounds too much like a muffled roar. A snake crawls across the ceiling, and when she looks up, she notices how the lights shine full of energy, turning on and off at the pace at which everyone runs desperately. That hum goes down and up constantly while the lights flicker until they finally break, exploding loudly. Glass and darkness hit the hallway.

Kaida can only watch open-mouthed, her mind barely able to comprehend the meaning of it when one of their leaders enters her cage with a gun in hand and a look full of anger.

“What the fuck is going on?” Kaida asks, pressing herself against the wall, hating the way her jaw trembles as the guy approaches her. “Is this also part of your plan, you idiots?”

The mockery comes out weak and raw at the end when she sees how the man removes the safety of the weapon and places it in his hands without hesitation. A knot of anxiety tightens and unravels in her chest until it reaches her mind, and her face pales.

“Looks like your friends are already here, kid. Now you are as useful alive as dead.” The gun is pointed at her face. If she had her powers, in less than a second, she could steal any excuse for soul that this guy had until he was an empty shell, take because that's what she always did. Only she doesn't have them, and the man's index finger is already on the trigger. “Unfortunately for you, I could use getting rid of an elemental master right now.”

The man points the barrel close to her forehead, far enough away that she can't even try to grab the gun from him.

Kaida steps back, her gaze focused somewhere in front of her, and she prepares for the worst with her teeth clenched together.

She's just not prepared for the way the man's body suddenly shakes violently. The grip on his gun loosens and he lets go. Collapsing heavily to the ground with white ribbons that run through his limbs until they fragilely disappear along with all traces of life in his gaze.

There is an echo of thunder behind it that conquers every struggle between silence and screams, and it is only when she looks up from the body at her feet that she finally sees Jay staring at her surprised on the other side of the cell. His hand still raised firmly forward, red and glowing as if snakes of light ran down his arm.

Her vision is blurry, either from the pain in the back of her head or from the held back tears, but it was definitely him. Through the cloudy haze, she can see how his reddish hair is more bristly than usual and the blood that practically covers him from head to toe.

She looks around, behind Jay, she sees completely still bodies scattered on the ground. She's not particularly fazed by it, she's seen worse, they've done worse. But the fact that he did this for her, that he took the risk to do it, leaves her reeling with a thread of breath.

Before she can register it, Jay quickly crosses the distance between them, dropping to his knees beside her so he's level with her. His trembling hands, whose skin over his knuckles she can see are slit and raw, grab her shoulders and he frantically search for any kind of wounds. She barely registers it, barely hears him speaking in panic at a mile a second.

Instead, she was still processing the fact that he was there. That he had come back for her.

“I've got you, kiddo, it's okay now,” she hears him say. His voice sounds more scared and agitated than she's ever heard.

His hands briefly touch her face and only then does she realize she was crying. She doesn't know how long she's been crying.

“Dad-” nothing but sobs come out.

He holds her close, reality finally hitting her as she buries her face against his chest, inhaling as she cries. Her forehead is pressed against that stupid blue gi, staining blood and tears and who knows what else, but she can hear his heart beating, fast but steady, and he's here and he didn't abandon her.

“We're going home,” he murmurs, as shaky as his breathing, and she doesn't care where that is anymore. All she really cares about is that he's here, and that's enough for her.

#I'm not good at drawing blood guys #I also did this in like less than an hour sjfbh #kaida walker #ninjago #dad jay au #ninjago fanfic #ninjago jay #ninjago oc #jay ninjago #jay walker #ninjago au

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runninriot · 10 months ago

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Inspired by the prompt Love is the only thing we can take with us by @thefreakandthehair for @steddielovemonth day 24

Only Love

wc: 1646 | rated: E | cw: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking, talk about death, sexual intercourse with a monster | tags: Kas!Eddie Munson, Monsterlover!Steve Harrington, Sad Love Story, but it is still a love story

minors, this one isn't for you

If someone had told Eddie he would one day go into battle against interdimensional monsters, he’d have laughed and called them insane. Had the same person told him, he’d lose said battle against monstrous bats out of hell, he’d maybe have used the idea for one of his DnD campaigns or maybe wrote a song about it because it sounds kind of cool, pretty badass to think of a character having to fight eyeless, bat-winged creatures with vine-like tails to strangle you with and tiny, sharp teeth that can rip through skin and flesh like a knife through soft butter.

Doesn’t sound so great anymore once you know they’re real. Doesn’t sound very heroic either to tell the tale of almost getting eaten alive by a swarm of angry, flying monsters.

It’s a sad story, really, if you think about how young Eddie was and how little of his life he got to truly enjoy.

But it’s also kind of funny to think that fate chose someone as clumsy and cowardly as Eddie to become something better, something superior. A creature of the dark, a godlike creation forged in the Upside Down to bring horror and harm to a town that, to be honest, would’ve deserved his rage for all they’d done to him.

But lucky for the puny people living in Hawkins, there was one thing Vecna couldn’t take from him when he made him turn from human to monster. And while his heart might not be beating anymore, sitting stone cold in his chest now where it once was the source of life – one thing remained.

The thing that made the monster turn against his master in the midst of a raging war, spilling blood and guts, tearing apart every screeching thing that dared to come too close. One monster against an army of many until he came eye to eye with the One, the evil incarnate, and finished him once and for all to protect the people he loved.

Love was the one thing he took from life to death and beyond.

Love for a girl he couldn’t save but will remember for the rest of his days.

Love for a kid that has more courage in his left foot than Eddie ever had in his whole body.

Love for a group of nerds and losers that made him want to be a better person for them.

Love for him.

Eddie turns his gaze away from the full moon shining through a gap between the treetops when he hears the rustling of leaves in the distance. He doesn’t need to see Steve to know that it’s him, could scent him from miles away, but still he smiles when the other man finally steps out of the shadows and into the faintly lit space where Eddie has been waiting for him.

“Hey baby.”

Steve takes the hand reached out to him, lets Eddie pull him close against his body.

“Hey.” Steve looks up at him through hooded eyes, enthralled by the vision Eddie is.

Still so fascinated by Eddie, his transformed self, the demonic version of what he once was. Tall, much taller than before. With broad shoulders and strong arms. His whole body covered in thick, opal skin. He’s got sharp talons and even sharper fangs. Wings, black and leathery, reminiscent of the creatures that took his old life and gave him a new one.

Eddie leans down to plant a kiss on Steve’s waiting lips, just gentle – for now.

“Missed you so much.” Steve sighs as he crawls deeper into the cradle of Eddie’s arms, would melt right into his skin if he could.

And God, how Eddie missed him too.

They never get enough time together, can never stay as long in each other’s presence as they both would like.

It comes with the curse of being the thing he is now but they both take it as it is because it’s better than not having each other at all.

Just one night every full moon is all they have. All Eddie allows himself to have. Because with Vecna defeated, he is the one now ruling the Upside Down, lonely like the Devil reigning hell, making sure the creatures of this other world stay trapped where they belong.

It’s a price he’s willing to pay to keep his loved ones safe.

To make sure the young man in his arms has the life he deserves – peaceful and quiet, not fighting wars that aren’t his to fight.

“Missed you too, my love. Couldn’t wait to have you in my arms again.”

Eddie pulls him closer, feels his boyfriend’s heartbeat thrumming in his chest, healthy and strong. He can hear the rush of Steve’s blood running through his veins; it’s singing to him, soft and enticing like a siren’s song. He can smell the natural scent of Steve’s warm skin, mixed with the deep fragrance of the forest ground and brittle wood.

It’s intoxicating, mind numbing, addictive.

Steve pulls away, knows what Eddie wants, wants what Eddie needs.

“Take it,” he says. Unafraid and always so ready to share what keeps him alive.

A rush of ecstasy takes hold of Eddie’s senses, makes it seem like the world around them shifts, turns reality into a dreamlike sequence. Moonlight falls on Steve, illuminating his angelic form with a silvery glow, makes him shine like Sirius in the night sky.

“My pretty boy.”

Eddie’s voice is nothing but a growl, deep and dangerous, resonating in his own ears like the sound of a hungry beast.

Steve bares his throat, offers himself to the monster that takes hold of the few remaining pieces of humanity that Eddie has left in him.

Eddie opens his mouth with a hiss, makes way for his teeth to grow, ready to take what he’s being offered so freely. The pointy tips of his fangs pierce easily through Steve’s skin, breaking enough of the protective layer to let blood spill out. It’s like drinking pure light, tastes better than anything else. The world’s most expensive wine couldn’t compete with it, no fruit could be sweeter than Steve. Every drop is a burst of flavour on his tongue, slowly dripping down his esophagus in a warm and steady stream.

He’s greedy for it, sucking the precious liquid into his mouth with fervour until he feels Steve’s body go limp in his arms.

He pops off with a wet sound, licks over the wound to soothe the stinging pain.

“Kiss me, please,” Steve begs, voice weak but demanding.

And Eddie does. Kisses him with blood stained lips, painting Steve’s mouth dark red with it – sharing what he took from him.

“Love me,” Steve whispers into the kiss and Eddie tries hard not to ravish him instantly.

He lifts him up, strong arms wrapped protectively around Steve, and carries him to their favourite spot. Here, where the ground is overgrown with tick layers of moss and clover, he lays Steve down gently.

“Love you so much.”

They fuck on the dewy forest floor, hidden away from the world, covered only by the night as their blanket. Steve is trembling, shaking uncontrollably as Eddie splits him in half, careful not to hurt him anymore than necessary. His new form isn’t made to easily glide into the depths of this frail human body; it’s rough, almost brutal but he knows that Steve wants him like that. Writhing and crying, so perfect and soft, Steve begs him for more:

“Deeper, baby. Go harder. I can take it.”

It’s beautiful, the way Steve’s tears glisten in the moonlight as he loses himself in the harsh rhythm of Eddie’s hips slapping against his skin. Deeper and deeper Eddie thrusts into his hole, fucks him hard and good. He pulls out a beautiful whimper with every push, viscously dragging his inhuman size along Steve’s inner walls, hitting the right spot over and over again. He’s got one hand curled around Steve’s hardness, gliding spit-slicked and in merciful contrast to his otherwise torturous movements up and down the length of it; giving Steve what he needs to find relief.

When Eddie can feel Steve tripping over the edge, he finds his neck again and bites down once more just for fun, just to take in all of Steve. To feel his warm blood on his tongue and his slick release on his fist, fills him up in return as a reward, a thank you, a sign of his undying love – you’re mine, I am yours, we are one in this unholy union.

Steve comes down slowly, held tight in Eddie’s arms with his wings wrapped around them to keep Steve warm against the cool night air.

It’s almost midnight, they’ve got only got a few more hours together. So they do what they always do – stay close, hold each other, kiss. Eddie listens to Steve talk about his life, his work, his friends (‘They miss you. It’s hard not to tell them you’re alive.’ – ‘Well I’m not really, am I? It’s better that way. I’m only here because of you.') Steve cries and Eddie feels his pain tenfold.

“Please stay.”

It’s the same desperate plea every time. And Eddie wants nothing more than to give in, wants to stay with Steve in this beautiful, dark dream but they both know he can’t.

“I’ll come back.”

Before the moon begins to make way for the rising sun, Eddie carries a sleeping Steve back to his home, lays him gently down on his bed and kisses his lips once more.

And like so many times before, the only thing he can take with him into the darkness he made his own prison to keep everyone safe, is the love that keeps him alive.

“I’ll come back,” he promises again, “I’ll always come back to you, Steve.”

#steddielovemonth #love is...#day 24 #eddie munson #steve harrington #kas!eddie munson #monsterlover!steve harrington #steddie fic #minors dni

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dotthings · 5 days ago

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Cas in Torn and Frayed is a perfect example of what I'm talking about what I talk about Cas being a traumatized character with PTSD. Hearing Samandriel's screaming as he's tortured triggers Cas (as well as any link that might exists between angels) and Cas remembers flashes of how Naomi tortured him to tinker with his brain. And Cas collapses for a moment. And the tendency of certain lanes to treat Cas as weak/useless when he shows vulnerability, or harshly condemning him for his flaws and neurosis, while Sam and Dean get sympathy and compassion for being traumatized characters with PTSD and forgive their flaws, by the people who need Cas to be the stone cold hard warrior at all times, slam him when he's not, and give no room for him to have issues, same as Sam or Dean, where he makes some bad decisions and causes hurt he didn't want to cause--same as Sam or Dean. Not to mention the narrative need of--when you have a superpowered character added to a team of spit-and-duct-tape mortals, that character has to have vulnerabilities or it does throw off the balance and the conflict the characters are up against. That doesn't mean Cas doesn't fit, actually. Cas fits because he's similar to Sam and Dean in the ways that matter, and it's a shame this zooms right over some people's heads, because Cas is a great character who is a badass warrior, who also has trauma and PTSD and flaws and that's beautiful, in the ways Sam and Dean are beautiful <3

#Castiel #cas meta #in this house we appreciate Castiel as a fully fleshed out character

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lethalchiralium · 2 years ago

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No More | [5] | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: fellas. fellas i know where i want to be but i have to write to get there????? disgusting. this is probably a filler but idk idk you need to know you’re a badass 😡😡😡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡 also flashbacks of the old life… cause why not.

word count: 5400ish

warnings: FLASHBACKS IN ITALICS UNTIL MISSION. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of domestic abuse (not from anyone from 141!), mentions of medical attention, canon-typical violence, cussing

summary: It was supposed to be an easy operation, but now you’re being hunted - you aren’t for sure. You’re hoping that the 141 isn’t compromised, because that means Laswell will send you to the one place you don’t want to be sent. Ghost is trying his best. OR, your flashbacks are getting worse, and the operation goes…crazy.

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Turn off the light.

Your eyes burned, even if they were closed. It was hard to even move your eyes, let alone any one of your limbs.

God, someone turn off that fucking light.

They felt like they were set in stone, lungs burning as they took in oxygen. Concrete poured right over your skin, your tongue dry and throat scratchy. You pressed your eyelids together before trying to open them, only to wince at the fluorescent light. Your sight was hazy at best, glancing around what looked like a hospital room. You could almost make out a purple lamp across the room, along with slumped bodies of slumbering people.

You felt movement on your right hand, your eyes flickered to it - you blinked a few times, and felt your heart settle in your stomach.

Bradley Bradshaw held your hand in his own, his face pressed into his elbow as he slept in an awkward position. You knew it was him, the dark blonde hair and mustache gave it away.

It hurt to see him sitting beside you like this, after watching him do the same with his mother years ago. Watching her sit in a hospital bed, weak and frail - you grew up with his mom, almost raised by her. You knew it had to hurt him to sit here with you, waiting for you.

You had thought about this when he had made the suggestion of getting back together after almost four years of being broken up - what if either one of you had crashed? Been injured or killed? He was your best friend, you’ve loved him almost all of your life. You thought you were going to marry him someday, but this was bigger than the kindling of a childhood love. This was life, and life had you by the throat and in a hospital bed.

You remembered the prayers you said in the village. The prayers that they’d find your bones, not your rotting corpse. Prayers that they wouldn’t find your cold body so Bradley and your father wouldn’t have to identify your decrepit face, prayers that they would identify you by your tags and DNA from your bones. They were prayers that you would never wish to leave your lover’s lips, prayers that would put you in the grave if he ever whispered them.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t stay with him if you knew you could hurt him in ways you’ve seen others do.

Someone murmured your name, your eyes moved from Bradley and to one of the figures across the room. You blinked, trying to clear the haze but they stood from their chair, moving towards you.

Maverick.

His hand grabbed yours, going to reach for a cup on the tray beside your bed. He put a straw into the plastic lid and moved it to your lips, you greedily took sips of water. The cool burn of water in your scratchy throat made you feel a little better.

“Slow down, bug.” He whispered, moving the cup away but you gave him a sharp glare. He set the cup on the tray. “You’ve been out for a few days.” You stared at him in disbelief. “Are you in any pain? I can get the nurse.” The twitch of your head to the side made Maverick nod, his eyes moving to Rooster. He looked back to you.

“Hasn’t moved an inch. Thought he was going to go out screaming when I made him take a shower in the bathroom.”

You felt tears prick at your eyes, gazing at Rooster.

You were supposed to be married by the time he had graduated college, both Naval Aviators and wingmen until the end - that was the idea, the focus of the relationship you two had created freshman year of high school. But the dream had crashed and burned by his junior year of college, your first year in flight school. The Rooster and his Hen had broken up because she learned to fly first.

You stayed friends. How could you not? He knew your every thought, dream, wish like you did for him - he stayed silent when you introduced him to Jake Dakota, a Naval Lieutenant that you fell in love with. Rooster held his tongue as you spoke about spending your life with this new man, but he didn’t take a step back when the bruises began. He never willingly left your side when you mysteriously ended up with a broken arm. He drove the nine hour drive in five hours to the Fallon Naval Air Station in Nevada when you called, crying and terrified that the man you chose after him might kill you. Carried you to the ER in town, though you barely remember half of it as you were bleeding pretty bad from your head and chest, blood soaked his clothes.

It took you six months to even feel comfortable without him being near you, without your father or his on and off girlfriend, Penny Benjamin. The constant time with Rooster in the air and on the ground, you felt safe again. Safe with him in the air, safe in his arms. You wanted to give the Rooster and Hen Show another shot, and he had said yes. He would always have a key to your home and your heart.

Now he sat in the chair beside your bed, hand holding yours as if to make sure he was the first to see you wake up. Now, he was peacefully sleeping, not knowing the pain he was about to experience.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t get back in a jet, you couldn’t put him through more pain than you ever have before.

“Honey.”

Your teary eyes looked back to your father, your mouth opened to speak but only a small sob left your lips. Your left hand barely squeezed his hand, but he felt it. He sat beside you on your bed, his free hand petting down your unkempt hair before coming back to his side.

“You’re okay, honey. You’ll be okay.” His eyes met yours, yet his sentiment didn’t reach his eyes. He wouldn’t know if his daughter would return to how she was before or completely change. He wouldn��t know yet, but he have to watch you walk away from him, from your best friend, from your home because you had to fly away. You had to leave and shed the skin of Reaper to become something new, someone he wouldn’t know for years. Mercy.

Your father’s eyes said it all. He had told you before you launched that it was dangerous, that you shouldn’t do it - you had wave him off. He said he couldn’t do this again. You knew he was talking about his wingman, Goose, who died in an accident. He still blames himself for killing Rooster’s father.

A whimper left your lips and there was a gasp from your right, your eyes looked to Bradley, your neck too stiff to move your head still. His eyes were wide, his own tears rolled down his face. His free hand settled on your cheek, a smile broke on his lips.

“Hi, Hen.”

Your heart broke into a million pieces, splintered into your skin and drawing blood as you breathed.

The sound of ice shaking in a drink made you look back to your father, he moved the drink towards your face. You took small sips of the ice water, moving away from the straw before staring at the ceiling. Tears stung your face, outlining Rooster’s hand as they fell down the right side.

“Mini Mav.”

Your gaze flickered to the foot of your hospital bed, recognizing the silver hair from afar.

Iceman.

Your tears fell faster.

“You’re gonna be okay, kiddo.” He patted your foot, you hiccuped as you felt sobs begin to claw up your throat.

“H-Home.” The word that fell from your lips broke all of the men’s hearts, the way you could barely say it clearly. “Go.” You coughed, trying to clear your throat. “Home.”

Ice looked to Mav, who looked to Rooster - whose eyes had never left your face in the first place. Your father and godfather both looked back at you, Maverick spoke, “You want us to go?”

“I want.” You took in a small breath before continuing, “To talk… to Roos. Alone.”

Maverick and Iceman both looked at their dead friend’s son, then to each other. A quizzical look from both of them made you look away to your lap. Mav gently pet your head before he pressed a kiss to your hair. “We’ll be down in the cafeteria then. We won’t be too long.”

Ice let go of the bottom of the bed as Maverick moved by, both men walking out of the door without a word exchanged or a sound made. The door clicked back into place and you took a deep breath.

It was like those prayers for death were wrapping around your skin; tearing, burning and ripping tendons - branding for your bones with words of despair. You didn’t want that for him, these words weren’t ones that could be washed away. They were tattoos in gold ink, bold and toxic and they would never be meant for him.

“I am so sorry.” He spoke first, his hand squeezed yours. You looked up to him, seeing tears fall down his face. The face that has smiled at you for years, laughed alongside you, cried with you. “I did the funeral run. If I had known you were alive, I would’ve-“

“Bradley.”

“I thought I lost you.” His voice cracks, his hand squeezed yours just a little too tight. “I’m so sorry I left you out there, I didn’t know.” His tears fell fast, just like rain in a storm. “I’m sorry.”

You wet your lips before squeezing his hand back.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Bradley’s face dropped, eyebrows furrowed and eyes widened. “What? Like being here?”

Your eyes met his, you felt the sting of imaginary tears. “Us.”

It was like you could see into his head like an x-ray, because you watched his entire world shatter through his eyes. Splintering his chest with glass and porcelain, shredding his heart like paper - pain he’s felt before but never from you.

“What?”

You took in a breath, a reflex to try to calm yourself before you broke into pieces. “I hurt you.”

“No, no, baby, I didn’t know that you were alive, there was no-“

“We always end up like this.” You coughed roughly, your free hand began to slowly move towards your face. “I can’t keep hurting you.”

“You’re not hurting me.”

You stared at him. “It’s easier to grieve friends than lovers.” Your throat began to burn but you continued, taking breaths after every few words. “I can’t hurt the love you give me. I’m,” A cough, your throat scratchy and hoarse while you breathed out. “A Maverick. I’ll get you killed.”

“You won’t get me killed, Y/N.” He answered immediately, gently squeezing your hand. “You’re not your father.”

Your head moved for the first time as you lulled it to the side, a whisper escaping your lips, “But you are yours.”

It was like you could hear the relationship exploding, burning by how his face dropped. His eyebrows furrowed, betrayal set in his skin. But, there was also understanding. He understood your fear. “We can make this work.”

“I love you but I can’t do it.” Another cough escaped your throat before you continued, “We were always better as friends.”

His other hand went and wiped those heartbroken tears from his face. “Please don’t do this. Not when I just got you back.”

“Please go.”

The fire had consumed him, burning his skin like the tears he shed. But he didn’t argue with you, he knew it would be pointless. Once a Maverick, always a Maverick. He only gave your hand a squeeze before saying, “Can I kiss you?” Just one last time?

You nodded and he instantly pressed his lips to yours, the dance of your lips was familiar yet needy, the last time you would ever kiss Bradley would be in this hospital room in Miramar. He pulled away after just a moment, his free hand cupped your cheek as he made you look into his eyes. “I will always love you, even if you’re scared to love me. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, all you have to do is just ask.”

There wasn’t another word exchanged before he let go, moving away and towards the door without a glance at you. Then, you were left in silence.

The light was still too bright, your lungs felt like sandbags and your tongue hurt from speaking, even if it wasn’t much. It was only a few seconds before the door opened, a gaggle of nurses and doctors waltzing in. Taking your temperature, asking you questions, upping the dosage of morphine. Your hand moved to grab your cup of water, a nurse moved to hand it to you. You nodded in thanks before looking back to the doctor, his words going in one ear and out the other. The blanket was peeled back to assess wounds, you got a look at them. Your body was covered in white bandages, it made you feel sick so you looked up to the ceiling as they put the blanket back.

The doctor - Doctor Choi? - cleared her throat to catch your attention, you moved your head back down and glanced to her. “You’ll be back in the air in two months.”

Those words would have been a comfort two months ago, but now, it made you viciously nauseous. It bloomed the quaking feeling in your stomach and up your throat. You would only crash again if you got back into a jet.

“Thanks.”

Doctor Choi nodded before ushering the large group of medical staff out of your room, you took a small sip of your ice water. You didn’t even notice that someone had stayed behind, but it wasn’t Rooster. No, Rooster did not carry himself with such… grace.

“You’re incredibly impressive, Lieutenant Mitchell.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Survival…or flying?” Your shaky hand held the cup of ice water, staring at the man who moved to stand at the foot of your bed. The man who you almost shot, the man who rescued you.

Captain John Price was a man made of steel, melted and carved into a well-rounded leader - you could tell by the way he held himself. Not in the way that he was too ignorant, but the way that he oozed confidence. Just like you used to. Could your fractured hull ever be repaired and floated back out to sea?

Price clasped his hands behind his back. “You survived 23 days without getting yourself killed, killing threats with your bare hands to conserve ammo. You hunted animals for sustenance, fought off what looked like two rounds of Russian scouts and only had one bullet wound. I’ve trained men that would only be able to dream about having any of those skills.” He nodded to you. “Not to mention the stealth kills. It’s easy to see that most of them didn’t struggle.”

“Was gonna be a Navy Seal medic before I went Aviation.”

“I’m sure you would be able to get back into the program.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your flying skills are excellent, don’t get me wrong, but you would be an incredible Special Forces Operator.” He cleared his throat. “No one has ever pulled their gun on me that fast before without me catching it, it was impressive, Y/N. Especially when they’re wounded and starved.”

“Thanks…?”

“I’m looking for someone like you to be a part of a Task Force, and from how you seem to be traumatized from flying,”

Your eyes narrowed. “How did you-“

“I’m giving you a way out, to still serve your country but just using different tools.”

You stared at the Captain, eyebrows furrowed. “How did you know about…that?”

The Captain only shrugged. “I would be traumatized too if the one thing I trusted more than myself had failed me.” He then moved towards the tray table next to your bed where you had just sat down your drink. He fished something from his pocket and held it up - a business card. “If you ever need an excuse to stay on the ground, call me.”

He placed the paper on the table before turning away, footsteps almost silent as he made it to the door. Your hand reached for the card, the soft card stock felt weird when you took it between your fingers. His name was hastily written, but the international phone number underneath it was written slowly, as if to make sure you could read it. You kept your eyes on the number.

“Captain?”

He stopped, hand on the door handle before he turned back to you. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

You looked up to him. “I don’t have to be Reaper anymore, then?”

Price shook his head. “It’s your decision.” With that, the man had left you alone in your hospital room. You flicked the paper between your fingers before flinging it back onto the tray table.

It didn’t take you more than twelve hours to dial in the number, and you were placed underneath Captain John Price’s wing.

—

The stock of the rifle against your shoulder was a comfort, your eye watching through the scope as Soap weaved through the building, making sure to keep tabs on his position as he cleared every room. There were only three floors of the building in Istanbul, both Price and Gaz sat with their own rifles on two other buildings that sat across from the target. Comms had been quiet for the most part, only muttering a “Clear!” every few minutes. Any information they could get their hands on was put in a backpack which would then be sent to Laswell for decoding. Soap had done his internal sweep of the floor, now making sure he stayed in your sights as he cleared the rooms with windows. You watched as he dug through files on a desk, scanning through files. The room to the left held Alejandro, he was typing in a computer as Ghost stood watch at the door.

“Nothing that even talks about the target.” Alejandro muttered into the comms, you could see him inject a flash drive into the PC. Your sights drifted to Soap again, seeing that he had began to move out of the room.

“Clear.” The Scot muttered, your scope then moved back to Ghost.

“Clear.” Alejandro spoke, the men then moved into the building, making you lose visual.

“Delta 0-4 lost visual on Alpha Team.” You spoke into your radio.

“Bravo 0-6, gained visual on Alpha Team.” Price echoed, you settled back and moved your head from your scope for just a moment. The Russian sunshine felt bittersweet, the cold brushed over your clothes as the warmth of the sunlight burned into them.

“Gaz, we’ve got a remote locked blast door in here, do you mind?” Alejandro asked, your eye went back to your scope and your rifle moved to gaze to Gaz’s position, across the plaza on another roof - a laptop with him.

Gaz ducked from his rifle, head down underneath the ledge as he most likely pulled up his laptop. “Not at all. Bravo 2-6, losing visual on the west side.”

You cleared your throat, scanning his surroundings on the roof of the old apartment building. “Delta 0-4, covering Bravo 2-6.”

There was a moment of silence, you could almost hear the birds chirping before Alejandro spoke again, “Gaz, can’t you make it open faster?”

You saw Gaz’s head pop up from behind the ledge, looking onto the building as he answered, “Negative, sir. But you can try pullin’ on it if it makes you feel better.”

Price chuckled on the line. “Cheeky bastard.”

“Here for everyone’s entertainment.” Gaz laughed, ducking underneath the ledge again. “Looks like there should be a stairwell behind the door, leading down into the basement. I have visual on Alpha Team via cameras. They might know you’re there.”

“Be careful, boys.” Price commented. “When you go down there, you’ll only have Gaz on visual. Watch each other’s backs.”

Soap. “Yes sir.”

“Bravo 0-6 losing visual on Alpha Team.”

“Bravo 2-6 gained visual on Alpha Team.”

You moved your rifle to the right, scanning Gaz’s rooftop again. You moved your eye from your scope again, gazing down into the fairly unpopulated street. The building Alpha Team was in looked old, barely kept up with - nothing new for your line of work. Limestone had cracks, the windows cracked and the engraving above the front door had faded. There was no one lingering around the streets in front of the building where you were looking, you were sat on an office building roof directly across from it.

Once your eyes flickered to the direction of your captain, you felt it. That chill that crawls up your back when you know something’s wrong. You looked back through your scope to your captain, scanning his roof before looking back to Gaz.

You didn’t even hesitate when you saw the man with a rifle, about to shoot Gaz from across the roof. The shot hit the man in the forehead, his body crumbled like sand - Gaz jumped out of his skin as he shouted into his mic, “What the fuck, Mercy!?”

You pulled back the bolt on your rifle, reloading a shot as you kept your sights on the open door to the roof. “Just saved your life, Sergeant. We might be compromised, gentlemen. Grab what you can and get out.”

“We're daein' oor best.” Soap grunted, you kept your eyes on Gaz’s roof.

“Eyes on hostiles moving into the building.” Price commented, it felt like a timer began. You didn’t even dare to look down at your watch, you kept your eyes on Garrick as he began to navigate the team through the labyrinth that was the basement. “No clear shots yet. Delta 0-4, keep eyes on Bravo 2-6.”

“Rog.”

“We’ve got something, Captain. Basement is clear.” Ghost’s voice was low, the grip on the handle of your rifle grew just a little tighter. “Gaz, is our exit clear?”

Another few seconds, Price piped up, “Enemies spotted, green light on weapons hot.”

“Three targets heading towards the basement, LT.” Gaz confirmed, you watched as he then grabbed his rifle again, scoping towards you. “Targets spotted covering the exits, we may needa lift out of here, Captain.”

“You hear that, Nik?” Price called into the comms, you heard a very chirpy, “Yes sir!” from your favorite Russian pilot.

“Get to the roof, there is a staircase right outside of the basement door that goes all the way up.” Gaz had ducked back down to his laptop, you kept your sights on him - only moving your scope to make sure the fucker that almost killed him was still dead.

The chill hadn’t gone away yet, the knot in your stomach that kept tightening and making you feel sick. Your scope left from Gaz and went to Price, quickly scanning his area to see that he was also clear. That meant-

You rolled to the right, hearing a knife loudly crack against concrete. Your hands were already on your own knife, leaping onto your foe and holding their arm away from you. They were dressed in all black, black war paint over their eyes as they tried to buck you off. Anger seeped through your skin as you slammed your knee into their stomach, making them temporarily unfocus; allowing you to plunge Ghost’s black knife into their throat. The blood was hot, splattering against your hands as you twisted the knife and wretched it from their skin, the squelch from the inhalation of blood would’ve made you squirm, but your adrenaline was all you felt.

Thank God for your sixth sense.

“I’m compromised!” Your fingers coated your radio in blood, you wiped the remaining blood and skin off of the knife onto the leg of your enemy. You sheathed the knife and grabbed your rifle, sliding the stand back onto the sides. You pressed the button again. “Almost got kebabed, we need to exfil now.”

“Nik, what’s your status?” Price barked, you quickly slung your sniper rifle over your shoulder - hands grabbed your the assault rifle hanging from your vest. You cocked the gun and turned towards the exit of the roof, clearing the landing before heading down the stairs, gun still raised.

“Five minutes out, Captain.”

“Gaz, Mercy, rendezvous at the secondary location.”

“Rog.” You confirmed.

You made quick work of securing the staircase as you descended, your footsteps quiet on the concrete as you kept your finger beside the trigger. It was only five flights of stairs, but the taught string in your stomach told you it would be a long way before you even made it back to your team. This was supposed to be easy, you thought, I do not feel like getting hunted for sport.

When you opened the door back to the street, you pressed your body against the wall beside the doorway so you were able to look a little farther down the street - nothing. No one, not even civvies. It was weird. You cleared both sides of the street before exiting the building, keeping your hands on your rifle.

The street was filled with old buildings that looked like they came straight out of the Soviet Union, with beige concrete and cookie-cutter styles. You didn’t pay any mind to the emptiness of the street, but your eyes kept moving to the windows of residential apartments as you began to quickly jog down streets.

It was only two klicks away and you were making record time, making sure to keep tabs on your surroundings and looking over your shoulder every once in a while. The prickle in your spine began to not go away, it felt familiar - not in the sense that it was Ghost, but in the sense that it felt predatory; the way you felt under the gaze of your abusive ex-boyfriend.

Extremely dangerous.

You swung around, thinking that a threat would be behind you but there was nothing but open, dusty street.

Tick, tick.

You felt water on your face, you glanced down at your rifle to see that rain had began to paint it. You grunted in annoyance before turning back around, running now. If someone was going to hunt you, they were going to have to be fast.

“Bravo 0-6 at RV, Gaz, what’s your status?”

“Almost there.” Gaz answered, sounding out of breath. The concrete under your boots was growing uneven as you darted through back alleys and side streets, rain began to splatter against every inch of your uniform. The knot in your stomach still tightened, it didn’t take that much to convince you that you were being followed.

You cocked your rifle as you reached a street corner, darting to the left and using the building as cover before you peered out to find the enemy. It didn’t take long for a man the size of Soap to appear, but it definitely wasn’t Soap. The man was geared up from head to toe, leaving his ginger hair without a helmet. He had an assault rifle in his hands, keeping it pointed up at he scanned the street. The rain began to get faster, drenching the man and giving you the perfect cover to close your scope on his forehead.

The body hit the ground quickly yet was silent against the sound of the rain, you lowered your gun and turned away, scanning your environment. Another street up and you would be at the van, where Price and Gaz hopefully were.

“Alpha Team has extracted, Bravo Team, what is your ETA?” Ghost’s voice almost scared you, you bit your tongue as you darted forwards, keeping your rifle raised. Your finger was poised beside the trigger like a puma, ready to pounce.

“Waiting on Mercy.” Gaz answered.

“Copy.”

Your socks were soaked by the time you rounded the corner, seeing the familiar silhouettes of your coworkers halfway down the street; they were waiting in the rain for you. Your tightened heart warmed a little, you didn’t stop running until you were twenty feet from the van, jogging.

You called to Gaz and Price, “Delta 0-4 at RV.”

Price nodded to you before radioing into Alpha Team. “We’ll be at the LZ in ten.”

It wasn’t long before you were back in Nik’s helicopter, the knot that was so tight in your stomach had loosened, but you still felt the anxiety. Something bad was happening, dread made its home in your sternum. You spent that flight back to the small base in Poland trying to flesh out how they knew you were there.

Everyone had cleared the recon spots before Alpha Team even made advances towards the target location, there was nothing to tip off anyone. Gaz hadn’t detected any security cameras for blocks, all three buildings you, Price, and Gaz used were cleared. There was no way they could’ve known the teams were there, especially you and Gaz. Something isn’t right.

Alejandro sucked in a breath as you pressed a little too much hydrogen peroxide to the slice on the side of his hand. You mumbled a weak apology as you moved to bandage his hand.

“¿En qué estás pensando?” The Colonel murmured, your eyes glanced up before looking back down at the wound.

“Podemos estar en peligro.” You answered, Spanish just a little slower than you liked. Your brain was going faster than a freight train, you relied on your muscle memory to continue caring for Alejandro’s wound. “No había forma de que supieran que íbamos a estar allí arriba.”

Alejandro nodded. “Sé que tienes razón, pero tuvieron suerte.”

“Algo anda mal, Ale. No puedo evitar este sentimiento.” You gently began to wrap the white gauze around his palm.

Alejandro nodded and smiled. “The sign of a good soldado. Preparados para lo peor.”

You tucked the end of the bandage far from the wound before nodding at the Colonel. “No es una bendición.”

Your friend cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed. “Te mantendrá a salvo.” His eyes then flickered to the skull-masked man a seat down, typing away on his laptop. “Tienes que cuidar tu sombra, parece un perro pateado.”

“Ha cometido errores, está aprendiendo.” The finality of your words made Alejandro nod again before getting up, moving back to his original spot across from you. He shrugged, mouthing a ‘Gracias’.

The rest of the ride was silent, Ghost breaking down firewall after firewall of the laptop they retrieved while Price kept his phone pressed to his ear, lower conversations barely heard over the roter. Dread carved out words of warning on your bones, your fingers fidgeting with your vest as you kept glancing to Ghost. He had sat back in his seat, hands looking like they were shaking as they typed on the keyboard.

It didn’t take you more than a moment to move a seat over and take one of his hands, he almost instantly retched it away. You looked up to him, seeing the wild look in his eye.

“What are you doing?” His voice was low, almost angry. His words bit like a rabid dog, deep and hollow.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “You’re shaking.”

“‘m fine.” He scoffed a little, hands trying to go back to the keyboard but you had stopped them with your own. His eyes held an icy fury.

“You need to relax.”

That seemed to click something in his brain, circuits electrifying and gears clicking together. He seethed, “You almost died.”

Your hand subconsciously found purchase on his knife in your vest sheath, almost pulling it out to give it back. “And you gave me the weapon I saved myself with. So quit being an ass and listen to me.”

The man made of cold stone moved his hands from the keyboard, his eyes narrowing.

You took one of his hands, squeezing it a little. “Just take five minutes.” Your voice lowered a little. “For me.”

You had hope, just a little.

But it was crushed when he pulled your hand away, typing on the laptop again. You turned forward, eyes staring at the floor of the helicopter.

One step forward, five steps back.

———

some tags had to be deleted as i couldn’t tag, i’m sorry!

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