#this is a thought dump but i’m going to file it under

[levelslevels]

one thing about me is that i will always find a way to link something to donna haraway’s cyborg manifesto because i am insane and transgender. anyway software/hardware made me think — cyborg meaning a disruption of normative boundaries and a dispelling of false dichotomies — masculine/feminine illecebra/arcanus apollo/artemis THE DOUBLE DRAG everything about filter (human/idol? in very broad terms? but also challenging the notion of a wholly externally readable self) etc. etc. transcend dualism embrace hybridity — is that where face is going. transcending and reconciling. as i was writing this i thought reconciling might be too gentle a word but maybe some gentleness is due! anyway. jimin cyborg

[thatlittlered]

florida!!! | aaron hotchner

warning(s): this will be a slow burn, but have faith

GIF by @katebeckets

author's note: A Hotch fic in 2024? It's more likely than you think. Part two coming tomorrow. Find me @MadeofLilies in Ao3!

-.-.-

It’s a two-hour flight from Quantico to Tampa, but the team’s already been up the day before for this case. There’s very little left in all of you to give right now so you’re mostly going through the files again or, more likely, staring blankly at the papers – sleeping with your eyes open. Rossi succumbs to the sweet call of rest first and he will most certainly be mocked for it tomorrow.

Reid is sat behind you and you can feel his frequent jolts. He’s coming in and out of sleep, always fighting it. Hotch is across from you and as always, an unwavering force. He is reading files and keeping notes without a single complaint. Not a single sign of discomfort or an urge to slow down.

You’d think he was a statue, but his humanity prevails through the peaks of facial hair just now growing in, the skin that sinks under his eyes and the softness of his breathing.

You’re no longer too aware of your surroundings, but from the corner of your eye, you see him squirm uncomfortably and glance at you before returning to his notes.

Then-

“You smell very good.”

“Oh, uh, it’s my body lotion, I think. Violet.”

He nods as if taking in the information that he can’t really use.

What exactly was the purpose of that statement? The thought of a scent emitting from the warmth of your body does something to him.

“I’m sorry, that was probably a weird thing to say.”

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t.” He nods again and silence ensues. “Maybe a little? I also feel weird complimenting people on their perfumes, it makes me feel like Buffalo Bill. It rubs the lotion on its skin.”

He laughs and his head drops downward. Full-hearted laughs from Hotch are a rare phenomenon and eliciting one is always a thrilling accomplishment.

“It’s a nice scent, let’s just leave it at that.”

“Let’s.”

-.-.-

Six hours of sleep in the hotel go by in a moment and do little to alleviate the headache that’s been building up. Tylenol it is.

Emily offers you a sympathetic smile when you meet her at the car and pats your back lovingly. You know she is just as tired.

“One of these days they’re going to stop working for me and then I’m really screwed.”

“You’re like a pretty house plant. You thrive only under very specific conditions.”

“That’s right. I only need a full eight hours of sleep, seventy-five-to-eighty-degree weather and a full stomach to not feel sick, I’m honestly very low maintenance.”

She laughs and hands you a coffee.

“I know, honey. I vow to maintain you to the best of my abilities.”

Hotch is listening from inside the car and he’s almost jealous at the comfortable banter. Chat always feels forced to him in one way or another, especially with you. It’s complicated.

You seat behind him and he looks at you through the rear mirror.

“Good morning, Hotch.”

Never boss. Never Agent. You called him Aaron once a very long time ago and he’s clung to it. He can hear it now if he tries.

He makes an effort to be warm to you and there’s a hint of a polite smile.

“Good morning.”

Emily and Spencer join you and after a quick check-in with the rest of the team in the other car, you’re ready to go.

Tampa is hot. And swampy. It was comfortable enough in the beginning when the sun was only coming out but you can’t escape its angry glare anywhere now. Your clothes are starting to cling to you and the Tylenol hasn’t worked.

Aaron notices your discomfort when you sneak away from the rest of the team and head back to the car for some shade. It’s been a long couple of hours driving around and looking at the perp’s dump sites.

“Are you okay?”

You look up and see him lean against the open car door. Brows furrowed, eyes on you. You’re always a little uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just needed a break.”

He’s not too convinced. “Is it the headache?”

“Yeah… I left my sunglasses back at the hotel and that doesn’t help much either.” You take a sip of water just in case it helps. “Who even has the energy to go around and murder people in Florida? I can barely move my arms up and down without wanting to die.”

He laughs again. You’re really getting good at this.

“That’s some fine profiling there, agent. It makes sense to assume the perp is a local.”

You squint your eyes to look at him through all the glaring sunlight and he’s smirking.

“Was that a joke from THE Agent Hotchner? Be still my beating heart.”

You smile at each other for just a second before the sun once again becomes unbearable. Your eyes close on instinct.

“Just give me a second and I’ll be back on my feet.”

“Of course, take your time.”

Next thing you know, you feel a gentle touch at the sides of your face, something being placed on the bridge of your nose. When you open your eyes again, Hotch is covered by a thin veil of black that gives you immense relief.

“Oh, Hotch, it’s not necessary.”

“It’s alright, you need them more. Keep them.”

“Thank you so much.”

He nods, now back to his regular self and walks away when he sees you’re looking better.

You follow close behind him and watch as he joins the group to comment on something Spencer said. Emily leans discreetly toward you, “Are those Hotch’s sunglasses?”

-.-.-

The air-conditioned hotel room is a lovely change of scenery by the end of it all. This time you can really take it all in, you’re not in a rush to go anywhere. A hot shower, clean linen and the scent of pine room spray in the air.

Pine might be an odd choice for a Floridian beach resort, but alright.

You’re drying your hair when someone knocks on your door, which surprises you. The usual routine for everyone in the team is a shower to wash out the filth that you witness and passing out in the queen-sized beds. You assumed they were doing the latter.

“Hi.”

Aaron Hotchner in a t-shirt is definitely something. Seeing him like this, you almost feel like you’re violating him even though he’s the one knocking on your hotel door at half past two in the morning.

“Hi, is there something wrong?”

His brows furrow. He looks anxious.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No, I just got out of the shower, was about to dry my hair and go to bed.” His gaze falls on the water stains forming on your shirt, your hair loose. It looks so soft. “Did you need something?”

“Uh, sort of. The Wi-Fi in my room isn’t working and I have to send in my report before we fly back tomorrow. I tried the reception but they can’t really do anything about it right now.”

“Oh! Of course, you can work from here if you want.”

“Are you sure it wouldn’t be a bother-”

“Hotch, get in here, of course it wouldn’t be a bother. You’re quite literally the most discreet the person in the world.”

He smiles at the praise. It’s a boyish sort of joy to know that you think so highly of him.

“Let me just grab my laptop.”

You watch as he briefly disappears in his room right across from yours and reappears with his laptop and a case file in hand. He stands awkwardly before you, waiting for you to invite him in again and you laugh at his insane need to always be so careful with his movements.

You step back and he understands, joining you inside the room.

“Give me a second to clear my things off the bed and you can get to work, okay?”

“I can just take the chair, it’s no big deal.”

“That’s actually even harder for me right now because all my clothes are on that chair. You can absolutely sit on the bed as long it’s not with outside clothes, because yuck.”

You both laugh and you think it’s because of your hyperbole but he’s laughing at the way your nose scrunches when you say it.

“I never wear my outside clothes to bed.”

“Of course you don’t.”

You make space for him in your bed that smells like laundry softener and you from the night before. It’s your body lotion. Violet.

He can’t help but think it’s a nice place to be.

“I’m just going to blow-dry my hair in the bathroom, hopefully that won’t make too much noise at this hour. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Sure.”

You don’t think you’ve ever made this much eye contact with Hotch in a single day but tonight, he’s insistent on looking right in your eyes with every word he speaks. It’s odd, but not uncomfortable. You could certainly get used to it.

You only get a solid minute and a half of blow drying before you decide you can’t be certain that the walls prevent the sound from reaching other rooms. It’s a cruel thing to do at this hour, even though the only other person you know on this floor is your boss that’s currently sitting on your bed like a teenager doing homework.

“I’m done.”

He looks at you star-struck, something about the familiarity of this moment really getting to him. The two of you have never been like this before and he’s always felt a certain amount of regret over not being as close with you as the other members of the team have managed. That’s the curse of being a stone, he supposes. People will eventually treat you like one.

“I won’t take long; I just need to finish up the rest and send it.”

“Don’t worry, you can stay as much as you need.”

He glances at the bottle of melatonin on the nightstand.

“How come you’re not already dozing off?”

“I just wanted to relax a little before I did. Felt disgusting after today.”

He hums. Was it the heat? Was it the humidity? Was it the empty look inside the perp’s eyes when he was finally caught? Like there was no humanity there, nothing to see but cruelty. He won’t ask.

“Do you have trouble falling asleep?”

You also glance at the bottle, then at him. “Are you profiling me, Agent Hotchner?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be inquisitive. I just thought you could fall asleep everywhere. Several long hours in the jet have proved so, at least.”

His attempt to lighten up the mood works and he’s thankful.

“I can, I just have trouble staying asleep once I do. Especially with all the changes in time zone; it really messes with me.”

He smiles at you so warmly. This is Aaron. Not Agent Hotchner, not even Hotch, just Aaron sitting on your hotel bed with his knee bumping into yours. “Like a pretty house plant.”

You smile back and try not to think too hard about the repercussions of him calling you pretty, even though he’s technically repeating another person’s words.

“Do you have trouble falling asleep?”

“I do sometimes… it can be tough.”

Aaron’s brown eyes are so soft under the dimmed lights.

“It really can be.”

The spell of eye contact breaks before it becomes too intense.

“Do you mind if I also sit here until you finish?”

His hand twitches at his side, begging to touch; to reassure you.

“Of course not. It’s your bed.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You couldn’t.”

You watch some TV while he works away, often stealing glances at the way his hands move over the keyboard. They’re very nice to look at; all veins and rough skin. They suddenly stop and shut the laptop.

“I’m finished, so I can finally leave you to your rest. I’m really sorry for the intrusion.”

You sit up from your cozy spot, alarmed at the thought of his departure when you’re finally getting used to his presence here.

“I told you, there was no intrusion. I’m glad I was able to help.”

He smiles at you again, this time a little more reserved. It’s as if the bubble of intimacy has burst and now it’s all awkward again.

“I should leave so you can get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” You watch as he gets up and moves toward the door, “Although…”

The suggestion of something else following stops in him in his tracks.

“I don’t think I’m in the mood to sleep right now and I’d really just like some coffee.”

He moves again, turning to face you completely. Eye contact, again.

“I could actually go for some coffee. Breakfast doesn’t start being served for a few more hours though.”

You sigh, maybe it’s the sleep deprivation but it feels like neither of you wants to let go.

“Maybe we could head out? See if there’s any place open in the neighborhood?”

You watch as he glances at the door, then back at you. “Yeah. Yes, let’s do that.”

“Meet you in the hallway in five?”

“I’ll be there.”

-.-.-

The hotel is fairly close to the airport and you guess East Tampa is not the place to be for nightlife. The streets are empty save for the occasional passing car.

“Should we take the car?”

“We could do that, or…”

“Or?”

“We could explore the East Tampa wilderness by foot. I hear they recently got rid of the alligators.”

He laughs, “Will you ever tire of the Florida jokes?”

“Not ever, no.”

“Good, I like hearing them.”

East Tampa is more walkable than you expected.

“See, they even have tiny slivers of sidewalk! We might as well be in Paris.”

“Magical.” he hums, walking slightly behind you so you don’t bump into each other.

God forbid you cross that boundary while wandering around a foreign city with your coworker, alone, when it’s almost four am and you’re both wearing pajamas outside. God forbid.

You can feel him leading you through the streets despite being right behind you and neither of you really knowing where you’re heading. He guides you through his sturdy footsteps, the quiet breathing that finds and leaves your ear again with every step.

“We can try turning left here.”

You would trust him anywhere.

The moment you make the turn and make room for him beside you, a car practically zooms by. It makes you dizzy when he holds on to you immediately, pulling you toward him until you’re sure you’ve stepped all over his shoes. He looks so angry when you turn to him and for a moment, you think it might be at you.

“Going 50 in a 25? That guy’s going to get someone killed.”

“Yeah, I underestimated the traffic.”

“Are you okay?

“Sure, I am, it was just fast.”

“Take the sidewalk, I’ll walk on this side, alright?”

You don’t argue with him, there is no point.

“Thank you.”

At the end of the street, you can make out the joyous neon sign of a 7-Eleven.

“Ah! We’ve reached civilization!”

“Can you really call 7-Eleven that?”

“Barely.”

-.-.-

The coffee is so deliciously warm and even though the weather doesn’t call for it, it brings you comfort.

An employee is eyeing you suspiciously from the window while you seat on the pavement outside and you don’t know why. Your clothes are sleepwear, sure, but you’ve seen at least five people in the city strut around in nothing but jean shorts and flip-flops so is there really room for judgement here?

 Aaron discreetly scoots closer to you as if to be heard better but the street’s already incredibly quiet.

“This was a great idea, actually.”

You smile at him and keep sipping your coffee.

“We can go back to the hotel now if you want.”

“Are you tired?”

“No,” you see him tilt his head in doubt and you think the bags under your eyes might have reached your chin by now, “I mean, my body is, but my mind is right here with you.”

He smiles back at you in such a sweet way, it reaches his eyes.

“I don’t want to then.”

If you do, you have to go back to separate rooms and miss this opportunity for one perfect sunrise.

You move closer to him and he thinks you might tell him a secret, “Should we keep walking?”

“Walk toward where?”

Your shoulders relax.

“Do you have your map with you? We can walk until we reach the beach.”

His smile doesn’t falter a bit, “I think the nearest beach is like, an hour from here on foot.”

“That’s a lot. We can walk until we don’t feel like walking anymore then.”

“Another good idea.”

“I know you live in constant admiration of me but all this praise might just get to my head.”

He gets up first and puts out his hand for you to grab, “Oh, has it not already?”

When you take him up on his offer, his grasp is incredibly strong, yet tender. He pulls you up like it’s nothing but he’s careful not to hurt you in the process.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, drinks in the casual banter like the two of you might never speak again.

Your other hand is holding your coffee and you instinctively touch your forehead to his shoulder in protest for just a second, “I am a very down-to-earth person.”

The bare skin under his sleeve grows warm where you touched it.

“The most.”

He, still, doesn’t let go of your hand.

“How cruel of you to mock me when I’m dressed like this and haven’t slept.”

He laughs.

“I’m sure you mock me all the time with the team when I’m not listening.”

His tone hasn’t changed to indicate if he’s serious or not, but you feel very uncomfortable at the thought of him assuming that you and the squad might speak ill of him.

“I would never mock you, Hotch. I know we all poke fun at each other, but I admire you. Deeply.”

“I admire you too. Deeply.”

You walk side by side and your hand rests loosely clasped in his. He tells himself it’s to keep you safe and you let him guide you everywhere; anywhere. Nothing but trust there.

After a while, he stops and looks at you.

“I do really want to go to the beach.”

You laugh because the notion of Aaron Hotchner really wanting to do something seems so alien.

So far, you’ve assumed he’s just going along for the ride.

“I guess we could look for a cab?”

-.-.-

It’s almost dawn and there is no one here you can see. Just soft sand that will most definitely get everywhere inside your clothes and the sound of waves crashing softly when they reach the shore.

You’re looking at them, he’s looking at you.

The two of you sit closer now than ever before.

“It’s going to officially be morning soon.”

He instinctively turns to his wrist but his watch is back at the hotel discarded somewhere, so you reach for your phone and show him the time. It almost ruins the illusion of no time existing around you, but he won’t allow it. He will bend it to his will as he does with all else, just to stay here.

“We don’t have to be back until nine.”

The realization that he also doesn’t wish to leave makes you smile. That’s barely enough time to get properly dressed when you’re back at the hotel and then drive to the airport. It’s so unlike him.

‘I haven’t been at the beach in so long.”

You can picture him now, turning bright red under the sun and playing around with Jack.

“Do you not go with Jack?”

His lips pull downward and you immediately regret asking.

“We haven’t taken a vacation in so long.”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t want to-”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t say anything wrong. We probably should take one soon.”

Your hand touches his, just a tiny bit, pinkies finding each other.

“You should take him to the beach.”

“Perhaps we’ll take you too.”

“Oh, I don’t know if my boss will allow that. I am indispensable to the team.”

“I’m sure we can work something out.”

You laugh and lie backwards when your back has finally had enough of all the crouching.

“That was actually my plan all along. I lured you here to get more vacation days.”

He watches you from above, entranced by the image of you splayed out on the sand. Your hair forms a halo around you and the sand seems golden when the first rays of sunlight finally find it. Your eyes do too, “I should have known.”

It feels awkward, sitting when you’re lying down, so he succumbs to the sand at last. You beam at him when he does, relishing in the way he’s come undone before you. You can really look at each other now, there’s no more pretending that the sea has your full attention. Shades of pink and orange in the sky, sea foam landing near your feet, but this is really all there is.

“Do you ever think of quitting the job?”

This really messes with him all of the sudden. You can see the change in the way his body tenses.

“Do you?”

“I asked first.”

He releases a deep breath and you can almost feel warm on your face, “Sometimes, but it’s the only thing I’m good at. I wouldn’t know what else to do.”

“That’s not true. You’re good at many things.”

He avoids your gaze and you know you’ve really struck a nerve here.

“Not good enough.”

“Now, that’s really not true. You’re brilliant at everything you do.”

He sits up, suddenly very aware of his vulnerability.

“Or I just give everything I have to this job and my bare minimum to everything else. Even Jack.”

“That’s not fair, Aaron. You’re a very good father to Jack and I know just how much he looks up at you. Even if it’s the bare minimum sometimes, your bare minimum is a lot more than other people can give at their best. It’s just hard to keep a balance.”

He feels your hand touch his back gently, asking for permission. The way he relaxes under your touch grants it and you move your thumb in circles as a soft caress. He turns to face you.

“Are you thinking of leaving?”

Your hand drops, shocked at the sudden change in his tone. He seems so full of emotion like this; all layers peeled away before you.

“Not decisively. They’re just thoughts,” Aaron seems unconvinced by your answer and your gaze falls downward in an attempt to escape the scrutiny, “I just don’t know if this is something I can do forever, so from time to time, I think about what else there might be out there. Maybe going private, opening up an office.”

“You want to be a therapist?”

“I am licensed.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Maybe. It definitely seems… easier.”

He doesn’t really know what to say. He knows it would be good for you, he knows this job will eat away at you until there’s very little left there. It’s what it did to him, but the thought of it happening to you seems much more unbearable.

“The team would miss you,” is such a typically professional thing of him to say, so the rest surprises you, “I would miss you.”

“I would miss you too.”

Tenderness, again. Now that he’s started, he doesn’t think he can stop.

“This has been one of the best days I’ve had in a while. I mean, being with Jack always makes me feel much better, but this… being like this with an adult-with you, it’s really nice.”

You smile and adjust your body to be closer to him.

“Really nice.”

From the corner of your eye, you can make out a convenience store in the distance that’s just now opening up.

“Would you allow me to treat you to some ice cream before we go?”

He stands up first, offering you his hand like before.

“I think you know me well enough to know that I won’t,” he stands up first and offers you his hand like before, “I am definitely buying.”

“Worth a try.”

There is sand all over his hair and shoulders. Being this relaxed, it suits him incredibly.

“Can I?”

He leans down and toward you, surrendering to the freedom of your touch when you pat off what sand you can see on him. All these hours of crossing boundaries and you’re still not entirely sure how you’ve gotten so comfortable with him, but he melts every time you touch him, as if experiencing gentleness for the very first time.

Might as well be the first time, he figures.

“You have some too in your hair.”

You turn around and he almost envelops you, although he’s hesitant in the beginning. Both his hands entangle themselves in your hair, those lovely hands, and softly separate and pat where needed. You always knew he hid softness underneath, just didn’t know it was there for you to enjoy.

You get your ice cream, gag when you taste just how much lemon zest they have put in the vanilla and he offers to exchange with his chocolate. Says he does it with Jack all the time and you gasp at the connotation.

“It is absolutely not childish to not like citrus fruits secretly involved in every dessert.”

He hums and smiles at you, bites and licks right where your own mouth was a moment ago. It puts thoughts in both of your heads.

You walk the entire way back and your feet definitely feel it, but you’re too focused on the feeling of impending separation. You will see each other again in half an hour but it just won’t be the same.

It might never be the same.

When you’re finally ready to part from each other in the hallway, he thinks about kissing you. Thinks you would taste like chocolate and waffle on his mouth, thinks a lot about the tiny bit of violet body lotion left on your neck that he can smell from this distance.

Would it really change that much? Is that the final line to cross after tonight?

He doesn’t have any answers, so he doesn’t.

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

“See you in a bit, Aaron.”

He’s going to cling on your use of his first name for a while, although when you’re back in the jet, it’s as if nothing happened. Now clad in his usual attire, he’s regular Hotch; prim and proper, sat upright with crossed arms in his seat in the only way he knows how to rest in front of others.

Yet, you know. You see Aaron in the gentle shutting of his eyes, the tiny remnants of sand in his hair.

Something has changed.

part two

[baestruly]

i'll be there

( ⋫ 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖎 )  spencer reid x reader

⤷ IN WHICH, you're stressed with work, but spencer is there to help you

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - hurt x comfort, fluff

The caress of sweet, warm sunlight might have been a balm on your skin, had it not been for the relentless pressure trapped within your head ━━ a tumultuous symphony of pounding echoes and silent screams.

The evening sun lashed out like a fiery whip, scorching your vision as you massaged wearied eyes, only to stir the relentless ache burrowing deeper within your head.

It wasn’t just the sunlight causing you to be in distress, it was the amount of paperwork you still had to get done. Even though you’ve been trying to multitask all week, you had to do it on the plane while also managing to find leads or behaviours on the criminals while also having to run home to your apartment because you received a text from your dog sitter ━━ who you pay probably too much, to look after your new dog saying he had ripped the whole place apart. Your needs, blankets, almost all of your pillows and of course, the couch!

Your therapist had recommended you get a job because of the stress you have been under for your new job. Yeah, new. Maybe that’s why you seemed like the odd one out because everyone was so much more experienced than you were. Of course, they had to start somewhere, but you felt like a rookie beside them, especially the smartest one, Spencer Reid, only having been on the force for around a month. 

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, the voices were getting to be too much. 

You’re a failure, you’ll never be as good as them! Get your head straight, you’re not thinking like a profiler, there's so much going on! It goes on and on and on━━

“Y/N?” 

Someone's voice snaps you from your thoughts, all of them shattering like glass as they scrape your skull. It bled, just like the blood on the floor of that poor girl━━

“Y/N? Hey━━hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?” His voice was tinged with a palpable mixture of concern and fear, the words tumbling from him like a cascade of worry. He was closer now, having his shaky but reassuring hand on your arm. You weren’t able to feel the warmth because of the thick knitted sweater you wore for the colder months of November.

His eyes spiralled, reading every inch of expression on your face. By now, he could’ve figured it out and profiled you on his own━━hell, it wouldn’t even take a profiler to tell how stressed out you were, goddammit. But, he waited patiently, letting you know he was here despite his efforts to stay calm to keep you calm.

It wasn’t working.

 Spencer has always been the hesitant and shy type. Not when it came to his interests━━which were mostly about anything, really━━or profiling, but when it came to feelings, emotion or conversations, the poor guy was clueless.

Deep down you knew he had a good heart. You don’t think you’ve admired someone this much before, especially a friend.

You tried to stare into his eyes, but the voices in your head started again. This time, it wasn’t about the dog or your cold case, or even the bloody walls of the family home you’d visited on Wednesday.

You suddenly realized how terrified you were of dumping this on Spencer. The stress of this moment was too much, he was waiting for an answer and you couldn’t just stand there! Like that statue━━no, you couldn’t do that, not now.

“I━━I’m fine, Spencer.” You sprung from your seat, quickly pacing and turning your back to him as you picked up a few files from where you had been frantically working at your desk, giving yourself something to focus on other than the voices in your head and walls that were starting to crumble behind your eyes.

Like the crumpling statue on the ground.

You clenched your teeth. You needed to focus to get your shit done and get home in time to be able to sleep and eat! You haven't eaten anything all day?! Holy shit━━

Spencer stood in confusion and worry. His mind started scrambling thinking of ways to go about the situation. You’d think when it came to profiling he’d know exactly what to do or say that may help you or set you off, but when it came to you, the closest friend he’s ever made in less than a month, he was clueless, he didn’t want to make things worse.

Profiling was different, he didn’t know those people. 

He knew you.

And he guesses that his greatest fear at that moment was seeing you in distress, and not knowing what to do that would make it better. 

The girl's body lay limp in the bedroom. The throat detached like the grey, morbid statue, symbolizing nothing like the bloody corpse of who was once a bright happy girl, the soul ripped away from her.

You continued to pace around the room, grabbing your hair and clearing your throat. 

“Is there━━um, anything you want me to do? I’ll do it, Y/N just are—are you okay? Talk to me.”

You stopped, finally facing him, and that’s when Spencer could finally see your face.

But your eyes were red, like you had been crying before and bags were deeply engraved under your eyes as your hair became messier each time you ran your shaky hand through it. 

His heart broke a little. 

“I j━━just,��okay━━I have a dog, the sitters have been calling me all week!” You shouted in frustration. Spencer blinked, startled, but he listened, brows furrowing. “Now she’s not there━━and I can’t even use my bed let alone the━━the couch and━━this case has gone cold, now we have another one and there’s just so many dead ends━━“ You stopped.

Silence.

“I just need everything to stop.” That’s it, the walls be damned because you couldn’t fucking hold it anymore no matter how hard you fought. And you think it’s safe to say you’ve fought hard enough this week. “I need to just shut my mind off.”

Your voice cracked as your breaths heaved in and out of your chest, somewhat relieved to get it all out. Now that your thoughts become your words, it only makes them more real.

You couldn’t breathe at all, every inhale you took as you doubled over in panic and distress didn’t fill your lungs, which only made your eyes widen with fear as your heart thundered in your ears. 

“Crap━━(Y/N), breathe with me alright? Okay, just one breath in━━" Spencer ran to your side, leading you to the sofa as he kneeled in front of you so his face was in your view. “Breathe out, nice and slow, you got it.” 

Your breath shook viscously with each inhale you took, but Spencer didn’t mind, nor did he seem to care about how crazy you thought you looked right now. Instead, he nodded at you with encouraging eyes when you opened yours, trying to find balance in his presence while he slowly and gently rubbed his thumb on the side of your cold hands.

“I’m good, I’m good.” You choke out with one last exhale now that your breathing seems to go back to normal. You were still out of breath as the lump in your throat remained.

“Hey, I know, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” He says softly but reassuringly, eyes glistening with concern and admiration for your efforts. Your bold personality always interested him, that’s why he’d been so shocked to see you in a state like this. Although you were bold, you seemed to close yourself off when it came to emotions. “Now, you’re fine with this today, alright?”

“No, I n━━“

He shushed you gently. “I know, Emily’s got it for you for the rest of the night. You need rest.”

You weren’t sure what was happening, but you followed Spencer to his car before feeling a sense of relief to be away from the office for a moment as the cold air from outside turned warmer with every second you sat in the seat with him. It was oddly comforting, and you breathed deeply, finding it easier to control it now. 

But of course, it all hit you.

“God━━Spence, I am so so sorry, shit━━"

“No! No, it’s okay, believe me when I say this, you have nothing to be sorry for.” He blinked a few times before scrunching his nose. “90 percent of people struggling do not speak up because, well, they’re scared of judgement, the other half of it being embarrassment when really, we have nothing to be embarrassed of. Everyone feels, you know. It’s basically impossible for all of us bring in our positions in this job to not be affected by the tragedies we see.”

“Wow, Spencer Reid, as a genius profiler I would’ve expected you to know not everyone feels.” She let out a breathy laugh, the skin under your eyes feeling dry from your tears. 

Spencer felt better that you were trying to lighten the mood. He smiled softly looking down at his hands as he nodded. “You know what I mean!” 

“Yes, Reid, I do.” You smiled back. “So, where are we going?”

“When you’re stressed out it’s better to do things that keep your mind away from it.” He starts. You knew that too. “Doing something peaceful is another effective way.”

“Sounds perfect.” You sighed a sigh of relief, leaning your head back slightly so it touched the seat. You felt reassured knowing Reid was here with you and was willing to help. Maybe all you needed was an extra hand, instead of putting more problems on yourself.

“Reid?” You say, hesitantly turning to look at him. You could feel the admiration luring out of them. “Thank you.”

He smiled, eyes thoughtful. “Of course. I want to help you.”

Although you remained seated, you encircled him in an awkward yet secure embrace, needing to convey just how grateful you were for his presence in that moment and in your life.

“Your heart━━it’s beating really fast.” You say softly once you pull away from his warm embrace. “You sufre you’re not stressed about anything right now?” 

“Well━━there, uh, maybe one thing.” He stuttered, as his nervous but warm hands cupped your face, his thumb glinting across your skin much like the time back at the BAU when he held your hand during your panic attack. 

“Wouldn’t take a profiler to figure it out.” You whispered, your lips softly pressing against his, delicate and soft. He kissed you as if you were fragile and his hand was the only thing keeping you together as his lips moved against yours. His hand moved into your hair, caressing your head hoping his kisses could make all your pain go away.

You could sense his smile against yours, lips stretching into a thin line of joy, as your laughter tangled messily with his. Admiration was pumping through your veins, but nothing compared to the love pumping in your rapidly beating heart, all your stress being replaced with warmth and admiration.

If Spencer became the air that filled your lungs, the very breath of your existence, you'd no longer need to learn how to breathe.

a/n: that was my first time writing for spencer so pls be nice!!

i haven't wrote in a while but i'm happy to be back! please request anything for spencer in my request box

spencer reid masterlist           masterlist

also request anything! 

[wobblyficwriter]

It's Okay, Little Doll

My second fic, and the first time I've tried writing about agere. I hope it's okay! Constructive critism welcome! Sorry I don't know how to do the cut thing.

Bucky Barnes x Little reader.

You're desperate to regress, but your house mate is home and you try not to. He has other ideas.

Can't think of any trigger warnings. I guess *slightly* forced regression, but in a caring concerned way?

You walked into your apartment with a tired sigh. Work had been awful, your creepy co worker had spent the day hitting on you no matter how many times you had told him you had a boyfriend. You didn’t have a boyfriend, but he had no way to verify that. He did know you lived with Bucky though, so you just let him assume that you were a couple.

You dumped your work bag and the stack of files you’d been carrying onto the table and kicked off your shoes. You just needed to get changed into something comfy, find some snacks and chocolate milk, then you could go to your room and regress. Bucky was on a mission and wouldn’t be home for a few days so you knew that he wouldn’t catch you in your little state.

You were just about to go into the kitchen to get your snacks and chocolate milk when you heard him.

“Hey, doll, you okay?” A soft voice said from behind you, making you jump and drop the packet of goldfish crackers you’d been about to pour into a bowl.

“Bucky!” You spun around, wide eyed and desperately started trying to fight off the regression that had been starting to take over your mind.

He chuckled and held his hands up showing you he meant no harm. “Jeez doll, it’s just me!” He didn’t raise his voice, continuing to speak softly, though amusement was evident on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you heard me coming.”

You shook your head and smiled. Internally you were screaming. “No, no no! I can’t regress in front of Bucky!”  “I’m fine, sorry I must have been in my own world. You’re back early?” You questioned. Maybe he was just back to get something? You needed to regress and it was hard to fight it. Just had to get a snack and retreat to your room.

“Yeah” He nodded. “Turns out they don’t need a full team, Nat and Steve have gone alone” 

You were fighting the need to slip with every ounce of will you had. “Oh.. what are you gonna do now?” You didn’t hear the slightly higher pitch of your voice, or the way you were fiddling anxiously with your sleeves. However it didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky and he tilted his head, concern flashing in his eyes.

“Doll, you okay?” He stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder, his eyes widening in surprise when you stepped back fearfully. He removed his hand, the concern now more prominent on his face. “Doll? You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

You nod and wring your hands anxiously. You could feel yourself slipping and were desperately trying to stop it.  “‘M fine” you said, and you wince inwardly, you heard your voice that time and realised you were slipping faster than you thought. You grab the bag of goldfish, deciding to forget about the rest of your snacks and chocolate milk for now, intending to rush to your bedroom and hide in there for the rest of the night. Bucky stops you with another hand on your shoulder as you try to push past him.

“Hey, hey, where’s the fire? What’s wrong?” He was concerned, he’d never seen you act like this, and you had certainly never acted scared of him before. He waited for you to answer him, frowning when you stiffened under his hand. He let go again and let you go with a sigh. He wasn’t going to force you to stay and talk to him when you very clearly didn’t want to. He figured he’d give you a little while to calm down and check on you later. He made his way back to his room and lay on his bed with the book he’d been reading. He would have stayed there if he hadn’t heard you muttering anxiously in your own room. His super soldier senses made it easy for him to hear,  though he usually did his best to block it out. He couldn’t this time though, not when he could hear that you were so worked up about something.

“No no, not in front of Bucky, come on y/n. You can fight this!” You were pacing in your room, desperately trying not to slip. You knew that now Bucky was concerned about you, he wouldn’t leave you alone the whole night. You knew he would come and check on you and you couldn’t afford to be in your littlespace when he did. He couldn’t see you like that, no one could. If you’d known he was going to be home, you would have been more prepared to stop it, having the whole day to work through it. Unfortunately, you hadn’t known he would be home and had been planning for it all day, so now you were home it was getting harder and harder to fight off. 

You’d already put all your little items in the wardrobe so you couldn’t see them, including the plush toy that usually lived on your bed. You were hoping that not being able to see the things that you usually used in your little time would make it easier for you to stop the slip.

You gasped when he knocked on your door, calling out to see if you were okay.

“J-just a minute!” You hastily looked around your room, checking for anything that might give it away before sighing and telling him to come in.

He opened the door and walked in, taking a breath when he saw you. He could see your whole body was tense and you looked on the verge of a panic attack. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?” He moved toward you, careful not to touch you this time. He knew you didn’t like to be touched. You tolerated the occasional short hug from him, but that was all. The hands on your shoulders earlier were normally okay too, but you’d made it clear to him that they weren’t at the moment, so he just kept his hands where you could see them and crouched in front of you to be less intimidating.

“J-just a bad day” you whispered and gasped when you heard your voice. You were still slipping and you couldn’t stop it! This was bad. You quickly looked to the side, trying to look anywhere but at Bucky. This time, Bucky gasped quietly as it clicked in his head. You were regressing! Well, you were trying NOT to regress, but he recognised the signs. He’d never been in the lifestyle himself, but he knew that Steve had had a little at one point and he’d seen them interact a couple of times. Nodded to himself, unseen by you and decided to just treat you like he would a scared child.

“Shh, shh it’s okay, little one.”

He saw you freeze and your breath catch in your throat. “N-not little!” he heard you say frantically, your voice still in that higher pitch but not quite childlike yet. He could see that you desperately needed to regress, and that you were trying not to so he decided to just carry on, hoping to make you feel safe and go into your littlespace. He edged closer to you, still not touching you yet, keeping his movements slow so you could see everything he was doing.

“Oh I know you’re not, not just yet, but you want to be so badly, don’t you little doll?”

You froze again, slowly turning to look at Bucky. “N-no! D-dunno what you’re talking about!” you had to fight the urge to stomp your foot. This was bad, Bucky was going to see! You couldn’t let that happen!

Bucky just smiled at you, slowly reaching out and curling his fingers around your wrist, gently tugging you toward him. “It’s okay little doll, I’m here. You’re safe with me.” his voice was soft, doing his best to sound calming as he pulled you into him, gently wrapping his arms around you. He felt you stiffen but didn’t let you go this time, he simply gently ran his metal hand up and down your back in soothing circles while gently pressing your head into his chest with the other. You stayed stiff, starting to tremble and he worried that he’d pushed you too far. He keeps going though, murmuring softly to you, taking the fact that while you were anxious, you weren’t pulling away as a sign that it was okay to continue. He stops rubbing your back, using that hand to scoop you up into his arms and moving to the bed with you, he sits on it, leaning back against the headboard and pulls you fully onto him, still making soothing noises and starts rubbing your back again.

“That’s it little doll, you just relax here in my arms. Let Bucky take care of you. Just let it happen… everything’s okay”

You keep fighting desperately but you feel yourself losing the fight. You knew for certain that you were going to lose it when you felt yourself relaxing into his touch despite yourself. “There you go… good girl..” when he called you a good girl you could no longer fight it, and just let it take over. You cuddled into him, your thumb sucked into your mouth and closed your eyes. You heard Bucky chuckle quietly.

“There you go little doll, that’s much better isn’t it?” You blinked up at him and saw him smiling softly down at you. You nodded at him shyly, still worried about being little in front of him, but now you’d slipped, you were much more open to accepting the comfort and safety that his presence offered.

“Nothing to worry about little doll, you just relax here in Bucky’s arms. I’ll take care of you.” He started stroking your hair softly and rocking from side to side slowly, smiling gently at you as your eyes started falling closed.

“Shh, that’s it, little one.. Just let yourself drift away. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

You sighed contentedly and let yourself drift off to sleep. Maybe being little in front of Bucky wasn’t so bad after all.

[good-chimes]

THE H.T.G.Y. FILES

Project team notes: Vat growth stage has been successful. Please note project is titled Human Tactical Ground-unit Y (H.T.G.Y.) and this is the only designation that should be used. Lab technicians who continue to use slang term hotguy will be written up. 

Senior researcher CUB-135 has been called in to consult. Please give him access to all non-sensitive files.

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Well, hello there!

CUB-135: Hi. How’s it, uh. How’s it going?

HTGY: How’s it going? Huh, that’s the first time someone’s asked me that. Wait a minute. I know that one. How’s it going. Oh, oh, I got it. It’s going great!

CUB-135: …Cool.

HTGY: Yeah. Yeah. Isn’t it great to be alive and awake? How’s it treating you?

CUB-135: It’s magnificent.

HTGY: [laughing] Magnificent. Oh, I like that. Who are you, my friend?

CUB-135: I’m a consultant. Cub-one-three-five. The project team dragged me in because I wrote the genome.

HTGY: Consultant…. So you’re the one who does their thinking for them, huh?

CUB-135: [surprised laugh] Yeah.

HTGY: Well, I’m telling you, they need it. Buncha people prodding me to see if I can stand up! You can just ask that, can’t you? A man’s gotta have space, Cub. A man’s gotta do things under his own steam.

CUB-135: Yeah, I guess. Yeah.

HTGY: [conspiratorial] Here’s a question. Got a lot of things in my head, Cub. The ol’ memory’s all messed up. I’m new, right?

CUB-135: You’re new. That’s right.

HTGY: I thought so! How new?

CUB-135: Uhh… three days? Three days and two hours.

HTGY: Thank you! Finally. Can’t get a straight answer out of anyone here.

CUB-135: …you want your genome notes?

HTGY: Boy, do I! What’s a genome?

CUB-135: Uh. Okay. Let’s see what we can do. I need some files. A lotta files.

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Oh, we have to stop.

CUB-135: Yeah?

HTGY: That noise means I gotta be somewhere.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Just more prodding and check-ups, I guess. Can’t take long. Come back, okay? I'll be here, at least I guess I'll be here. I've been here all the time so far. Tomorrow?

CUB-135: …

CUB-135: Alright. Tomorrow.

+

DEATH COUNT: 1

+

Project team notes: First trial (subject vs two skeletons obtained from Lab 2E spawner) did not meet expectations. Subject (H.T.G.Y.) is slow to grasp the basics of hand-to-hand combat despite neural implants. Speed below benchmark. Precision poor. Regeneration not fast enough to alter outcome of combat.

Although a disappointing start to the project, there are promising leads in some areas. Combat abilities expected to improve through repetition. Deficiencies in combat conversely allow better collection of regeneration data.

Subject observation: when returned to room, subject spent six hours seated and unmoving. Scheduling next test for tomorrow.

+

[CUB-135 OBSERVATIONS]

note to self, find a way to phrase: ‘he was a project for faster injury regeneration, you fucking amateurs, nothing in that genome makes him magically good at fighting’ in a way that doesn’t include the phrase ‘you fucking amateurs’. difficult problem. 

going back in. this one will be less fun.

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Hey, it’s Mister Does-The-Thinking! Cub, hey, Cub!

CUB-135: Hey.

HTGY: You’re looking serious today. What’s up?

CUB-135: I’m good. I’m good.

HTGY: That’s what I like to hear. Can’t have the big-brain guy down in the dumps.

CUB-135: How was yesterday?

HTGY: Ohhh. Yesterday, Cub, yesterday. I don’t think I’m that good at fighting. There were a lot of very unhelpful skeletons, Cub. A lot of them! Really mean! I think it’s going to be regular. I am not looking forward to that.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Any chance you can make it, y’know. Fewer monsters? They hurt.

CUB-135: Sorry, man. I don’t set the tests.

HTGY: Naw, I didn’t think so. You don’t look like a guy in charge.

CUB-135: Is that right?

HTGY: You’re just, you know [hand gesture] … laid back. I like that about you.

CUB-135: Uh.

HTGY: So. Cub. Cub, Cub, Cub.

CUB-135: …yeah?

HTGY: I’ve got this thing in my head. The sky.

CUB-135: The sky? Like… all of it?

HTGY: I dunno! You people put some pictures in my memories when you made me, I think. Horizons, clouds—I know they’re made of water, but how does that work? I saw a bit during the fight and it was kind of grey? Talk me through clouds, Cub. You’re good at explaining. And the rest of it! Where does it stop? What’s above it?

CUB-135: Oh, dude. Let me tell you… let me tell you about space.

+

To: +Team_Members_HTGY_Project

From: CUB-135

Y’all,

I looked at your trial notes. Project lead asked for my thoughts. My thoughts:

- inefficient; - could get the same regeneration data from tissue samples; - waste of skeletons.

You want to find another way. The combat unit thing was doomed from the start. If you want a supersoldier you should start over with a ravager.

have a real one,

Cub

+

Project team notes: One-month project milestone. Consultancy from CUB-135 has started to be more of a problem than an asset. Unfortunately he is the only one who understands how to process the regeneration data so assistance remains necessary for now. Upskilling of team analysts in progress.

Test continue. H.T.G.Y. has been given a variety of weapons and results range from abysmal (sword) to mediocre (bow). Subject has so far lost to every creature put in front of him. If the combat goals of this project are to be met, a better training regime will be needed.

On a separate note: great interest from sponsors in mid-combat regeneration data. A variety of tests has been requested.

+

New data storage links: EXPLOSION (creeper) – File CR93; FIRE BURN (wood) – File FR02; FIRE BURN (other) – File FR03; BLOOD LOSS – File IN20; VENOM – File VM07, UNCATEGORIZED – UN45-UN51.

+

DEATH COUNT: 23

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: You know what the problem is?

CUB-135: I can guess?

HTGY: I’m so bored.

CUB-135: Okay. Didn’t see that coming.

HTGY: I’m so bored. Honestly, I’m bored most of the time. Except when I’m getting killed, which isn’t great either. Or when you’re here—you know I appreciate you, Cub, you’re a great guy, don’t get me wrong. But you’re only around every couple of days, and it’s the bits in between.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Can’t you clone yourself, or something, and leave one here?

CUB-135: Nah, outside my specialism. Hm. You talked to Mumbo much? Mumbo’s always around.

HTGY: The lab system?

[null]: Hello. Can I answer a query?

HTGY: Oh, hi, Mumbo. Yeah, I’ve talked to Mumbo. But let’s be honest, he’s not much of one to start conversations. I can never think of things to ask.

[null]: What I can communicate to subjects on this level has been restricted by administrators.

HTGY: See?

CUB-135: Get him to show you… I dunno. Cat videos. Space stuff. Forests. They won’t have locked that down.

HTGY: Forests. Yeah! Okay. Mumbo?

[null]: I’m allowed to show pictures of forests. How’s this?

HTGY: Look at that. So green. So many trees! How close is that picture from here?

CUB-135: Kinda nearby, I think. Looks like a research shot from where they caught the spiders. Lots of the wild subjects in here came from close by.

HTGY: Amazing. Hey, Cub, can you get them to take me to a forest? Tree training! Beat the spiders in their own home!

CUB-135: Why not? I’ll ask.

HTGY: They’ll say no. But it’s good to think of it out there.

+

Project team notes: Six-month project milestone. Useful data continues to accumulate. HTGY has improved with bow and crossbow, and survival rate has risen to one in ten encounters.

Unfortunately, a new issue has arisen in subject cooperation. Most tests are set up to incentivize survival, making attitude irrelevant. However non-lethal tests require participation, which has previously been forthcoming from the subject, until yesterday when he refused to participate at all.

CUB-135 seems to have a rapport. Suggest he talks with subject to encourage better attitude. This would be the first useful thing CUB-135 has done in weeks.

+

DEATH COUNT: 97

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

CUB-135: Hey. What’s up.

HTGY: Oh. Hey.

CUB-135: Not feeling it today?

HTGY: I knew it. I know why you’re here. I know why they sent you to talk to me.

CUB-135: Try me.

HTGY: It was a cat, Cub. I’ll take the fights. I’ll take the training machines, they break half the time anyway. I’ll take the spiders and the skeletons and the creepers and the fact I know way too much about what my bones look like. But I’m not shooting a cat! I don’t care if it’s safe target practice. I’m not doing it!

CUB-135: Yeah. Okay.

HTGY: …

CUB-135: So what do you wanna talk about today?

HTGY: You’re not gonna try and convince me?

CUB-135: Naw.

HTGY: Cub, I’m not shooting anything that’s not trying to kill me.

CUB-135: Yeah, I know.

HTGY: You know?

CUB-135: I read your test notes. I can guess.

HTGY: Aw, you read my test notes? You care! Don’t pretend you don’t, I can see through it.

CUB-135: What can I say. You’re an interesting guy.

HTGY: I knew it! Oh, hey, Cub, you know what? I came up with a new name for myself. What do you think—[dramatic hand gesture]—Scar.

CUB-135: …

HTGY: Cool, right?

CUB-135: Scar. Yeah. It’s cool.

+

Project team notes: CUB-135 entirely unhelpful. Schedule escalation meeting with bioprojects lead.

+

[message log start]

Lead (bioprojects): Well, you got what you originally wanted. You’re off the HTGY project.

cub-135: wait, what?

Lead (bioprojects): You’re no longer permitted in the labs on that level. I need you to turn in your badge for reprogramming.

cub-135: oh man

cub-135: here’s the thing

cub-135: i lost it

Lead (bioprojects): You lost your BADGE?

cub-135: yeah i’ve just been following people through the access doors

Lead (bioprojects): That’s against all policy. I don’t think that’s even possible. How do you get lunch?

cub-135: cheat code on the cash register. up up down down A B.

Lead (bioprojects): You’re not funny. Find your badge and turn it in to get your HTGY level access revoked.

cub-135: oh yeah. i’ll get to that.

Lead (bioprojects): You’re lucky you’re good at your job.

cub-135: just trying my best here, man

Lead (bioprojects): No interference. If the team complain to me about you again, you’re getting demoted to junior lab tech. Leave the project alone.

cub-135: sure boss.

cub-135: you got it.

[Lead(bioprojects) has disconnected]

+

Project Team Notes: Eight-month project milestone. Sponsors pleased with regeneration data. Two papers have been published to modest but positive reception.

After period of progress with HTGY’s survival rates in combat, improvement has levelled off. Subject appears to have less energy for reasons that are unclear. Random observational checks found subject watching cat videos at all hours of the day. Changes in diet and test structure have been tested to no effect. Rest time has been experimentally increased.

+

DEATH COUNT: 167

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Hey, Cub! Long time no see!

Cub: Yeah, sorry, man. Some admin bullshit.

HTGY: Your badge looks different.

Cub: Made it myself. How’s the tests?

HTGY: Oh, let’s not talk about those. You know what, I actually decided I’m not going to remember something if it’s not worth it. All the fights are the same and they keep doing them. So! I’ve been thinking. Cub. Cub. I want a cat. Can I get a cat?

Cub: …

HTGY: Just a little one. I’ve seen some options. Mumbo has pictures. 

Cub: Dunno, dude. I can try. Might be tricky.

HTGY: [sigh] I guess you’re right. It…wouldn’t be happy, would it? Yeah. We can’t have that.

CUB: Sorry.

HTGY: No, no, it’s all right. I don’t want to make something unhappy. It was just a thought. 

CUB-135: What’s on the screen?

HTGY: [brightens up] Oh, this? Dude, I wanted to show you this! Mumbo has this drawing program where you can build houses. This is my idea for a forest house. I think you could do it with three kinds of wood and you could have, you know, all these trees over it. What do you think? I mean, I know we’ll never see a forest. But imagine it in your mind.

CUB: … You know what, my friend, you’re really something.

HTGY: Why thank you. You could say the same of yourself—come on, Cub, don’t be shy. Take the compliment!

CUB-135: I don’t—

[silence]

HTGY: Don’t what?

CUB-135: [abruptly] I dunno how much more I can take.

HTGY: …

CUB-135: I—what am I even doing? What are we doing? There’s nothing to change. There’s no way to change anything.

HTGY: … You could get me a cat.

CUB-135: I can’t! I can barely get around the access readers! I can’t even get into the project files! Ten years of research and I feel dumb, Scar, I could solve everything until I couldn’t. What would you do if you weren’t in here? Man, that’s such a stupid question. I don’t even know what I’d do if I wasn’t in here. My references are gonna be shot. Maybe I should have paid attention to something else, maybe I should have done anything else—

HTGY: I’d like to see some forests.

CUB-135: Huh?

HTGY: You said ‘what would I do’. I’d go and see some forests.

CUB-135: …

CUB-135: Forests, huh.

HTGY: Anyway, that’s not going to happen, so I guess we don’t want to waste time on it! They need you here. And you guys need me here. Right?

CUB-135: …

HTGY: Right, Cub-one-three-five?

CUB-135: Y’know something, Scar? Sometimes I think you do more thinking more than you let on.

HTGY: Huh? Naw. Why’s your badge gone red?

CUB-135: Oh shit. Shit. I gotta go.

+

[message log start]

cub-135: listen boss

cub-135: first you bump me off the HTGY project, and now i’ve just had my name taken off the ravager patent. that’s my own work.

cub-135: this keeps happening. it’s not okay.

Lead (bioprojects) : CUB-135, for the last time, this was what you signed up for.  It’s the same for all researchers. You have to put the time in while you move up the ladder.

Lead (bioprojects): Have you just noticed this is how the whole laboratory works?

cub-135: oh

cub-135: i’m noticing

cub-135: i’m noticing lots of things about this place

Lead (bioprojects): Good. If you have an issue, focus on your work and get promoted.

cub-135: yeah, see, actually

cub-135: if nothing changes, i’m going to leave. and i’ll take all my intellectual property with me.

Lead (bioprojects): Hah! Check your employment papers; you’re on a 10-year contract. It’s watertight. And even if you could get out of it, you’re banned from taking paper or data chips out of lab grounds.

cub-135: yeah?

cub-135: okay.

[cub-135 has disconnected]

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

CUB-135: Hey. Scar. Scar.

HTGY: Cub! What’s with the doohickey? It—oh, wow. That just zapped the light. Amazing.

CUB-135: Mumbo, lock transcript.

[null]: Transcript locked.

CUB-135: Okay. So. I made this thing to hijack the redstone gate down by the Drowned spawners on Lab 3B. It screws up the signal so you can get through. There’s a reservoir behind it. I put in a bubble elevator that will take you up outside the walls. I’ve got to stay behind to take out the cameras while you do it. Then I’ll get out with the evening shift.

HTGY: Wait, so I just take this and run? What if they find out about you?

CUB-135: If you do that I’m screwed, man. So don’t tell them.

HTGY: Yeah?

CUB-135: …Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. You could turn me in.

[silence]

CUB-135: Maybe you should. Yeah, all right. I guess, just—oh.

HTGY: Relax! Anyone would think you’d never had a hug.

CUB-135: …

HTGY: My friend. My friend, we are going to see some forests.

+

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: The speed! The precision!

CUB-135: Whew. Man. You did nearly drown.

HTGY: What’s important here is that I didn’t, because I am an elite escape artist. And you got out too, so I guess we can share the title.

CUB-135: We’re not far enough to say that yet. I’d bet we’re still in range of the lab systems.

HTGY: Details, details.

CUB-135: You’re bleeding.

HTGY: Oh man, I know, that was from the last test. It doesn’t matter.

CUB-135: Give me that.

HTGY: Fussy! What are you, a grandpa? Ow.

CUB-135: If you don’t stop and let me fix it you’re going to lose that finger. And I can’t grow it again when we don’t have the redstone vats.

HTGY: You were never this fussy before.

CUB-135: Yeah, well. Who even did it?

HTGY: I don’t…

[silence]

HTGY: Huh. Cub, you know what, I don’t…remember.

HTGY: Hey, though. Who everything filed and stored like a nerd? Who needs all their memories where we’re going? We’re getting out! Onwards!

[silence]

HTGY: Cub. Cub.

HTGY: Don’t look like that.

HTGY: It wasn’t your fault.

[silence]

CUB-135: Scar, I dunno what I’m doing.

HTGY: I’ve never known what I’m doing.

CUB-135: [laughs] You are…something, my friend. You are something.

HTGY: We don’t know what we're doing. And that’s amazing. Because aren’t you excited to find out?

+

Author's note: Hey, thanks for reading to the end! There's a better formatted version of this on Ao3 under username glossyblue. I've got a lot of this au but thought this stood alone well enough that someone might enjoy it. Hope you enjoyed, have a great day.

[thedoctorisgroovy]

I come bearing angst!

male reader's a new member of the bau, he also happens to have severe night terrors.

On a long case the team is put up in a motel, reader and spencer are sharing a room. Reader, knowing he'll most likely wake up screaming bc his night terrors get worse when he's in new places, take drastic measures.

He stuffs a balled up shirt in his mouth and cover his mouth with a pillow case tied around their head, a making a rickshaw gag so that if he does wake up Spencer won't hear it.

It backfires, obviously, and when he wakes up from one of the worst night terrors of his life he's convinced for a split second that he can't breath, which leads to him thrashing in an attempt to claw it off his face, which wakes. Spencer up

Maybe it ends with some nice hurt/comfort?

HOLY SHIT I FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED IT.

I am so unbelievably sorry that this took me so long, life has been ROUGH. But here you go my sweet moot, a hurt/comfort fic just for you *kissy face* Fic under the cut so that the ask isn't too long a post.

Theme: Hurt/Comfort, Spencer Reid x Reader

Tags/Warnings: No use of y/n, Night terrors, kidnapping phobia, Spencer gets shot in a dream, ends in fluff, being vulnerable is hard.

Word Count: 1335

DEEP BREATH

You used to love sleepovers. Sure, sharing a motel room while on a work trip isn’t quite the same, but it’s still nice to have someone to talk to and unwind with before sleep. Especially due to the horrors you all witness on a daily basis.

The night terrors started not too long ago which meant that on long, stay-over cases like this one, you were quick at checking in somewhere to get your own room. You’d only joined the team recently too and didn’t feel comfortable sharing your situation with the others quite yet, or worse having an episode and scaring them in the middle of the night.

Distracted by something that Hotch was saying about the victims, you missed your window to snatch up a room all to yourself and look over to see Morgan dangling a keyring on his finger with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Looks like you’re sharing with pretty boy,” he declared loudly, tone dripping with innuendo. You rolled your eyes at him and snatched the key out of his hands. You look over at Spencer who gives you an apologetic smile and feel guilty knowing that you’ll likely be the one apologising later. Spencer approached you carefully, noting the apprehension on your face. He ducked his head slightly and lowered his voice when he spoke, attempting to give your upcoming conversation some privacy from the rest of the group.

“I’m sorry you have to share with me, I know you like your own space but I promise I’m not as bad a roommate as Morgan makes me out to be.”

Your heart sank, under any other circumstances you’re sure he would be lovely to share with. You desperately wanted to explain that he wasn’t the issue at all, but the anxiety of sharing your secret caused your heart to race and palms to sweat. You decided that it was still too soon to tell anyone and would have to come up with something creative tonight so as to not freak Spencer out in the night. You gave him a small smile followed by a mildly dismissive “it’s fine,” and lead you both to your room for the time being.

To say the room was claustrophobic would be an understatement, luckily there were two beds but they were pushed so close together due to the size of the room that it might as well have been a double bed. You lazily dumped your bag onto the bed closest to the window, and announced to Spencer that you were going to take a shower. He replied with a simple “okay” already sat on his bed - perusing the case file and clearly deep in thought. You spent a long time in the shower collecting your racing thoughts and hoping that Spencer would be asleep by the time you emerged. While showering, you had an idea to create some sort of makeshift pillow muffler around your face to use while you slept. If you did wake up in a panic - or god forbid screaming, at least it would reduce the noise and chance at waking Spencer in fright too.

Thankfully, he had passed out, file still in hand and you padded softly towards your bed. Sitting down on the bed, you ball up the pillow case and place it gently over your mouth so as to not restrict air flow and used your pjama t shirt to carefully tie it around your face. After lying down, it took a couple of minutes to adjust to the odd sensation on your face, reminding yourself to breathe deeply and deliberately so that you don’t choke or lose oxygen before and during sleep.

Unfortunately, this night seemed to be the worst nightmare yet. An unsub had you gagged and bound to a chair and you tried to scream for your team but nothing came out. The unsub laughed cockily in your face just before Spencer rounded the corner. As he did, the unsub shot him point blank in between the eyes and that’s when the scream emerged deep from within your chest. You shot up in bed, desperately clawing at the restrictions around your face, repeating Spencer’s name over and over again in sheer upset and panic. Suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder, causing you to jump and flail even more. Convinced you were still dreaming and the unsub was touching you, you couldn’t hear well enough to realise that it was Spencer trying to soothe you and take the gag off of your face. Eventually, you ripped it off with such sheer force that the pillow and t shirt tore in half and threw it angrily on the floor. As your eyes adjusted to the room, you came to your senses, noticing the outline of a very much alive Spencer hovering next to your bed and looking at you with deep concern.

“Hey, hey it’s me, it’s Spencer” he coos, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry Spencer” you sigh, trying not to burst into tears.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He asks oh so kindly and all you can do is nod your head in response and bite your lip to stop it quivering. Spencer sits on the edge of your bed and moves his hand from your shoulder to your hand, squeezing it slightly. You take a deep breath and sigh, preparing to explain what has now become inevitable.

“I get night terrors, basically every night. I’ve had them for years but they’ve got worse since I started working for the BAU. I dream that you guys are in trouble and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t scream, I can’t call for help, the unsub has me bound and I’m useless.” The tears start flowing now and you can’t stop them. Spencer rubs small circles on your hand with his thumb but doesn’t speak. He just nods slowly and intently. You notice he hasn’t asked about the crumpled mess of cloth on the floor and thank him internally. That was something you loved about Spencer - his inability to pry. You gesture with your head towards the fabric, realising you should probably explain even though he hadn’t asked.

“I didn't want to scare you” you admit looking down into your lap. “I usually wake up screaming and I was embarrassed to admit it to anyone so I just thought I would improvise, but it just made it worse. I’d hoped it would muffle the sound and you’d stay asleep and I could act like nothing happened in the morning. That’s why I was awkward about sharing the room. Not because of you, but because of me.” You wince slightly at the final words, the insecurity of your condition manifesting as guilt.

Spencer takes a second to think before responding, collecting his words carefully.

“I understand why you didn’t tell anyone. It’s scary to be vulnerable. I also know that being new and wanting to fit in seems really important but you’re a vital member of the team already and we all support you. We’re your friends whether you feel that way or not. We have your back and you can tell us anything. I think if you’re struggling with this, you should speak to an FBI counsellor so that the dreams don’t get worse, okay?” You sniffle and nod, looking up into his kind and sleepy eyes. Suddenly he pulls you into a hug that envelops you into his lanky limbs,  it should feel awkward but all you feel is peace and safety for the first time in a long time.

“Try and get some more sleep okay? I’m here if you need me but we have to at the police station in a few hours.” Spencer offers gently. You simply nod, lay back down and close your eyes attempting to rest for a short while. At least time, you might have sweet dreams of being in Spencer’s arms again.

[days-until-burnout]

Day 111 (a) -

Characters - Cleo/Skizz ft Joel Words - 749 Time - 70 mins Content - Modern AU

“You look tired.”

Cleo gives the files a final look before putting them down. They look up to see Skizz at the door, holding two steaming cups. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, his tie even more—she guesses he just came back from an outing.

“Some of us actually work.”

“You hurt me.”

Although Skizz feigns hurt, he still walks in, setting one cup in an empty spot on their desk. His eyes wander as they take the cup, both sipping their hot drinks. As if his own office, he picks her files and reports and folders, eyeing them plenty. For once, Cleo lets him ‘snoop’, seeing as he will be doing the selling part of their working relationship. 

After a while, Skizz steals a seat, spinning it so its back faces her. He, too, faces them with a cheeky smile—he argues it is kindness instead.

“It’s late,” he says as if she could ignore the orange glow overtaking the floor. “Grab some and go home, Clebert. Boss won’t be happy with all this overtime.”

She raises her brow at him then rolls her eyes at his genuine concern. She shakes her mouse and inputs her password, instinctively clicking on her mail. 

“If the higher ups don’t want to pay, they shouldn’t dump last minute projects onto my lap.” They glance in his direction to see him shake his head. Then she turns her attention to her screen, scrolling through her emails. She purses her lips when the priority ones do not have a response—even pulling up the international times. 

With a huff and another sip of their coffee, Cleo resumes her work. However, the time is short as Skizz interrupts again. 

“I bet you would go home if the kid asks you to.”

Cleo flicks him a look. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Cleo sighs, shaking her head before ignoring his ridiculous jealousy. Skizz is too old for these childish antics, more so towards her intern twenty years his junior. But the same song plays—Skizz hits all the notes as does she, leaving them in an unsatisfying symphony that falls out of tune easily. 

Still, when Joel walks through the door, rubbing his eyes and yawning, asking when they are going home, there are victories and losses. 

While packing, Cleo scolds him, “Why are you still here?! It’s late.”

Joel rubs his eyes again, and he looks so much younger. Cleo is baffled—she freezes when they imagine a much younger Joel looking for his mum.

Her chest tightens.

“I was wai’in’ for you,” he answers through another yawn. He sways on the spot as Cleo laughs mentally, doubting the lateness in his biological clock.

“Give me a moment, then we’ll go.” She reassures, much too soft for Skizz’s bit back accusatory ‘See?!’. Intentionally, they pay him no mind nor give him the satisfaction of being ‘right’. More so because they win too—that cloud of jealousy that will rain on his every win. “There we are,” she announces when her PC quiets.

“Alright, let’s go.” Skizz is nearly bouncing, as if they are not in their workplace, or she is sure he would be pushing or pulling her faster.

The thought makes Cleo smile. 

“Thinkin’ somethin’ funny?” he presses, too attentive.

“Thinking about getting you a green tie,” they quip.

He scoffs, and they bicker. From the office to the lift to the car. Still, they get burgers on his card, and Joel jokes about living under a bridge to escape all the hostility. Skizz offers to look for one and Cleo smacks his shoulder. 

“Head up,” Cleo orders, handing Joel her keys. He happily takes them despite having his own apartment, and he also takes their paper bag—already eyeing the contents before exiting the vehicle. 

And like that, they are alone again. The sky is dark and their companions are the other empty cars. 

Cleo locks her phone with a tired sigh, only to find Skizz staring at them with something much too nice, much too warm��it makes their stomach turn.

“You’re so hardworking,” he starts with a smile. And those eyes. The combination makes her lose themselves, like free-falling into safety. “I admire you—I don’t say that enough.”

“And you shouldn’t.”

He laughs, disregarding her tone and the sharpness of her.

“I think I should,” he reiterates, softer, “I think about you a lot.”

“You are wasting your time.”

He laughs again, she holds onto every sound. “I like wasting time on you.”

_____

beep

[click for a random day]

[kaunis-sielu]

Naja Returns

It’s been six years. Six years since you killed King Cobra and started over.

Your first protection job had been a young mother who was trying to get away from an abusive ex. He’d broken his restraining order and when he’d tried to kill her you’d swooped in and kicked his ass then dumped him on the doorstep of a police station. You’d had a steady stream of clients since then, people that needed your help, not big wigs who could afford protection like Bucky.

You haven’t lost a client yet and you’d only killed one guy, he was a child molester so you honestly didn’t feel bad.

“Are you sure about this?” Your client, a young woman named Cassie asks.

“You’re being stalked, he’s already attacked you once. This is the right move.” You tell her leading her into the police station with a gentle arm around her shoulders. You’re focused on Cassie when a body comes up behind you, they reach for you. You grab their wrist and twist their arm behind their back before you even know what you’re doing.

“Let me guess,” a familiar voice says, “you’ve got brothers.”

“Bucky?” You breathe before dropping his arm, “oh my god I’m so sorry!”

“Never thought I’d see you inside a police station.”

“Bucky, this is my client Cassie. We’re here to file a police report.”

“So you did it. Protection for the underdogs.” He sounds proud of you, a slow smile crossing his face.

“Yea. Cassie do you want me to come with you?”

“No.” She says quickly and you look at her, her face has paled. You follow her gaze and see the man she’s staring at. He comes stalking over and you see her shrink back and you step in front of her.

“Can I help you ladies?”

“No. We want to talk to the captain.” You tell him and he laughs.

“You don’t get to make that demand. Let me help you out.”

“I’m sorry. Did you not hear me say no?” You ask raising your voice to draw attention. Cassie is holding onto the back of your shirt and the man glares at you.

“That’s not possible.”

“Hey Quill?” Bucky calls and a man with light brown hair looks over, “Can you get Captain Wilson please?” The other man turns his glare onto Bucky.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Name’s James Barnes. Captain Wilson is one of my best friends, what I don’t know is who you are. And I know all the Sargents in this precinct.” He says shoving his hands in his pockets. The other man goes to make a run for it but you’re ready for him. You kick him in the hip as he tries skirt you for Cassie and it throws him off balance enough for you to flip him onto his back knocking the wind out of him.

“You bitch.” He snarls drawing his gun but you’re faster than he is and shoot him with a taser. The gun clatters out of his hand and to the ground where Bucky steps on it and slides it over to a waiting cop.

“Ma’am. You’re under arrest for assault. Please put the taser down.”

“Bucky can you please go into the side pocket of my bag?” You ask calmly unhooking the taser and putting it on the counter next to you. Bucky does as you ask and when he pulls out a card in a holder he reads it and grins.

“She’s personal protection boys.” He says passing the card to one of the officers.

“Tori that’s him.” Cassie whispers into your ear. Bucky’s head whips toward you in surprise. You’d kept using the nickname of Tori, just changing your legal name to Torrance instead of Victoria.

“Great. So you’re going to want to arrest this guy.” You tell the cop coming for you, “Charges are, stalking, harassment, sexual assault, breaking a restraining order and I guess you can add impersonating a police officer to the list.”

“Ma’am please turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Bucky repeats, “She’s one of mine.” He says it so smoothly that you almost believe him.

“The card says Snake Eyes Security.” Officer Quill says looking skeptically at Bucky, “I thought you were Nomad Soldiers.”

“I am. She’s under our umbrella as her own company.”

“Prove it.”

“I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

“What are you charging me with?” You ask and the officer blinks at you.

“Assault and unlawful weapon?”

“It was self defense and I have a license for that taser as well as the gun that’s in my car. Besides, if you did your job then I wouldn’t have to do it for you.” You tell him and Bucky drops his face into his hand.

“Doll.” He grumbles and your heart races, he hasn’t called you that in so long that you can’t help the hope that raises in you.

“Excuse me?” Officer Quill says turning slightly red.

“She has been stalked, harassed and almost killed by that piece of shit and when she tried to report him you told her he hadn’t done anything so you couldn’t do anything.”

“Because legally we can’t.” He snaps taking a step toward you.

“So what does she have to do? End up dead? Give me a fucking break!” You cry and Bucky steps between you and the cop.

“Tori.” Bucky rumbles and you fold your arms over your chest.

“Fine. We’re leaving but if he bothers her again I’m using my gun.”

“That makes it premeditated murder!” Officer Quill cries and you stare at him,

“I never said I was going to kill him! I said I was going to use my gun! Those are very different things.”

“Tori, go. I’ve got this.” Bucky says before turning toward you and murmuring, “my number is the same. I know you changed yours because I’ve tried to find you using it.” You look up at him in surprise, “Yea. I’ve been looking. Now, go.” You nod and loop your arm through Cassie’s, leading her out of the station.

“Okay, so that didn’t go exactly how I was hoping it would.” You tell her, “but, the fact that he was there impersonating a cop will get him jail time at least.”

“How did you know that man?” She asks softly. “The nice one.”

“Bucky and I have worked together before.”

“So you don’t work for him?”

“No. But he knows me and my history, I trust him.”

“Okay. If you trust him then so do I.” Cassie says as you get back into your car. Her trust in you is astonishing, especially after that little police station fiasco that just happened. You never deleted Bucky’s number, how could you when you still cared enough about him to have an alert about his company so you can make sure he’s being safe. You’ll call him once you’ve got Cassie safely hidden away again.

Tag list:

@connie326 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @killcomet @wonderlandfandomkingdom @abschaffer2 @sass-masterkittenmama

[romanarose]

About a Girl: Chapter 9

Beautiful header by my beloved @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel Miller x Trans!Fem!Reader (Nickname, Blue)

Series Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist : Full Masterlist

Summary: Blue sets up her future in Joel's life, step by step by step

Warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter: 18+ ONLY!! I cannot warn against everything, but these are major themes. Joel is a lil ignorant but not out of hate. He just doesn't know. He's trying his best. There will be smut. Penetrative sex, all of the anal play, oral. There will be transphobia from other people. Addiction and alcoholism. QUICK child neglect not by Joel but I promise, Sarah is fine and is having a great time in life. Fetishization of women attracted to women by a shitty guy. Will update as needed. Again, this is adult content. Expect adult content.

Immersivity: Reader is transgender, AMAB female, reader has had gotten bottom surgery, not top, and is on hormones. reader has visible hair and a blue streak in hair, but not described. Could be braids, could be natural hair, whatever. Header is for aesthetics only. Reader is about Joel and Tommy's height. Let me know if i miss anything!

TAGS HAVE BEEN SHITTY make sure you're caught up!!

TRANS LIVES MATTER! TRANS YOUTH MATTER! TRANS ELDERLY MATTER! TRANS WOMEN MATTER! TRANS MEN MATTER! NON BINARY TRANS MATTER!

Step one: Kayla.

You knew showing up to Kayla’s front door was a bit of a risk, but for Joel, you’d do anything. When she opened the door to see you, her eyes went wide and immediately she trid to shut you out, but you stuck your steel toed boots in before it hit the doorframe.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, Kayla. You are stay’n the fuck away from Joel.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. “Thought he dumped your ass.”

“Yeah, because of you and his dumbass brother, but we worked it out.” After the day you lost your job, Joel came over a few times that week to check on you. That turned into helping you pack, which turned into him volunteering his truck and himself to move you to Tess’s place that was now going to be packed with the most rag-tag group of misfits you’d ever seen. Tommy was part of step 2. After spending time together again and Tommy wasn’t his sole responsibility anymore, you and Joel fell into each other again. And he fell into you again. And again. And again. Joel was yours and you were his, and you were making sure it stayed that way now. This had been carefully discussed with him, but there was no way you were sending your sweet, passive boyfriend to his abusive ex to lay out the boundaries.

You continued. “You can see Sarah, but like he said, ONLY under direct supervision. You will only contact him about that. If you show up unplanned around him, or harass or threaten him, me, Tommy, Tess, Sarah, hell, even Talia for whatever reason, we will be filing a restraining order. Tommy and Tess have eyewitness accounts of how you treated him, and honey.” You glare at her, using your height to intimidate. “He told me what you did to him. The hitting, the sexual coercion. You’re lucky he asked me not to, because I’d beat your ass.”

Kayla looked like she wanted to say something, to spit something back but thought better of it. “I’m not jumping through hoops just to see my daughter.”

Settling your feathers a bit, you step back. “That’s just it, isn’t it? You won’t jump through hoops for her. But Joel would. I would. Joel would fight tooth and nail for Sarah, but you know what? You’re the one missing out, because she’s a special kid. She’s kindhearted, funny, smart, and I get to see her almost every day.” Kayla scoffs, but you prod deeper. “Did you ever want her? Or was she just a prop to try and get Joel.”

“You have no right to ask me that-”

“I did anyway.”

“She’ll never love you.” Kayla stood up straighter. “It’s bad enough Joel chose a man in a dress above a real woman, but she’s going to hate you for what you are.”

She was trying to cut you deep, to hurt you are harshly as she possibly could. But that wasn’t going to work on you. You weren’t a child, you were secure in yourself, your femininity and the live in your little family. “No, she won’t.” You say with confidence. “Because she’s a good kid. Because I’m gonna be there for her like you never were. The world is changing, Kayla, and you should probably catch up. I’ll see you if you wanna come get Sarah.” With that, you turned on the heel of your black boot and walked to your car.

Step two: Tommy

“Hey baby.” Joel greeted you with a smile and a chaste kiss, Sarah trailing behind him. “Hey guys.”

Everyone greeted Joel, Talia asking Sarah if she wanted to go to the hottub Tess installed in her house. Sarah was enthralled, announcing she already had her swimsuit on under her winter clothes. Spring in Texas wasn’t bad at all, but the idea of getting water at this time of year was exciting to say the least to a 5 year old. 

Talia’s offer was intentional, planned. Tommy told Joel he needed to talk, and he needed Blue and Tess with him.

When they were all sat down, coffee in hand, Joel started.

“What’s go’n on, Tommy? Ya make’n me nervous. You okay?”

As nervous as Joel is, Tommy’s leg jitters until Tess places a reassuring hand on him. “It’s okay. You know he ain’t gonna freak out.”

That only served to make Joel more nervous. “Freak out about what?”

“It’s not a big deal Joel, I promise.”

He turned to you. “You know?”

Poor guy looked so worried. Despite the bickering, he loved Tommy so fuckin much. “I do, but please don’t be mad. It’s not something I was at liberty to say.” You turn to the younger brother. “Tom, honey, you’re freaking him out.”

Tommy nodded, taking in a deep breath before blurting out, “IM GAY.”

Eyebrows furrowing together, Joel looks confused for a moment. “No you aren’t.”

“JOEL!” You and Tess shout, chiding him for his reaction, but Joel is quick to defend.

“Shit! Sorry! I just mean, You like women, you’d always liked women. I’m sorry, fucking hell, I’m bad at this.” He scrubs his face, dagging wrinkled skin down with his fingertips. “Okay, I guess first, I love you, ‘M always gonna love you, and I obviously don’t care about that, almost everyone I know right now is gay or trans so-”

“But it’s different with your brother, isn’t it?” Tommy asked with a worried expression, leg jiggling again.

Joel shook his head. “No, of course not. I want you to be happy. Is this why… well, why you’ve been doing so much drugs and drink’n?

Tommy roled his eyes. “It’s not that-” But stopped himself when Tess elbowed him. Downplaying the incident with Sarah would re-ignite the tension. He sighs. “I guess that’s part of it. I’m um… checking into rehab at the veterans center next week. Got a room. I haven't been honest with any of ya’ll, but I ain’t been sober.”

Tommy told you this when he mentioned wanting you and Tess’s support talking to Joel, but Joel had suspected. Joel was used to Tommy lying about sobriety. 

Nodding, Joel squeezes your hand. “Okay, I’m glad your getting help. Let me know all the info and I’ll take you, be there with Sarah and Ellie for all the visits, all that shit. You talked to Bill yet?”

He shakes his head. “Not yet. Kinda nervous, yuh know? Don’t wanna disappoint him.”

“You won’t” Joel assures. “Frank is who mentioned PTSD to me first, so I think they’ll just be glad you're getting help.”

But Tommy just groaned, burying his head in his hands. Joel’s hand disengages from you and goes to hug Tommy. Standing in the living room, Joel holds his baby brother close as he cries. “I love you, Tommy. I don’t care if you’re gay or whatever else you got go’n on, you're still my brother, and my best friend. I’m proud of you.”

Step three: Ellie

“Do we have everything?!?!?” Joel was running around the house, anxious. Everyone was here. Tommy, a few days before checking into rehab, Tess and Talia who were, in fact, engaged, Frank and Bill (Max was absolutely not invited to this one.)

“Baby, everything is perfect.” You assure Joel. Ellie was coming with next to nothing for personal items. She had a few things, but one item from her mom was a jackknife she obviously couldn’t have at 5 years old. She had a dinosaur stuffie, a picture of her and her mom, a dinosaur book… she had a thing for dinosaurs.

Joel picked Sarah up from day care a few months ago, only to find her sobbing. Her teacher was trying to get her to say what’s wrong, but she kept saying it was a secret, she couldn’t tell anyone. When Joel came, he was naturally very concerned, especially given that he knew Kayla had been letting strange men around her. When he convinced her that she doesn’t need to keep secrets from him, that he would take care of her no matter what, he was surprised to learn it wasn’t her secret. It was Ellies.

Ellie had showed Sarah the bruises on her from her foster parents. Calling Ellie over, the teacher checked, and yes, she had bruises on her pale skin. Joel sat with a crying Ellie and sniffling Sarah while the teacher made the call. The next few hours were long. Ellie’s foster dad came to pick her up before the police arrived, and from what you heard there was a little bit of a confrontation. Joel wasn’t violent of course, as much as he might have wanted to be there were children around. However, he did not let him get near Ellie. 

After giving his statements to the police, calling you and Tommy in to relay what you knew, the social worker approached him.

Ellie was up for adoption. Dad is completely out of the picture, never knew who he was. Mom is dead. No one had adopted her yet because of her behavioral issues and said she kept wanting Joel the whole process of interviews. Joel asked if he could be in the room with her with the polic officer, but they wouldn’t let him. She was, of course, being removed immediately from the foster family and being placed in a girls home, and the social worker broached the idea if Joel had ever considered being a foster parent.

He hadn’t, you knew. Sarah kept him busy. But you also knew that when she asked him, he knew what he wanted to do. He just had to ask Sarah.

“I just feel like I’m missing something!” He was very stressed. You took him by the shoulders, steadying him.

“Joel, sweetie. Listen. You got everything a 5 year old could need. A bed.” Bill built a bed for her to sleep in in Sarah’s room. “You got clothes.” Tess and Talia went on a shopping spree, keeping in mind how Ellie’s tastes differed from Sarah, but also getting dresses and girlie shit incase she wanted that too. “Lots of books and toys.” Tommy had gotten her toys, while Frankie went for books and more enriching games and activities. “And lots of fun times planned to make her feel at home and loved.” Your funds were a little low. You’d managed to find a daycare job to get by until you could start teaching in a neighboring district next fall, but that was minimum wage. Still, you wanted to welcome her home. You’d made the cake and snacks for the small welcoming party, but you’d also managed to get tickets to the planetarium for the four of you.

Normally a gathering like this wasn’t recommended for a foster situation, but Ellie was different. Ellie knew they were planning to adopt her, Ellie knew Joel and Sarah and Tommy. Sarah and Ellie were ecstatic to be sisters. Joel and Sarah had been able to visit the girls home occasionally under supervision as the foster paperwork was processing since they’d expressed desire to adopt, and Ellie had continued to attend kindergarten where Joel made sure to always come a little early to spend time with her and talk to her teacher about her needs and progress the same he did with Sarah. 

The reason he couldn’t say yes that day was because of Sarah. Between the turmoil with Kayla, you bein gone and coming back, Tommy moving out, he didn’t want to make this choice without her permission. Sarah said yes to fostering and adopting right away. The situation was a bit complicated but the plan was: Joel fosters Ellie, Joel adopts Ellie, Joel marries you, you adopt Ellie. Kayla hadn’t been heard of in months, and hadn’t seen Ellie for months before that. You would, of course, help Sarah and Kayla foster a relationship if Kayla showed promise of change, but they weren’t counting on it. If Kayla relinquished parental rights, you would adopt her too. Your little family.

A knock on the door. Ellie was here.

Im back from vegas!!!!

I had so much fun ;-; manages to not spent too much money either by just chilling at the hotel pool for several hours. I was just facedown on the innertube a chunk of time, occasionally paddling so they didnt think i was dead XD

I know Im late on my own pride event. embaressing. Clown behavior. If ya'll have submissions you wanna make you can keep making them until i post the masterlist haha

I need the epiloge and i kinda wannt write t4t transman santi and transfem reader. Thats for you, Fen!

ANYWAY

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[crestfallencrest]

Tell Me

Fandom: Rune Factory 5 Pairing: Ryker/Ares Word Count: 3,654

Summary:

Ryker lets his fingers brush gently across the other’s cheek, lingering near the dark circles under his eyes. “...Ares, can you do me a huge favor?” Ares’ face leaned slightly into Ryker’s touch, eyes closing with contentment. “Yeah?” “...When you have to go out of town for SEED errands or anything like that, could you let me know? I can’t stop myself from worrying that you’re going to get into some kind of trouble while I’m not there...”

[x] - Read on AO3

It was a chilly autumn day, with winter just on the horizon. Ryker couldn’t help but shiver as a particular cold gust of wind blew past him and he knew he would likely have to stop by the bakery and see if Granny Yuki had any warmer coats on hand. Otherwise, he’d have to improvise. That much wasn’t a problem. In fact, if he got too cold, he at least had someone that he could cuddle up to in order to warm up.

Speaking of...

Ryker let his gaze trail over towards the field that sat not too far from his spot on the grass. He watched as the familiar blonde stood underneath the orange tree that he had put so much time and effort into. He remembered the day that the tree had begun to bear fruit, remembered the day he came across Ares gushing and rambling in excitement to Priscilla and Cecil about how much his hard work had paid off. About how excited he was to eat one of the oranges that he had grown himself.

That was the day that Ryker figured out that Ares really loved oranges, and liked fruit in general. For a while, he never really knew why he filed that information into the back of his head at the time. Really, Ryker should have realized why but he was extremely thick headed at times. But it was when Ares confessed to him that he finally figured it out.

They had been dating for a while now, and already, Ryker has had his fair share of screw ups in their relationship. Nearly screwing up accepting Ares’ confession because he simply couldn’t look Ares in the face because of how embarrassed he was, running away from their first date because they were seen by Martin... and then nearly leaving Ares for good in order to pursue the dream of becoming Basara, under the delusion that it would get his old family together.

Even now, he still remembered how hurt Ares sounded when he found out about Ryker’s crimes. How heartbroken he looked when he had ‘lost’ their competition, how lost he looked. So lost that he didn’t even notice that giant monster sneak up behind him. If Ryker hadn't looked back, Ares would have been...

...Ryker couldn’t even stomach the thought of it. The scar across his own chest that Ryker had received from when he took the hit for Ares was entirely worth it, if it meant that Ares didn’t get hurt because of his own stupidity. The idea of losing Ares was almost unbearable. He was an idiot for nearly leaving the man behind in the first place, but a world without Ares... he couldn’t imagine that.

“...Hey, Ares.”

Ryker watched as Ares perked up at the sound of his name, arms full of his daily harvest of oranges. His blue eyes were practically sparkling with life as he quickly dumped his daily prize into a nearby basket. “Yeah, what’s up? You okay?”

When Ryker requested that they hang out today, Ares seemed a bit uncertain about it, due to him having to do some last minute farm work to prepare for the oncoming winter. The end and beginning of a season always seemed to be the busiest time for the ranger so Ryker couldn’t really blame him for wanting to turn him down but... Ryker really just wanted to be near him for a while. So, he asked if he could just hang out and nap on the sidelines while Ares did his work and the man eventually agreed.

Not that Ryker got much napping done. Not when he was too caught up in watching his boyfriend pick his oranges, the blonde smiling as if all of his dreams had come true. And now, that cute little smile was pointed in his direction and the white haired man could feel his heart skip a beat.

Ryker really didn’t want to get in the way of Ares’ work but... “C’mere for a second?”

As Ryker held a hand out, Ares gave a momentary pause as he looked down at the basket full of oranges and then gave a quick glance around the area, as if determining just how much work he had left on his plate. There probably wasn’t too much work left to do, since Ares ultimately decided to walk over to Ryker to gently place his hand onto the other’s. “Is something wrong, Ryker?”

Ryker grinned. “Nah. You just fell into my trap, is all.”

“Huh?”

That was the only response that Ares could get out before Ryker yanked hard at his arm, pulling the man down onto his knees next to him. And then, with a swift movement, Ryker wraps his arms around the other’s waist and pulls him close enough for Ares’ back to press against his chest. For a moment, Ares scrambled for a moment, trying to gain an understanding of what was happening but just as quickly calmed down as Ryker rested his chin on Ares’ shoulder. Once Ares was seated securely between Ryker’s legs, Ryker loosened his grip on the other as he smiled into the man’s shoulder.

“There we go. Much better.”

Ares turned his head to try and look over his shoulder at the white haired man, his voice on the brink of laughter. “What in the world are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m holding my boyfriend.” Ryker could feel his cheeks heat up but from Ares’ vantage point, there was no way he could see his cheeks... right?

“Yeah, but I told you I have a lot of work to do!”

“Yeah, but it’s break time.” Ryker grins, squeezing the other again. “C’mooon, you’ve been at it for a while.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Nope. Break time. Take a minute and breathe and look at the sky with me, okay? Then I’ll help you with the rest of your work.”

Ryker knew that his offer to help was a critical success, judging by how Ares went still and couldn’t offer another retort. Ryker smirked in victory as he felt Ares slump back, leaning back against Ryker’s chest with a tiny sigh. “Okay, but only for a little bit.”

Considering that Ares didn’t clarify how long ‘a little bit’ was... Ryker could work with this. “Fine by me. I just wanted you to take a bit of a break. You’ve been looking exhausted lately.”

Ares falls quiet for a moment before a tiny chuckle leaves his mouth. “Heh... well... you know how the end of the seasons are. Plus... SEED work has been pretty rough lately.”

Ryker frowned. He had noticed that Ares and Scarlett both had been leaving town a lot lately, or running around like rampaging cuckadoodles. It wasn’t even just him that’s noticed. The entire town was beginning to notice just how exhausted Ares had been lately. But the ranger would always wave it off with a smile, even turning down free food that had been offered by Elsje, Randolph and Granny Yuki. He even almost turned down a couple of free baths from Murakumo but one pointed look from Misasagi and a perfectly planned puppy dog look from Hina was enough to get Ares to accept the family’s kindness.

It helped, but it wasn’t enough to get rid of the faint and barely noticeable dark circles that were beginning to form underneath his eyes. Harvesting the oranges was probably the most life that he had seen from Ares in the last couple of days. Just what in the hell did SEED have Ares doing?

“...I’ve noticed that you’ve been going on mission after mission for SEED lately. Do I need to complain to the captain about putting too much on your plate? I know how you are. The word ‘No’ doesn’t seem to be in your vocabulary when it comes to people needing help, so if you’re struggling, I can—” Ryker’s offer trailed off when Ares quickly shook his head.

“No, no— it’s fine. Captain Livia isn’t overworking me... Things are just crazy right now, that’s all.” Ares hesitated before shifting in Ryker’s arms, pulling the man’s arms off of him so he could turn to face the other, sitting back on his knees.

Once again, there was that damn smile. That smile that was constantly telling him and the others to ‘Not worry.’

Ryker was never one to worry over much before. Maybe he would worry about making blueprints that would make Palmo’s reputation look bad but he never really had much else to worry about. But then Ares came along, so brave, so kind, so reckless when it came to protecting others... How could one not worry about him?

He took a deep breath, breaking his gaze from his boyfriend before the urge to wipe that smile off of his face took over the entirety of his body. “... Just be sure not to take too much, okay? You’re... amazing. Maybe too amazing. And dependable. And overall, just extremely helpful to everyone you meet—”

From the corners of his eyes, Ryker could see Ares’ eyes widen and his cheeks began to turn a faint shade of pink. “Ryker... I’m not—”

Ryker shook his head and took Ares’ hands into his own. “You are. Maybe not as cool as me, but... just because you’re all of those things, doesn’t mean you need to take on the entire world’s burdens by yourself, okay?”

Ares tensed as Ryker spoke those words and the smile faltered for only a moment. He watched as his blue eyes darted down to their joined hands and for the tiniest moment, Ryker can see past that barrier that the other kept up in favor of putting everyone else first. 

Ryker decided he wanted to tear that damn wall down more than anything.

“I...” Ares squeezed Ryker’s hands. “I’m not alone, Ryker. I have everyone here in Rigbarth and that gives me enough strength to keep pushing forward. Captain Livia, Scarlett, Priscilla, Lucy, Cecil— Everyone. But most important of all, I have you, don’t I? Even if I see you just in passing, just seeing your face is enough to energize me.”

“Heh...” Ryker tilted his head, ignoring the heat on his own face. “I guess I just have that effect on people.”

That managed to get a laugh out of Ares, at least. Ryker would count that as his victory of the day. “It has an effect on me.”

“I would hope so, considering that we’re boyfriends.” Ryker laughed. And then, as silence settled between them once more, the white haired man tugged his hand free so he could lift it towards Ares’ face. He lets his fingers brush gently across the other’s cheek, lingering near the dark circles under his eyes. “...Ares, can you do me a huge favor?”

Ares’ face leaned slightly into Ryker’s touch, eyes closing with contentment. “Yeah?”

“...When you have to go out of town for SEED errands or anything like that, could you let me know? I can’t stop myself from worrying that you’re going to get into some kind of trouble while I’m not there...”

Ares’ eyes opened again to meet Ryker’s gaze, confused and questioning before the gentle smile made its return. “You’ve gotten really overprotective lately.”

Ryker returned the smile as he goes from brushing his fingers against the other’s cheek in favor of cupping Ares’ face instead. “I can’t help it. You’re really important to me, y’know?”

“And you’re important to me, Ryker...”

Ares was just a few inches away from his face now and he wasn’t entirely sure when they had gotten so close to each other. Wasn’t sure when he had started leaning into Ares’ personal space, or when Ares had scooted closer until he was practically in his lap. Ryker stole a glance down at the others lips and even just a tiny glance was enough to make Ryker’s heart race. Come to think of it, despite their many dates... he and Ares still hadn’t shared their first kiss together, have they?

Ryker took a deep breath and leaned in closer. “There’s something else I wanna ask you, Ares.”

“Yeah?” Their noses were barely touching now as Ares moved his other hand so that it would rest on Ryker’s shoulder. His cheeks were a deep red now, his lips parting and Ryker wanted to lean in so badly, to steal a kiss so badly, more than anything—

But still, he found himself asking for permission. Because Ares’ comfort and happiness came above all else in Ryker’s eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“...Yeah.”

And that was all he needed to hear. Ryker leaned in and pressed his lips against Ares’, with the blond turning his head just right so they could slot their lips together perfectly. As their eyes slipped closed, they lost themselves into the kiss, becoming the only two people left in the world at that moment. Ryker’s hand, the one that rested on Ares’ cheek, moved so he could slide his fingers through the back of Ares’ short blonde hair. He could feel the hood of his coat fall back as his partner slid his arms around his neck, in an effort to get as close as possible.

There was something... desperate about the way Ares kissed. He gripped onto Ryker like a lifeline, his eyes were shut tight as if he were afraid of opening them, afraid of coming back to reality. He even trembled slightly under Ryker’s touch, sighing against the kiss every time Ryker squeezed him and tried to pull him closer. At first, he thought that maybe Ares was getting really into it and that maybe they needed to move this somewhere that wasn’t the backyard of SEED Headquarters… but then he felt something wet slide down Ares’ cheek.

Ryker tore away from Ares in an instant, breathless and maybe a little hot but he shoved that to the side for now as he put all of his focus into Ares. His hand moved back to wipe at Ares’ cheek, panic shooting through his body. “Ares? H-Hey, what’s wrong...? Why are you crying?”

Ares’ blue eyes were brimming with tears as he stared back at Ryker with a confused stare. It seemed to take him a moment to realize that he was crying in the first place and then soon, the boy jolted back to reality in favor of wiping his face. “I’m crying—? Ah, I-I’m sorry, Ryker, I dunno what got into me—”

Ryker frowned and continued to help Ares wipe at his face, even going so far as to offer part of his cloak to dry his eyes with. Not once did his eyes leave Ares’ face as he rubbed gently at the other’s back. “Did I do something to upset you? Was it the kiss? It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

It was a weak attempt to make a dumb joke to try and get Ares to stop crying but even if Ares was able to let out a tiny laugh, the tears wouldn’t stop falling. Ryker was... torn. Torn between pulling Ares closer to comfort him, but being unsure if he was the reason he was crying to begin with.

“C’mon Ares... Talk to me. What did I do?”

“Nothing— You didn’t do anything. I’m so happy right now but—” Ares cut in immediately, shaking his head as he wiped at his face. “I just... I guess I just got emotional. That’s... That’s all.”

Ryker’s eyebrows furrowed, a doubtful look on his face. Upon seeing Ryker’s doubt, Ares leaned in and pecked him on the lips once. Twice. Three times and smiled widely at the man when he pulled away.

“I just really love you... you know?”

Ryker nodded quietly, eyes fixed on Ares’. He seemed genuine about that. He was genuine and sincere about everything. It was one of the reasons why he loved the man so much. But still... something didn’t seem right. Something was bugging Ares. But what...?

It was getting late, as the sun began its descent in the sky. It would be night soon and normally, Ryker held more energy as soon as the moon rose. Usually by now, he would start getting more active, start making his way through the town to run off the energy but something told him that the rest of his afternoon was going to be tied up.

“I love you too, Ares.” Ryker dabbed at his lover’s face a little longer before tilting his head with a tiny grin. “Hey... Do you wanna finish up your work real quick and then maybe... I dunno. Head to your room and nap for a while?”

Ares hesitated and for a scary second, Ryker wondered if maybe he was overstepping by inviting himself to Ares’ room. He watched the smaller man glance at the fields and then back towards the SEED headquarters and— Ah. Right.

Ryker wasn’t exactly planning to do anything other than nap but in the few times he had been in Ares’ room, he was very quick to note that there was very little privacy in that place. If someone came upstairs looking for Ares, they would definitely get caught cuddling. Ryker’s face burned at the mere thought of it. “Uh... We can also head back to my place instead? Palmo’s out of town for a job and won’t be back until late tonight so...”

Ryker’s face burned even more. They would have the place to themselves. He almost wished he was feeling brave enough to try and make a move and maybe, just maybe, he would have if Ares wasn’t currently trying to dry his face from whatever had just upset him.

Maybe next time, the helpful part of his brain suggested.

He pointedly decided to tell that part of his brain to shut its trap for right now.

The sound of his heart hammered in his chest seemed to go on forever as he watched Ares, waiting for an answer. And right before Ryker could think to take it back, right before he could just mumble out a “just kidding” in order to save face, he’s blind-sided by that smile again. The smile that told him that no matter what was going on in Ares’ brain right now, Ryker was at least making something better by just being around him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I would love that.”

—

Ares let his finger gently twirl and brush through Ryker’s white locks as they laid together in the apprentice’s bed. The house was strangely quiet due to the absence of Palmo. Ares couldn’t help but wonder how Ryker could even stand staying in this house when it was as silent as it was. Palmo was such a loud and joyous individual, it was hard to imagine staying here without hearing him at least singing in joy in the next room.

Despite how strange the silence was, Ares couldn’t help but be grateful for it. He could imagine that they wouldn’t have had this moment of peace otherwise. Which meant that Ares would also have missed out on watching just how adorable Ryker was when he was sleeping. It never took his boyfriend long to pass out if his mind was set on resting.

Ares wished he could sleep as easily as Ryker could.

The gentle smile resting on Ares’ face slowly fell away into a more pensive expression. His fingers fell from Ryker’s hair to brush against his cheek and the blonde let out a heavy sigh that he had been holding all day. He wished he could sleep just as peacefully as Ryker could.

Unfortunately, it was hard to sleep at all when the fate of the world weighed down on your shoulders.

At the grim reminder of what was at stake, Ares felt his entire soul grow weary as he shifted closer to Ryker’s sleeping form. His boyfriend’s arms were wrapped loosely around Ares’ waist and upon feeling him shift in his grasp, Ryker let out a tiny mumble before Ares felt the other squeeze him in his sleep before moving to bury his face into Ares’ hair. Ares felt something warm blossom in his chest.

Even if he, himself, couldn’t get enough sleep, he could count on Ryker to sleep enough for the both of them... Mostly. He still had a habit of running around in the middle of the night but one way or another, he managed to catch up on sleep somehow. Ares simply... couldn’t. No matter how much he tried. And he likely wouldn’t get much sleep at all until Gideon was taken care of.

Soon, he would be leaving to go chase after Gideon in his fortress in the clouds. Soon he would be confronting the man who led SEED into power, and would be stopping him from trying to force the world into his image. Soon, he’ll be fighting and putting his life on the line in order to protect the world and the people he had grown to love in his short year of living in Rigbarth.

But for now, he’ll simply rest his head against the chest of the man he loved and listen to the steady and soothing heartbeat within. Even if he didn’t sleep, this was still more than enough to energize him for the coming turmoil that Ares would soon be facing on his own.

All to protect his friends. All to protect Ryker. And all to protect the life he had created for himself, despite everything.

And when he got back, he was certain that Ryker would be more than happy to spend the next twenty four hours in bed with him in order to allow the ranger to catch up on days of lost sleep. It was something that Ares could look forward to when he came home.

Because, he told himself repeatedly, I will be coming home.

[beyondspaceandstars]

Ivy

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Reader Warnings: Cheating/implied cheating, slight angst Summary: Although you're already happily married, you and your apartment neighbor Steve have started a bit of an affair. And it's growing. Rapidly. (Inspired by: "Ivy" by Taylor Swift) A/N: oh hello everyone :) this is an older fic I wrote right after evermore dropped (hence the title and lyrics) but I'm going through and publishing some of my old writing I've been holding onto (I think I published this one under a different account but I spruced it up a bit). Hopefully newer stuff will come soon :)

Masterlist

"Oh, I can't Stop you putting roots in my dreamland My house of stone, your ivy grows And now I'm covered in you"

It happened fast. It happened so fast that you didn’t know where the breaks were until it was too late. He was just… there. Always there. Standing in the hallway, walking on the sidewalk, shopping at the freaking grocery store. It was a kaleidoscope of instances with him from the bumping into and the lingering gazes to the knowing smiles. It was fast and… spreading.

It was spreading, yes.

He was spreading, from your heart to your brain. Every second of every dream was filled with the what ifs. What if you held his hand when he asked to walk with you to the store? What if he happened to fall asleep in your bed after you asked him for his help with something? What if, in the end, your marital hand was his to take instead? The scenarios played out time and time through the night, forcing you to wake up with a fluttering heart and a guilty conscience.

Your husband—the man you were actually involved with and supposed to be dedicated to—kindly made you coffee every morning, having no idea about your infidelity-filled dreamland. He could barely even remember Steve’s name while his entire being lived in your soul, day in and day out. It felt like a cruel punishment.

"Good morning," your husband greeted you as you padded into the living room. As expected, two mugs in hand, one outstretched towards your sleepy form. You hugged the coffee carefully, giving a smile back in greeting, but the action twisted your stomach. You couldn’t recall last night’s dream yet the feeling of it all lingered.

"I know today was supposed to be my day off but I gotta run to the office real quick," your husband explained as he sipped his coffee and collected his files. "You’ll be okay here, right?"

Your heart skipped. Nodding, you said, "Yeah, I think I’ll go to the coffee shop and catch up on reports."

"You have coffee right there, silly," your husband chuckled, motioning his mug towards yours. You looked down at the steaming, dark beverage. You could just make yourself out in the reflection, coming face-to-face with your tired eyes and frowning lips.

"Yeah," you shrugged. "I want one of those fancy blended drinks. They’re practically milkshakes."

Steve liked those drinks, you subconsciously noted, even though he pretended he didn’t. He was carrying one when you bumped into him on the street a few weeks after moving into the apartment building. When you asked what it was, he acted like he had no clue and claimed he was just holding it for a friend. You remember giggling at his frantic explanation but eventually, he confessed his deep, dark coffee secret. You were sworn to secrecy on the manner.

Maybe Steve would like to tag along with you today. The idea hit you like a train. You didn’t know where it came from. Well, you did but… Oh.

"Honey?" Your husband’s voice shook you out of your thoughts. "Are you okay?"

You coughed, "Yeah, I’m alright. Just a little sleepy."

"Hmm, okay," he nodded, still eyeing you suspiciously. "I’m gonna get ready and head out."

You nodded in acknowledgment as he gave you a quick peck and departed for your bedroom. Suddenly feeling sick, you dumped the mug’s contents in the sink and slammed the cup on the counter.

Running your hands through your hair, you stood in the kitchen. Mind screaming, heart-burning.

****

Your head was fuzzy as you got dressed for the day. You waited until your husband had left for the office as you had plans with your appearance. It came easily, you found, to put in a little effort. After getting married, both you and your husband found comfort in the natural and casual but now there was something shiny and new. There was maybe someone who appreciated you trying and it filled you with that schoolgirl anxiousness. It was wrong, though, so wildly wrong.

You could suppress it all, though. So easy, you thought. Nothing wrong with a married woman getting herself together to feel good. It was about you, of course. At least that was what you managed to convince your head to recite as you applied the lipgloss and curled your hair. It was partially true—you did like how you looked—but that background voice, that voice you heard in your dreamlands, reminded you of where your heart was.

Sighing, you forced yourself to step away from the mirror and collect your work. You actually did have plans to work on reports for your job but you wouldn’t mind a certain next-door soldier keeping you company.

You hadn’t exactly done this before, you realized as you stood at Steve’s apartment door. Your time spent with one another was always just…coincidental. At least, that’s what you perceived it as. You two happened to go to the grocery at the same time or walked up the stairs after work at similar hours. Fate was laying it out and you were stupidly taking the dive.

Swallowing your doubts, you knocked on the door.

For a few seconds, you thought about turning away and running. Purse gripped tightly, that felt like the only move, and just when your feet started inching towards the stairs, the door swung open.

He appeared in the doorway like a golden dream come true. Eyes bright and smile as big as the sky, Steve looked pleased to see who was on the other side of his door. He was fully dressed for the day. Shoes on and everything as if he was almost on his way out. You felt even more stupid now realizing of course the most important man in the city had somewhere to be.

"Good morning," Steve greeted you. "What a surprise."

"H-Hello," You let out a humorless laugh with your stupid response and looked down at your nail polished nails, picking away at the nude paint. Anxiety was bubbling up, forcing your words out straight to the point. "I was just… I don’t know. This is probably so stupid or whatever but I was gonna go to the coffee shop down the street to do some work. Do you want…some coffee?"

Gosh, your face must have been beet red as you felt the temperature in the hallway rise drastically. Steve, however, didn’t even flinch at your suggestion. He folded his arms and leaned against the door frame, his smile turning into a hinting smirk. He eyed your nervous stance carefully and you could feel it. Your feet started itching to flee, again.

Steve shrugged, "Are you asking me to come with you to the coffee shop?"

"Well, I mean-,"

"A coffee date, perhaps?"

You gasped, your heart plummeted. This wasn’t— You couldn’t— He was getting in your brain, putting thoughts there now. Everything felt so suggestive suddenly. You were insane for this. Your husband and the rings you still adored… What was becoming of you? No, what was becoming of him? It was his work, wasn’t it? But you were here? Brain on fire, you wanted to scream.

"Steve—,"

He chuckled, nearly completely unaware of the races in your mind. "I’m just joking. I think I would enjoy some coffee right now."

You gulped and reeled yourself back in. "Wonderful."

Steve was right by your side the entire walk. Your elbows brushed so casually yet flamingly. Your skin ignited with every step and God forbid if someone was coming up the sidewalk from the opposite direction. The way Steve pushed into you to make room felt like at any second he was going to pin you against one of the brick buildings lining the sidewalk.

There was the issue with his hand, too. His pockets were free to use yet he let his hands stay at his sides, brushing over yours ever so gingerly. Every time it did, his fingers hit your wedding band, operating as your not-so-subtle reminder.

It felt like a bad game. A bad, teasing game. The tension was rising and what originally started as light banter or silly laughs here and threatened to turn into stiff beats around the elephant in the room. But gosh, he was so kind and funny and just glowed throughout, so you would deal with it and let today go where it goes.

When you arrived at the coffee shop, Steve held the door open for you, motioning for you to enter. He gave a cheesy bow as if you were some kind of royal. You gave a silly curtsy in response which he lit up at.

See, you told yourself, go with the flow. There was still banter and fun with him.

At the cashier, Steve ordered for both of you and allowed himself to pay as well. While you tried to object, he was already done with the transaction and pushing you into the nearest booth. You frowned at his generosity but he chose to ignore your antics.

He went to retrieve your drinks as you set up your laptop and papers. Steve returned now with a faux frown on his lips as he noted your collection of items.

"So," he said, clearing his throat and sitting across from you. "I get to sit here while you do work?"

You shrugged, "I only asked if you wanted coffee. You invited yourself along."

Chuckling, he responded, "As if I would miss a chance for a day out with you."

Your heart plummeted for what felt like the umpteenth time today. Placing your pen down, you looked up at the smirking Steve. His eyes were staring you down, shamelessly roaming all over you. You could and couldn’t believe his boldness.

"Steve—,"

"Don’t you have work to do?" He pointed his cup at the papers. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. God, it was all starting to get confusing again. He knew where the line was, right? Why was he pushing it? Why were you even allowing it? Because it fed some fantasies? Aided with some brief passings of loneliness? There was just always something in his words to you. A twinkle or so behind those looks and smirks. You don’t even remember feeling this way on dates with your husband. Oh, your husband…

"What are we doing?" You sighed.

"Hmm?" Steve sipped his drink. "I’m drinking coffee and you are supposed to be working. I think that’s what we’re doing."

"You know what I fucking mean."

Steve’s eyes widened at your outburst. You never swore around anyone, not even in your own home, so to do it here and out… Well, there was a new tone approaching the table.

Silently, he moved your drinks out of the way and leaned his elbows on the table. Shifting probably as close as the table would allow, he looked you dead in the eyes and asked, "Why did you knock on my door?"

"I… Well, I’m—,"

Words were tumbling in your brain like crazy as if that was any sort of shock. You couldn’t keep yourself together today. You could feel him all over you yet again.

"You feel it," Steve whispered.

"Steve—,"

"It’s exciting and you like it,"

"Steve, really—,"

"I like it, too,"

God, make his words stop. You wanted to scream. Everything was burning on you. From the words in your ears to his eyes on your figure. You felt the roots from his glances digging deeper and deeper and any hope of hiding it was flying out the window.

You took a deep breath and raised your hands in defeat. "Please."

What? What were you even asking—begging—for? A release? Someone to take your words away? Steve to ask you to run away or keep this in a secret rush?

"You do," He whispered and there was nothing that could confirm it like your hesitant silence. "But your husband—,"

"He can’t know," you shot back. If he ever caught wind there was no telling what could happen. He was a soft soul on the surface but it takes one spark to start a fire and fires can burn down a home.

Steve sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Calm down, we haven’t even done anything."

"But the feelings," you whispered. It was your turn to leave him bewildered. "The feels and falling consume everything. Don’t you think that’s worse than something physical? It’s soul and bones deep."

"I mean that much to you?"

"You’re everywhere."

You could tell that hit him. Heck, the admission even took you by surprise—and it was your admission.

Everything suddenly felt so much dirtier than one-night stands. This man hadn’t even properly touched you and yet, at the same time, he had touched so much.

"You mean this?"

"I wish I didn’t."

Steve scoffed, playing with the rim of his coffee cup. "You don’t know what you’re doing."

Sighing, you closed your laptop and said to hell with these reports. Your day was flowing and you promised to go with it.

Throwing everything back together in your bag, you looked back at him. "But I do, Steve."

At his name falling off your lips, his eyes abruptly met yours. After a beat, his hand reached for yours and you felt the weighted pain slowly drift away. It was as peaceful and forbidden as you had expected. You didn’t think you wanted to be anywhere else.

"You’re everywhere for me, too." You could cry at those words but he continued. "Like ivy growing everywhere, darling. I go out on limbs to see you."

"Ivy," you repeated. "Just like ivy."

Steve gripped your hand tighter, "And, baby, I’m covered in you."

Your jaw dropped. Pulling your hand away, you mumbled, "He’ll burn us to the ground if he ever finds out."

Steve shrugged, a suggestive smirk working on his lips—a wild yet dreamy contrast to the man you saw a few seconds ago. "I’ve been known to keep a few secrets."

[sashaisready]

Chapter 6 - File

Nick Fowler x Shy CIA Employee

Under the Radar Masterlist

Chapter 5 - Done

Warnings: references to sex trafficking

(I’m sorry in advance for this 😵‍💫)

Wordcount: 2452

You went to work the following day with your head held high. Nick was actually out of the picture, you could finally move forward with your life.

As long as you ignored the nagging feeling of longing deep in the pit of your stomach.  

You slipped into your desk chair and logged on as Agent Leigh walked by, waving cheerily at you. You waved back awkwardly, forcing a smile as he disappeared down the hallway. His face has healed up nicely over the last few weeks. He’d been acting really strangely since the black eye incident, always making an effort to greet you and engaging in small talk. You almost preferred when he didn’t know you existed.

You were sorting out your inbox when Joe appeared at your desk. Your face lit up and you couldn’t ignore the little surge of happiness at seeing him. 

“Hey! How are you? How did it all go? You didn’t text me back yesterday - I was worried”.

He smiled, running a hand through his hair. Hot. 

“Sorry…it ran late and I was so exhausted by the time I got home I just sorta collapsed. But it went perfectly, I’ll tell you all about it later - but right now, Walsh has requested to see us”.

“Alright…is everything okay?” You asked tentatively.

Joe shrugged. “I guess? Maybe he just wants to debrief after yesterday. Or maybe he’s got an update on Colebrook and the truck”.

“Imagine if he’s in custody? That would be amazing” you beamed. 

Joe smiled back. “Here’s hoping”.

You both walked to Walsh’s office who asked you to sit down. He had a face like thunder and you knew it was bad news before he’d even opened his mouth. 

“Both…I’m sorry to tell you that Colebrook has gone AWOL. He disappeared right before our guys came by to arrest him. Looks like he may have travelled out of state and he dumped the truck. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I know how hard you both worked on this. Especially you, with the CCTV” he sighed, nodding your direction. 

You were unable to mask your disappointment. All those hours trawling through the footage, staying here until the early hours…it had all been for nothing.

“No….” You said softly.

Joe whispered “Damn”.

Walsh grimaced. “I’m afraid so…look, it doesn’t take anything away from your achievement, alright? It’s just the way it goes sometimes. We win some, we lose some. We just gotta keep going. We’ll find another lead. It’s only a matter of time”. He checked his watch. “Alright. Get back to it. Dismissed”.

You trudged out of the office, your ankles feeling like they had weights attached as you slumped into the conference room.

“Hey…it’s okay” Joe soothed. “Like Walsh said, it happens”.

You sighed as you sank into a chair. Logically you knew he was right but you were disheartened all the same.

“What happened? How did he know?” You asked, not particularly to Joe, just generally.

Joe sighed. “Who knows. Maybe he has a source in the sheriff’s department. Maybe the informant is playing both sides, or someone figured out the CCTV had been compromised. Or maybe…it was just an unlucky coincidence. Maybe he was always planning to move on at this time and we just missed him by a few hours”.

You exhaled, leaning over and pushing your face against the cool wood of the table. “I thought this was going to be it…” your voice was muffled against the surface.

“It’s crazy how we can’t track down a single person at the top of this thing” you continued. “How do they keep evading us?”

Joe leaned over and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. You felt a jolt of electricity and felt grateful he couldn’t see your face.

“Look…you care so much” he said kindly. “And it’s not a flaw…but the fact is, the nature of this work means that sometimes you will unfortunately spend hours - maybe days or weeks - on bad leads. It sucks. But you’ve just gotta move onto the next one. The bad guys want you to be apathetic. They want you to feel like giving up. But we can’t let them win”.

You sat up straight again, looking into his kind eyes once more. “You always know what to say” you sighed. “Thanks Joe”.

He smiled. “I’m always here for you. You know that”.

“How do you do it? How do you not let it bring you down when this stuff happens?”

He shrugged. “Experience, I guess. I’ve been through this far more than you have. On one of my first cases I spent two weeks following a guy to figure out his routine, only to find out the real guy had actually fled to South America weeks before - and the guy I’d been following was some decoy who had been paid to wear a disguise. Just a random dude in a fake beard and sunglasses”.

“No!” You gasped.

He chuckled. “Sadly, yes. I was hiding out in dumpsters and everything. Can laugh about it now…but at the time I wanted to quit the CIA and run out to the country to become a farmer or something instead”.

You smiled wistfully. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t”.

He smiled back, giving your shoulder a little squeeze.

“Me too…” he said fondly. 

Before you knew it you found yourself leaning into him, it was just so…easy and clear. Uncomplicated. Not like Nick…although Nick was…well, Nick. 

Joe wasn’t Nick though was he? And maybe that’s the problem.

You ignored that stray thought and leaned in further. You watched as Joe’s eyes dropped to your lips, then he leaned in too, tilting his head. You were mere inches apart when he stopped suddenly.

“We can’t…” he breathed. 

You bounced backwards in your chair, smoothing your hair and fiddling with your fingers out of embarrassment. “Oh…God, I’m sorry. I didn’t-Joe I’m sorry I-I shouldn’t have…”

“No…it’s okay” he said softly, stroking a finger across your jawline. He smiled kindly.

“Believe me…I want to. Like really want to…but we gotta work together. I don’t want it to get awkward or weird you know? Or jeopardise the important work we’re doing together” he sighed. 

You nodded. Typical Joe, of course he was looking out for the best interests of the case. That’s just the kind of man he was. 

You nodded, managing a small smile. “You’re right…of course you’re right”.

“Look…” he said soothingly. “I like you a lot. Okay? And I think it’s possible we could have something here. But maybe we could see where we are once Project Cotton is over? Then we can really have space and time to explore what this might be”.

You smiled again. “That sounds perfect”.

“As soon as this is done…I’ll take out for a crazy big meal and a bottle of wine. Sound good? Really wine and dine you” he grinned. 

“It’s a date” you giggled. 

He squeezed your hand then got up and resumed his normal spot at the whiteboard. You smiled at his back as he stood and looked at the wall of evidence, scratching his chin thoughtfully. He was a good agent and a good man. He had integrity. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of the case, because that’s just who he is. 

You fiddled with the letter opener, glancing out of the glass wall of the conference room onto the office floor. Nick walked by with Mace and the two of you made eye contact. You shot him a tiny smile as an attempt to be friendly but he turned away and continued walking, laughing at something Mace had said. 

It was probably for the best, but you couldn’t help the small gnawing of sadness you tried your best to forget. 

*

Later that evening you were getting ready for bed after a long call with Annie. She’d listened sympathetically to your near miss with Joe and what he’d said, and had agreed it sounded like a sensible idea to see how things naturally developed once you’d finished the project. It had been helpful to go through it all with her - but you didn’t mention the lingering feelings about Nick. It would actually be real if you said it all out loud.

Before you got into your pyjamas you took a quick look at your work phone. Sometimes you had a glance at emails at night just to see what awaited you in the morning so there were no nasty surprises, but didn’t reply to or work on any of them.

You frowned as you noticed one of the messages you’d sent to Walsh with the draft of your preliminary report hadn’t sent…and he had emailed asking where it was! Fuck! That deadline was today. You felt nauseous, this wasn’t like you. Normally you would’ve immediately clocked that the report hadn’t gone through. The stuff with Joe must’ve distracted you. You frantically tried to re-send it but the attachment hadn’t pulled through properly.

Walsh hadn’t followed up since that first email so maybe it wasn’t urgent, but you’d promised him he’d have it today - and you always delivered - that’s what you told him when he put you on this assignment. You couldn’t let him down. You scowled, glancing at the time - nearly 10pm…

You thought for a moment and made a split decision - grabbing your coat and heading out to your car. The report was on a USB drive that was sitting on your desk. You could visualise its location perfectly next to your coffee mug. You would drive over to the office, download the file, send it to Walsh with a grovelling apology and then come home - if you left now you could be back in bed in 30 minutes. Easy peasy. 

Sure, you could get up extra early tomorrow and head in before 9am - but you knew yourself well enough to know you’d be unable to sleep tonight worrying about it. Besides, maybe Walsh would be impressed by the dedication to fix your mistake.

So off you went, getting to the office parking lot in record time - amazing how much easier it is with no traffic. You parked up and headed in, swiping your security pass at the door. 

“Hey Ms Girly! What are you doing here?” Grant asked as you went past the front desk.

“You getting a head start on the morning?” He joked.

You grinned. “I forgot to do something for the boss - I’ll be in and out in 10 minutes tops”.

He laughed, shaking his head. “You work too hard…but hey, it’s your life. My shift ends in a few minutes but Ernie’s coming to take over…promise me you’ll ask him to walk you to your car when you’re done, okay?”

You nodded back at him, “I promise” you smiled. 

“Seems everyone is working late at the moment…” he sighed as he put his jacket on, getting ready to hand over to Ernie.

You wondered what he meant by that but wanted to get back home so just let yourself into your floor with your pass. Some of the lights were on which surprised you, but maybe another agent had carelessly forgotten to switch them off or the cleaning staff had just been around.

You switched on your laptop. The USB was exactly where you left it. You plugged it in, downloading the report and fired it off in your reply to Walsh - apologising profusely for the oversight. The whole thing took less than five minutes. Phew. No crazy panic tomorrow morning at least. 

You smiled with satisfaction as you closed your laptop and got up to leave. Just as you moved to go, the letter opener caught your eye, perched on the edge of your desk. The shining silver glinted under the dull lighting. You smirked. Pesky Joe. Well, your turn.

You took a detour via Joe’s desk on your way out, dropping the delicate dagger on his notebook as you passed. Just as you were leaving…something caught your eye. 

A file next to his keyboard. 

You frowned. Joe wouldn’t normally be so careless as to leave out confidential material like this. How unlike him. 

You picked it up, figuring you could slot it into the cabinet before you left. You flicked it open to see the details and figure out where it should be filed. 

Your blood ran cold.

On the first page there was a large photograph of yourself. 

You weren’t looking at the camera. It was a candid, taken from across the office. You could see Palmer’s desk in the background. In the image, your face was twisted in thought as you looked off dreamily into the distance.

Underneath you found a detailed list of facts about yourself. Your name. Date of birth. Height. Weight. Hair colour. Eye colour. Birthplace. There was a copy of your drivers license included too. 

“What is this?” You whispered with horror as your stomach flipped. 

This wasn’t a CIA staff file. This was…home made. 

You continued to flick through the file, unable to stop despite the mounting sense of fear. There were details of your family, friends (or lack thereof). Photos of your apartment. Photos of you taken without your knowledge - one of you walking down the street, another of you letting yourself into your apartment. 

You turned each page faster and faster, hoping to make sense of the horror movie you’d just walked into. Finally you got to the final page, your heart in your mouth as your trembling hands held the paper up to read and tried to make sense of the various sentences. 

“SALE AGREED”

“DELIVERY TBA”

“BITCOIN PAYMENT CONFIRMATION”

You squeaked quietly, unable to stop the tears that blurred your vision.

And at the very bottom of the page…

….was Joe’s signature.

You didn’t think. You didn’t react. You couldn’t. You just clutched the file and began to run to the exit, your other hand shaking as you pulled your phone from your pocket to find Walsh’s number. For a split second you thought about calling Nick, but of course you’d deleted and blocked his number all those weeks ago. 

Just as you got to the door, your eyes distracted as you focused on your phone screen, you collided with something. 

No…someone. 

You bounced off the figure and hit the floor, ass first. Your phone shot out of your hand and skidded under a nearby desk. 

You looked up, only able to utter a single gasp as you looked into his eyes.

“Hey sweetheart” said Joe, a terrifying smirk spreading across his face. “Working hard, are we?”

Chapter 7a -Underestimate

[reds-skull]

Revenant Side Stories

Story V: Dr. Novikov

[Konchar] [Graves] [Gaz] [Price] [AO3]

Okay, I know I said Farah will be before this one, but I was feeling down this week and went "y'know what would make me feel better? Writing 3k words of what is basically glorified lore dump"

And it did make me feel a little better so here you go lol

His hurried footsteps echo in the empty hallway, papers almost falling out of his sweaty hands. It took countless days and nights to study the reports, countless more to decipher what they mean. Stanislav has never been more anxious for a meeting.

He has never been more excited.

Being assigned as head Spiritulogist of the SAS regiment was his greatest achievement, one he believed will be his biggest in his lifetime. These recent developments, however…

Stanislav refocuses on the door in front of him before his thoughts escape him once more. He pushes on the handle, entering the meeting room.

“Doctor Novikov, it is good to see you finally join us.”

Stanislav nods meekly at General Woods, “I apologize for being late, sir.” He drops the heavy stack of papers on the large table at the center of the room, adjusting the glasses on his nose bridge. A quick glance at his surroundings informs him that along with the General, several more high ranking officers were invited, along with CIA agent Kate Laswell, currently watching him from a video call.

The General lets out a breath, “no matter. I’m sure we’re all aware of the reason this meeting was called, but will you recap it for us, Doctor?”

“Of course.” Stanislav temps down an eager smile. He moves to the laptop controlling the projector, inserting his USB drive and opening four Revenant Personal Data Files.

“For those who are unfamiliar with my work, I am Doctor Stanislav Novikov, Spiritulogist consultant for the British Army, specialized in first class Reapers.”

He drags two of the files to the projector, “revenants of first class Reapers are of the rarest variety, and so my qualifications don’t apply to most currently serving in our ranks. It is for this reason I have been personally assigned to Taskforce 141.”

Stanislav motions to the first name on screen, “this is Sergeant John MacTavish, revenant of Destruction. As listed here, his abilities include explosion creation and immunity. Next is-”

“There’s another line here, redacted.” a man he’s unfamiliar with interjects, “why is that?”

Stanislav’s mouth clicks shut, before he continues. “Sergeant MacTavish’s Reaping has been redacted, and none of the people in this room have clearance to view that information.”

The man scoffs and shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “ridiculous…”

“Doctor, you may continue.” General Woods prompts.

He nods, moving the pointer to the other file, “this is Lieutenant Ghost, revenant of the Void. I am sure he needs no introductions, Limbo has been a subject of many of our previous meetings. That is not why we are here today.”

The files disappear from the screen, a set of mission reports replacing them, “a few weeks ago, I have received the reports from Taskforce’s 141 most recent mission, which will be referred to as the incident of Las Almas from here on.”

Agent Laswell shifts in her sit, leaning closer to the camera.

“I have read the reports. Initially, I believed them to be false, because what they described was, well… quite clearly impossible, according to all known Reaper laws.”

Stanislav couldn’t stop a small smile from pulling on his lips. That day, one that started like any other, ended up being one he’ll never forget. He didn’t sleep all night, reading the reports again and again, enough that he can still recite them from memory.

He clears his throat, motioning towards the first marked section, “according to Sergeant MacTavish and Lieutenant Ghost, following a situation where the Lieutenant was forced to use Limbo in MacTavish’s vicinity, their powers changed.”

Images of a revenant training field, from the Los Vaqueros base, cover the reports, “the photo in front of you was taken after the Lieutenant used Limbo for the first time after that ‘change’. Those black trails were pointing towards MacTavish, because, from Ghost’s brief explanation, the victims of Limbo were able to see the Sergeant.”

General Woods’ eyes narrow, “but that’s…”

“Impossible.” he confirms, “this, it appears, was only the beginning.”

Stanislav returns to the reports, “I unfortunately do not have clearance to know the exact details of the following events, but the Sergeant entered Limbo a second time. During that time, unlike the initial incident, MacTavish came into contact with the victims of Limbo. This…”

The projector switches to a photo of an arm, black marks wrapping around it. Fingerprints, MacTavish wrote. Stanislav had theories they were possibly markings of the Reaper of the Void, but seeing as the only revenant that belongs to it doesn’t have them, there is no possible way to confirm that.

“This was the result. Lieutenant Ghost is also recorded to have been ‘marked’, by white trails on his face. Additionally to those, the revenants’ powers were modified, with MacTavish’s fire changing colors to white in his left hand, and Ghost able to withstand fire in his right.”

He lets the weight of his words sink in. Major Clifford, a man responsible for a few, albeit of a lower class, revenant soldiers, asks, “so the two revenants swapped powers?”

“In layman’s terms… yes.”

The Major frowns, deep grooves etching into his skin. General Woods’ expression borders on stunned, but he motions for Stanislav to elaborate.

His hands start shaking unexpectedly, because what he’s about to say, what he’s about to voice for the first time since his discovery, practically discredits everything they ever knew about revenants and Reapers.

“The last change reported by the revenants during the Las Almas Incident, has occurred a few days before the report was sent to me. MacTavish and Ghost have claimed the Reaper of Destruction and the Reaper of the Void are no longer.” Stanislav adjusts his glasses again, nerves and adrenaline flowing freely through him, “their Reapers have merged, and have called themselves… Lumity.”

The room is quiet. For only a few moments.

“Merged?!” “That’s not- what about the other revenants of Destruction-?” “What the fuck did they do-?!”

“Gentlemen! I’m sure we have a lot of questions, but we will get no answers if we keep bickering among ourselves. Let the expert talk.” Laswell’s voice booms over the cacophony that erupted, silencing the bewildered men.

Stanislav nods in gratitude, “thank you, Miss Laswell. I understand the confusion, me and my colleagues have been working overtime trying to decipher this.”

“And? What have you found?”

“Not much.” he doesn’t pay mind to the displeased faces around him, “as you’ve said before, General Woods, these events seem to be impossible. Revenants’ powers do not change, Reapers do not change, and most certainly not to the extent described by the Sergeant and Lieutenant.”

“Do you know what could’ve caused this?” Laswell inquires.

Stanislav shakes his head jerkily, “I’ve investigated previous Reaper-revenant interactions, as well as our known models of Reaper Hierarchies, which are in simpler words Reaper-Reaper relationships, and not once, in any observation we have recorded as humans, have revenants been able to influence Reapers.”

Reaper-revenant relationships are often told to be ones of pawns and kings, though in Stanislav’s humble opinion, even that comparison doesn’t encapsulate the depth of those interactions. Humans, and revenants to a lesser extent, are nothing but ants for entities of an interdimensional scale. Since the founding of the Spiritulogy field, basic rules have been established.

Revenants cannot affect Reapers. Reapers are far, far more powerful than can be perceived by the human mind.

Reapers are eternal. They do not die, and it is extremely unlikely the human race have, or will, witness the birthing of a new Reaper in the time of their existence.

That last point has been debated, since the emergence of the revenant of the Void, but most experts, Stanislav included, believe Void was birthed (or the equivalent process of coming into existence for Reapers) millions of earth years ago.

So how come an ant raised and affected its master?

Stanislav’s eyes meet Miss Laswell’s, “do you understand the magnitude of this incident? This changes everything we know about revenants and Reapers.”

General Woods sighs, and removes his cap to scrub at his hair, “what this is, is a goddamn shitshow… what do you suggest we do with them, Doctor?”

“If it were in my hands, I would’ve chosen to examine them more closely, attempt to recreate the conditions that triggered these changes in the first place. If, perhaps, this new type of revenant-”

“What do you mean, new type of revenant?” the Major exclaims.

“Well,” he turns to face Major Clifford, “even calling them revenants would be technically wrong. Revenants are defined as being humans who, after dying, have met the entities we call Reapers, and are irreversibly altered by those Reapers, often gaining powers and markings that stay consistent through their entire life, until a few moments before their Final Death, where their Reaper will retract the ‘deal’ that granted them those powers. In reality, the Sergeant and Lieutenant are now a completely separate entity compared to a typical revenant-”

“Doctor Novikov, while I’m sure we all find this very interesting, I’d like you to stay on topic, please.”

“Ah- of course, my apologies, General.” Stanislav lets out a small, nervous laugh, “I understand you are not operating with a scientific standpoint in mind. From a… tactical standpoint, I recommend separating the two revenants until my associates and I can determine whether this new relationship is stable. Preventing more changes is the key here.”

“What do you need to be able to determine that?” Miss Laswell asks.

“I’d like to redo their revenant tests. We do not have methods to deal with these sorts of incidents, so I will treat them as newly Reaped.” They will need to rewrite their files, log the new Reaper into the system, along with the markings and powers that are attributed to it… tedious, but necessary processes. More than ever, Stanislav needs them, if only to cling onto a false sense of control.

The revenant tests are, in all cases but this one, a series of challenges of increasing difficulty, meant to find the limit of one's powers as soon as they recover from their Reaping. The majority of common, third class Reapers have standardized tests, but within Stanislav’s field he has had to build custom tests more than once.

Tests like these allowed revenants like Captain Price to discover the dependencies of his abilities on emotional connections, allowed Spiritulogists to record abilities with greater accuracy than ever before.

He’s been barred from examining a revenant only once - and it was none other than Sergeant MacTavish. As his file states, his powers are simply too dangerous to test. Stanislav may be only a scientist, but he’s been under military rules long enough to know when red tape starts entering his field of work. It frustrated him to no end when he was younger, but he has come to accept it.

“We will arrange for you and your team to be transported to the 141’s current base, Doctor. Do you need anything else?” General Woods asks.

Stanislav considers it for a moment, “I’d like access to the Verdansk Incident.”

Woods’ brows shoot up, “Doctor, you know I can’t grant you that.”

Stanislav sighs, turning around to pace around the room. “I understand the SAS’s needs to keep certain events classified, but if you want me to decipher the meaning of Lumity, I must have the full picture, of both revenants.”

Everyone in this room knows what makes Ghost exceptional among revenants, but the Sergeant is (or… was) a typical revenant of Destruction, albeit uniquely strong, on the surface.

“I can theorize for weeks how Lumity came to be, General, but if I don’t have the entire timeline of one half of it, those theories will stay just that-”

General Woods shakes his head, “we have regulations, if this incident falls into wrong hands, especially now-”

“I don’t need to know anything beyond the information pertaining to MacTavish’s Reaping, sir-”

“Doctor Novikov, that’s enough!” the General slams a fist onto the table, “you will not be granted access to the Verdansk Incident, and that is final!”

Stanislav exhales slowly, gaze glued to the General’s furious eyes, “...yes sir.”

Miss Laswell clears her throat, easing the tension in the room, “shall we move onto the second topic of this meeting, General?”

Woods blinks, leaning back in his chair, “yes.” He drags out a folder, and throws it on the large table. It slides a little, landing in front of Stanislav’s curious eyes. “What can you tell us about the Revenant of Fate, Doctor?”

His eyes flit between the General and the folder, hands hesitating as he flips it open. The face that greets him is not unfamiliar, Stanislav wrote this file himself after all.

“All I know about Vladimir Makarov is in this folder, sir.” he stares at the censored sections with distaste, “his Reaper is almost as mysterious as Void, it didn’t Reap revenants for over five hundred years before Makarov.” the mental image of the Reaper hierarchy model floats in his mind. “It didn’t need to - as what we categorize as the Reaper above all Reapers, the apex predator.”

“Does Fate have any relation to Void and Destruction?” Miss Laswell asks, expression serious.

“Yes and no.” Stanislav mentally tracks down the list, models Spiritulogists have worked over for decades, “Destruction belonged to a group of Reapers who we know to be older than the most. Those Reapers often work outside the hierarchy, as they were conceived before Fate enforced it. Void, on the other hand, as the newest Reaper to interact with humanity, has yet to prove its capabilities and be placed in the hierarchy. According to Ghost, it adhered to Fate regardless.”

None of this matters anymore, of course, as Destruction and Void have ceased to exist.

Major Clifford snorts, and rolls his eyes condescendingly, “what do we care which Reaper listens to which? I respect your research, Novikov, don’t get me wrong, but we requested intel on the revenant.”

Stanislav frowns. How can a Major be so ignorant of Reaper-revenant relationships? “I… I assume you are aware that Reapers are able to communicate with their revenants, correct?”

“Yes.” the Major huffs, a smirk on his lips.

“Then I believe you are able to deduce that a Reaper aligned with Fate could, hypothetically, command its revenant to submit to the revenant of Fate, regardless of their affiliation as humans?”

The smile falls from the Major’s face, “...are you implying our revenants, in the SAS, will betray their country for- for a bloody Reaper??”

“No.” Stanislav narrows his eyes, “I am telling you, sir, that Reapers do not care for human borders, they do not care for our conflicts, only their own. I am not warning you of deserters, I am warning you of interdimensional beings with the power to bring people back from the dead and grant them powers that biologically should be impossible for humans to have. Beings that are potentially on the cusp of conflict, that will drag revenants into it with no regard to their wants.”

Stanislav steps closer, hands gesturing to emphasise the weight of his words, “me and you, Major, as humans, will never be able to fully understand why Reapers do what they do. But this is what Spiritulogy is about - understanding what is beyond comprehension. And I do not like to brag, but as the head Spiritulogist of the SAS, and a man with almost three decades of experience in the field, I want to believe I have a better grasp of what certain signs mean.”

He stands in front of the Major, breath short and heavy, not with anger, but with a mixture of terror and delight, “Lumity is a sign of a change in Reaper-revenant interactions. No longer is this relationship a one-way street.”

Stanislav leans in, watching as finally, the Major understands what they’re facing, “none of us know how the Reapers will react to this. Their reaction can range from a slap on the wrist of Lumity, to the annihilation of the human race.”

“T-they-” the Major swallows nervously, “they wouldn’t just- destroy us like that… They don’t have the right-”

“Major, we both know this as humans” Stanislav straightens his back, readjusting his large, round glasses, “with enough power, rights do not matter.”

Revenants and humanity, out of innate, animalistic terror, have always followed Reapers’ commands. None has ever been strong enough to stand up and disobey.

The same can be said for Reapers, and Fate. Countless times, Stanislav has received reports of fearful revenants, telling him of terrible events foreseen by their Reapers. Reapers know when and how each of them will die. They can try and delay it, take one of the few other paths presented before them. You cannot surprise an entity with that kind of sense.

Both of these statements are false, now.

“T-thank you for your time, Doctor Novikov.” General Woods says shakily, “we will be in contact in the future. For now, you are all dismissed.”

While the rest of the men filtered out of the room, Stanislav collected his papers and files, deep in thought. A voice behind him brought him back to the present.

“Doctor Novikov.” Miss Laswell called, the room empty beside himself, “I’d like to have a word, if you have time.”

Stanislav taps the edges of the papers to line them up, and drops the neat stack beside him, “of course, what can I do for you, Miss Laswell?”

The CIA agent gives him a nod, “I believe we can do something for each other.”

He tilts his head inquisitively, and to his surprise, Laswell begins speaking in Russian, “you said you would need access to the Verdansk Incident to solidify your theories on the new Reaper, correct?”

Stanislav blinks rapidly, responding in his mother tongue as well, “ah, yes, but the General said…” his voice fades at Laswell’s expression.

“My work with the 141 often lands us outside the boundaries of red tape, Doctor. This current situation is no different, in my eyes.”

“You…”

“I have an offer.” Stanislav can hear Laswell’s keyboard clicking, “all I need is your word, that this will not leave the room.”

Stanislav feels a smile slowly spread on his lips. He may have accepted red tape as part of his job, but he would be a fool to miss an opportunity to cross it.

His research is more important than a few regulations. For the fate of humanity, of revenant kind.

“You have my promise, Miss Laswell.”

[paigemathews]

I’m sick and it sucks, so have some headcanons about how Charmed characters react when they’re sick!

Prue Halliwell - will not quit working unless she is actively dying, and even then. She’ll take meds and soup when Piper shoves it at her, but will not actually rest. When someone else is sick though, she is hardcore bossing them to go back to bed and quit getting up. She’s an absolute hypocrite.

Piper Halliwell - initially, she’ll try to ignore it and keep going until someone tells her to rest. As soon as someone else has it under control, she will be happily retire to her bed and be a (mostly) model patient. The key is someone else actually has to have it under control because otherwise Mom Mode activates and she has to do something (as Phoebe and Paige discovered when they burnt dinner and had Piper cooking while she coughed every other breath). When anyone else is sick, however, she is The nurse. Soups, popsicles, hair pets, the whole nine yards.

Phoebe Halliwell - look, Pheebs was the youngest for a long time. She is absolutely whining the entire time and making it known that everything about being sick sucks. She is not trying to be annoying, but like. It sucks and it has to be known. When other people are sick, she like. tries? But Piper made homemade chicken noodle soup and Phoebe dumped some Campbell’s in a bowl, so. She’s great at the entertaining you while sick though, she has all of the movies to watch and gossip to catch you up on.

Paige Matthews - at first glance, you’d think she’s like Phoebe with the being terrible at being sick thing. And she is! But she tends to isolate herself more and hole up in a corner of her bed because it’s been a while since there’s been someone who could take care of her. Eventually, she starts learning how to let other people take care of her but it Is a Journey. On the flip side, she kinda just. left others alone when they were sick, but after having Piper take care of her when she was sick, she left meals on Piper’s nightstand with things like orange juice. She’s still not great at being comforting with the person though.

Leo Wyatt - in theory, a perfect patient. In practice, “I’m a doctor, I know what I’m doing.” Which? For other people? Sure, Leo’s a great caretaker. When it’s himself though? Baby, lie down please. The only one who can really wrangle him is Piper, mostly bc she doesn’t feel bad yelling at him to go back to bed. He isn’t trying to be a bad patient, but he spent like sixty years never getting sick and now he’s been brought down by the cold four-year-old Melinda’s class spread. (Piper teases him one time “Betcha regret becoming mortal now, huh?” And Leo, with a fever and has already thrown up once today, looks at her with adoring eyes and says, “To be with you? Never.”)

Andy Trudeau - a lot like Prue in that he hates resting. He’ll be working on a case while Darryl makes pointed comments about rest and sick days and not getting your partner sick. Eventually, however, he’ll actually take the sick day and rest (always in-between cases or when it’s time to go into field though). He’s a great caretaker though, not the superhuman type like Piper but just. good.

Darryl Morris - finally, someone who is a good patient! He’ll take the sick day and go home to his family. If it’s more than a few days though, he starts getting bored and will start going over case files. He always sheepishly puts them back once Sheila catches him and just gives him a deadpan look. He just hates the boredom part of being sick where you can’t really do anything. He’s a good caretaker though, but you will be getting your soup and gatorade at random times due to whenever he comes in.

Cole Turner - this man’s first cold was when he was over a century and he made it v clear that he thought he was cursed. Once they figured out that he just had a cold, Piper nearly did curse him. The mighty Belthazor brought down low by a couple of germs. It’d almost be funny if he didn’t nearly exhaust even Leo’s near limitless patience. On the flipside, he.... also has no idea how to caretake but he does try! He goes a little overboard tho and just provides unnecessarily dramatic solutions. (If things had went differently, he probably would have kidnapped a nurse to wait on Phoebe hand and foot during Queen of the Underworld arc while Phoebe went, what? no, I don’t need- COLE!)

Henry Mitchell - he denies that he’s sick and basically powers through it. Like Paige, he didn’t have anyone to care for him when he was sick but I also headcanon that he was. a bit worse off than Paige (who had Glen and his family and the mentioned exactly once Aunt Julie and Uncle Dave to turn to if she needed it, even if she wouldn’t choose to) so he didn’t really have much of a choice. He gets even grumpier when he’s sick though. Eventually, he also learns how to take it easy and let others care for him but he. struggles with it a lot. On the flipside, he’s a surprisingly good caretaker. It’s because he just does what he wishes he had someone there to do for him, which leads him pretty well. (I am also now imaging Henry with a sick teenage parolee and like. It’s cute. I can’t provide specifics but it’s really cute.)

Coop Halliwell - okay, based on how I indicated that Whitelighters and demons can’t get sick, I don’t think that I can make an argument for Cupids getting sick. So he doesn’t get sick, I guess. (Lucky him! Can’t relate.) He’s a really good caretaker though, especially with the comforting side. He’ll sing the girls to sleep and make toast and be really freaking sweet that no one can even be snarky about how he doesn’t get sick. (Piper tries once when she and the kids are sick while Leo is at some Magic School thing but then Coop and Phoebe come by and Phoebe is entertaining the kids while Coop makes lunch and cleans up the house so that Piper doesn’t have to worry about it and like. this is really good chicken noodle soup so she can’t say much.)

Chris Halliwell - literally, no one finds out that he’s sick unless he fucking passes out because he’s a dumbass who lived in a world where sickness was weakness and weakness meant dying so he just hides it until he physically can’t anymore. No one has a good time when this happens. It takes... awhile. for them to get through to him that he can tell them when he’s sick and they’ll help. He still doesn’t really like it and still struggles to share that info, but. it starts getting a little better and then he dies and it doesn’t matter anymore. Similarly, his response to others being sick is rooted in his time. He doesn’t particularly know how to handle it in the past, so he just. lets the others take over while he keeps a watch over the Manor, in case anyone tries anything while someone is down sick.

Billie Jenkins - she’s the type of person to insist that she won’t get sick and is brought down in the next chapter. She hates it and she grumbles but besides the whining, she’s actually a decent patient. She’ll take her meds and eat the soup and lie in bed, but just. lots of complaining. On the flip side, she’s. not exactly a stellar caretaker. She’s like twenty years old; they’re not exactly known for their caretaking ability and Billie is a lot of things, but a Mom Friend™ she is not.

[livelaughlovecassie]

Sick Day

Book: Immortal Desires

Pairing: Gabe Adalhard/Delilah Reese/Cas Harlow

Ratings/Warnings: General

Summary: Delilah learns that even vampires can apparently get sick

“I’m dying”

Gabe’s head immediately turns towards her, a hand going up to her forehead before she can get another word out. She leans into the touch, a smile forming at the brief contact they manage to make. Even silver and wide with concern, Delilah will never stop finding something to love in the depths of Gabriela’s eyes. “You feel alright to me. But let me find you something to warm you up”

“… you’re already dead,” Cas points out. She’s seated on the edge of the couch, perched like a bird halfway prepared for flight. She’d fled as soon as the first few sniffles had escaped her, which Delilah reminds herself to file under whatever mental folder she’s keeping blackmail material in.

“Well” she sniffs, attempting as much dignity as she can beneath the blankets Gabe’s piled on. “I’m dying again.” And she is! Regardless of Gabe’s gentle laugh as she turns away (she forgets, occasionally, that the superhearing is within her wheelhouse now, today she’ll let her have it) and Cas’s skeptical frown, she knows herself and she knows that she does not like this. As such, surely she’s dying.

“And why do you think that love?” Gabe calls from the kitchen, the kindly chime of a kettle accompanying the question. A mug of chamomile awaits her she knows, and the thought is exciting enough to bypass the face she knows Cas will pull when she inevitably dumps in the milk and sugar.

“I haven’t had a sore throat and fever since I turned” she reminds her. Somehow, they feel even worse than she can remember, even without too recent a memory to lean on. “And the sniffles”

“Oh yeah. It’s serious then” Cas announces.

She can practically feel Gabriela’s heavy sigh, but her curiosity is piqued all the same. “... what do you think it could be?”

A form of plague? An exceedingly rare disease able to penetrate even a vampire’s immune system?

“… a cold.”

She allows Cas ten seconds to duck before she tosses the pillow she’d been snuggling, bundling all the further into her blanket burrito. “There is no way vampires can still get colds”

“Oh we can” Gabe assures her, setting the mug down gently onto the embroidered coaster. Delilah reaches for the spoon, maintaining direct eye contact with Cas as she adds the fifth scoop of sugar. “It’s just rarer is all. The good news is that we recover from them quicker- through the same methods”

“Cuddles, then?” she questions through a yawn, opening up the blanket. Gabe immediately slides in, Cas taking the other. She tucks her feet up, looking between the two in utter contentment.

“What’s that look for babe?” Judging by her smirk, Cas knows exactly why she’s smiling, and that it has to do with the fact that her and Gabe are shoulder to shoulder, Gabe’s head resting on Cas’s shoulder and Cas’s arm around her.

She’s suddenly far too exhausted to respond, head on Gabe’s chest and legs stretched across Cas’s lap. Even if the lull of sleep won’t claim her anymore, the contentment of the moment feels more than healing.

[imogenkol]

Old Scars and New

word count: 3.3k warnings: blood, injury tending, disaster bisexual werewolf being cringe af tags: bandaging/stitching up wounds prompt

this is a slightly altered/updated version of my most popular piece of writing for this verse and thought I'd share it in my continued journey of rebuilding my relationship with my og works!

“Alright, who’s up first?” Nadya announced once everyone filed into the motel room.

Skye flashed a sly grin at the sight of Nadya putting her glasses on. “Ooh, are we gonna play doctor?”  

Jayde rolled her eyes and dumped her bag onto the floor, barely holding back a wince. The scent of her own blood invaded her lungs and she already felt bruises forming, but the aches and pains were far from uncommon occurrences. She dismissed any concern. “I’m fine.” 

Nadya ignored their comments and pointed at both of the siblings. “You two. Sit.”

“Are you going to tell me to roll over too?” Skye remarked. 

At the same time, Jayde reiterated grumpily “I said I’m fine.”

The human threw them a stern glare. Nadya may appear soft and approachable most of the time – even meek to those who underestimated her – but the wolves quickly discovered that she had a hidden talent for intimidation when she wanted to. Jayde and Skye simultaneously took their seats at the edge of one of the beds without further protest. 

Satisfied with their obedience, Nadya turned to Toby. “How are you feeling?” 

“Right as rain,” he replied.

She made a spin motion with her hand. “Twirl.” He held up his arms and turned in one slow circle, showing her that he was unscathed. “Nothing’s hurting?”

“Nope.”

She concluded her thorough scan with a pat on his shoulder. “Okay, you’re good.” 

Toby gave the sisters a childish smirk like he won a game and said “Ha.” Then sauntered over to a chair. 

Well, if the game went to whoever got hurt the least, then Jayde would never win. She almost scoffed at herself because the competitive side of her that came out around Toby hated the fact that she’d lose anything to him. She even made a mental note to be more careful the next time they encountered hunters just so that she could rub her success in his face. Maybe that was his real motive – to try a tactic that would work on a toddler simply to get the reckless blonde to take better care of herself. Jayde wouldn’t put it past him. 

Nadya addressed Skye next. “You got hit on the head pretty hard. How are you feeling?”

The young wolf widened her eyes. “I can see new colors now.”

Nadya laughed and fished out a small flashlight from her bag. “How about dizziness or nausea?”

Jayde watched on as Nadya carefully combed her fingers through Skye’s hair in search of any damage hidden in the light blonde waves. Skye kicked her feet like a little kid getting a check-up, but Jayde noted how her crooked smile evened out to something more… genuine. 

Skye was rarely ever anything but mischievous, as if life were just one big joke to her. Of course, there were precious few moments when her serious self would shine through, where there were no jokes to be made and she acted fairly mellow, much to her older sister’s relief. Jayde was shocked to see that happen more often when she interacted with Nadya. 

“I feel fine,” Skye answered, then flinched when Nadya touched the sore spot on her head. “Ow! But that hurts.” 

“Sorry.” Nadya winced apologetically. “I don’t see any blood, at least.” 

The tip of her finger tapped under Skye’s chin to get her to look up. It was then that Jayde noticed she had been chewing on the inside of her cheek. Skye went still as Nadya shined the light in her eyes. It felt like an eternity to Jayde. To see Nadya be so close to her sister, touching her in ways that Jayde longed for. The older wolf realized – with a hot flush to her cheeks – that she was jealous of Skye. That made her bite her cheek even harder as she forced herself to look down. 

Nadya stepped away, allowing Jayde to finally breathe normally again. “You don’t have a concussion, but I suggest you ice that for tonight.” 

“Sounds good, doc,” she replied with a wink. 

Just when Jayde thought she might get over the momentary lapse in her emotions, Nadya blushed. It was subtle enough that she might have been able to convince herself that she imagined it, but her thoughts took what she saw regardless of rationality and ran. 

The possibility had never occurred to her until that moment, but Jayde started to wonder if maybe Skye had feelings for the human, too. Jayde certainly couldn’t blame her if she did. It was Nadya, after all. This girl practically had Jayde wrapped around her finger the first day they met. The thing that ate at Jayde more than that were Nadya’s reactions to Skye. She wouldn’t have that hard of a time believing she also felt something for her. Her sister – in all of her annoying glory – was just as much of a catch. 

The concept felt nearly unbearable to consider, but Jayde knew that she would never stand in the way of her sister’s happiness or Nadya’s. Especially if it meant Nadya would get to be with someone far more worthy of her affections. Deep down, Jayde has been looking for a good, rock solid excuse to let her go. This possible outcome might be the easiest to accept. That didn’t mean it wasn’t exceptionally painful. 

Wallowing in a pit of her own creation caused Jayde to tune the rest of the world out until Nadya’s voice brought her back down to earth. 

“Crap, I grabbed the wrong kit,” she grumbled as she sifted through her bag.

Skye gasped dramatically. “Language.” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Nadya said with an amused scoff and backed up towards the door. “I’m gonna go back to the car. I’ll pick up some ice for your head on the way back, too.” 

“Toby,” Jayde commanded with a purposeful glance. Despite being clear of immediate danger, she didn’t want anyone going anywhere by themselves. Not even to the parking lot. 

He nodded in understanding and got up. “Yeah, I’ll go with her.”  

Before they left, Nadya locked eyes with Jayde. For that single second, all of her worries were utterly nonexistent. “We’ll be back in a few minutes. Try not to get into any more trouble.” 

“No promises,” Skye replied. Jayde looked to see that the devious smirk had returned to her face. 

The siblings remained seated on the musty motel bed once Toby and Nadya disappeared. The comforter felt scratchy, but Jayde still balled her fists into the fabric and stared at the worn carpet underneath her blood splattered boots. Something metallic tickled the edge of her tongue and she sighed at the sting that shortly followed, releasing her flesh from her own vengeful teeth. 

“So, what crawled up your ass?” Skye asked to break the awkward silence. 

Jayde gave her a brief side-glance. “Nothing.” 

“Right.” Her words already dripped with sarcasm. “You’re just acting like you have to take Old Yeller out back for no reason.” 

Jayde felt a brief spark boil in her chest, but it died out as quickly as it came. She didn’t have the will to be angry or defensive. She only sighed again and forced her question out. “Do you like her?”

There was no hesitation in Skye’s answer. “Yeah, of course I like her.”

“No, I mean… Do you like her?"

Confusion twisted the younger wolf’s features as she blinked at Jayde for several moments. Jayde wordlessly begged not to make her spell it out. The question alone was already mortifying enough. As soon as her meaning fully sank in, Skye’s expression promptly turned incredulous. 

“Forget it,” Jayde said curtly.

But Skye already jumped on it. “No, you know what? I do like her. I really, really like her. Yeah, I want her to have my babies.” 

Jayde had to fight the urge to growl. “It was a genuine question, Skye.” 

“And you’re a genuine idiot,” she fired back with no remorse. “I don’t want your girlfriend, Jayde.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” 

“She could be.”

“She shouldn’t.” 

Skye raised an eyebrow. “That’s not very progressive of you. You’re sounding like Miranda with that old world bullshit. Who cares if Nadya is a human? Just be careful not to break or bite her. That simple.” 

Jayde shook her head. “It’s not that…” 

The slow nod she saw out of the corner of her eye turned into a shrug as Skye leaned into her. “What if you’re wrong about yourself?” she whispered like a kid telling a secret. 

They fell back into another prolonged silence as Jayde rocked back and forth anxiously. She wasn’t wrong about herself, but Jayde somehow still had the smallest bit of hope that she could become someone Nadya deserves. That if she tried to be better, she wouldn’t fight this so hard or put herself through all of this pain. She had it in her. Somewhere. Buried underneath dirt and dust. The best version would peek through the cracks of everything broken about her whenever that girl was near. Jayde just had to figure out a way to widen the fractures and reach through. 

But she worried she would break herself even more by doing that. 

After a minute, her lungs deflated once more in utter hopelessness. “I am an idiot.” 

Familiar footsteps approached the room and Skye nudged her older sister with her elbow. “Chin up, sport.” 

Jayde managed to give her a grateful look just as the others returned. Nadya held a small bag of ice in one hand and a different first aid kit in the other. She went to Skye first and handed her the ice for her head. 

Guilt immediately flooded Jayde’s system for feeling so jealous. Nadya put in so much effort to take care of them all and Jayde had been worried that she wanted her sister over her. She needed to get over herself. 

“Okay, you’re good to go. Just take it easy,” Nadya ordered. 

Skye enthusiastically jumped to her feet while balancing the ice pack on top of her head. “Great, I’m gonna go get tacos across the street.” 

“Don’t go alone,” Jayde called as she skipped towards the door.

She waved dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, buddy system.” 

“You guys want anything?” Toby asked before he trailed after her.

“Just get me whatever you get,” Jayde said.

“Okay. Nadya?”

Nadya sounded slightly distracted as she prepared the kit. “Uh, what kinds are there?” 

“Asada, pollo, carnitas.” When she took too long to ponder the options, he translated in a patronizing tone “Beef, chicken, pork.” 

She looked up and fixed him with an exasperated stare. “I know what they mean, I was just thinking.” 

Toby chuckled. “Any day now.” 

“Get me chicken.” 

He gave a casual thumbs up. “You got it.” 

The motel room grew quiet again once it became only the two young women. The wolf took time to let the human’s presence calm the restless being within. She focused on how her air of crisp autumn spices encompassed her senses, even over the scents of the others. What fascinated Jayde was how her existence always broke through the most powerful things. Werewolves had an incredibly distinct and potent scent, so being around her pack should have masked the humanness of Nadya’s scent. But it didn’t. In fact, Jayde often sensed her before she sensed anything or anyone else. It was always her first. 

“Your turn?” Nadya suggested softly, immediately drawing Jayde’s full attention. 

Up to that point, she had completely forgotten about her injuries. “Oh, right.” 

Nadya came directly to her, standing just inches away. Jayde stared up at her and waited, totally transfixed. “Let’s get a look at that arm.” 

Jayde realized she needed to remove her jacket. She snapped herself out of her trance and carefully slipped out of it, grimacing as the fabric tugged at the graze on her bicep. Blood had mostly soaked into the jacket itself, but streaks of crimson still smeared across her skin and reached as low as her wrist.

Nadya bent down and adjusted her glasses to get a better look, but that furrow in her brow looked like it took too much effort. “Do you think we could move to the bathroom? The lighting sucks out here and I gotta get you cleaned up.” 

“Yeah.” 

Nadya followed closely behind as they entered the bathroom, but lingered over Jayde’s shoulder after turning the light on. “Hey, did you take a hit to the back?” 

Jayde craned her neck to see why she looked so concerned, but couldn’t see much of anything. The strain of twisting only made her injured shoulder spike with pain. “Um, I’m not sure. Maybe? I remember getting punched or something.” 

“There’s blood, Jay,” Nadya informed her, still inspecting the wound. “Take this off.” 

Jayde felt her entire body flare with intense heat as Nadya tugged at her shirt. She hesitated for a few beats to let the embarrassment pass. It wasn’t like Nadya hadn't seen her without a shirt on before. Hell, she’s seen her naked. She’s seen her turn into a goddamn werewolf, for fuck’s sake. Jayde wanted to curse at herself for being so stupid. 

She struggled to get out of the shirt on her own. It was enough that her shoulder felt as sore as it did, but now that she had been made aware of it, the wound on Jayde’s back stung like a bitch. As much as she wanted to hide her pain, she wasn’t able to stop herself from flinching when she tried to work one of her arms out of the ruined clothing. 

“Here, let me –” Nadya reached to help, but then her pulse spiked in the wolf’s ears like a drum had been struck and she stopped short. “Can I..?”

“Sure, yeah,” Jayde stammered and braced herself as the human stepped into her space. 

Nadya’s hands carefully gripped the bottom of the bloodied shirt and slowly pushed it up her torso. Jayde could tell that she tried not to, but there were still a couple of times where her fingers brushed up against bare skin. Jayde clenched her jaw tightly. Just those small, brief touches caused intense tingling to spread outwards from the places of contact. She shut her eyes and held her breath as her wolf fought to rise to the surface. A shiver raced along Jayde’s spine as she quickly dampened it. After a tense half-second, she felt the restless animal reluctantly retreat. 

Despite nearly losing control, Jayde didn’t feel afraid. Maybe because she knew Nadya wasn’t in any danger. The wolf only wanted a glimpse of her, but the last thing Jayde wanted was to cause any potential fear. She certainly didn’t want to think up some shitty excuse to explain why her eyes started to glow. 

The two of them successfully got the shirt over Jayde’s head with minimal pain and discarded it on the floor. Meeting Nadya’s gaze after that felt far braver than facing any hunter. She had this look in her warm brown eyes that Jayde couldn’t quite decipher. However, the physical effect in Nadya’s body was more obvious. Being so close, Jayde sensed it all. 

An erratic heartbeat. A clipped breath caught in her throat. A blooming scent that tempted Jayde nearer. 

Those were not things she noticed in Nadya with anyone else, Jayde realized. 

“I’m going to, uh…” Nadya motioned awkwardly, finally just shuffling behind her again. 

Jayde cleared her throat to banish her own nerves and brushed her tangled hair over her shoulder. “How’s it looking back there?” 

“This is pretty deep,” she murmured and began to clean it. “You really didn’t feel this?”

Jayde tensed at the incredibly cold sensation of a disinfectant wipe against her hot skin, but she still gave a half shrug. “I remember being hit, but that’s all.” 

“Well, you got lucky. It could have punctured your lung.”

Jayde set her hands on the edge of the sink and watched Nadya’s reflection carefully through the mirror. “Yeah, I feel lucky.” 

“That better not be sarcasm. Not when I’m looking at all these scars.” Nadya scolded as she got the stitches ready. “It looks like you should be dead ten times over.” 

“It’s because I should be.” 

They briefly shared a look. Nadya’s expression remained unreadable. Not that Jayde had the time to properly study it before she went back to work. 

She didn’t say anything while she made a few sutures — being too focused on her task of mending a werewolf — but then Jayde saw her brown eyes peek over her shoulder again. “I’m really glad you aren’t, by the way.” 

Jayde exhaled an almost whispered response. “Me too.”  

A bandage was carefully placed over the newly stitched wound, but Nadya lingered behind her. Jayde wondered if maybe she had spotted another wound that hadn’t quite traveled through her nerves and up to her brain yet, but then felt an incredibly delicate sensation tickle her lower back. It took a moment for her to realize that it was the tip of Nadya’s finger trailing over what had to be one of her scars. Jayde froze in place, not having a single clue how to react. 

“How many are there?” Nadya’s voice sounded distant. 

Jayde gripped the edges of the sink so that she wouldn’t fall over as the girl traced another sensitive mark. She was afraid that the slightest movement would cause her to stop. “I’ve never counted.” 

A soft hum echoed in the bathroom. “I guess you’ve got a couple more now. Which reminds me…” Nadya pulled her hand away, but before disappointment twisted an invisible knife in the werewolf’s chest, her palm rested on her hip and turned her around. 

The human’s sudden willingness to touch her in ways that could be considered intimate left Jayde’s mind in a utter stupor, stirring her inner self once more. She didn’t know what to make of it. Or what to do. She knew what she wanted to do, though that remained a line Jayde felt she shouldn’t cross. 

Nadya went to work on the laceration that cut through her upper arm and Jayde found herself thoroughly fascinated with the process. The human’s eyes were so focused, making sure each and every stitch was up to her standard. The way her brows knitted in concentration — the thin frame of her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose — replaced Jayde’s heart with a pair of fluttering wings. She could stare at her for hours. 

Nadya finally glanced up while she wrapped her arm. This time, her blush was entirely noticeable. “What?” 

The question made Jayde realize she had been smiling. She quickly looked away, though she couldn’t fully wipe the expression from her face. “Nothing.” 

“Okay,” Nadya said slowly, confused amusement written on her face. “Well, I’m all done.” 

Jayde nodded as she cleaned the mess up. As soon as the kit was packed, Nadya gave the wolf an unsure look and turned to leave the bathroom. On impulse, Jayde caught her wrist to stop her. A small gasp escaped Nadya’s lips at the unexpected touch, but she still waited expectantly. 

“Thank you.” Jayde caressed the smooth curve of her wrist with her thumb. For the first time, she didn’t try to hide it. She wanted Nadya to feel her gratitude. “For taking care of us.” 

Nadya’s features softened into an absolutely stunning smile. “I like taking care of you.” 

It took everything Jayde had not to pull her in. She yearned to feel Nadya against her. Longed to brush their lips together. To hold her close and swallow every breath. Feel all the ways she could get her heart to race. Instead, Jayde’s fingers went slack and Nadya slipped out of her grasp, leaving her alone in the bathroom with the ghost of her contact still prickling across the surface of her skin.

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